How a memorial to an atrocity 30 years ago brought a chill to a beautiful summer day
Driving out along the Sheep's Head Peninsula on a shimmering, shiny, summer day, the constantly changing views that emerge around each bend in the road make my spirit soar. Happiness, that most fleeting of emotions, settles all around me as I wallow in the seductive feeling that God is in her heaven and all is right with the world.
My destination is the tiny village of Ahakista; a village whose lyrical name has an almost reggae ring to it. I say it out loud, "Ahakista", giving it a Caribbean lilt, which seems all the more appropriate on such a beautiful day.
The narrow road turns and twists around tiny coves and inlets. I am on the lookout for the Air India Memorial Garden, which I have been told will signal my arrival in the village.