by Hanna Koshy
5th year student, Coláiste Chiaráin, Croom
THE recent attacks on members of the Indian community in Ireland have shaken many of us. They feel like cracks in a windowpane — sudden, sharp, and impossible to ignore. For families, these incidents have created unease. Parents hesitate to let their children play outside. Out of uncertainty, they do not know if it will cost them their loved one’s safety. Fear has begun to creep into spaces where trust once thrived.
And yet, fear is not the whole story. It cannot be. Ireland, in my experience, is not defined by suspicion, but by welcome. It has felt less like a place of walls and more like a hearth – warm, open, and inclusive. That warmth has stayed with me more than anything, and it is what I hold on to, even when the cold, dark moments start to surface.
One memory comes back to me often. Soon after arriving in Ireland, I became separated from my parents during our Limerick exploration walk. I was new to the country, unfamiliar with the Limerick streets, and panic set in quickly.
When I was in the midst of my catastrophe, a stranger noticed me standing there, lost and distressed. He was an Irish man, perhaps in his late 40s, with kind eyes and a calming voice. Instead of passing by, he stopped and asked, “Are you all right?”
When I explained my situation, he did not brush it off or hurry on with his day. He helped me retrace my steps until we spotted my parents’ car. What struck me most was that he didn’t simply leave once I was close to safety. He stayed with me, chatting lightly, making sure I felt secure until my parents returned. It was a small gesture, but for me, it spoke volumes about the character of this country.
Since then, I have seen that same spirit many times; a neighbour checking in when they notice something unusual, a friendly word exchanged in a queue, even a smile offered on a grey, rainy morning. These moments may seem ordinary, but for immigrants, they carry real weight. They remind us that we are not outsiders looking in. We belong.
The attacks we have seen are serious and they must be addressed firmly. But they do not define Ireland. What defines it is the everyday compassion of ordinary people. The man who stopped for a lost child, the neighbours who look out for one another, the quiet gestures of care that bind communities together.
Ireland is not perfect. No country is. But it is at heart a place where kindness outweighs cruelty and where warmth runs deeper than fear. That truth is what we should hold onto which will guide us through moments of division. In an Ireland we call home.