ÐÇ¿Õ´«Ã½

We are minutes away from Belfast's Holy Cross school, which hit the headlines in September 2001 when Catholic parents were too intimidated to let their children walk past a neighbouring Protestant enclave to get there. This is Liganiel, a small estate in a Catholic area of north Belfast, with republican murals on the walls and flags painted on kerbstones. Just 200 m away, behind a wall of razor wire, lies Ballysillan, a Protestant estate, where piles of old furniture are stacked for bonfires that mark the start of the Loyalist marching season this month.

Ballysillan and Liganiel have been on the front line of sectarian violence since 1969. One thing that unites them, however, is the charity Habitat for Humanity Northern Ireland, which is building homes on both estates. It has six nearly completed in Ballysillan and is at excavation stage for eight in Liganiel. By relying on local volunteers to help construct the houses, Habitat hopes to encourage links between the communities.

Habitat was set up in the USA in 1976 and now operates in 87 countries. Like a housing association, its main objective is to provide affordable homes for low-income families. Over 10 years, it has built 31 houses on Protestant and Catholic estates in west Belfast and in Downpatrick, a largely Catholic settlement 20 miles outside. A further 30 are planned during the next three years.

Habitat provides an interest-free mortgage, free building materials and a rolling team of corporate and individual volunteers, funded in Northern Ireland by £1.5m in donations each year. Potential homeowners hear about the scheme by word of mouth or from advertisements in the local press. To qualify, they must be inappropriately housed – perhaps with overcrowding, young children or no lift – but unable to find adequate accommodation through the usual channels. For example, people who are a high priority on their local housing register will be refused.

Successful applicants will have an annual income of £9000 to £13,000 and be able to repay a mortgage at a rate of £55 a week. New three- and four-bedroom houses eventually go for £45,000 – just below the building cost and at two-thirds of their market value. If an owner sells in the first five years, they get back only what they have repaid. Between years five and 20, they get one-15th of the profit for each year. After five years, if a homeowner is more financially secure, they give up their interest-free mortgage and take on a commercial one, freeing up funds for someone else.

But the homeowners' most important commitment is the 500 hours' "sweat equity" on site. Aided by Habitat's volunteers and under the leadership of trained foremen, they do everything bar the plumbing and brickwork. "People are building their homes alongside their future neighbours," says Robert Branney, foreman of the Downpatrick site. "You'll have 14 families who know how to build a house at the end of the construction period."

Priced out
Northern Ireland's property prices have risen 15% in the past year. Terraced houses have gone up 21%, leaving the average home at £100,000. According to Habitat's fundraising director Liz Burke, this is beyond the reach of many – there are currently 1000 people waiting for social housing in Downpatrick alone. The charity works informally with the Northern Ireland Housing Executive, which sells or donates the land for building.

People build their homes alongside their future neighbours. You’ll have 14 families who know how to build a house at the end of construction 

Robert Branney, Foreman

But Northern Ireland's housing needs differ significantly in one respect, says Burke. "People may have been displaced or intimidated out of their homes by sectarian forces, especially in the less affluent areas where we tend to build. Our Downpatrick site, for example, lies within a larger estate founded in the 1970s for Catholics displaced from Belfast." Indeed, the discovery of an arms cache during excavation for the Ballysillan site lent the concept of building communities a new poignancy.

It was the possibility of bringing together communities that attracted John Farquarson. A native of Belfast, he volunteered for Habitat in Georgia, USA, before setting up the Northern Irish branch. "There were blacks and whites, in this incredibly closed society, working together to build safe houses," he recalls of his time in the States. "That was the vehicle for covering their differences and it made me think of home."

After 10 years of building in Belfast, Farquarson is resigned to slow progress, partly because the charity refuses to build – let alone make steps towards integration – without the assent of the local community. "Our first project in east Belfast was spurred by local people coming to us," he says. "We need leads from the community and from housing officers in that area. That will always be the way."

Fundraising director Liz Burke goes further. "We never go into a community without the backing of its stakeholders," she says. "That could mean a local development body or the old lady on the corner. We won't build without that assent. The fact remains that, in the less affluent areas of east and west Belfast, housing is largely segregated and people want it that way for the moment." She admits that Habitat's goal of a mixed estate is futuristic, at least in sectarian Belfast.

Nevertheless, Habitat is going ahead for what it calls the "big build" in September, an intensive four-week house build in Liganiel. It hopes that people from surrounding estates, including Protestant Ballysillan, will come and help on-site.

The charity's history in the area is one point in its favour. "We've had volunteers from both estates working on a project in Denver, in the States, and that will make things easier," explains Burke. "We've got Catholic and Protestant clergy on board and we're currently writing to residents and local businesses."