ON ANY given weekend O'Connell Street in Dublin is lined with a myriad of tables, banners and posters laden with information on what you know is a just cause, but which gains fleeting interest.

These operations are managed by protestors who may not get the same recognition as Ireland's most significant campaigners - the Rossport Five - but, unfailingly, they are motivated citizens of the world who aren't afraid to take on modern-day Goliaths, such as the Chinese government or the D�il, to campaign for a cause close to their hearts.

But how do these protestors bring themselves to give up the comfort of their living room to take to the streets? And how do they make the giant leap between thinking and doing? Six campaigners tell us their story.

Heather Buchanan (37) Chairwoman of the Save Tara Valley campaign In March 2005, I was involved in a car accident which left me with fractured ribs, punctured lungs and in pain down my side, which I still experience today.

This, combined with my stressful job as a secondaryschool teacher, led me into a depression; I was crying everyday and really close to suicide. Luckily, I'd done some specialist teacher training which told me that a helpful way to combat depression was to become active in the community - and at the same time I heard about the Tara Valley campaign on the radio.

I couldn't believe that they wanted to build a motorway through the valley, especially because of its significance as a spiritual area, so I became actively involved that October. For a long while, it was the only thing that would get me to leave the house.

My parents and six brothers and sisters are incredibly supportive, which means a lot to me because I spend a lot of time on it. I'm now on disability benefit which means I can campaign during the day and take part in a vigil there a few days or nights a week. Like other people in Meath, my parents initially thought that there was nothing that could be done to save Tara Valley, but to try is my life's purpose.

Marie-Therese O'Loughlin (56) Campaigning for personal redress I spent the first four years of my life at the mother-and-baby unit of Regina Ceoli residential hostel. I fell into a fire and received the scars I have today. When the government made a list of institutions for its redress scheme, this particular unit wasn't included, so I came here in October 2005 to get the compensation that I deserve and have been living outside the D�il for nearly a year.

The opposition party TDs are sympathetic to my campaign and they've become my newfound friends. They buy me coffee and take me for meals sometimes. And when I woke up today, I found a present of a scarf and gloves at the back of my tent. I can't be certain who left it there but it's most likely from someone inside the D�il. The Sinn F�in TD Caoimhgh�n � Caol�in is particularly nice to me. He's always got a smile and treats me like a real lady no matter how I look.

And I do get quite embarrassed about my appearance - I even refused an invite into the D�il at Christmas because of how I'm dressed.

After 15 months of protest, I'm fully reduced to a down-and-out - and that's tough. People walk past and shout at me to get a job or pull myself together. And last winter the temperatures went into the minus figures - there were even icicles inside my tent. I thought that if there were ever a time to call it a day and give up, it was then. But I'm adamant about this cause so I'll stay as long as I need to.

Laura Broxson (17) Organises the Coalition to Abolish the Fur Trade I turned vegetarian when I was 12, vegan when I was 13, and by the time I was 14 I wanted to become actively involved in helping animals, so I joined my local animal rights group, the Alliance For Animal Rights.

I couldn't not join - I felt so strongly about the issue that I would have felt guilty if I didn't try to make a difference.

My first protest was against a circus. It took place in Dublin city centre and I remember feeling really nervous because I didn't know what to expect. But the people I was campaigning with were helpful and nice and the support we received from the public was brilliant so I've been at it ever since. The only time I experienced any trouble was at another anti-circus protest. We were outside it holding placards and banners and suddenly their thugs-for-hire came out and started attacking people. It was a really terrifying experience, watching my friends get bashed, while frantically trying to call the police. My mum was with me at the time and she was terrified too but it didn't put either of us off. She's also vegan and involved with the campaigns, so she's supportive of me all the way.

I was a home-schooler but my only ambition is to continue doing what I'm doing.

My work with Caft involves protesting outside Barnardo approximately every second Saturday. In between that, there are other animal-rights protests and we also give out packs to stores on why they shouldn't sell fur.

Some can be really responsive, like the Clerys manager - he typed up an anti-fur agreement during our meeting. That makes up for all the times I despair that things won't change. Making the smallest difference is so rewarding and I can't ever imagine giving it up.

Jane Horgan-Jones (22) Pro-choice campaigner I'm not a card-carrying member of any particular pro-choice group but it's something I've been active in all throughout college. I was the education officer at UCD students' union last year and we ran an information campaign to let women know about adoption agencies and abortion clinics abroad.

That's relatively tame but people still went crazy: I got silent phone calls and someone put a sign on my door saying "infanticide services here". Such reactions show that campaigning is an uphill struggle.

I spent the last two Saturdays in Dublin city centre handing out leaflets, which was exhausting, but as a student I'm in the privileged position where I have more time to campaign than someone who's equally passionate but has a fulltime job and a baby to look after. Of course, all this activity gets in the way of college work sometimes but university is not just about getting a degree - it's about getting a life education and becoming a contributing member of society.

As such, I'm involved in many other campaigns too. One of the most inspiring marches was the Irish Ferries protest in 2005. It was just when belief in trade unions was waning and membership numbers were falling.

But then hundreds of thousands of people came to this march and it really lifted me, renewing my faith that people were still interested in workers' rights.

I also went to the Shell To Sea solidarity weekend in Rossport last summer, where about 100 protestors camped. I particularly remember it because another activist dropped their ring in the only portaloo on the site, so it had to be fished out with a stick. The things we do for a good cause!

Zhao Ming (35) Member of Irish Falun Dafa Association Falun Dafa is a mind and body practice like Tai Chi or yoga. But the Chinese government has been persecuting the practitioners since 1989 because it doesn't don't allow traditional practices or freedom of belief. So I come to the Spire in Dublin every Saturday to try and let people know about the atrocities of the Chinese government. They're good at hiding their actions, both from their own people and internationally, that I feel it my duty to let the western world know, especially as I was imprisoned and a victim of their regime.

I was studying a postgraduate degree in Trinity College when I went back to visit China in late '99. When I appealed to the government about my right to practice Falun Dafa, they arrested me and I spent nearly two years in the Tuan-He Labour Camp in Beijing. The conditions were relatively better than in rural camps but there were still awful happenings: deprivation of sleep, no sunlight, electric shocks and beatings. Thankfully there was a huge campaign in Ireland on my behalf - even Bertie Ahern and Mary Robinson became involved - and once the international eye was on them, they were forced to let me go and return to Ireland. I've spent every Saturday since campaigning.

Colm Roddy (64) Member of Fairview Anti-War Group in Dublin I became involved in campaigning in the late '80s when Charles Haughey's government cut international aid - I'd just come back from working in Ethiopia so I felt very strongly about it. But since March 2005, I've protested about Irish involvement in America's 'War On Terror' at the back of the D�il. When I told my wife and three children about it, they weren't surprised - they know me by now. And because I'm all but retired, I have the time to spend on the campaign.

I come on a weekly basis when there's a cabinet meeting on and stay between 8am to about 10.15am, wearing the orange boiler suit that's associated with Guantanamo Bay detention camp. The idea came from the early protests when lots of people dressed up but I continued because I found it was eyecatching and represented what was going on.

When I finish my protests I go around to the front of the D�il before I take off the suit - and I get some very funny looks during that walk.

The garda� here tolerate me as the weirdo who comes every week. I'm a peaceful protestor anyway, although I did find myself in a sit-down protest in Shannon Airport in October 2002. About 80 of us found a hole in the fencing so we went inside, sat down and started singing 'Give Peace A Chance' by John Lennon. As law-abiding as I am, I can't deny that I got a real kick out of that.