Last month I shared
my first experience of ‘Walking with Grenfell; a Silence Louder than Words’. I have just had my second. There are times when you
would rather be anywhere than where you are, and yet couldn’t
possibly be anywhere else and, for me at least, the monthly Grenfell
Silent Walk feels like that. The Grenfell community have asked for as
many people who can to be there and so I feel invited and welcome,
and yet at the same time that I am intruding on private grief and
imposing my own thoughts on something that I can’t possibly
understand. And I think that I am probably right to feel both. It is
the same as seeing film cameras and photographers there. It matters
so much that the Grenfell fire isn’t forgotten, that those in
authority know powerfully that people still care, that the walk and
the ever-growing number of attendees is reported, especially whilst
the Public Inquiry is taking place, and yet what could be more wrong
than to film people taking part in such a raw act of remembrance.
Often there are people hugging and crying on the pavement as the walk
passes by. These are intimate moments not to be shared by a
scavenging media which seems often only trying to sell newspapers or
get clicks on a website, or with a voyeuristic public addicted to
watching suffering but often little engaged in what caused it. And
the banners. On this walk there were two types of banners being
shared amongst the walkers; one, white with simple black lettering,
calling for ‘Justice for Grenfell’, but another, more colourful,
declaring that ‘The Tories have Blood on Their Hands’ and
including the Socialist Workers’ Party address. It just feels not
the time for such statements or self-regard. And I wanted to take
photos, so that others might be encouraged to go along or see what
can be achieved by human beings standing together in support and
solidarity, but taking photos feels like a brutalisation. I did take
a few after the walk had ended, because it matters to make it real
for others who haven’t been there but the thing is that none of us
should have to be, and that we are is an endlessly open wound.
Everything just seems to come back to that. Over and over again.
But there is such
sweetness too. This time, because I arrived before the walk set out,
I was given a jar with a t-light inside to take with me on the walk.
I saw that all the jars had been beautifully painted, mine with
delicate daisies. There is such an atmosphere of being kind too,
allowing for different responses to all that has happened, allowing
those who live in the community to have different ways of thinking
about what might happen now. And so many people come along, even on a
dark and rainy edge-of-winter Tuesday night in November. It is
heartening.
I have never seen
the remains of Grenfell Tower in daylight, which I am quietly
thankful for, but it has a magnetic pull no matters which way you
face in North Kensington. Somehow it has become the blackened star
that everything else orbits around and it felt so as we walked. We
walk slowly, stopping every few minutes and just standing in quiet
reflection and personal thought. You could hear a pin drop. The
silence is something powerful, especially in the midst of busy
London. It feels bigger than this small group of people, as though it
becomes its own creature; something breathing for those who no longer
can. And I feel that we have become ghosts. Towards the end of the
walk we passed under a railway bridge close to the tube station.
There were two fire trucks parked there, one on either side of the
road. The leaders of the walk had stopped by them, remaining in
silence. I was too far back to know what happened but the flashing
blue lights on the fire trucks suddenly sprang into life and any
firefighters who had been out of the vehicles got back in. I suppose
that there had been a call. Imagine in that moment being perhaps
called to another fire. I don’t know how they have the strength to
do what they do but, of course, they do it for us. We were
accompanied by police throughout the walk but they had little need to
do anything and, as the fire trucks began to move off, we stepped
silently aside to let them through. As they passed we applauded, just
as I saw the community do after the fire. The silence held even then.
It was deeply affecting.
When we got to the
Westway where the walk ends a few words were said to us all by the
walk leaders and other members of the community, mostly to call for
more people to be there next time for the six month anniversary of
the fire. In a high tower block I could see someone looking out of
their window and a light flashing, probably a camera but it looked as
though they were signalling for help. It feels that nothing happens
there now that isn’t about the fire or a reminder of it, and I know
that I have no personal connection with that place so I can scarcely
imagine how it must really be ay after day. But the community cafe
was still there twinkling with t-lights and a row of smiling women
were serving free food. One day I might eat some but I still feel as
though I shouldn’t be there. I am sure that many people feel the
same. And it’s not that more people haven’t died all at once in
bombings in Syria and Yemen, and in so many other places. Of course,
a number of the people in Grenfell Tower that night had fled such
wartorn places, which seems so deeply and horribly ironic. I don’t
know why Grenfell feels so important but it is as though, on the
night of 14th June 2017, the Earth slightly shifted on her axis and
we have become trapped on the wrong side of things. I don’t know
what will mend it and I’m not sure that I believe there will be
justice, not really. How can there be? Because it isn’t just that
people died. It’s the attitude that put them in such danger and
which pervades every layers of our society. It’s that so many there
warned of the likelihood of fire over many years. It’s that so many
of us, without having ever heard of Grenfell, knew that what was
unfolding in this country through the Government’s Austerity agenda
would kill people and so it has and continues to do. My friend told
me that she was weeding the other day and was clearing some of a
particular plant from a patch of earth. She hadn’t realised that,
unseen beneath the surface, the plant was putting out long roots,
creating a thick web taking all the moisture from the plants around.
She said that the roots were so strong that you could follow it
through the soil as you pulled it up. Grenfell is like that; you pull
at one of the ‘roots’ that might have caused it and then you see
how far it goes, that it reaches into everything. But whether justice
will ever come or not, it matters to be there. In solidarity and
community.
On the way back to
the Underground station I visited a walkway that has been turned into
a place of remembrance, the walls covered in photos of the dead of
Grenfell and a shrine filled with flowers, candles, and religious
symbols at the end of it. As I stood there, I heard a tiny voice and
looked around to see a little boy of around three with, I imagine,
his dad. The little boy said to his dad in his sweet little voice,
“Where is Hajiid?”* and his dad, sounding very calm and
reassuring, led him into the walkway, pointed to a photo and said,
“Here he is, here is Hajiid.” The little boy asked about another
someone and his dad pointed to another photo, “Here he is. Look,
he’s here too.” The boy was pleased, happy to know where his
friends were and they left. As they did so, he turned and waved, “Bye
bye, Hajiid. See you soon.” How could anyone’s heart not break?
Sometimes I wonder how this country didn’t just crumble into the
sea that night…
Silent walks to
honour the dead and the survivors of the Grenfell fire, to express
solidarity for their families and their community, and to continue
the fight for justice, will continue every 14th of the
month at 6.30pm. The walk gathers outside Notting Hill Methodist
Church at 240 Lancaster Road, London, W11 4AH. The community have
asked for as many people as possible to come and walk with them in
silence, because the silence will be heard. Alone, they will become
invisible. It is growing in numbers each month and I know that it
would mean a lot to them if that growth continued. Please do think
about joining them if you can. It matters. If you are unable to be
there on the night please think about holding your own silent vigil,
either publicly with others or at home, and send photos or messages
to the Grenfell community on the silent walk Facebook page at
https://www.facebook.com/Grenfell-Tower-Silent-Walk-122708985093572/
. It will show them, and the people responsible who need to know that
we won't forget, that we care.
No justice, no peace.
No justice, no peace.
