I usually struggle coming to London. I find it oppressive - a concrete jungle where there is little space for people and even less for nature.
Simultaneously I meet the harsh motor of the city. I walk past nameless people through countless streets - here I’m an anonymous nobody. I struggle to keep up with the mission-struck men and women rushing to work, rushing home, rushing to eat, rushing to drink, rushing to live. When I come to London, I find my feet rushing too.
But recently, when I have come down I have left with an overwhelming feeling of hope. I have realised that being in a metropolis has its pros as well. Here is a melting pot of peoples from across the globe, with wide-ranging cultural heritages, following different stories and beliefs, all trying to navigate through life.
This month’s riots sent a loud message - this will never be home for people like me, non-white, non-native Brits.
But the counter protests and a week here in London have sent a message louder still: there does exist a community that accepts us here, and it is large enough and giving enough for us all to be part of. It restores hope to watch as cultures combine and connect in this city, fluidly, vivaciously, one person to another.
Here I share 14 photos from my week - some that inspired thought, others that gave hope, made me smile or elicited a feeling of wonder. All of them capture a moment that helped me to slow down, take pause and be present.
With somewhere to be, I almost rushed past this beautiful community garden. I stopped myself in time and had a wander around - looked in at tomatoes ripening, green peppers and red chillies, chard, beetroot, squash and what I think were chickpeas. There were places to sit, in fact a few people were sitting and reading in the garden, and speaking to a lady at the reception I found that they do community workshops and events - on Wednesday it would be a session for children, and on Friday afternoon they would host a hispanic group, whilst still being open for everyone to enjoy.
For 40 years they have embodied the word community - I sometimes struggle to articulate what this word means to me. Yet I know it when I feel it - when people come together, when a group provides for each other, all participating, all with purpose, needed, learning, listening, teaching, sharing. I wonder how this place feels to those that share in the Calthorpe Community.
A “Wall of Kindness”. What a beautiful idea. A gift economy right here on this wall. May we give to those with need what we no longer have need for. No strings attached. Nothing expected in return. No reward, and definitely no money. Where might we extend this, how else can we invite this simple ritual of giving: TAKE A COAT IF YOU ARE COLD; LEAVE A COAT IF YOU DON’T NEED IT ANYMORE
I spent one of the days this week at The Castle Climbing Wall near Finsbury Park. I came to meet a friend for an early morning climb before he started work, and ended up staying until the late afternoon, going between working in the cafe, sitting in the garden and getting back on the walls in equal measure.
When my friend suggested this place, I simply expected a bouldering gym perhaps with some belay climbing. I did not expect what I gradually explored more of during my day there: the most extensive climbing wall I’ve been to including a competition set, outdoor bouldering and a speed climbing wall; a “garden” which extended around one side of the castle, this beautiful space with tomatoes, squash, cucumber, salad leaves, peppers, chillies, apples, kiwi (!!), herbs and more growing around coppiced logs and wooden benches; a cute little cafe and shop selling coffee, freshly picked tea leaves from the garden and a few foods and jams made from the garden’s produce.
The resident gardeners, volunteers, cafe workers and gym staff on break sat in the sunshine around a wooden bench with their packed lunches and chatted. A few climbers took a rest and read under the shade of a large tree which appeared to have beans dangling from it.
A group of children sat around on coppiced logs and eagerly offered answers to questions on bushcraft and survival skills. I would later see them put up a tent, crawl inside and shout with yells of glee as water was poured onto the tent from outside.
Once again I felt it. Community. Conviviality. This was not just a place to climb, but a place to sit, to meet, to work, read, write, volunteer, teach and be taught, to be outdoors, to learn how food grows, to eat fresh produce and taste the difference, to share and receive kindness, to be inspired.
Lunch with a bit of kindness. Garden-grown vegetable shakshuka and an extra piece of pitta bread, given with a smile. A small gift that further brightened my day.
I came to Thenga Cafe for lunch for the first time a few weeks ago. I was searching for somewhere near the British Library to get some food that was nourishing amidst countless fast food options. I saw that they did Dosa’s and walked in. A simple interior, open and light with people smiling and chatting at a few long rows of tables. I felt the illusive touch of community again, this fluttering, fleeting thing that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I was still deciding between a thali and a dosa and said as much to the man at the counter. He asked me which one I missed the most. It was as if he had read my mind - I was thinking back to my time in India. How did he know? “I’ll get a Dosa please” I said with a grin.
We spoke later as I noticed his t-shirt, “Thenga Cafe” on the front and an initiative supporting refugees on the back. Thenga was a mission to feed people simple, fresh, healthy, homemade food, he said. In a jungle of chains and restaurants sacrificing health for flavour and convenience, this was a gem which I was very glad to have found. But I could see it was more than that. With values other than just profit (whilst still being a for-profit), you could see the difference. The place felt convivial. The two chefs in the back were chatting and smiling to each other and customers as they cooked, creating the feeling of a home-kitchen. I sat in the corner and read as people talked, not in silos closed off on separate tables, but on the long rows, together. There were posters at the counter for community events, vegan comedy night and food bank appeals. He welcomed me to return even if just to sit and read or write.
I returned this week and enjoyed a dosa wrap, a fresh juice and a welcome touch of conviviality.
My week ended with All Point’s East, which I attended on the Saturday. The sun was shining, and I felt blessed to spend the day with people I love and enjoy such incredible music. The funk and blues of Cymande, the powerful runs of Nubya Garcia on the saxophone, the soul of Lianne La Havas, the boundless energy of Ezra Collective. And to end the night, the calm activism of Loyle Carner.
During his performance he gave a spotlight to two poets, first John Agard with a powerful rendition of “Half-Caste”. And later, Athian Akec. With a capacity of 50,000 people at the event, and the many hundreds of thousands more that would view highlights and clips online, Loyle Carner gave these words a platform along with his own. Heartfelt, passionate and demanding of change. His performance was a demonstration not only in activism, but also of how to be a role model, how to be a leader, how to inspire change.
Below is a transcription of Athian’s words during Saturday’s performance:
“Have more faith
in young climate strikers,
than fear of politicians who sit idol
even as forest fires blaze and sea levels rise.
Have more faith
in the young artists who are pushing unity through their poetry and prose,
than fear of those that spread division and bigotry.
Have more faith in the power of creation,
than fear of the daily destruction that defines our era.
Put more trust in youth workers,
than in those who’s business model is apathy.
Put more trust in your community,
than in the powerful.
Put more trust in yourself,
than in those that are raised on pedestals.
It’s a tragedy that’s as true today as it was 6 years ago.
As knife crime claims more lives within our country;
Never has so much been lost by so many
because of the indecision of so few.”
Athian Akec, live at All Point’s East 2024
Ahhhh! I feel like London holds something we can't quite have over here in Birmingham but I'm not sure what it is.