Harmonious Living

In the last 6 months I have heard a lot of stories of people living with "neighbours from Hell". Perhaps I am more aware of it and am so seeking these kinds of posts/comments as I too am suffering at the hands of such neighbours.

Since moving in here I have been utterly amazed at how much noise can affect your life detrimentally and at how unaware of others some people can be, especially when living in close proximity. It brings me back to our sense of community. How have tribes around the world been able to do it. How do communes do it. Why are we with all our knowledge and so called modernity unable to be respectful of our neighbours. To think how would I feel if that was happening to me.

The day I moved in, I changed the locks and that resulted in some drilling. Within about 5 mins the woman from upstairs had come downstairs to tell me the noise had to stop. It was 8pm on a Sunday evening and she was now having to go out for dinner because of my noise. I was shamefaced and a little upset. I wanted to get on with my neighbours and I was only changing the locks to feel safe in my new home. That very same evening, 2 hrs later, this same woman was slamming doors and talking so loudly I could hear everything below her flat. I thought perhaps she was getting her own back. Oh no! That was just the way she was. For the next month I did not get a single night's sleep because of the noise from her flat. From loud music, to shouting matches with her partner, to late night parties, to loud radios in the morning, to consistent door slamming. I felt truly like I had falled into a pit of pure pain.

The truly amazing thing was she was obviously sensitive to noise or she would not have come down to tell me to stop. Yet was utterly unaware of her actions. Before she left the building ( and she thankfully did) we did infact have a nice chat and she was very friendly. But still totally unaware of her noise levels. I did mention as politely as I could and she could not entertain the idea. Instead she talked about how noisy HER neighbours below her were! How was this possible? Was I doing the same? Thankfully not. I spoke to my neighbours in turns, passing each other in the halls and it turned out that 2 things were consistent. No one had any complaints about me making any noise. Quiet as a mouse said my neighbour. Second the same people who complained about noise made the most themselves.

Oh isnt't it awful when all you hear is the front door slamming says one. Cue the next time they go out- slam! And this not once but time and again. So somewhere between experiencing the issue and then being the issue what fell short. I would say its the old saying of walking in another man's shoes. I dont live on the ground floor, but I can imagine that the people who live down there get a lot of noise from the main door, from the people above them and the street so I dont want to add to that. I dont have a new born baby, but I can imagine that if there was somone with a young child I would not want to be making too much noise late at night. I'm no saint. I play my music loud sometimes, but not deafening. I dance around the flat, but wouldnt wear heels and do that on a wooden floor. Mainly because I dont want to be told I have impinged on someone else's space and time.

Yet the very same type of mentality that throws litter on the ground, that doesn't feel compelled to give an old lady or a pregnant woman a seat on the train, that says oh isn't it awful the level of criminality during the riots, but fiddles their tax return or sees someone drop something and keeps it than hand it over; can infllict on others and only be concerned when they are affected. Is unable to be mindful of others.

I shall continue to close doors quietly, to buy plants for the front porch to the building, to hoover the communal area that is my responsibility because that is the kind of community I want to live in. Though it makes me sad when I dont see it reciprocated there are nuggets of joy. Talking to the lady downstairs I told her what a hard time it had been with all the noise, chatted about other things and then went back to my housework, Half an hour later as I was hoovering the communal stairs she told me they had just hoovered their bit, and had put my potted plants in prime position by the front door. You remind me of my daughter she said. Exactly! We are all someone's daughter. We share space with someone's mother, sister, father, son. That is how community works. By creating with awareness an extended family.

In a community whether tribal or a commune, people learn to live together. To think of your neighbour as well as yourself. As well as, ie in the same way as you do for yourself. I don't like this, will someone else? When we feel that we are isolated, when we live in the fantasy constructs of big brother and celeb culture, we don't think we have to bother with anyone else. We are the stars of our own show and no one else gets a look in. If we cannot feel peaceful and relaxed in our own homes, then how can we contribute to the world, to society. If I have been disturbed by hammering and drilling all day, I feel disturbed. If the day has been peaceful, I feel at peace too. I can then take that out into the day. So maybe Everyman cannot change the issues across the world instantly. But we can change things at home, literally, with our neighbours. Like a country with it's borders. We can choose to create enemies and then build defences or attack. Or we can find a way to live side by side, in the knowledge that this peace will also be something we can take into our jobs and day to day life. And so into the World.

What is Community

Walking through the streets of Clapham today I was struck by how something had changed. It was not the boarded up shop fronts, or the greater police and media presence. It was a change in the air. Something felt like it had been purged; lifted. Almost like a bubbling resentment, anger had been let out.

For a long time I have felt there had been a lot of anger on our streets. And not just witnessed by the gang attacks or the malicious incidents but in every day life: in a shopping line, at the bus stop, on the tube. A gradual wearing down seemed to be happening of Respect and Community. Sitting on tube trains I would notice how few people gave up a seat for a pregnant woman, or took note if there was an altercation. Common decencies like letting people off a train first, please and thank you and generally being mindful of each other and our planet were less noticeable. I've walked behind people, young and I have to say old too, dropping litter with the same abandon of a rioter smashing a window- a lack of care.

Am I saying this has all disappeared? No not at all. But much in the same way that I have heard people talk about the Blitz spirit I saw some of that today. Its a sense of coming together. And quietness that may have been fear, may have been sadness, but also seemed an internal looking. For too long we have wandered around with ipods on full blast, phones dangling from our hands, our nose in a magazine and eyes glued to an ipad or media images on posters. Unaware, blocking out the world around us, each other and our inner emotions. Levels of over drinking have increased, levels of drug taking have almost become a norm, and with that a desensitizing of soul in this city. Emotions supressed, not expressed go where? Today it seemed people have been forced to really wake up and look at the city they live in, their neighbours, themselves. Ask questions: would I have done the same if presented with the opportunity, what do I want to do to the rioters, why did this happen? I heard people asking why. I heard the blinkered cries of "animals" and also heard the voice of insight: there were reasons. Animals do not attack their own. Animals attack to survive. If you are going to call these looters animals then ask why are they attacking their own. Why do they feel they need to fight for survival? We may laugh at the fact they robbbed a Poundland or a KFC; that a bag of rice is seen as a trophy; but ask what aspirations do these people have that even in the throws of so called "criminality" they set their sights on the mediocre?  And no- having a Blackberry does not mean you are privileged as ex actress Glenda Jackson thinks. It means you have a Blackberry- how you got it is another matter. More importantly deprivation takes many forms- not just the financial. From family, to support, opportunity, hope, love, sense of purpose, sense of safety- and on. We are constantly told money is not everything so why are we assuming that a nice pair of trainers and a fancy phone means all is well?

If we feel that disconnected from who we are, from where we are from, from the community in which we live then what is there to stop us hurting our own? An African proverb that is being posted on networking sites:
"If the young are not initiated, they will burn down the village just to feel its warmth".

We have lost our sense of community, worldwide and state wide. When images of people being tortured and photographed were released, when the slaughter of the innocent is seen do we feel the commonality of that blood, pain and fear? Or do we neatly segregate it into different faith, different beliefs, bad guys them, good guys us. When people walk by a homeless man begging for money in the snow as they shop for Christmas do they feel his pain? Do they think: another wino, addict, poor man, dont give him money or do they spend a monent to walk in his shoes.

There are plenty of generous people, donating and caring, I am not saying that. I am saying where is our community? Do we feel members of the World? Do we feel we are One? And that concept is not something to be shunted to esoteric circles. It is not about crystal waving hippies in some field, it is about us all as citizens of the world and caretakers of the planet and thus each other. As the proverb says, without initiation we are lost. Initiation happens in community. Small and large moments are marked and celebrated. Grievances and joys are shared. When the Shaman sit in circle, the circle represents that community. In that space everyone is equal and everyone is valued and listened to. With the celebration comes ceremony and with that a coming together to create- to build. So when people talk about the Blitz Spirit they talk of that coming together. That shared sense of being communities of the world and of together building, re building.

When we lack initiation, when our achievements no matter how small remaim unrecognised, unpraised and under valueed; when our problems are unheard and young children are committing suicide due to bullying and feeling they have no one to share this with- we seek initiation in a group that will be our surrogate commmunity. The looters, rioters whatever we call them, created their own renegade community. The ferocity with which they spread and the impact of their behaviour shows the power of coming together. Just think if all that passion, emotion and rawness was chanelled into something positive- what could we not achieve? What could we not change? Who could we become.

Riots are the language of the unheard

So said Martin Luther King. We are hearing on a loop how the violence is down to thuggery, and these "random acts of violence" have no place in our society. The same media loop that told us Jean Charles de Menezes was wearing a padded jacket and jumped the barriers. The same loop that told us we had to go to war because Iraq had "weapons of mass destruction". The same loop that tells us a handful of people turned up to show solidarity for the people of Palestine during one of many attacks on their human rights, when witnesses can say the streets were packed. The same loop that calls the flattening of buildings and homes in Afghanistan and Iraq "collateral damage" and has nothing to say of state sanctioned torture and disappearances. Are we really meant to buy this?

The biggest danger is not the youths roaming the streets, the fires being set, the looting, the fear. The biggest danger is the erosion of Human Rights this may well precipitate. Already cases are being "rushed through the courts". I want to know how sure are the police they have arrested the right person before a case is rushed. I saw 6 armed officers surround a totally innocent middle aged man yesterday because they were certain he was a terrorist. They were proven wrong. Must we still be fed the myth that the State is never mistaken, never acts like a hooligan, never disregards the feelings of others. We only have to look at the destruction of land, homes, lives during 2 illegal wars- and that is abroad and home.

I want to hear people ask why has this happened and what can we do to move forward. With traditional British stiff upper lipness- the refusal to engage with these extreme emotions: we have facebook groups suggesting we all have a nice cup of tea tonight and lead by example. Theres been enough sitting around and drinking cups of tea while innocent men are incarcerated in secret prisons,while Blair took us to 2 illegal wars, while the banks were rewarded and people lost their jobs. While the die hards were organising protests and signing petitions, the UK had a cup of tea, enjoyed some state blessed 24 hr drinking and watched X Factor. Now those that feel they have not been heard have taken to the streets. That kind of anger isnt just down to social networking or wanting a big telly- its deep seated, its almost generational. If you sat and asked a group of these people why are you doing this and really asked really listened you might hear stories of abuse, deprivation, job losses, lack of education, schools shut, stop and search powers abused and on and on. One youth from Hackney said people were sick of the police. He had been stopped 17 times in one week! You try going through that and know its happening because you are brown/black/live on the wrong street/ are being scapegoated- anything and see if you dont feel like throwing a brick or ten.

I am in no way justifying the damage, the loss, the fear. Its wrong. Its wrong when governments do it and when people do it. But lets look at how we got here. The country should be buzzing with people getting into communities, coming together sitting and talking about what can be done. Someone may be able to help re build the corner shop, someone may know the parents of the kids out there doing this and fancies going round to chat to the potential troublemakers, and so skills are pooled. But sitting at home, isolated, with your laptop, tv? Thats what got us here in the first place.

Community. Community. Share share share. Ask questions and dont accept all the answers we get. We ask and we ask and we ask again and we say we will use this to bring about the shift, the change we crave. We will most definitely not be passive in the running of our lives anymore. Sod the tea, Im going out to talk to my neighbour, to build a community. Right now.

And Then

Last night after the incident I witnessed and all the fear mongering, anger and emotion over the London riots- a double Rainbow to show there can be light at the end of this.

The face of our Fear is most definitely brown

Walking through Covent Garden today, I found myself nearly knocked over by a speeding police car down a small street with no sirens or lights on. I thought it strange they were in such a hurry but had no warning system. As I reached the Tesco’s in Covent Garden, I saw 6 heavily armed police officers surrounding a man. I walked past and saw a small, middle aged, Indian man. He was holding a white charity bucket in one hand. Two officers were standing behind him telling him not to move and to spread his legs; they were going to search him. Another 2 officers were taking all his belongings out of his small beige rucksack and reading every piece of paper and asking him about their contents. At the same time one other officer was asking him who he was, what his name was and why he was behaving suspiciously.  Someone else was going through his wallet. It seems in London these days to be Asian, and carrying a rucksack makes you instantly suspicious.

The man spoke broken English and he did not seem to quite understand what was going on. He kept saying he was collecting for charity and you could see from his body language and the way he was looking at them he was stunned and very scared. These men were tall, heavily built, all Caucasian, talking loudly, moving him around physically, going through his things and saying he had been reported for suspicious behaviour. Someone they said had seen him collecting for charity outside Covent Garden station and had called the police saying they had seen a terrorist.

You could feel the adrenalin rising in these men as they went through his bag and flashes of the fear mongering and its terrible outcome with Jean Charles went through my mind. This man had been stopped and searched purely because of the colour of his skin. If a Caucasian man or woman had been standing outside Covent Garden station with a charity bucket and a rucksack would someone have rung the police saying there is a possible terror attack? Do people go around calling the police every time they see a Big Issue seller? Or one of those chuggers? They look more threatening half the time than this small framed middle aged man. But then Jean Charles had no padded jacket on, did not jump over any barriers. He was not even carrying the dreaded rucksack. He was simply the wrong colour. The colour of a terrorist.

They spotted me watching and I felt myself get worked up. I wanted to cause a scene.  To let people know what was going on here. I said Racists out loud. They heard me and none of the armed men could look me in the eye. An Asian bobby who had turned up, couldn’t stop eyeballing me. I stared right back. Police tactics work in so many ways to provoke, intimidate.

After reading all his personal papers, and telling him they thought he could be a terrorist; they had to admit they found nothing. To stop anyone seeing what they were doing they formed a ring around him. They could see me watching, so they blocked my view. The biggest of them was laughing and asking where he should go next. To the next brown man I suggested. He ignored me. People walked by but because they had ringed him in no one could see what was happening. It was clear now he was not carrying a bomb- so now they formed a tighter ring round him- to hide what? The fact they had been searching a man based on the colour of his skin perhaps?

After half an hour the armed police left. 2 plain clothes were left taking his details and the Asian bobby kept eye balling me. I had nothing to hide. I eyeballed him back. Eventually they left and the man was left crouching in the street putting his things away. I went up to him and put my hand on his shoulder. Asked him was he okay. I did not want to scare him. I told him I had seen what had happened . He seemed wary and said yes he was fine. I said I would have been scared, I was scared because of how many men there were. And his eyes started to fill with tears and he said yes he was scared but he was okay. He asked me my name and where I was from. He said he did not understand why he had been stopped. I told him it was because he was carrying a rucksack. He did not understand what that word meant. And because he was brown. He understood that with a resigned acceptance . Just as I was asking him if he needed anything the Asian bobby turned up again. They had been sat in the police car watching me.

He looked down at where I was crouched with the man and asked me if I was okay. I said yes thank you fine. He would not move. He looked at my brown paper bag from the Tea Shop in Neal Street. There was a terracotta tea pot in there and some Jasmine tea. I told him I did not have a bomb and would he like to arrest me because I was brown too. He said nothing. I said I am having a private conversation please would you go away. He said I saw you say “racists” and I wanted to explain we are not and I am Asian. Good for you I said. You stopped this man because of the colour of his skin. He started to say no and started to get quite pushy. Provocative I would call it. I was not going to be riled. I told him I was exercising my human right to have a private conversation, he was disturbing this, he had no legal right to stop me speaking to someone and to go away. He would not go away. He said he wanted to explain to me why they had stopped this man. Perhaps he thought me press. Perhaps he thought this would go further. I turned my back on the bobby and finished my conversation with the man.

I wandered dazed and upset into Tesco’s to get away from the meddling Bobby, who would not even let me extend some generosity to the man they had just harassed.  Aimlessly moving through chiller cabinets and food aisles, I went to leave and there he was, resilient, by the entrance with his white charity bucket in Tesco’s. He was not making any noise. Just silently standing there with his bucket collecting for charity.  We spoke some more. He seemed stunned but he thanked me for being kind to him. I asked him for an interview and he said sure. I hope to share his story with you in his own words here of the experience. He told me he was from Bangladesh and was collecting for the poor and sick back home.

This incident is a sharp reminder of where we are with the terror laws that were rushed through. Take this incident and change a few variables. The man has a beard and Muslim dress. The man is younger, resents being stopped, resists the Police.  The man has no papers to prove who he is. The man doesn’t speak English. The man has a Koran on him and literature that is anti war. The man has people who want to teach him a lesson, has annoyed his neighbour, who report on him-and you are one step closer to cases like Baber Ahmad. To extraordinary rendition, to Shaker Aamer still languishing in GTMO.

Wrong place, wrong time, and most definitely the wrong colour.