The Unknown

No untimely death is more cruel or more gentle than any other but there was a painful synchronicity this evening to being at the opening of ‘Syrians Unknown’, a Pitt Rivers Museum exhibition of portraits of unnamed Syrians with a few words written by each about the circumstances they find themselves in –
 
    We are the children of ancient cities,
    Cities built with flesh and stone brick
    We have so many enemies
    And we move from one age towards another
    Scattered by the dust of wars.
 
    We are the children of the cities that are being destroyed,
    And we will sleep under the light of planets and stars
    So that next time, we don’t die under the wreckage.
 
– just as the first casualty of the Grenfell Tower fire was named as a Syrian refugee. For two hours he phoned and texted friends and family in Syria. His last message was, ‘The fire is here now, goodbye’.
 
Unknown numbers of others will have sent similar messages from that tower for poor people - a firetrap with neither sprinklers nor audible alarms.
 
After the recent terrorist attacks in Manchester and London, hate crimes against Muslims doubled. On Tuesday night Muslims who were awake for Suhur, the meal eaten between 1 and 2am during Ramadan, were among the first to realise what was happening and ran to wake their neighbours and warn them to get out. Perhaps there'll be a doubling of kindnesses to Muslims now.
 
But Muslims were there only because they are disproportionately among the poor, and what happened in North Kensington is really about poverty. It’s about different standards for different people, about cutting corners and about what is considered affordable for whom.

Now, we must name the unknown. Then we must act so that next time, no-one dies under the wreckage.