A Wounded Realist - Guest Blog by Denis Adide

Smoke was still rising from the ruins of Grenfell Tower. The day after the fire had been tense, full of shock and bewilderment. A great deal of anger was being directed at the local Council who were had overseen the refurbishment of the Tower, and now, they were felt to be absent. That rising tide of anger threatened to spill over in ugly ways, as a march on the offices of the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea turned nasty, with angry protesters storming the building and terrified workers locking themselves in their offices inside.  

 

Various political figures were quick to visit on the day after the fire, but those visits didn't go too well. Sadiq Khan, the Mayor of London, Jeremy Corbyn, the leader of the Opposition and of course Theresa May, the Prime Minister, all visited. The Prime Minister, in particular, came into came in for criticism, when she visited the day after the fire, and only met the emergency services and officials, avoiding potentially uncomfortable meetings with local residents or survivors from the Tower. 

 

Shortly after her visit I received a phone call from No. 10 Downing Street asking if I could gather a group of local people to meet with the Prime Minister, a sign at least that she wanted to remedy the hurt caused. The meeting was hastily arranged with a mix of local residents, evacuees from the Tower and local housing blocks, volunteers and representatives of local community groups. We met in the nearby St Clements’ Church, sitting in a circle, to enable the Prime Minister to hear and feel the emotions and appeals of local people. Half way through the meeting, one of the security people tapped me on the shoulder to say that a restless crowd was building up outside and the meeting had to be drawn to a close. The Prime Minister left quickly, was bundled into a car, which shot away from the area to the jeers and heckles of an angry crowd, some even banging on the roof as she left.

 

It was into this febrile and angry atmosphere that the Queen made her visit to the area on Friday 16^th June, just two days after the fire. I was in the Westway Sports Centre, a building that had been set aside for coordinating volunteers, providing beds for those who needed them, a depot for receiving gifts and donations that had started flooding into the area. I recall looking up and seeing a fleet of cars stopping and a small figure in a blue dress stepping out with her tall grandson beside her. She walked straight over to a group of residents and volunteers and began to talk with them. She spoke with firefighters, volunteers, residents, and listened carefully to their stories. She spoke to one older volunteer who had lived locally, and who could not forget what she had heard on the night of the fire. She had heard the voices of children crying from the Tower, but it was the silence when the voices stopped that had haunted her ever since. Somehow, the Queen found words to bring comfort, reassuring her that the children’s suffering may not have been as bad as she feared. 

 

I was reminiscing about this visit with some members of the local community recently. Those I spoke to universally felt it was a very significant occasion. One of them told me: “The whole community was shocked at the lack of support coming in from the authorities. Everyone was in shock because it really just felt like we had been left to pick up the pieces and be the emergency relief for this tragic event.” Another reflected on the Queen’s presence: “It brought tears to so many to feel that this horrific, disastrous moment was being acknowledged and that the men, women and children who had lost their lives mattered and that we as a community in mourning mattered to someone in the higher powers. It meant a lot that she had showed her face.” 

 

At the time, rightly or wrongly, the community felt abandoned by those in power and yet the visit of the Queen made a difference. She brought reassurance, listened to the heartbreak of that community, expressed genuine sympathy and eased the tension in some very difficult days.

 

I've often thought since then of the courage it took to make that visit. Reports tell of how Palace insiders were worried about it, concerned about the potential damage to the monarchy if the Queen had been heckled or even attacked in the way that the politicians who had visited the area had been. We can only assume that it was the Queen herself who took the final decision to come. She has spoken of her regret for not visiting earlier the site of the Aberfan disaster in 1966. This time she got it absolutely right. She took the risk, and it was just what was needed. Even though trust still remains low in the North Kensington community with RBKC and even with government, generally speaking, most people in the area speak highly of the royal family, because they stepped in to bring support at their time of need.

 

The Queen’s strong Christian faith is well known and was increasingly prominent in her Christmas broadcasts towards the end of her life. This was one of those days when she lived out that faith. One local resident put it like this to me: “she could have sent a representative, but she came in person.” There could hardly be a better description of the meaning of Christmas, when God, not a representative, came to us in person. To visit Grenfell took a great deal of courage, and brought healing and comfort. It was the Queen doing what she could do, perhaps one of her finest hours.