The shock of Haringay.

I went for a great walk today. The weather was beautiful. A walk with my beautiful wife.

We walked through the autumn fields in the spring of our lives. Beautiful countryside with magnificent views over Leeds – the place I love.

We rested laughing at the brow of a hill to absorb the stunning panorama which lay at the tips of our outstretched arms. The City, Suburbs, Forests, Sweeping meadows and moors. Breath – taking.

I rested at that brow, against a wooden fence pole unawares that my back met the wires which separated the meadow from the path. We watched for a few moments in silence.

Then I was thrown 4 feet across the path, shrieking in pain. A torture transiently shot through my body jarring my back and arm. The fence was electrified.

Soon we laughed.

….but for a few moments it was torture. My wife hugged and comforted me….as I have been comforted during hard and painful times all my life – by parents, sisters, family, friends and of course by my wife and daughters.

Always there to give and receive comfort.

But for Baby P nothing. Just the torture. Alas not transient.

Not just an absence of that love, care and consideration we assume is a given from parents. No worse. A silence form those charged with spotting the gaps and plugging them. Seeing the risks and fixing them. Screaming like banshees with children suffer. Silence. 60 silent visits.

Those convicted of Baby P’s death will be convicted on 15th December.

Another day of silence for Haringay.

Tim Ocsko

Moments that Move (3)

Moments that Move

 

This is the third and final piece from Jonny Viner. Here he continues to explore the sound that comes from different places. The art work is Any Crump’s.Thanks Jonny for placing these posts.

 

March 2008 – “The credit crunch is upon us” was all I could hear on the news, “The housing market is on a downturn”.  Again the news broadcast was devoid of hope in the current economic climate.  So what do my wife and I decide? To try and sell our house and find a new home!  We figured that we could leave it up to the housing market gods to decide if this was a good idea or not.  The nation was (and still is) in a state of panic.  Mortgage offers are down by 80% which means the first-time buyers are no longer there to demand property.  For every fifteen houses on the market there is one buyer, so it’s not a good time to sell.

 

There are moments in all our lives when the winds of change blow and good economic sense goes out of the window. We believed this was one of those for us. Our time in this our home had been rich indeed. In the first year we had over 40 different people bed stay for anything from one night to a number of months. Most of them we knew, some we’d never met.

 

New Horizons

    It was such a great time; there was fun, laughter, friends – we were sharing life.  We had times of banter, times of honesty, times of pain – all shared together.  One afternoon as the house bustled with activity, one of the guys said in his best geordie accent: “Day 19 in the Big Brother House, most of the housemates are in the kitchen cooking their tea!” We all erupted into fits of laughter, a moment of pure genius.  I recall another time when the ladies had all gone away.  There seems to be a different energy around when it’s just blokes chatting together; I guess we feel that we can share and be understood.  We got chatting, well just banter really.  One of the guys abruptly stopped the banter, and started talking about some of the issues he was working through, how he was hurting and couldn’t play the game of ‘it’s all okay’ anymore.  It broke the silence of the game we were playing; it’s funny how we can chat for hours about nothing when we really could do with airing our issues.

 

 

 

Sharing our home this way, for us was a real lesson in living.  But in October last year things changed – our last tenant moved out and there was no one to replace him.  It felt like a definite change in season; maybe time to move on.

 

The house had been on the market just six weeks when we accepted the one and only offer. Against all the cards we were on the move; just a few miles but to another city; the twin of Leeds here in the north of England-Bradford.  A new home, street, town and city to listen to. Our new home is just 4 miles away from where we are now, but it’s a new – a new place needing a new response. What sounds will emerge from our new home? And what are the sounds of our new city? We are all ears.

Have a look at Bradford and the following link on the BBC website. Are the cities of the north of the Uk beyond revival? Post your comment below

 

 

 

Moments that Move (2)

This is the second of three pieces exploring the notion that cities have voices and the interconnectivity of people and place. Jonny is from Leeds. The last of these three follows tomorrow.

 

Moments that Move (2)

 

It took a while for me to understand that the village in India had spoken so profoundly to me, I guess even now I am still processing the depth of its impact.  One year after India I left Leeds for the second time, this time I went to go and study in Coventry. I lived there for two years and had a great time, it wasn’t until I left Coventry that I had my next big experience of how the land can speak.

 

After studying away from home for 2 years there had been a rather substantial dent placed in my wallet, I wanted to stay in Coventry to be with the people there but I simply couldn’t afford it.  So I left Coventry and came back to Leeds.  It was a weird transition; I had left my home city and had not really planned to come back.  In fact I didn’t feel I had come back to the Leeds I had known, I was back in Leeds but it felt like a new place.  It had changed.  No longer did it feel like the place where I grew up, where I bore the pain of adolescence, where I was bullied in school, where I had lived what had felt like half a life with my eyes and ears closed.  It was new.  New friends came quickly, I entered into new spheres of work and I had new aspirations and dreams.  Leeds had changed; it had a very different voice.  Or was it me that had changed? Did I have new listening skills that had developed during my time away?  Was it me that had newfound confidence in myself?

 

I think it was both, I had changed, that’s a fact, but the city had changed also.  To me it was singing a new song with a new rhythm – it felt like the city had a new heartbeat a heartbeat that connected with mine.  Even though I had come back to familiar streets, I felt as if I didn’t recognise the place as the Leeds I left – I’d come back, but to a new city.

 

It was a tangible resonance with the place that got me, it hooked me in and I started to really love the place.  There were good times and awful times, pain and comfort, joy and despair but the city was always showing me more.  I saw amazing things and witnessed the horrors of the reality that Leeds brought to some people.  Leeds was speaking, and during the next few years of my life, I was learning to respond.

Moments that Move (1)

Over the next three days we are featuring three posts from Jonny Viner. In these three pieces he begins to explore the wonder of places that speak and moments that move. Jonny has just turned 30 and lives in Leeds in North East England.

 

Moments that Move.

Jonny Viner

 

It’s funny how a particular place can alter you!  10 years ago, I was living a sheltered existence in the suburbs of Leeds, getting on with my own life, making my own choices – living free and easy.  The place I was in was changing me, yes, but at such a slow rate I don’t think I’d be much different now living that way, day in day out.  I had decided that I’d go explore the world and go experience a new place.  India.  This was no profound decision to go discover myself; it was more a selfish whim – because I could.  The experience of being away from home for the first time can be daunting, traumatic even, but for me it was an adventure – I swapped the suburbs of Leeds for the slums of South East India. 

 

Whilst in India one of the things I did each week was to walk along the beach for a mile or so with my new friends (both Indian, German and English) to meet the local children from the fishing village.  We played games with them, read them stories and hung out.  The kids showed us such affection; they were always climbing on me, holding my hand or stroking my hairy legs!  It was one of the highlights of my week just to be able to play games and have fun with those kids.  I just thought they were normal kids, who had fun all the time, like I remember my childhood being – I was very naïve. 

 

About 3 months into my time in India I had a conversation with one of the guys that was heading up the team, we were chatting about what we enjoyed and I told him that I loved working with the kids down at the fishing village.  I mentioned how nice it was to have some fun and see their smiles.

 

I was unaware that my view of what we were doing there was about to become a little more focussed, probably more focussed that I could deal with.

 

He shared with me that the time was really precious to these kids, because, for many of them, we were probably the only adults that loved them as children should be loved.  He went on to tell me that in this village there was a massive problem with child prostitution and that the kids were sold for sex by their parents.  The ones who should have protected, seek out abusers, for the right price.  I was dumbstruck.  I asked what the police did about it. “Not much” was the reply, as many of the policemen would be either using the kids for sex or organising the ‘pimping’.  I remember how inadequate I felt, how broken up I was, I guess you could say that the small fishing village in south India shook me out of my happy little bubble and opened my eyes.

 

Thinking about the impact it had, I would say that a place does speak to you.  Some places speak louder than others – that village in India shouted so loud it still brings me to tears now.  Writing this, I can’t help but wonder if every city I go to is always shouting at me.  The question I should be asking is, will I unblock my ears long enough to listen, think and find a response?

Heroes and Villains-Gill Hicks

Three years ago bombers set out from Leeds in the north of England to cause terror, havoc and death on the underground of London. On Saturday a remarkable women sets out from Leeds on a different journey. A victim of the bombings in which she lost both of her legs Gill Hicks will be walking from Leeds to london over the next few weeks. Covering ten miles a day she and others will walk and talk. The idea is that anyone can join for a mile or two and chat together as to why she is walking and the amazing story of forgiveness that she carries. You can link into this at www.walktalk.org.uk

Having walked this way myself soon after those shocking days I know somethng of the physical journey she is about to attempt. I say something for I walked as an able bodied person. However, I know nothing of the inner journey that Gill has been on to get to this point. So today big respect to you Gill. We are totally grateful that there are people like you in this world to inspire and provoke us. The wonder of life is that there are in fact many people like you who, through incredible adversity, rise above to discover ways of journeying that seem so beyond the rest of us.

So if you live on route get on the website and connect with this incredible journey. For the rest of us, massive respect to you Gill, a real modern day hero to us all.