(Margaritte)
London: Margaritte’s Arrival
I arrived in London on Wednesday night in a sleepy state already to be put into a real bed. Elliat picked me up later then I wanted after being on a broken down tube train. No matter, we were off to a good start hugging and sharing in the new somewhat blurry landscape (from lack of sleep) around me. We waited for our train that never came. A crackly British voice over the intercom told us that the last train had broken down which forced us onto an over crowded city bus through the suburbs of London. Welcome to a big sprawly city where you don’t know the stops because they are not clearly marked and the bus driver will not shout them out. We made our way to the back and squeezed in with all my gear as Elliat filled me in on the details of Copenhagen and her first day in London. Which included juicy tidbits of big squats, queer football (soccer) and fresh filming ideas. We arrived at Sherry’s tiny flat in Brixton at three am and immediately cuddled into the couch for seven hours.
The next morning we awoke to her flat mates cooking up a breakfast under our noses as we, and all of our equipment, were squeezed in between the fridge rater and the door to the hallway. We took showers and found a market to buy mangos, 3 varieties including one called Alphanzo, and some bread and eggs. Atop Sherry’s apartment is a little bit of Eden. It is a beautiful garden full of flowers and magical tables and chairs and sunshine between roses and borage plants. We talked for hours and then went in to take naps before going on a proper British evening walk round the Jamaican neighborhood. We saw a church steeple made of stone, found Shakespeare Street and got to know a few dogs.
That night we slept at the apartment squat across the street, the “Clifton Mansions.” It was a huge old and dusty apartment complex with a fake horse head above the door. When we came in a courtyard with various sculptures and plant bits growing out of old bathtubs greeted us. On the left was Arika’s apartment, which she shared with her girlfriend, a friend and a very jumpy dog, named Mollie.
Arika shared stories over mint tea of squatting in London for the last 10 years and how Britain has been the best place in the EU to squat because of some old squatter rites law. We talked about the history of the building, how the landlord disappeared and most of the tenets just stayed and didn’t pay rent for the last 20 years. More recently the city council decided to evict all the people there and the half block of squatted apartments around the corner to make way for development this fall. This has become a problem as the gentrification of cities is becoming a worldwide issue, pushing poorer folks out of their homes. Squatters are also under a lot of pressure from the government threatening to change this old law, many cases are brought to court each year trying to save free spaces. The forced move will be hard for the tenants of Clifton Mansions but Arika said in a way it was good because of some recent harassment from a neighboring businessman and his friends. They were dealing crack and verbally assaulting the queer folks in the building as well as the women. Though this was some of the harsh reality of city life on the fringes plenty of people have squatted securely and viably throughout the city and country. We hope to visit more squats in the countryside and city’s in the north.
Our last day in London, the first time through, was full of fun sweet moments. Including Sherry’s musical performance at the White Chapel Gallery. She does a combination of electronic noise art and performance with a screen in front of her projecting images across her body. We met up with some of Elliat’s friends from Queer fest Copenhagen and Sherry’s lovely flat mate Joe. We all watched the next band together leopard legs, an all gurl drumming sound art band. Our friend Scratch and I stood on top of benches fanning off cigarette smoke with postcards and taking in the intense bass of drums and ten howling womyn all dressed in white with thick black eye makeup.
Afterward, after a two hours of coordinating, we all walked to a gay bar in Central London called the Joiners. The walk was the best part, it took us through a Bangladeshi neighborhood full of young people and restaurants then quiet side streets that made us feel like we were utterly lost, then losing half of the seven people when they turned the wrong corner and two others when they went to get bagels without telling anyone.
We finally made it to the over crowed very smoky pub and tried to sit down on some couches. A sexiest older gay man refused to move, being used to taking up SPACE and laid his body across the couch to reserve “his space.” We stood for some time, then when he went up to go to the toilet Elliat and me, the un-polite Americans, snagged the couches and told him and his friends they could share the space, which they did before leaving.
We all giggled and talked and took pictures into the wee hours when kisses were exchanged as well as numbers for when we return to London at the end of July.
No comments:
Post a Comment