The fire, the bridge and the war zone – Remembering the New Cross Fire (Part 1).

BY MKUU AMANI

In January 1981 a house fire took the lives of thirteen young people in London. Against a backdrop of growing, racial tension suspicion surrounded the cause of the fire and prompted the black community to mobilize and respond. The ‘Black People’s Day of Action’ was organized as a protest against the government’s response to what became known by many as the ‘New Cross Massacre.’ Mkuu Amani reflects on the tragic fire and the march that became an historic event.

I was seventeen years old, unemployed and hopelessly immature when I boarded a coach and travelled south from the Midlands to join the protest march from Fordham Park to Hyde Park in London in 1981. It was the “Black People’s Day of Action” and the first time I’d seen so many African-Caribbeans together in the same place at the same time since my father had taken me to watch the West Indies cricket team take on England at the Oval in 1976.

Back then, at just twelve years old, perhaps because at that time, the West Indies cricket team was becoming so exciting and prolific, my abiding memories are drenched with that sense of joy and togetherness that everyone around me seemed to be so vibrantly embracing. The cricket ground was awash with brown-skinned smiling faces, the aroma of fried fish and chicken and the infectious sounds of cheering and laughter, all brought together by a love of cricket and a yearning to witness what this exciting new crop of Caribbean cricketers could produce.

Clive Lloyd, Viv Richards, Michael Holding and the rest of the team didn’t disappoint. Richards hit a staggering 291 runs in the West Indies’ first innings. By the time the test match was over, West Indies had won by 231 runs and took the five-test series 3-0. It was a triumph so emphatic that some described it, with some real pride, as a ‘Blackwash.’

Being in New Cross, on March 2^nd, 1981, was an entirely different affair. Up to twenty thousand people of African-Caribbean heritage travelled from all over the UK to attend. There was the same togetherness for sure, a sense of unity that clamped us together like the links on a chain, as we traversed the march route in our thousands. But the smiles had disappeared, replaced by scowls, and the joy had made way for anger, bitterness and hurt. On that day, uplift had turned to uprise, the streets of London belonged to us, and no-one was going to change that.

I didn’t personally know any of the victims of the fire that took thirteen young lives in New Cross on January 18^th, 1981. It was the content on the signs and placards carried by people during the march that introduced their names and faces to me. Their ages ranged from fourteen to twenty-two, and their photographs – a hand-held gallery of large, black and white headshots, betrayed their youthfulness and portrayed the parallels conspicuous within our African-Caribbean culture. Their handsome faces, carrying some of the few smiles we saw that day, with their light or dark brown skin tones and groomed afros or plaits conveyed in photographs mounted on placards so large that they stood out from a distance.

There were other placards too, upon them vivid messages printed, or scribed in paint or thick felt tip. And though the content of them ranged from accusation to exclamation, the sentiment was the same throughout. Thirteen young black people had lost their lives in a house fire, but was it a tragic accident or were they victims of a racist arson attack? Many people suspected that it was the latter.

Rockel Lewis is a dog trainer who resides in the West Midlands. He was nineteen years old when he decided to travel to London to join the march. He said, “It was about the thirteen dead, and nothing said. For so many people crying out, and a black majority crying out, there had to be something wrong.”

As we walked past 439 New Cross Road and were able to see for those few moments, the devastation caused to the building by the fire, the horrific experience of that Sunday morning became more imaginable. What remained of the window frames was scant, brittle and blackened. The previously tan coloured brickwork of the wall was smoke-stained with a smear that ascended wide from the ground floor window and door, up past the openings of the first and second floors. Pieces of broken glass remained within a few of the windowpanes. Their jagged edges and coal coloured surfaces, awkward remnants of what they had previously been. But this was more than could be said for the roof, now absent aside from some remaining burnt-out splinters.

Forty-five days had passed since the tragedy, yet the distinct smell of burnt timber still hung on the air. For those few moments, as we marched past the house where those young lives were lost, the silence was palpable.

In memory of the victims of the New Cross Fire, there are two plaques erected at Lewisham Town Hall.

Here are the names of the people commemorated:

• Anthony Berbeck
• Humphrey Geoffrey Brown
• Peter Campbell
• Steve Collins
• Patrick Cummings
• Gerry Paul Francis
• Andrew Gooding
• Lloyd Hall
• Rosaline Henry
• Patricia Johnson
• Glenton Powell
• Paul Ruddock
• Yvonne Ruddock
• Owen Thompson