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Dec. 29th, 2005
Crime & Punishment in Maida Vale
Dec. 29th, 2005 04:00 pmAbout two weeks ago, a man was murdered near my home. The route that I take to the Maida Vale library goes by the place he died and today, for the first time, I got to see the many flowers and messages that were laid on the spot by his family, friends and neighbours. The neighbourhood I live in, despite having a large estate filled with strutting teenagers, is actually quite safe. In all the years I've lived in Northwest London (or at least in this square mile) I've never heard of anything more serious than mobile phones being stolen, or the occasional car break in. Sissy A had some trouble with the local teenagers last year, when one of them threw an ice cream at her. She'd just come from a kickboxing class so she gave them a run for their money.
I've walked at night past the spot where the crime happened, sometimes drunk and alone; I got so used to seeing London as a safe city (in comparison to the extreme violence experienced in Brasil's metropolis) that it now feels strange to think that something like that could happen. But the truth is that urban violence exists everywhere, but some cities are better at disguising it than others, or have lower levels so that when it actually happens in your front door, you feel the shallow layer of security being torn down and paranoia settling in.
Earlier, Kevin, Natalia and I had gone for a walk near Paddington so Kevin could pick up a package from his mom at the post office. We heard some shouting and noticed a middle-eastern man grabbing a white guy and shouting for his friends. He worked for Tesco Express and it looked like the white guy had taken something from the supermarket. He pulled the white guy across the street, back to Tesco, just as two other middle-eastern guys came out of the supermarket. The white guy, panicking, tried to wriggle himself free; the Tesco employee held on tighter and slapped his face. Kevin kept trying to get Natalia and I to keep walking but we were glued to the spot. The three Tesco employees then pushed the white guy on the floor and dialed a number on their mobile phone (the police?)
A man, who had been watching the whole thing from his car, pulled out from the kerb and hit the car infront of him. A black man came out of the car and strutted to his driver window. I didn't know if I should watch the white guy struggling on the floor with three supermarket employees holding him down, or the impending confrontation between the two drivers. A traffic warden appeared out of nowhere, followed by another, but they stood on the other side of the street watching the drama like bored expectators. I had my camera inside my bag, loaded with a black & white film, but I only thought about taking photos when we'd already left the scene and were walking along the canal. We didn't wait to see the police arrive.
I've walked at night past the spot where the crime happened, sometimes drunk and alone; I got so used to seeing London as a safe city (in comparison to the extreme violence experienced in Brasil's metropolis) that it now feels strange to think that something like that could happen. But the truth is that urban violence exists everywhere, but some cities are better at disguising it than others, or have lower levels so that when it actually happens in your front door, you feel the shallow layer of security being torn down and paranoia settling in.
Earlier, Kevin, Natalia and I had gone for a walk near Paddington so Kevin could pick up a package from his mom at the post office. We heard some shouting and noticed a middle-eastern man grabbing a white guy and shouting for his friends. He worked for Tesco Express and it looked like the white guy had taken something from the supermarket. He pulled the white guy across the street, back to Tesco, just as two other middle-eastern guys came out of the supermarket. The white guy, panicking, tried to wriggle himself free; the Tesco employee held on tighter and slapped his face. Kevin kept trying to get Natalia and I to keep walking but we were glued to the spot. The three Tesco employees then pushed the white guy on the floor and dialed a number on their mobile phone (the police?)
A man, who had been watching the whole thing from his car, pulled out from the kerb and hit the car infront of him. A black man came out of the car and strutted to his driver window. I didn't know if I should watch the white guy struggling on the floor with three supermarket employees holding him down, or the impending confrontation between the two drivers. A traffic warden appeared out of nowhere, followed by another, but they stood on the other side of the street watching the drama like bored expectators. I had my camera inside my bag, loaded with a black & white film, but I only thought about taking photos when we'd already left the scene and were walking along the canal. We didn't wait to see the police arrive.
