A year on, horrific Grenfell Tower fire haunts Britain
In the shadow of London’s Grenfell Tower, the pain is as fresh as the newly laid flowers for the dead.
One year ago, the residential high-rise was destroyed by a fire that killed 72 people. It was the greatest loss of life in a fire on British soil since the Second World War, a horror that left the neighbourhood and the country in shock.
On Thursday, survivors, bereaved families and people around Britain marked the anniversary of a local tragedy that’s also a national shame — one for which blame still is being assigned and traded. Was Grenfell a tragic accident, the product of government cost-cutting and lax safety standards, or authorities’ disregard for people who lived in public housing?
“I don’t see this as a tragedy. I see it as an atrocity,” Hissam Choucair, who lost six members of his family in the fire, told a public inquiry last month.
The sombre anniversary was being marked across Britain with a minute of silence at noon. In the west London neighbourhood around Grenfell the dead were remembered at vigils and church services, before a silent march and an evening meal hosted by local Muslims. The tower and other London buildings were lit up overnight in green, which has been adopted as a colour of remembrance.
Antonio Roncolato, who lived the 10th floor, said Thursday’s anniversary was “a time to reflect and to raise further awareness and make sure that the world is still listening, because we don’t want this to happen ever again.”
A year on, the area around Grenfell echoes with sounds of construction. The ruined tower, which stood for months like a black tombstone on the skyline, is covered in white sheeting. A green heart and the words “Grenfell forever in our hearts” are emblazoned at the top.
Notice boards and walls nearby carry hand-written tributes, expressions of sorrow and promises of resolve: “RIP to the fallen”; “I love my Uncle Ray”; “RIP Yas”; “We won’t fail!”
Flowers, candles and well-worn teddy bears that were left in memory of the dead are tended by local volunteers. A note from Prime Minister Theresa May, attached to a wreath of white roses, promises: “They will never be forgotten.”
The fire broke out shortly before 1 a.m. on June 14, 2017, in the kitchen of Behailu Kebede’s fourthfloor apartment. Kebede woke the neighbours on his floor and called firefighters, who soon arrived.
High-rise apartment towers are supposed to be designed to stop apartment fires spreading. But within minutes, the flames had escaped Kebede’s apartment and raced up the outside of the 25-storey tower like a lit fuse.
Many residents fled, but some on the upper floors observed official fire-safety advice and stayed put. The fire brigade changed the guidance at 2:47 a.m. By that time, the building’s only stairwell was smoke-filled and treacherous.
Several people died trying to get out. Others perished in their homes as they waited to be rescued, or died in neighbours’ apartments where they’d taken shelter. Three people were found dead outside, having fallen or jumped from the tower.
Rania Ibrahim, who died with her two young daughters on the 23rd floor, broadcast her final hours of fear and prayers on Facebook. Mohamed Amied Neda, 57, who had fled the Taliban in Afghanistan to build a life in Britain, left a voice message for his family: “Goodbye, we are leaving this world now, goodbye. I hope I haven’t disappointed you. Goodbye to all.”
By the time the sun rose, a building that could be seen for miles around was a blackened, smoking shell. Hundreds of people were homeless and dozens were dead, though the destruction from the heat had been so great it would be months before police were certain of how many: 70 died that night, plus a premature baby, Logan Gomes, who was stillborn later that day. Maria del Pilar Burton, a 74-year-old resident of the 19th floor, was hospitalized after the fire and died in January.