Manchester cries out

Hello my dear invisible friends.... how are you tonight? Watching falling stars?
I'm finally back after almost forgetting about this thing... yeah, it's just a diary at the end... so why not keep it updated? Well, every once in a while...

But the wind changed and the breeze smells of smoke. England's on fire. Nah, it's not the weather, it never gets that hot here. It's the British. British people are burning their own cities and country. Strange? Yes indeed.
I'm sure you're all aware of what's been going on since last Thursday. Riots, riots, riots. The funny side? They don't even remember why it all started. Now it's all about burning, smashing, kicking, looting, crashing, shouting... and so on. I couldn't believe my very own eyes.

A guy has been killed by the police. Possibly by mistake. Hopefully. Must be. Since then any excuse has been good enough to cause havoc. Kids... yeah, kids, smashing shop windows to steal everything they could put their eyes on. Honestly, what would your parents do if they caught you doing that? Well, I would be dust by now. But not British parents. They justify their kids... yeah, we have no job, what can we do? They say it's the rich people' fault. Wasn't that what Hitler said before starting locking up and killing Jews? Oh gosh... the situation is bleak.

I don't want to start complaining about people on benefits stealing the poor tax payers' money (ok, it is true) I just want to tell you how I feel about this. About my city.

The big trouble in Manchester happened on Tuesday. I found myself being unbelievably worried about my students. You know young people "There's a riot, let's go and have a look!". How clever. I was very relieved when they've all showed up on Wednesday morning. Eh eh. School closed early that day, to allow everybody to get home early and safely. I found out that I actually have a maternal instinct... is that how it is called? Anyway... suddenly I just wanted to round them all up, take them into my house, cover them with warm blankets and sing songs while drinking a hot cup of tea. Silly me. My other problem was Potato, obviously. I thought of all the possible ways to save the cat in case the house got attacked. yeah, double silly.

By the way, let's get to the point... should we?
This afternoon was my turn to go down to Manchester. I left home armed with my camera, ready to take as many pics as possible to witness this event. I was full of energy till the bus turned into Oxford road. The first shop completely boarded up. My heart skipped a beat. Dunno why, but it did. I asked myself, Ellie are you scared? But it wasn't that.
I finally got to Piccadilly and walked around the square. Everything looked normal but the atmosphere was eerie. the noise. The sound. It felt like someone put a pillow on the loud speaker. People were whispering slowly down the road... and not many people. Thursday is the day in which shops stay open till late, normally very busy. It looked more like a Sunday evening to me... More boarded shops around me. Suddenly my camera felt heavy and kept jammin' in my pocket. Weird.

I walk down market street and somehow my guts starts moving. Earlier latte? And here it is, the burnt down shop. Many people around it, taking souvenir pictures. I just stare blankly. I can't. in that smoking hole, a few days ago, people worked, walked, laughed, mumbled, sighed... there was movement and life there were colours. Now just black. The only colour being a red and white tape in front of it. A brainless idiot took the rainbow away.

And I just couldn't do it. I couldn't take pictures of it or of any other broken window. I felt like I was taking pics of a best friend's corpse. It's wrong. You must not do that. Full stop. I put my camera away and lowered my head, finding myself mourning in front of my shop. So sad. For the people who, every morning, get up and get to work, still feeling safe here. For the people who call this city home... oh yes, including me. Sad because so many of us (immigrant and indigenous) own so much to this piece of land called Manchester. Greater Manchester, actually.
Police was still walking around, slowly, looking carefully at people, with dark signs under their eyes. But still out there. So many people criticized them, but I don't think anybody has the right to. They were outnumbered but never gave up. Thanks to them. Ta, I should say! Ah ah.

Gosh, I'm getting sentimental.

I was glad to see that many people gathered in the morning to help out cleaning the city. OUR city, not that stupid mobs' city. Manchester belongs to the people who love it.
And we won't easily give up. Break us, we'll pick up the pieces and start again.

Sorry... I know, I'm not even British but somehow I've been adopted by Manchester so I do respect it. Mmh... ok, I go to get the cat and then bed.

Goodnight. God save the Queen