Remembering Brixton

The first thing that struck me about London was that not only do the fabled red double-decker buses exist, they do so in an unnerving abundance. There is one round every corner it seems.

Next, I was awed by the number of tourists there. It had never struck me that London was a prime tourist destination. Touring the British museum, I must have heard a language from every continent. There were large groups of Asian tourists staring awesomely at the huge statue of Buddha, Scandinavian couples gaping dumbfounded at the remnants of Egyptian mummies, American students marvelling at the sheer scope of ancient Greek Civilisation and me- wondering if there were any Londoners in London.

Trafalgar Square was awash with human representatives from all over the world. We could have held a UN plenary right there. 10 Downing Street had its fair share of passing crowds. The queue at the London Eye went as far as the… could see.

On my last day in London, I caught the tube- for the first time in my life. Victoria Line. Central Line. Words that had hitherto meant absolutely nothing to me now became the key to finding my way through this jungle of tunnels and trains.

All the way to Brixton.

There I found my most beautiful London experience. Emerging from the Underground I was greeted by a sheer mix of races and tribes and nationalities. No tourists here. Londoners in abundance! But Londoners unlike I had ever imagined them to be. Nigerian Londoners. Italian Londoners. Egyptian Londoners. Chinese Londoners. It was like there was an equal mix of every tribe on earth!

On one pavement there was a group of Chinese teenagers break dancing to a gospel song. A few metres away were some young Nigerian men giving away Islam literature.

I came across a flea market in Electric Avenue. Just like the flea markets at home except that the tradespeople were as varied as coloured confetti. Ghanaian selling cloth. Italian selling lamb, Undefined man selling jewellery. Another undefined- hmmm- could be Jamaican- selling handbags. Everyone going about his or her own business in his or her own dialect.

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