MM/ROADWORKS — Evar Hussayni

Micheal’s Meats / ROADWORKS

Written by Êvar and Bayr(y)am
Edited by Sarah Hamed / Mona Hatoum

^{“So any time the enemy come home,

feeling up and crushing up the pettledem,

at least know,

the smell of each and every one of your deaths is guna stay so fragrant,

that nuff people will follow the trace

From that point in the future

and up and down and back to the basics you had to push through

Now look at you.

And I know dis, cah I been there myself

I been there, and I been had a tribe of people

who been there themself

So even when I cant be there by your side,

thats what I mean when I say im there in spirit”

- Abondance Matanda, “We Will Be Dead Tings”, 2018}

^{Tuesday 1st January 1974 to Friday 31st December 1982.

Michael’s Meats, owned by Michael Suleyman, is a 48-year-old family-run butcher shop on Atlantic Road in Brixton, South London. Internally displaced in Cyprus in 1974 due to the bi-communal conflict, following a coup aimed at union with Greece and the subsequent Turkish intervention and occupation, Michael migrated to London in 1975 at age 14. Not long after arrival, he got a job at the butchers which was previously owned by another member of the Cypriot community. After building a strong relationship with the owner, Michael worked his way up to managing the shop and then saved enough to buy and own the business in 1982, at the age of 22. The butchers became part of the fabric of Brixton, serving meats that were usually not found elsewhere such as oxtail, pork and goat, which play a significant role in Jamaican cuisine. After working in Brixton for over 45 years and seeing it transform over the decades, Michael decided to hand over the craft to his sons who had been training to be butchers since they were children. In 2021, Omar and Hassan slowly began to take over the business.}

^{ÊVAR: What’s one of the first things you remember about the shop?}

^{OMAR: My dad worked six days a week, and he'd be off on Sundays. When I was very young, I just knew that my dad would go to work. I didn't know where that was - he would just disappear for most of the time, and we'd see him once a week. And then when I was a bit older, like seven or eight, I used to go with him to this place that he would disappear to, and I saw a completely different version of him. I had my Baba at home, who would be a serious, strict guy, telling me to do my homework and go to bed. And then there's this fun, just really interesting, happy and bantery guy at work. He could relax around the Brixton community, just exist and take life less seriously. He always says “Brixton is my place. These are my people. I just feel comfortable. If I wasn't working with Jamaicans, I would not have done it this long – these are my people”.}

^{In the late 70’s, Brixton was a neighbourhood where many Afro-Caribbean immigrants resided, many of whom were invited to the UK to help rebuild post-war Britain - the Windrush generation. It was a blend of West Indian street culture, the blues clubs of the frontline, and an emerging alternative radical, left-wing scene, centred in squat houses and independent cultural organisations and grassroots political movements; groups like the British Black Panthers and Race Today Collective advocated for racial equality, conferences were held by the Organisation of Women of African and Asian Descent (OWAAD), housing and educational resources were provided at 121 Railton Road, and Pearl Alcock’s queer shebeen provided a safe space for the Black LGBTQ+ community.

Simultaneously, Brixton became a microcosm of the enactment of the UK’s white supremacist policies, which enabled the rise of continuous systemic and institutional racism, inadequate social services, and police brutality. Practices of a stop and search law, implemented by Margaret Thatcher who was leader of the Conservative party at the time, permitted police officers to stop, search and potentially arrest people on suspicion of them being in breach of Section 4 of the Vagrancy Act 1824, targeting young Black men on a day-to-day basis - it continues to be the reality for this demographic even today. Alongside this governmental and political repression, the rise of far-right, racist political movements in the UK such as the National Front played a big role in the local politics of Brixton. Based on Atlantic Road - a street where independent businesses have been operating under the railway arches for well over a century - Michael’s Meats was a witness to violent clashes between far-right supporters and anti-fascist protesters alongside local residents.

Friday 10th April to Sunday 12th April 1981.

After managing the business for over 2 years, Michael started integrating into the Brixtonian ecosystem. Learning English and Jamaican Patois through daily interactions with his predominantly Jamaican customers, Michael was building and strengthening his relationship and trust with local residents.

Concurrently, ongoing tensions between the local Black residents and the predominantly white police force were developing into protests and riots against the UK’s wider state brutality actively targeting the Black community. The implementation and resultant effects of Stop and Search laws by Thatcher’s government further illustrated the reality and severity of institutional racism that was now being established more regularly and violently. Operation Swamp 81, a large-scale policing operation carried out in the area by the Metropolitan Police, continued this escalation of the ever-growing discontent and anger, and in fact, triggered the 1981 Brixton riots which took place days later. The resultant riots saw widespread resistance to the racial injustice and socio-economic disparity continuously felt and experienced by people in Brixton. Lasting just 3 days, the riots only ended after the authorities flooded the area with over 2,500 police officers to suppress the protestors and rioters. By 9:30 pm on April 11th, more than 1,000 officers had stormed into Brixton, forcing the crowds to scatter. By 1:00 am on April 12th, the streets were mostly emptied, but only because of the overwhelming police presence. It is said that the fire brigade refused to return until the following morning, and as police numbers swelled, the resistance had largely quieted down by early Sunday. In the midst of the riots, Michael’s Vauxhall Opel parked outside of the shop was also smashed.}

^{OMAR: He brings it up in a sense that he’s been in Brixton so long, he's part of the foundations of Brixton: “I was even here during the two riots - my car was smashed!”. And he doesn't feel bitter about it, because he knows why it happened. He talks about it sometimes with his older customers, especially those from the Windrush generation. He comes on Fridays and Saturdays just to see his friends and sits on the customer side. He sits there all day just chatting. He brings it up, either to teach the newbies a history lesson or to reminisce with his older friends who have lived through it with him.}

^{Issues of racial inequality, economic hardship, poor social housing and policing only persisted after the riots ended, leaving the majority of the people in Brixton frustrated with the lack of change to these ongoing challenges. An inquiry led by Lord Leslie Scarman into the causes of the 1981 Brixton riots led to the publishing of the Scarman report in the same year. It recognised racial inequality but failed to address deeper systemic issues: “The most pressing question in the area was supporting the 285 people arrested on the day (though a fair number were nicked and released without charge, mainly as there was no cell space to hold them all. More people were arrested later: between April and July there were some 70 raids on local homes)” (1). Relations between the police and the predominantly Black community of Brixton remained strained. Stop and Search and economic difficulties persisted, with high unemployment, especially among young Black men, contributing to continued feelings of disenfranchisement. Fed up of governmental inaction, local residents established and solidified their own structures to protect their community; the Brixton Defence Campaign was formed to organise a political defence of the arrested. It was formed mainly by the Brixton Black Women’s Group (BBWG) and Black People Against State Harassment (BASH) which had launched in 1978.

The combination of cultural expression and resistance made Brixton a hub for those looking to mobilise and organise in their own accord, building systems alternative to Thatcher’s unequal and fascist Conservative regime - one that instead centred the people’s needs. In times of police violence and unrest, grassroots organisations have stepped up to protect their communities. While the catalyst for this collectivisation was painful and rooted in trauma—both in personal experiences and the failures of government—it sparked a movement. The area’s vibrant Caribbean and African culture flourished with music, art, and community activism playing a central role in addressing local problems. Grassroots organisations worked to improve housing, employment opportunities, and fair treatment from law enforcement. These events remain a defining moment in Britain's struggle for racial justice.

Tuesday 21st May 1985.

Mona Hatoum is a Palestinian artist born in Beirut, Lebanon. While on a short visit to London in 1975 the outbreak of the Lebanese Civil War prevented her from returning home. She has lived in London ever since. This relocation marked a significant turning point in her life and career. Her background as a Palestinian profoundly influenced her work, often reflecting her experiences as a Palestinian living in exile. Her work was also addressing issues related to cultural identity, belonging, and the impact of displacement on individuals and communities. In 1985, Hatoum was invited alongside 9 other artists to create street performances and various actions in the streets of Brixton. Between May and June, a three-week-long residency and group exhibition, organised by the Brixton Artists Collective and curated by Stefan Szczelkun, took place at the Brixton Art Gallery. The residency aimed to invite an audience into the gallery that was different to those customarily involved in the art world (read: white middle class).

Responding to the particular context of Brixton in the 80s, Hatoum staged a live performance titled Roadworks, 1985 (live action with Dr. Martens boots) on the 21st May, where she walked the streets of Brixton barefoot, dragging a pair of black Dr. Marten boots behind her for an hour, which were tied to her ankles. The boots were often worn by police and neo-nazi skinheads and became associated as part of their distinct attire. Her performance highlighted the vulnerability of the body as it moves through spaces highly surveilled by police, mirroring the lived experiences of Black people in Brixton who were subjected to physical violence and systemic discrimination. The boots reveal the constant shadow of oppressive forces - with every step, the image of the police or fascist authority follows, echoing the laws and policies discussed earlier. Even the simple act of walking becomes an act of surveillance. This vividly materialises the ever-present, insidious systems of power that not only built but continue to sustain and reinforce such control. As such, the barefoot walk is an act of solidarity with marginalised communities, directly engaging with the spatial and historical reality of Brixton at the time. Hatoum’s movement was encumbered by the boots that followed her vulnerable steps like a continual, threatening presence or heavy shadow, something that is equally relevant to the struggles of Palestinians, constantly surveilled under Israeli occupation. In the exhibition catalogue, Hatoum states: “I found myself in this rare situation of creating work which although personal/autobiographical, had an immediate relevance to the community of people it was addressing. I also found that I was working ‘for’ the people in the streets of Brixton rather than ‘against’ the indifferent, often hostile audience I usually encounter”(2). The use of space, the focus on the body, and the act of walking all evoke a feeling of a shared struggle against systems of control and oppression, as Hatoum was questioning the brutality enforced by the UK system.

Saturday 28th September 1985.

Riots have ensued across the area after the shooting of Cherry Groce, a Jamaican 37-year-old mother of 6 children. She was shot by police officers in her bed after they raided her house looking for one of her sons. Cherry was left paralysed from her chest down. Within 2 days, hostility between the Black Brixton community and police escalated into a resistance, resulting in the destruction of cars and buildings, over 50 people injured, 200 arrests, and 1 person dead. Once again, the riot highlighted deep-rooted issues of police discrimination, racial inequality, and economic hardship faced by Brixtonians.

Michael's Meats and its presence on Atlantic Road situates the butcher shop as a space of witnessing. It represents the everyday commerce that continues amid larger struggles, while Hatoum’s walk through Brixton’s streets in Roadworks challenges the control of these spaces, echoing the Black community’s resistance during the riots that challenged the authorities’ control over their lives and neighbourhoods. The performance and the riots disrupt the normalcy of public space and call attention to the power dynamics at play, to which Michael and his shop have borne testament.}

^{OMAR: From my perspective, based on what I have seen and heard, I would say that witnessing the two riots solidified my dad's place in the community, as someone in solidarity with the Black community in Brixton. I think he very much felt he was in the right place, and on the right side. He was involved day-to-day on the ground with the community, supporting with a softer approach. I feel people really appreciated that.}

^{Because my dad is my dad, I got a green card - I was instantly part of the community as a teenager. As I got older and became more familiar, I started to feel this was a space for me as well, because of my family's legacy. The word community, you hear it flung around. But then I realised that I'm living what people talk about. It is actually fucking incredible. This is actually legit - families literally pass their funeral procession past the shop - that's how much of a big part of people's lives my dad's butcher's is. I just remember how my dad would always donate meat to church because they would run events and they would cook for people so he was always donating boxes of chicken. And I imagine that's what they mean when they say my dad's helping and giving back to the community because a lot of customers were churchgoers.}

^{Saturday October 7th 2023 to Monday 7th October 2024.

Ghassan Kanafani, a Palestinian writer and activist, states that “a nation is not merely a political entity; it is a collective memory, a shared struggle for dignity and justice” (3). Kanafani challenges conventional notions of nationhood by emphasising the importance of shared memories, struggles, and values. It advocates for a deeper understanding of what it means to belong to a nation, suggesting that a true nation is built on a foundation of collective experiences that nurture a commitment to dignity and justice for all its members. It emphasises that struggles for justice are essential to the national identity of oppressed or marginalised groups.

Seeping into the 2024 UK landscape where we are still witnessing passionate racism by far-right, white supremacists against Black liberation, the Muslim community, migrants and refugees, the working class and the queer community, topped off with counter-resistance to the solidarity with the various genocides across the world that we are witnessing, an understanding of what solidarity is and what it can or should look like is necessary for the ongoing struggles for rights and recognition faced by those who are hurting. Solidarity is a unity of purpose, interests, or empathy among individuals or groups, especially in the face of challenges or struggles. It involves being a co-conspirator, confronting inequalities, and working for justice, even if the issues do not directly affect oneself. Remembering and passing on these stories, even to those who already know them, becomes an act of resistance and solidarity. Today, various communities are organising in solidarity through strikes, protests and direct action. It can even be felt that any ounce of justice ever achieved by the marginalised, is due to the activist work of the community and never because the UK governments have it in themselves to function for the people. It is important to note, however, that bearing witness does not necessarily bring change. Bearing witness can leave us feeling powerless and hopeless in the face of the structural and systematic oppression and colonisation of particular identities. When confronted with systemic injustices, the link between witnessing and action can be easily broken in the face of our own lack of political freedom. To realise this and act accordingly requires us to build power from the ground and use that power to affect change. Actively rejecting the feeling of helplessness, we move beyond our passivity and work towards being accountable to a community rooted in solidarity and reaffirming our agency.}

^{ÊVAR: I think it's an embodiment of true community - that relationship between two people from different backgrounds and having two entirely different lived experiences because of who they are, but coming together and just creating safety for each other. It's really beautiful.}

^{OMAR: I feel like the Brixton community almost took my dad under their wing. Like, if you look at history, Cypriots were displaced at the same time that the Windrush generation happened. It was all around the same time, like the first war in Cyprus was in the 60s, and then the second in the 70s. So, the migration patterns were around a similar time. And obviously, with Cyprus being an ex-British colony, I think there was, even though we're like, one island in the Mediterranean, and one in the Caribbean, they have lots of common ground.}

^{The entanglement between these elements reflects a broader narrative of protest, bodily vulnerability, and resistance to systemic oppression. Whether it’s the butcher shop, Hatoum’s performance, or the riots – each piece speaks to how space, race, and power intersect in the struggle for justice in Brixton and beyond. Roadworks provides us with a roadmap of the entanglement of various struggles and movements across the globe. It was a piece that resonated with the local Brixton context of the 80s, as a Palestinian woman whose own people were (and still are) continuously facing injustice, she connected with the ongoing protesting of institutionalisation and violent treatment of marginalised and minority groups in London, resisting police and state brutality especially. Hatoum’s visual illustration of these issues, created four decades earlier, tells us that unlike the figure walking forward, beckoning us to do the same, the hegemony of dominant systems disallows this action. The butcher shop in Brixton becomes entangled with the larger violence of the state. Michael’s role in the community is one of quiet solidarity. Building relationships, providing a space for local gatherings, and remaining in Brixton to serve its diverse population, his commitment to Brixton made him "part of the foundations" of the area. In Roadworks, Hatoum’s movement through Brixton’s streets contested the notion of who has the right to occupy public space, echoing how Black residents of Brixton asserted their presence in a city and a nation that sought to marginalise and control them. Her performance taps into a shared history of colonialism and racism, creating a cross-community connection rooted in a struggle for justice. What connects Hatoum and Michael’s Meats is the act of trying.}

^{ÊVAR: Let's fast forward to when you started working there. How was that? Are you witnessing in the same way your dad was?}

^{OMAR: Now that me and my brother run the shop, I'm definitely witnessing in the same way my dad was. The people that I knew 10 years ago are still there - the community, the customers. The community is still here just in a different format, it just looks a little different, things have changed over time and gentrification fucked things up. But the customers are still there because they trust us, they’ll wait an hour on a busy day just to have a chat. I haven't filled my dad's shoes, maybe a little bit, but there is something that people like in me in the same way they like my dad and want to just spend time with me because of the element of community.}

^{There was a moment quite recently, when I was chatting with a customer, someone who used to be my dads customer. She was saying how her granddad used to shop there. Then she would come with her parents, and now her kids and her grandkids shop here. There's five or six generations that are currently shopping here. Multiple generations shopping there and knowing my family, not just like my dad or the shop, but like know know our family. It made me realise how much of an impact or how much of a part of people's lives Michael's Meats is. It isn't just a meat shop for people, it's a community space.}

^{Wednesday 16th October 2024.

By hosting an impromptu installation of Roadworks at Michael’s Meats, Brixton Community Cinema – a pop-up cinema founded in 2022 with the intention to bring affordable international and independent film to a community that, despite immense cultural contributions, faces uneven access to arts institutions – invites a broad range of audiences into the butcher shop, including those who are often excluded by the art world. With a firm belief that culture transcends and exists outside of the white cube gallery structure, the showcase situates the work in the culturally historic and emblematic streets of Brixton in which the live performance took place and still strongly resonates.

During its exhibiting days between 16th October to 20th October 2024, the butcher shop ran as it usually does, with its daily customers becoming a non-specialised, chance audience experiencing the looped documentation of Roadworks on the walls of Michael’s Meats. The installation subverts how, where, and by whom contemporary art is viewed, and foregrounds international solidarity between the Cypriot owners of Michael’s Meats, the centre acts of a Palestinian artist, and the Afro-Caribbean community of Brixton in public space.

Hatoum and Michael’s Meats, both connected to the Brixton community but rooted in their respective Palestinian and Cypriot identities, embody complex entanglements of witnessing and experiencing oppression. In 1980s Brixton, they stood as witnesses to the racial injustices faced by the Black community while also grappling with their own histories of displacement and marginalisation. With the conviction that solidarity has no single centre, it holds the potential to embrace global interconnectedness and shared responsibility for the world. It moves in many directions, united by a common cause despite different faces and expressions.

As we reflect on entanglements to decipher examples of solidarity which we can bring into the now, we are reminded that a new world is yet to be born only if we destroy the one we currently inhabit collectively, through female militant Zapatista’s words:}

^{“The system would prefer that we limit ourselves to screaming our pain, desperation, anxiety, and impotence. It’s time to scream together, but now out of rage and indignation. And not each of us on our own, scattered and alone which is how they rape, kill, and disappear us, but together, from our own times, places, and ways. What if, compañera and sister, we learn not only to scream out of pain, but to find the way, place, and time to scream a new world into being? Just think, sister and compañera, things are so bad that in order to stay alive we have to create another world. That’s how bad the system actually is, that in order to live we have to kill it off – not fix it up a little, or give it a new face, or ask that it be a little more considerate and not so mean. No. We have to destroy it, disappear it, kill it until there is nothing left, not even ashes. That’s how we see the situation, compañera and sister, it’s either the system or us” (4)}

^{Bibliography:

1 - The April 1981 Brixton Riot (2): The Aftermath, and Defence Campaigns, by Rebel History Calendar

2 - Roadworks exhibition catalogue, published by the Brixton Art Gallery 1985

3 - Kanafani, Ghassan. Palestine's Children: Returning to Haifa & Other Stories. Translated by Barbara Harlow and Karen E. Riley, Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2000.

4 - The Kurdish Women's Movement: History, Theory, Practice, by Dilar Dirik}