‘The fire broke our family’: Grenfell was, above all else, a human tragedy

The final report this week of the inquiry into the Grenfell Tower disaster, in which 72 people died in an inferno at a London block of flats in 2017, focused on the institutions that were to blame.
But Grenfell was, above all else, a human tragedy.
The scale of loss and the intensity of the grief of victims’ families is laid out in harrowing detail in a mountain of documents on the inquiry’s website.
The lives and the terrible deaths of their loved ones can be pieced together from the witness statements, transcripts and formal findings of the inquiry.
These are just a few of the cases.
Ali was a retired jeweller from Kandahar in Afghanistan. He lived in flat 86 on the 11th floor of Grenfell with his wife, Fatima, and their daughters Nadia and Maria. They moved there in 2003 when Maria was 20 and Nadia was 12.
The family were happy together. Maria said her room was the “most beautiful room in the flat”. Her sister had decorated it with pictures of butterflies and flowers.
On June 13th, 2017 before the fire in the early hours of the 14th, Maria went shopping with her mother and that evening cooked chicken and rice for the family, to break the Ramadan fast.
“My father was very happy that evening. He really enjoyed the food and ate two plates of rice. Usually he ate only one plate,” she said. He had diabetes and she worried about his diet.
Ali took medication that made him sleepy and he went to lie down. Nadia, his other daughter, was also unwell after recent surgery.
Soon after the fire started at about 1am, Maria noticed the arrival of fire engines. She soon realised how serious it was when smoke and fumes entered their flat. Then the kitchen window shattered as flames licked outside.
Maria woke her sister and told her to bring their father, while she brought their mother downstairs. Nadia and Ali banged on doors to warn neighbours.
Nadia was afraid her father would not be able to walk down so they took the lift, which others were also using. However, the lift got temporarily stuck on the 10th floor, the doors opened and acrid smoke spilled in.
In the confusion, Ali stumbled out into the darkness on this floor, while the doors closed and the lift continued without him. He died in the lobby. Nadia did not realise her father was missing until she reached the bottom. Ali’s daughters tried to go back to get him but couldn’t.
They went to hospital, but wanted to go back to search for their father. Maria had no money, but a black cab driver took her to Grenfell free of charge. It was three weeks before they were told he had died.
The family was later rehomed, but she says relatives stopped visiting because “our house is too sad”. “The fire broke our family,” she said.
He lived in flat 122 on the 15th floor with his 22-year-old daughter Rebecca Ross and her brother, Bobby, who was out. Steve had three Staffordshire bull terriers, Stevie, Diva and Jess. When Steve’s body was found, he was holding one of his dogs.
Rebecca knew all her neighbours. She was friends with one of the sons of the El Wahabi family, all five of whom perished in the fire. The mother used to cook Rebecca couscous
On the night, Rebecca said her father, who had emphysema and bowel cancer, woke her at 1.30am to say there was a fire. He was calm. “He didn’t seem worried. It was more like he was fascinated.”
People outside at the base of the tower were shouting up telling everybody to leave. But authorities had advised people to wait for rescue. Rebecca wanted to leave but Steve didn’t. She called her brother Wayne and asked him to convince Steve. Her father’s friends called too but he refused to go.
At one stage, Rebecca posted a Snapchat video of the fire. Then she posted on Twitter: “OMG I am in this block, what do I do?” By 2.20am she was shouting help out the window.
Smoke entered the flat. “I just remember seeing it spread throughout the house,” said Rebecca. “This dark shadow that started to consume everything … My dad said: ‘Now it’s time to go.’”
She started making her way down through thick smoke, thinking her father was behind. She collapsed into the arms of firefighters on the way, and asked him to get her dad. Later, a firefighter told her they couldn’t find their way. Steve died in his bedroom.
It was June 22nd before his death was confirmed and his remains were not released until December. The tragedy took a toll on Rebecca’s physical and mental health. “For months I just slept.”
The Bangladeshi family had lived in Britain for years but were residents of Grenfell for less than 12 months, in flat 142 on the 17th floor. Another son, Hakim, who lived nearby, had visited them that evening but left before the fire.
Kamru was a retired baker and tandoori chef, but was unwell after two strokes. Yet the family was happy because Husna was due to be married in July.
The family was close to Kamru and Rabeya’s niece, Rohema Khanom, whom the adult children treated like a sibling. Rohema had been helping Husna to plan her wedding and pick her dress.
At 1.50am Rohema got a panicked call from Husna telling her there was a fire. Rohema hoped it “would not be a big deal”, but she and her husband got a taxi soon afterwards and started the 30-40 minute journey to Grenfell.
During the journey, she called Husna again. “I could hear my aunt screaming hysterically and my uncle in the background reciting from the Koran.”
The fire had taken hold in the flat and all five members of the family were gathered in one bedroom. When Rohema reached Grenfell, she saw the scale of the disaster: “It was like watching a real life health and safety video, like a bonfire, only 20 times bigger than anything I had seen in my life.”
She could see that the fire had engulfed the windows of her relatives’ flat. At 3am Hanif called and put the family on speakerphone: “We’re not going to make it.” Rohema could hear her aunt and uncle praying and Husna crying. Hanif apologised as he would not be able to repay his cousin a small loan. She told him she didn’t care about that and they said their goodbyes.
Husna called back again, coughing. Then she stopped speaking. Rohema left her phone open and screamed her cousin’s name. By 4am, she “knew nobody was coming out alive”.
He lived in flat 153 on the 18th floor with his Ethiopian mother Genet Shawo and his brother. Isaac’s father, Paulos Tekle, did not live with them but was there almost every day, parenting his children. Isaac was good at maths and Taekwondo, which he attended on the evening before he died.
Paulos was there and played Lego with the children. He fell asleep with Isaac on his bed and decided to stay. At 1.20am the family was awoken by noise outside and Paulos realised there was a fire. There was smoke in the lobby.
A lodger from the flat across the hall was standing there when they opened the door, as people everywhere panicked. They let him into 153, along with another mother and her three children.
They called emergency services, who told them to stay put. At one stage, Paulos wanted to jump out the window holding the children. He reasoned that although they would die, there might be a chance they would cushion the children’s fall and at least they would not burn. Genet said no.
At 3.30am firefighters knocked on the door and told everybody to leave. Paulos held one son while the lodger held Isaac’s hand. Halfway down, the lodger realised he had let go of Isaac, who was later found dead on the 13th floor.
When they reached the bottom, his parents asked the man for their son. He said he had lost him. Genet and Paulos were shouting to emergency workers that their son was inside.
“Nobody was listening,” said Genet. “I cannot accept or believe [the tragedy] to this day and I don’t know if I ever will.”