"Fight to the Finish." Darcus Howe: a Political Biography. London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2014
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Bunce, Robin, and Paul Field. "Fight to the Finish." Darcus Howe: A Political Biography. London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2014. 253–266. Bloomsbury Collections. Web. 23 Sep. 2021. <http:// dx.doi.org/10.5040/9781472544407.ch-019>. Downloaded from Bloomsbury Collections, www.bloomsburycollections.com, 23 September 2021, 14:43 UTC. Copyright © Robin Bunce and Paul Field 2014. You may share this work for non-commercial purposes only, provided you give attribution to the copyright holder and the publisher, and provide a link to the Creative Commons licence. 1 9 Fight to the Finish On Monday 27 September 2010, more than a thousand people gathered to pay their last respects to Frank Crichlow. Th e funeral, the culmination of a week of mourning, took place at St Mary ’ s of the Angle on Morehouse Road. Th e congregation and many more, who could not fi t into the packed church, processed through Notting Hill to the West London Crematorium. Th e size and diversity of the crowd was a testament to the breadth of respect that Crichlow commanded. Th e mourners included the biggest names from Britain ’ s Black Power Movement including Howe, Althea Jones-Lecointe and her husband Eddie who had fl own in from Trinidad for the occasion, as well as Rhodan Gordon. Th ere were also more mainstream black activists and politicians such as Lee Jasper and Paul Boateng; the fi lm maker Horace Ové and hundreds of ordinary people, not political in any obvious sense, whose lives Crichlow had touched. Boateng gave the eulogy, recalling Crichlow ’ s activism, his smile, and his ‘ grace under pressure, and boy was there pressure ’ (Boateng 2010). Howe did not speak in the Church. Characteristically, he saved his words for the streets. Aided by 20 or so ‘ Vikings ’, black men in their 50s and 60s wearing berets, Howe brought the procession to a halt. Looking on helpless and bemused, the attendant police offi cers tried forlornly to get everyone moving again. Standing on the exact spot where he had launched the Mangrove demonstration 40 years earlier, Howe said this of his friend: . he ’ s arguably one of the most courageous West Indians who has ever lived in this country. [cheers] He came from a decent family in Trinidad, and he was not supposed to stand up against the British police and accuse them of corruption. He did that successfully. I love Frank, he knows I loved him, a lot of people competed for a relationship and lost. Frank was my friend. And Frank was a Caribbean man who did ordinary things, like opening a restaurant, in extraordinary ways. We could not ask for more. Let the wagons roll. [cheers] Lets take this Viking to Valhalla! (Howe 2010b) DDarcus.indbarcus.indb 225353 110/18/20130/18/2013 66:44:44:44:44 PPMM 254 Darcus Howe Aft er the speeches, the crowd moved off . As a sign of respect, Howe, not as fi t or as young as he once was, walked the whole of the 2-mile route. Killing me soft ly Howe was diagnosed with prostate cancer in April 2007 at King’s College Hospital in South London. Th e fi rst signs of a problem, raised levels of Prostate Specifi c Antigen (PSA), were picked up as part of Howe ’ s ongoing treatment for type 2 diabetes. A urine test revealed that Howe ’ s PSA levels were 30, and normal levels would be around 0.1. Th e acid test was a physical examination: ‘ he drew the curtain and with a gloved fi nger penetrated my rectum. Th e cancer was there ’ ( Guardian , 17 November 2009). Th e news was horrifying. Beads of perspiration dripped from my head and face. My entire body shook uncontrollably. Cancer to me meant death; Mrs Howe wiped my troubled brow. I sat gazing into the middle distance, my emotions shift ing from one extreme to the next. I thought of my children and my grandchildren, guilt-ridden that I had imposed so much worry upon them. (Ibid.) Th e consultant took a family history. Howe ’ s father had died of a ‘ urinary infection ’ , at least that is what it said on the death certifi cate. Howe ’ s grandfather died, according to family lore, from a ‘ stoppage of water ’. In both cases, the causes were urological. Th e consultant concluded that in all likelihood, Howe ’ s forbears died of prostate cancer (What ’ s Killing Darcus Howe? ). Th ere was worse news: there was a good chance that the cancer had spread to his bones. If this was the case, there could be treatment but no cure. Howe was tested. Th e 10-day wait for the results was interminable: ‘ I have never been so terrifi ed in my life, ’ he recalls. Howe ’ s political battles had been nerve-racking, but he had known what to look for, he understood the moves that he could make. Cancer was uncharted territory. Th e news when it came was good. Th e cancer had not escaped the prostate. Th ere was every chance that Howe would be well again (Howe 2011h). Two important pieces of information emerged immediately from the meeting at King’s College Hospital. First, Howe ’ s consultant had a piece of non- medical advice. He recommended Saint- É milion, now Howe ’ s wine of choice. Th e second, Howe ’ s consultant altered him to the prevalence of the disease among black men from the Caribbean, America and the west coast of Africa. DDarcus.indbarcus.indb 225454 110/18/20130/18/2013 66:44:44:44:44 PPMM Fight to the Finish 255 Apparently, black men from these groups are three times more likely to suff er from the disease than white men are. In the shock of the moment, the import of these fi gures was lost on Howe. But as he regained his composure, he began to campaign. Th e key to reducing the death rate among black men was to get them tested early. To raise awareness, Howe was interviewed by nhs.uk, spoke at a fundraising event in Liverpool, wrote about his experience in the Voice , the New Statesman and the Guardian and began spreading the word informally using the one-in-ten method. At fi rst, this was a diffi cult process. Howe recalls having to transcend his ‘ Englishness ’, that part of him that did not want to talk in public about his illness (Ibid.). Th e fi rst part of the treatment was a laparoscopic prostatectomy (Guardian , 17 November 2009). Howe admits that the thought of it terrifi ed him. Th e second part of the treatment, less dramatic but no less necessary, was a 6-month course of radiotherapy. Th e treatment was successful. Howe publicly acknowledged his recovery in the New Statesman in January 2008. Th e centrepiece of Howe ’ s campaign was a Channel 4 documentary. Howe approached Hamish Mykura, with the working title ‘ Killing me Soft ly ’ . Th e documentary was given the green light and Howe was teamed up with BAFTA- award-winning director Krishnendu Majumdar. Th e result was confl ict. ‘ We should have made a documentary of you making that documentary, ’ comments Hassan: ‘ you would never have known that it was possible to have such confl ict ’ (Hassan 2011). Th e documentary, retitled What ’ s killing Darcus Howe? , was shown as part of the True Stories series on More4 on Tuesday 24 November 2009. In a sense, it comprised two competing documentaries. Howe ’ s aim was to make a fi lm that encouraged young black men to have early prostate exams. To this end, he befriended Mickey Lewis, the son of his friend Leo Lewis, persuading him to take the test. Majumdar, for his part, tried to examine the obstacles to better prostate health that he believed existed within the black community. For Majumdar, these included, a reluctance among West Indian men to submit to rectal examination, a general distrust of physicians and unhealthy habits such as drinking. In short, the documentary was an attempt by Majumdar ‘ to show him [Howe] that black men are part of the problem with prostate cancer . that black men may be at fault. ’ Majumdar set out the diff erence between him and Howe in the following terms: ‘ Darcus Howe is adamant that the authorities are to blame for the deaths of black men for prostate cancer. He doesn ’ t think that enough is being done to raise awareness and encourage testing. But I don ’ t share his politics. I think the problem lies with black men and their attitudes DDarcus.indbarcus.indb 225555 110/18/20130/18/2013 66:44:44:44:44 PPMM 256 Darcus Howe to health. ’ A notable fl ashpoint where these two diff erent agendas collided happened during SunWalk, a breast cancer awareness event in Bristol: Majumdar: I think there ’ ll be thousands. Howe: D ’ you think so? Majumdar: Yeah, thousands I think. Yeah, they ’ re very organised this lot. Howe: I don ’ t know what you mean by “ very organised ” . Majumdar: I mean you get people, I mean its visible, I mean . Howe: Do you think black people are “ very organised ” ? Majumdar: Its nothing to do with black people. Howe: No, I ’ m asking you. Majumdar: Yes. Howe: Oh. Your prediction is that it ’ s going to be tremendously successful, and you ’ re coming to show me how successfully white women can do things. Majumdar: No it ’ s not that. Howe: Oh course it ’ s that. And the implication is that one is a superior moral being and the other one is a load of monkeys from Africa.