In the months after the murder of Letitia Shakespeare and Charlene Ellis on New Year's Day in 2003, I spent a number of weeks walking around the streets of Lozells in Birmingham, working with friends of Charlene and Letitia planning a fitting tribute to the girls.

Eventually it was decided to organise a concert to which musicians, politicians, bishops and footballers would be invited to join in the cry that "enough is enough" and that young people were sick of seeing their friends intimidated, brutalised and now murdered by the gangs in the area.

The young people decided the concert would be free, and that people from the area and its surroundings, people of all colours, religions and races, should attend to show their support. Aston Villa Football Club gave Villa Park free of charge to show their support and Ms Dynamite and Beverley Knight headlined the concert.

Over 10,000 people turned up on a Sunday afternoon in January and the streets of Lozells echoed with a musical harmony.

Over the past week many of the national newspapers have been filled with endless rubbish about Lozells, written by people whose knowledge of the area is laughable. In an attempt to explain the recent troubles, many have speculated on tensions between minority communities, suggesting mutual loathing based on race. But this would be far wide of the mark in terms of understanding a place where everyday life sees folk of different races rubbing along quite happily in one geographical community.

Take, for instance, the vicar of the parish of the Lozells. In many ways, Jemima Prasadam might not be considered your usual priest. As a 60-something-year-old woman, barely five feet tall, the Rev Prasadam wears her dog collar and sari combination with sartorial elegance.

One of her daily routines is to practise "bus stop theology" at the eight bus stops between the vicarage and the church, speaking to those who are waiting for buses, catching up about grandchildren, the weather and the local area.

On arriving at the Church of St Paul and St Silas, she will meet her churchwarden, a young African Caribbean woman training as a lawyer, who has taken over the post from her mother. After setting up the church on a weekday for use by young mothers and their children, it's off to visit elderly parishioners.

The story of Lozells belongs equally to Jemima Prasadam as it does to those who stabbed a man two Saturdays ago. "The people here care for each other very deeply," is one of her favourite sayings, yet one that you are unlikely to hear from the coverage of the past week. The tragedy of Lozells is not only the murder of an innocent man two weeks ago, but also the recasting of a weary community as a people at war.