Melibee Street Takeaway
‘Slag slaag slaa-ag’
Cant abide name-calling, never could, I never can. Takes me right back to that first time I fought. Their name-calling always takes me right back there. You dont see me, you dont see me, you dont see me. You see a black-haired yellow-skinned slant-eyed girlwoman - head bowed and all submissive.
I am not a product, not a stereotype. that racist accuser at school – he stood almost a head taller, yet I'm standing ma ground, giving back:
‘I'm not a paki, not a yid, not a spic, a gook, an eyetie, a nonce, a nancy, a fuzzy-wuzz ... I'm a slit-eyes, a slant-eyes, a chink. at least get your terminology of abuse vaguely in the right geographical terrain, you illiterate fuck.’
‘He came at me then, head of steam right up and so I walked into him like some airhead, only ... what I was aiming for was that gap between his arm and body, willed maself into that. His arms were outstretched, punch-mode … but I saw everything so clear, slowed-down. I knew the moves and I took his offered arm, increased his speed, guided his body onto the concrete and sunk the weight of ma torso. That bully was firmly down.
Aikido is all about returning the energy. Takes ten years to perfect this move if you work hard on it, about half that time if you just relax and this move is among the simplest. I left the illiterate fuck groaning, his face wrapped to stone floor where I had him pinned. If I’d moved his shoulder would’ve dislocated. That some foreign-looking girlie got him locked in front of his equally racist mates, that’s what shocked him most.
Teacher who stood useless while they gave out their verbal ordered me off, ordered me indoors, ordered me to the headmasters office. Weeks suspension – fighting’s forbidden at school. I explained aikido isnt fighting, all it does is return the attackers energy, but this truly got up the heads nose. Of course the racist got away without even a warning, that annoyed me the most. Dad collected me, took me home. mum and dad proud once I'd told all. Theyd taught me to stand fast, then I looked into martial arts, found aikido and never looked back.
That evening they prepared ma favourite - crisp spring rolls with chilli dipping sauce; clear soup with noodles, scallions, garlic, cucumber, mushrooms and extra pepper; plus fresh pineapple for after. I trained hard at aikido all week, it was like a holiday, no-one at school giving stick after and since then I’ve always challenged name-callers of every sort.
And so it is i'm behind the counter of our takeaway on Melibee Street when some gang of scruffs - all trackies, pimples, and testosterone enter, only to give out.
‘Slag slaag slaa-ag’
The girl ordering at the counter shrinks away, tugging at her skirt in dismay.
‘Dont be so fucking abusive’ I reply.
‘You what?’
‘You heard.’
‘You what?’
‘Theres nothing wrong with your hearing.’
Through our dialogue they’ve crept closer till they’re right against ma counter. I lean right into them and exhale hard, a long disappointed sigh, air streaming right into that lead youths face. Its the same as blowing in cats face when they’re up to something they should’nt, they just shrink and slink right away. Exhalation taking all the focused energy of ma disappointment and passing it right to the depth of their being.
Now I have their attention, I repeat.
‘Dont be so fucking abusive.’
The girl who was ordering, she looks so small, and tho I'm five foot barefoot I know how to handle maself. The lead lad, all of fifteen and showing off to his mates, starts to hawk phlegm up from his trainers. I put ma hand right into his face.
‘Don’t even think it.’
‘We resume the stare but he knows he's lost it. I move from behind our counter to the front door, hold it wide, ushering them out into the blackness of the Canterbury Estate. Girl looks relieved as they shuffle off into the night and I address to their backs.
‘Want to get served in the Melibee Takeaway be polite and we'll be civilized right back.’
‘I close the door, return behind the counter. I take an ice-cold and place that can against ma forehead, breathing in - out, deeply, three, four, five times. The girl waiting for her beef with ginger and spring onion, number 170, and egg-fried rice, number 197, won’t meet ma eye now they are gone. Instead she tugs repeatedly at her too-too short skirt. I would never wear something as demeaning as that. she knows those lads still lurk in the dark. I hand her a carrier bag containing her order, put a serviette on top and bow. I also offer her one of ma leaflets on aikido for girls and women down our local community centre.
‘You should try out with us. wear something loose. first session’s free.’
‘Mebbes I will, mebbes I will.’
At the door she turns back and says thanks, then she too disappears into the dark.
I sit, push hair from ma forehead, close ma eyes and in that moment I see the whole cycle starting again. The wounds of white paint hurled up our shutters. Struggling with super-glued locks at lunchtimes. A gang huddled within the neon of our sign - Melibee Street Chinese Takeaway - threatening anyone trying to come inside. I dont have to imagine what its like to see bricks thrown. Glass buckling under the stress. Coppers, syringes and asbo's. Twenty one years ago petrol bombs were thrown, the whole of the Canterbury Estate going up in flames. Ma parents stayed up nights arguing whether to leave or stay. But they stuck with the estate and brought me up right at its heart, teaching me to look it square in the eye and, tho I have a degree in business studies, I help run the family takeaway. Those long-ago riots were a flash in the pan, quickly simmering down. Some money got spent - better lighting on the walkways, no dog fouling signs all over, even opening a community centre.
Everyone thought something new was being built, but its still the same old Canterbury Estate under it all, the same wounded heart beating at the centre of this, your England. Last year the whole place boiled over again, making front pages of the national press, twentieth anniversary riots they were calling it. Most trouble was at the other end the estate, we got off light. And this year?
Council cuts are coming. Community centres gotta close. I’ve signed the petition and where will the classes I teach in aikido for girls and women be held now?
And tho there’s little enough for lads like those earlier, it still dont justify pissing on your own doorstep, destroying what this community so needs. Many things have changed but underneath too many things remain the same.
The smell of curry sauce is deep indeed.
© Sean Burn 2008