Tudo sobre tudo

 

My mother calls me “Dave.” My late Father would say, “Oi You,” unless there were a few of us around in which case I became “David.” When I went to primary school, I met my first Turk, a kid called “Hasan Hasan.” I always wondered how he knew whether he was being called by his first or second name. Unless it was my teacher, I was only called “Sullivan” by school thugs. How did Hasan know who was being nice to him?

 

Of course, the Turks invaded England quite early on. They took over from the English as Arsenal football fans, formed the Turkish mafia, and opened lots of shops and restaurants in North London. The famous “kebab houses” sprung up everywhere when I was a kid. Huge shimmering towers of lamb meat on revolving spits.

 

 I learned early on that if you asked for a large kebab it ended up being 90% salad and 10% lamb, so I would glare bravely into the eyes of the Turkish owner and say, “I will have meat only please.” Even if the owner stood there with a huge knife in his hand.

 

Of course, Hasan Hasan could be read front to back or vice versa. I remember when I first started work, my boss took me to Cairo on a trip. We spent a lot of time in casinos I recall, and I was never quite sure how that related to my boss’ business. We had a lunch with somebody I had been talking to by phone for a number of weeks. Our lunch guest suddenly asked me “David, we have talked for a long time now. Do you mind if I get more friendly and call you ‘Sullivan’?” He thought Sullivan was my first name! And, from that moment on, it was as far as my Egyptian friend was concerned.

 

Takeaways & Indians

 

Back in my school days, a Chinese kid called “Chan Chan” suddenly appeared. His Father was one of the first wave of Hong Kong Chinese to take over the traditional English fish-and chip shops—and amazingly cooked it better than the English did.

 

Chan Chan used to smell of cooking oil from head to toe. However, he was brilliant at mathematics and very generous to do the homework of others too. My Math teacher Mr. Paschuck had been tortured by the Germans during the war and treated everybody, except Chan Chan, as if we all had German relatives. A big stick to the backside was Mr. Paschuck’s favorite teaching method, but not for Chan Chan.

 

Many other Hongkies opened fast food takeaways everywhere. A simple reception counter, read a menu, gives the number of the dish, the receptionist would write it down then slide back the sliding door in a hole in the middle of the wall behind the counter. Cooking aroma would waft out and your order was placed. The sliding door would only open again when food came out in polystyrene boxes. Or, if noisy drunks were causing a commotion, then the sliding door would briefly open to reveal a hand with a meat cleaver, which soon quieted everybody down.

 

It’s funny because, even in the most violent areas of London, everybody had respect for the man with chopper at the Chinese takeaway. The Chinese made money and began to open more restaurants, some with dance floors where local gangsters would take their girlfriends dancing. Now, the East was conquering the West.

 

One time my friend asked me “Have you had Indian before?” As I thought briefly about my limited string of girlfriends, he clarified that he meant “Indian food.” Indians started to appear in school during the later years of my schooling. They opened restaurants in complete war zones. Thugs from rival factions could eat in the same ‘Indian.’ Curry and rice, and don’t forget the poppadoms, became the essential food to mop up 20 pints of lager beer. After 11 p.m., it became absolutely essential, like filling up at the petrol station, to fill up with curry. Thus, an 11 p.m. ceasefire would see lines of lager drinkers queuing up to get into the ‘Indian’ to line their stomachs.

 

Gradually, Indians took over the independent shops, which were once the exclusive enclave of the Jews. The corner grocery, the newspaper and candy shop, all ended up in the hands of Indians. Unlike the lazy English and the Jews before them, the Indians would work and work and, eventually, control the supply chain too. In Birmingham by the early 1990s, the Indians were the gangsters too.

 

Chinese triads had kicked the Italians off the throne of the global drug trade in the 1980s. The Chinese then conquered the global late-night eating habits while contemplating opening laundries to clean up all those clothes covered in food stains. The Indians later on conquered their corner of the food-eating world, and from dope to poppadoms the West was won.