| The third
character I found
fascinating as a child
was also somewhat
frightening yet was
equally mesmerizing. As a
young boy, my parents
gave me numerous jobs to
do on a regular basis.
Besides being asked to
take the rubbish to the
dustbin, clean my room
and help with the washing
up and to occasionally
follow my mother about
when she cleaned the
house, I was given other
little duties that taught
me both responsibility
and the value of money. I
was never asked to do
anything terrible, just
little jobs to introduce
me into the concept of
working and helping with
family matters. One such little
job, as my mother
called them, was to go to
this small shop several
streets away to buy the
week’s vegetables.
My mother liked the
produce that was sold
here and so there was no
question of going
elsewhere. Each Friday I
would be given a shopping
bag and some money and be
sent off to buy various
quantities of carrots,
onions, cabbage etc. It
amazes me now that I
don’t recall ever
being given a written
list of what to buy and
can only believe that I somehow
sort of knew what was
wanted.  The
vegetable shop was hidden
on the ground floor of a
dark and dingy block of
flats on Brady Street,
which is road off Whitechapel
Road. It was a small
place and very dark
inside since it was lit
only by one small
electric light bulb. The
shop was always crowded
on Fridays since people
wanted to get their veg
in early, ready for
the weekend. In those
days, everyone stood in
an orderly line and
waited for Ma to
serve them.
 Ma
worked alone and did so
at one speed, which
although it was not a
snail’s pace, did
not change regardless of
the numbers waiting for
service. Ma was of
great interest to me, as
she was small. Perhaps
small is the wrong word. Ma
was tiny. Mind you,
saying that Ma was
small or tiny
was an understatement
since she was possibly
only about an inch or so
taller than me and I was
no age at all at that
time. Anyway, she was
best described as a miniature.
Ma was, without
doubt, the smallest woman
that I had ever seen at
that time and quite
possibly retains the
title today. Although she
was small, she did not
seem to be deformed in
anyway although she did
have what I later learned
to be a small dowager’s
hump on her back.
This hump was
characteristic of many
women at that time once
they advanced in years.
Still, her hump
and height only served to
give her a mysterious
appearance and I was
convinced that she was
quite capable of weaving
spells should she be
crossed. I was also
convinced that in
addition to selling
vegetables, she could
also whip up the
occasional potion in
the corner of the shop
and perhaps provide the
odd eye of newt
and an occasional wing
of bat to the more
discerning customer. In
spite of her size, Ma’s
appearance and deportment
gave her an austere look
suggesting a formidable
person who expected, and
received, both
consideration and
respect.
Ma
had gray-white hair that
was pulled straight back
and held in a bun
at the back by a
multitude of hairpins.
This gave her a look of
severity. She always wore
what I believe to be the
same old dark blue
pinafore over the top of
a blouse and skirt. Her
skirt was of thick wool
and came down almost to
her ankles where thick
dark brown and loosely
fitting stockings were
seen. Poking out from the
pinafore at her neck and
wrists was the white lace
trim of her blouse. Ma
had a small bulge at her
left wrist, which was
caused by the large red
spotted handkerchief that
she had tucked up her
sleeve. She would take
her handkerchief out
periodically, allow it to
fully unfold and blow her
nose into it. I say blow,
but it was more of a trumpet
and could sound like
an elephant hailing its
mate. I was amazed how
such a small and
seemingly delicate
creature could produce
such a sound.
Over her
pinafore, Ma had
tied an apron about her
waist. Her apron had a
large deep pocket that
could be closed by a zip.
Ma kept her change
in this pocket and
perhaps all of the money
that she owned since it
was always full with notes
and coins. Ma stood
bolt upright, as
if she had a board down
her back. I rarely saw
her sit down on the
little stool in the
corner of the shop, which
she used when business
was slack. Most of the
time she would be
positioned close to the
potatoes and wearing what
were once called sensible
shoes – stout,
heavy, dark blue lace-up
shoes with a slight heel,
the kind that women of a
certain age wore at
one time.
Ma’s
mouth was somewhat
twisted on the left side,
which made her look as if
she was constantly smirking.
However, what was truly
remarkable, as if her
size and demeanor were
not enough, was that I
never once heard her
speak. I never knew the
reason why I never heard
her utter even the
smallest of sounds. I
never knew if her silence
was a result of a speech
impediment resulting from
her deformed mouth and so
chose not to speak or if
she was incapable of
speech for another
reason. It even crossed
my mind that she found
those about her of too
little interest to
warrant her speaking and
so she remained silent. I
remember thinking that I
hoped that this latter
theory was correct.
Ma
never seemed to smile
either and, to those that
did not know her,
appeared not to ever
change her facial
expression. However, this
was not true, since
although she never spoke,
her clients would chat
away to her and ply her
with questions and, as
far as I could tell, she
was able to communicate
her replies through the
subtlest of eye and
eyebrow movements, which
her customers had
obviously learned to
interpret. An interesting
repercussion of her
inability or
unwillingness to speak
was that Ma never
communicated to me, or
anyone for that matter,
the cost of anything
purchased. All we could
do at the conclusion of
our business was to hand
over some money and
accept the change she
gave back. When I got
home, my mother would
check the change and
inspect the produce with
some care. Since she
always seemed to be
happy, I can only presume
that I was never
overcharged or cheated
during my shopping jaunts
to Ma’s.
Although Ma’s
appearance and manner of
communication would most
certainly qualify her as a
colourful character,
it was neither of these
characteristics that in
fact qualify her for
inclusion here. Ma
had another quality that
easily outranked these
and set her apart from
all others that I knew at
that time. And this
quality would both
fascinate and be
inexplicable to me for
many years to come.
 When
I was a child,
greengrocers would often
sell half a cabbage,
and many would slice an
apple or other fruit open
for potential buyers to
see and sample.
Generally, the cutting of
a cabbage and the slicing
of an apple was achieved
by the use of an
extremely large and very
sharp knife. Ma would
split cabbages, slice
apples and skin onions
with great dexterity
using an enormous and
obviously very sharp
knife. I was extremely
impressed by the way she wielded
her knife. I was
especially impressed as Ma
suffered with what was
crudely called in those
days, the shakes.
Ma
suffered with a tremor.
However, Ma’s
tremor was no mere
twitch. It was no
gentle movement. It was
well and truly a shake!
You may ask what it was
about her shake
that fascinated me. After
all, isn’t one shake
like any other? It
was when Ma took
up her knife that
something quite
unexplainable to me would
occur. I would see the
hand clutching this
deadly weapon undulate
and vibrate with such a
magnificent amplitude and
frequency that I
expected her to chop off
fingers or even a hand
when she aimed her mighty
dagger at the held apple
or cabbage. I would
marvel as she brought
down the blade to meet
the waiting vegetable for
the amplitude of
the tremor would somehow
lessen to a mere quiver
and then to NOTHING!
She would slice the fruit
or vegetable with the
ease of someone no longer
afflicted. However, once
the produce had been
split, her tremor would
reappear and return to
its former intensity.
I was at a loss to
explain this magic.
Occasionally,
when I went to Ma’s
shop early in the morning
before the rush, I
would find her seated on
her little stool enjoying
a cigarette and a cup of
tea. The cigarette would
dance in her hand only to
come to rest as she
brought it to her mouth
to inhale. This action
was as fascinating to me
as her chopping a cabbage
in two!
I was
totally mystified by Ma’s
ability to shake
and yet perform difficult
and skilled tasks. I was
not able explain this. I
asked my parents. I asked
my teachers. No one could
explain this curious
business - another of
life’s great
mysteries! Sadly, I never
thought to ask the one
person that could have
explained it all to me
and it took some forty
years before Ma’s
secret was finally
revealed and all
was explained.
Years
later, I would learn that
Ma must have
suffered with Parkinson’s
disease. This is a malady
characterized by a tremor.
The tremor of this
disorder is interesting
as it disappears when the
afflicted reaches for an
object or sets about a
particular task. So, as
was the case with Ma,
she shook at rest,
but her shaking
would lessen as she set
about slicing a cabbage
in two!
As I said,
the East End used to be
filled with many
colourful characters.
AFTER
THOUGHT
Ma’s
shop and the
buildings above it and
around it have long since
been demolished to make
way for other buildings. Time
marches on so I am
told and the old must
make way for the new.
And so on, and so on. The
whole area has now become
a Sainsbury’s shopping
store where fruits and
vegetables and a
multitude of other things
can be had. I am certain
that the conditions of
this store are much more
hygienic and that the
products are all suitably
organic and
prepared according to the
various Ministries responsible
for seeing to this sort
of thing. I expect old Ma
has long since past
on and now is perhaps
just a memory to only the
very old left living in
her family. However, she
will always be fondly
remembered by a one-time
youthful customer that
once marveled at her
dexterity with a knife
and at the skill with
which she sliced a
cabbage in two.
Site of
Ma's Shop where Brady
Street and Darling Row
once met
|
