Naomi Alderman
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So much of Jewish Hendon is hidden, intentionally half-submerged so as
to be almost invisible to outsiders. The synagogues are concealed
behind high fences, walls or screens of trees. The bakeries and
restaurants only identify themselves as kosher by the tiny certificate
of rabbinical approval pinned to the wall. The estate agents are
brasher, with signs in the window saying ‘We speak Hebrew here’. But
the signs themselves are in Hebrew. Jewish life here is obvious, as
long as you know exactly what you’re looking for. As Maimonides said:
‘Only the one who understands will understand.’
This sense of negotiating two spaces at once is, for me, part of the
delicious pleasure of Hendon. I step into NatWest or Tesco and I’m in
secular space, with all the comforting anonymity of modern British
life. A few yards along the road, in Torah Treasures or Nissim
Butchers, I’m in Jewish space. Here, the people behind the till know my
parents, and even if they didn’t, they could tell if I belonged here or
not by a single wrongly placed inflection in the word ‘Gemarah’ or
‘chulent’.
The duality of Hendon has always fascinated me. I grew up here, went to
an Orthodox Jewish primary school and a secular secondary school,
learned how to move from one world to another smoothly, changing
vocabulary and opinions as I went. In one context I say ‘gevalt’ and
keep my support for gay marriage to myself; whereas in the other I say
‘oh dear’ and don’t mention my views on Israel. Most Hendon residents
seem to find this constant flickering between states untroubling, even
uninteresting. Not me. The liminality led me slowly to consider the big
questions: how much am I a function of where I come from, or of where I
happen to be? And if I am only a result of a set of influences, what am
I?
It’s through writing my novel, ‘Disobedience’, that I’ve come to
understand what Hendon represents for me. It’s an unprepossessing
place. The streets are leafy, but not a patch on Highgate. The houses
are fairly well-maintained, but Hampstead’s a lot prettier. No, what
Hendon has going for it is confusion, the sense that it doesn’t know
whether it wants to be Bow or Bnei Brak, Tottenham or Tel Aviv, with
the London School of Jewish Studies rubbing shoulders with Middlesex
University and the Hendon Bagel Bakery opposite the Halal chicken
takeout. A place that exists between two worlds seems constantly in
danger of collapsing into one of them. Hendon could lose its Jewish
community, become just another London suburb. Or it could go the way of
Stamford Hill, fold in on itself and start denying the existence of the
outside world. But it doesn’t. Somehow, Hendon remains poised between
the two. It’s inspiring. At least, it is to me, because this is the way
I live my life too.
George Eliot writes about place in ‘The Mill on the Floss’ – the
importance of having a place that habit and custom have made beloved.
‘That sweet monotony,’ she calls it, ‘where everything is known, and
loved because it is known.’ Although, of course, Eliot had English
country scenes in mind rather than the grey streets of Hendon, I think
she was on to something. Hendon has become part of me whether I like it
or not, and its themes – silence and speech, outsiders and insiders,
visibility and invisibility – have become the themes I return to in my
writing again and again. In Hendon I learned to be always something of
an outsider. And so, although the people of Hendon might not like the
way my novel throws open this hidden world, I suppose it’s Hendon that
taught me to become a writer.
‘Disobedience’ is published by Viking in March.
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Book special: The Night Watch
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2 comments
Gautam Malkani in his novel Londonstani paints a grim picture of the realities of his protagonist Jas's existence. Despite his apparent affluent lifestyle, Jas's life is emotionally, psychologically, existentially bereft, and impoverished. He struggles daily to survive. He feels alienated from his peers, his family, and his community. He struggles to communicate, and frequently has a great deal of difficulty articulating his thoughts...Jas is an intelligent, introspective young person who struggles to belong, to be accepted for who he is and what he is. Unfortunately he is rarely successful in this endeavour. Jas is frequently marginalized in his interactions with peers, his family and his community...Jas has a multi layered view of himself, and although rationally and logically he knew himself to be equal to his peers, emotionally and that is the layer in which he is trapped; he views himself as powerless, a victim, and as a second class citizen in the society in which he lived. This was the all-encompassing society of his family, his peers, his school, his community and the world at large. Jas was in a great deal of emotional pain in his search for identity and belongingness. His family, peers, school, community and the world had failed him...Abraham Maslow in his humanistic theory tells us that human being have needs that must be satisfied in order for self-actualiztion to occur. These needs align themselves into a hierarchy of the following levels: physiological, safety and security, love and belonging, esteem and self-respect. On a day to day basis Jas struggled to have his needs for safety and security, love and belonging, esteem and self-respect met. He was frequently bullied by his peers, his parents and his community. He did not feel that he had refuge anywhere, and therefore he sought to accept the refuge that was offered when it was semingly offered by one of the very groups of his peers he had previously disdained. Personal safety was of prime importance.
Can't wait for the book but i just can't help feeling that it will not reflect "where we (the british asian youth) are coming from" to use a cliche'. For one people in Hounslow and its surrounding areas, mainly Southall where the whole process of integration between Asian (mainly Pakistani, Indian and Punjabi) culture and the English society started, feel no problem with whether they fit in or not with the mainstream white world as in these areas many feel we are protected in our own self-made safe haven. The issue of race is very rarely noticed as we feel this land is our home. The macho behaviour stems from the traditional behaviour of men within the cultures of Sikh/Muslim societies and is now turning more into traditonal British loutish behaviour. The other point of these areas being middle class is inaccurate is most people are working class, it is just that Asians (this is a very bad stereotype but stereotypes are around for a reason - namely they have a certain truth) are VERY hard working, which is why the people who drive BMW's are normally the same who work 12hours a day or just drug dealers. Yet it is definately true that these areas are far from poor (though take a look at Southall back roads and you may disagree) but we still live in an enviroment where we see powerful notorious rich drug dealers, gangs and gang violence, street crime, prostitution, drug addicts, crack-houses, kidnappings and all sorts. This is where the behaviour of youths acting like they live in The Bronx comes from. Don't believe it? Check it out yourself. To me though I am delighted a book like this has come out I feel as though Malkani is writing from the outside looking in and until someone from the inside speaks out about "where we are coming from" the voice of Asian youth will not be heard. Until someone publishes my book...