White Teeth

to burn, says Corinthians I

forms us that we should not muzzle the ox whi

econd dictum wasn't a problem having no ox, she was excluded by proxy. But the first was giving her sleepless nights. Was it better to marry? Even if the man was a heathen? There was no way of knowing: she was living without props n

Archie to take her as far away from Lambeth as a man of his means could manage Morocco, Belgium, Italy. Archie had clasped her hand and nodded and whispered sw

felt, not right now in the heat of t

ravelling in the front passenger seat of the removal van, she'd seen the high road and it had been ugly and poor and familiar (though there were no Kingdom Halls or Episcopalian churches), but then at the turn of a corner suddenly roads had exploded in greenery, beautiful oaks, the houses got taller, wider and more detached, she could see parks, she could see libraries. And then abruptly the trees would be gone, reverting back into bus-stops as if by the strike of some midnight be

shit, and Clara had felt a tide of gratitude roll over her. It was nice, not as nice as she had hoped but not as bad as she had feared; it had two small gardens front and back, a doormat, a doorbell, a toilet inside .. . And she had not paid a high price. Only love

Belgium or Italy, it was nice not the promised la

hing in the morning, he drove calmly and responsibly and he |was a surprisingly competent cook, but romance was beyond , passion, unthinkable. And if you are saddled with a man as age as this, Clara felt, he should at least be utterly devoted t^^bi to y

dy ABe. She tried to be reasonable. She asked him: Why are you nevemRre? Why do you spend so much time with the Indian? But a pat on[K back, a kiss on the cheek, he'

An old man. And yet 3d. He was a good man. And good might not amount to i, good might not light up a life, but it is something. She at ted it in him t

ow furrowed and shortened like an accordion, the way his stomach hung pregnant over his belt, the whiteness of his skin, the blueness of his veins,

ding day looking at her feet. It had been a hot day, 14 February, but unusually warm, and there had been a wait because the world had wanted to marry that day in a little registry office on Ludgate Hill. Clara remembered slipping off th

e mohair and giving off an unmistakable odour of damp dog. Clara, of course, was all cat. She wore a long brown woollen Jeff Banks dress and a perfect set of false teeth; the dress was backless, the teeth were white, and the overall effect was feline; a panther in evening dress; where the wool stopped and Clara's skin started was not clear to the naked eye. And like a

Father," s

orry. Nervous."The stuffy registrar said, "Shall we get on? We've got a lot of you to get through today."This and little more had constituted the ceremony. Archie was passed a pen and put down his name (Alfred Archibald Jones), nationality (En

r the decisive dotted line, swept her pen across it, and straighten

where Clara met her only wedding guests formally for the first time: two Indians, both dressed in purple silk. Samad Iqba

the opposite until you made an appearance! Wallowing in the shit-heap, if you will pardon the French. Thankfully, she's all packed off now. There's only one place for the mad, and that's with others like them," said Samad, losing steam halfway through the sentence, for Clara clearly had no idea what he was talking about. "Anyway, no need t

it wasn't a bigger reception. But

the best option, had spent the past week studiously stepping over the mail and avoiding the phone. The only well-wisher was Ib

like a psychiatrist, mark her with a full bill of health or otherwise. And I feel sure, my friend (to extend a metaphor), that you have explored your lady-wife-to-be in such a manner, both spiritand mentally, and found her not lacking in any particular, and so what else can I offer but ike hearty congratulations of your earnest competitor, Horst Ibelgaufts What other memories of that day could make it unique and lift it out of the other 355 that made up 1975? Clara remembered a young black man stoo

ation, her shoes in her hands, watching her saviour argue relentlessly with a traffic ins

a, Clar

st her to the front door, part

house in some kind of order so mind out the way.""You wan' help?" asked

Clara reached out to take one s

row frame, trying to hold both the legs

ght it over to where Archie had collapsed, gasping for breath on the hall steps. "Sno pro

irritation, as if batting a fly. "I'm

k.""Yes, yes, I s

on with it, OK?"Clara watched him roll up his sleeves with

some help, love, you can start

sure I don't know.""I say before we can trow some dem out, if you tink it best.""Not up to me now, not up to me, is it? I

avourite voice-weapon in the marital arsenal: Not in front of the neighbours children 'to lift the tone in the house a bit. This is a nice neighbourhood, new life, you know. Look, let's not argue. Let's flip a coin; heads it stays, tails .. ."True lovers row, then fall the next second back into each other's arms; more seasoned lovers will walk up the stairs or into the next room before they relent and retrace their ste

him. "You said the Iqbals are comin' to dinner. I was just thinkin' .. . if they're going to want me to cook dem some curry1 mean, I can cook curry but it's my type of curry.""For God's sake, they're not thos

her an affectionate kiss on the forehea

l family, you know. They're not those kind of Indians," he repeated, and shook his

to make the momentous move from the wrong side of Whitechapel to the wrong side of Willesden. A year's worth of Alsana banging away at the old Singer that sat in the kitchen, sewing together pieces of black plastic for a shop called Domination in Soho (many were the nights Alsana would hold up a piece of cl

Ello Sa

de two mints and a receipt to find fifteen pence, what is the point of tipping a man the same amount you would throw in a fountain to chase a wish? But before the illegal thought of folding the fifteen pence discreetly in his na

d Ardashir were distant cousins, Samad the elder by six years. With what joy (pure bliss!) had Ardashir opened the letter las

cousin," said Sama

tip in an evening if the blubberous white divorcee in the corner was lonely enough and he batted his long lashes at her effectively. He could also make his money out of the polo-necked directors and producers (the Palace sat in the centre of London's theatre land and these were still the days of the Royal Court, of pretty boys and kitchen-sink drama) who flattered the boy, watched his ass wiggle provocatively to the bar and back, and swore that if anyone ever adapted A Passage to India for the stage he could have whichever role tickled his fancy

quish five pounds at the end of the night and drop it into the pot

ers! What is this: communism?"And the rest would avoid his glare and busy themselves quietly with other thing

mimic) - '"I was there myself, you know, Delhi University, it was most fascinating, yes and I fought in the war, for England, yes yes, yes, charming, charming."" Round and round the kitchen he went, bending his head and rubbing his hands over and over like Uriah Heep, bowing and genuflecting to the head cook, to the old man arranging great hunks of meat in the walk-in freezer, to the young boy scrubbing the underside of the oven. "Samad, Samad .. ." he said with what seemed infinite pity, then stopped abruptly,

ading off for the toilets, when he stopped by Sama

s what it was like most nights: abuse from Shiva and others; condescension from Ardashir; never seeing Alsana; never seeing the

T LONDONBUT WE WOULD LIKE TO MOVE NORTH. I AM A MUSLIM BUT ALLAH HAS FORSAKEN ME OR I HAVE FORSAKEN ALLAH, i

ng to reassert something, anything. Wasn't that important? But then the heart-breaking disappointment to find out that the inclining of one's head, poising of

ed on china. Thank you, s

white, flared trousers (made from the same fabric as the tablecloths) into a perfect sq

und the door. He knew that Samad had come to inquire about a pay increase, and he wanted his cousin t

ng, Ardashir Mukhul," said Sama

w and green. One had to admire Ardashir's business sense. He had taken the simple idea of an Indian restaurant (small room, pink tablecloth, loud music, atrocious wallpaper, meals that do not exist in India, sauce carousel) and just made it bigger. He hadn't improved anything; everything was the same old crap,

or you?"Samad took a breat

onably like an A. A for Ardashir. The matter was .. . what was the matter? The house was the matter. Samad was moving out of East London (where one couldn't bring up children, indeed, on

his turn

cousin or not cousin ... I pay a wage, cousin . That is business in this country."Ardashir shrugged as he spoke as if to suggest he deeply di

have the deposit for the house, it

s wife like a bloody slave, thought Ardashir, pull

make things a little easier as we settle in. And Alsana, well, she is

re both intelligent, frank men a

"I see your position ... of course I do ... but you must understand mine ... If I made allowances for every relative I employ I'd be walking around like bloody Mr. Gandh

must deliver the bad news; Alsana, who was prone to moments, even fits yes, fits was not too strong a word of rage. Cousins, aunts, brothers, thought it a bad sign, they worried if there wasn't some 'funny mental history' in Alsana's family, they sympathized with him the way you sympathize with a man who has bought a stolen car with more mil

worded speech, sat back satisfied, and laid the M for Mukhul

ening there was an awful row. Alsana slung the sewing machine, w

ishman .. . married to a black! Whose friends are they? These are the people my child will grow up around? Their children half blacky-white? But tell me," she shouted, returning to her favoured topic, 'where is our food?" Theatrically, she threw open every cupboard in the kitchen. "Where is it? Can we eat china?" Two plates smashed to the floor. She patted her stomach to indicate her unborn ch

him full square

d clutched his winded belly, there in the kitchen she ripped to shreds every stitch she had on and added them to the pile of frozen lamb, spare cuts from t

ng near green spaces was morally beneficial to the young, and there to her right was Gladstone Park, a sweeping horizon of green named after the Liberal Prime Minister (Alsana was from a respected old Bengal family and had read her English History; but look at her now; if they could see what depths ...!), and in the Liberal tradition it was a park wi

kintosh, her plentiful hair flying every which way. Mali's Kebabs, Mr. Cheungs, Raj's, Malkovich Bakeries she read the new, unfamiliar signs as she passed. She was shrewd. She saw what this was. "Liberal? Hosh-kosh nonsense!" No o

ke to her baby; she liked to give it one sensible thought a day),

was an old-fashioned cobblers. Neen

tchat with Niece-of-Shame."Neena was used to this, and now that Alsana had moved to Willesden there would only be more of it. It used to come in longer sentences, i.e." You have brought nothing but shame ... or My ni

construct them from the very base. From the base! What does he do in them? Run marathons?""He works," replied Alsana tersely. "And prays," she added, for she liked to show people her respectability, and besides

as done on people's knees s

ssed under the tinkly bell once more. "We are never out of sight o

road like a little brown bullet. Alsana. She was young and old at the same time, Neena reflected. She

here that need your attention,"

r tits on,"

d her to keep out the wind. Then she set off up past the library and up a long green road she had never walked along before. "Survival is all, little Iqbal," she said to her bump once more. "Survival."Halfway up the road, she crossed the street, intending to turn left and circle round back to the high road. But then, as she approached a large white van open at the b

" said Clara,

embarrassed at what they were wearing, bu

n all her consonants. She was already some way to losing h

ho was in the hallway, becomin

girl. From every minority she disliked, Alsana liked to single out one specimen for spiritual forgiveness. From Whitechapel, there had been many such redeemed characters. Mr. Van, the Chinese chiropodist, Mr. Segal, a Jewish carpenter, Rosie, a Dominican wo

ed it," said Alsana,

was a pause. Neither could think of w

ok truly comforta

walking, you see. And with

a blushed the moment after she had spoken; she always dropped into the vernacular when she wa

e known," said Cl

oon as she had said it, the weight of the other possibility rested on the brains of the two girl-wives.