Long - Ma, he sold me for a few cigarettes: a heart-rending memoir that will both horrify and inspire

To my most precious gifts, my children Fabian and MarieClaire

Ma, He Sold Me for a Few Cigarettes

A Memoir of Dublin in the 1950s

Martha Long

SEVEN STORIES PRESS

NEW YORK

Copyright 2007 by Martha Long

First published in Great Britain in 2007 by Mainstream Publishing Company, Edinburgh

First Seven Stories Press edition November 2012

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of non-fiction based on the life, experiences and recollections of the author. In some cases, names of people, places, dates, sequences or the detail of events have been changed to protect the privacy of others. The author has stated to the publishers that, except in such respects, not affecting the substantial accuracy of the work, the contents of this book are true

Seven Stories Press
140 Watts Street
New York, NY 10013
www.sevenstories.com

College professors may order examination copies of Seven Stories Press titles for a free six-month trial period. To order, visit http://www.sevenstories.com/textbook" or send a fax on school letterhead to (212) 226-1411.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Long, Martha

Ma, he sold me for a few cigarettes : a memoir of Dublin in the 1950s / Martha Long. -- 1st Seven Stories Press ed.

p. cm.

First published in Great Britain in 2007 by Mainstream Publishing Company, Edinburgh--T.p. verso.

ISBN 978-1-60980-414-5 (hardcover)

1. Long, Martha--Childhood and youth. 2. Illegitimate children--Ireland--Dublin--Biography. 3. Abused children--Ireland--Dublin--Biography. 4. Poor children--Ireland--Dublin--Biography. 5. Dublin (Ireland)--Social conditions--20th century. 6. Dublin (Ireland)--Biography. I. Title.

DA995.D8L66 2012

941.8350823092--dc23

[B]

2012029940

Typeset in Caslon and Sabon

Printed in the USA

9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Foreword

Ma, He Sold Me For a Few Cigarettes, by Martha Long, is without question the most harrowing tale I have ever read. Even Charles Dickens, whom we appreciate for being the voice of so many abused children, is left in the dust. Why? Because Dickens was writing about abused children, while Martha Long was herself abused, horribly, unbelievably, by her mothers man and by her own mother. Managing to stay alive, only just, by her own wits, in a world determined to erase her life and to make her believe, in her very soul, that she is nothing. It is a hair-raising read.

That it is a best seller in Ireland and England gives me hope. Martha Long is not being abandoned again. Still, it is so difficult a read one might ask: Why should we bother? We must bother because it begins to show us the deeper, perhaps most elemental source of our worlds despair: the chronic, horrific, sustained, abuse of children. Especially those children who, unwittingly, inherit the brutalities of colonialism, whether in Ireland, where this story is set, or the rest of the globe. I was amazed to feel some of the English, Irish, Scottish ancestors of both enslaved Africans and indentured Europeans (in the Americas) showing up in the characters of the Dubliners Martha Long depicts. There they are, in a Dublin slum in the 1950s, yes, (Martha Longs childhood city), but recognizable as the same twisted beings who made life hell on earth for millions of people over the course of numerous centuries. And who, some of them, unfortunately, still walk among us.

As I read this book I thought: This is exactly why theyve kept women ignorant for so long; why they havent wanted us to learn to read and write. They (you can fill this in) knew we would tell our stories from our point of view and that all the terrible things done to us against our will would be exposed, and that we would free ourselves from controlling pretensions, half-truths, and lies.

The destruction of our common humanity through the manipulation of imposed poverty, misogyny, alcoholism and drug abuse, is a major source of our misery, world-wide; and has been for a long time. Reading this startling testament to one childs valiant attempts to live until the age of sixteen (four years to go!) is a worthy reminder that we can do better as adults if we turn to embrace the children who are suffering, anywhere on earth, who are coming toward us, their numbers increasing daily, for help.

Alice Walker
April 2012

Acknowledgements

With thanks to my children Fabian and MarieClaire. Both of you a joy. Both, every mothers dream, and I am the mother! Wonders will never cease. How lucky can I get?

To my firstborn Tina, always a special bond, and to her two little beauties, Charlie and William, my adorable grandchildren.

To Ailsa, my editor. Thank you for your extraordinary patience and most of all your warmth and your kindness.

To Bill, a very astute man. Thank you, Bill, I feel very privileged to have your faith in me.

A special thank you to Mary Dunne for tirelessly poring over my handwritten script and managing to type it all. Not an easy task. Take a bow, Mary!

Last but not least, to Helen Scully. Thanks, Helen, for all your encouragement. Without you this would not be in the public domain. Thanks, friend!

Authors Note

This is the true story of my early childhood. Originally, I did not write it for publication. Instead, my intention was to rid myself of the voice of the little girl I had once been. For many years, I had tried to leave her behind and bury her in the deep, dark recesses of my mind. I tried to pretend she had never existed and went on to become someone she wouldnt recognise. But she was always there in the background, haunting me and waiting for her chance to burst back into life and give voice to the pain she endured. I got old and tired before my time as I struggled to escape her, and, finally, the effort of suppressing her became too much. As I started to write, she exploded back into life, and I let her tell the story in her own voice.

The ma an me, an me mothers sister, Nelly, an her son, Barney hes only three, Im bigger, Im nearly four live together in one room in a tenement house in the Liberties of Dublin. We were all born here. Me aunts an uncles were born in this room, all ten of them, but most of them now live away in England, so its just Nelly an me ma left.

Me ma, Sally, had only just passed her sixteenth birthday when I arrived in the world. It was a shock te everyone, they said, though how her growin belly was not noticed was a mystery. The hawkeyed women missed tha one! When her brothers an sisters arrived over te find out wha was goin on, she wouldnt tell anyone who the father was, an the local parish priest said me ma would have te go inta a Magdalen laundry te stop her getting inta more trouble. The baby can go into a convent as well. The nuns are very good in these homes, theyll take care of it. But Nelly said she would take care of us an told the rest of them te go back te England.

Me granny was a dealer in the Iveagh Market. She sold secondhand clothes, an on Sundays shed have me grandfather take her apples, an oranges, an chocolate, an things on his horse an cart, an drive out te Booterstown at the seaside, where she sold them te the city people comin off the train te get the fresh air an let their childre play in the sand an get a good wash at the same time, runnin in an out of the water. Me granny worked very hard, gettin up at four oclock in the mornin te be at the market in time te get her fruit an vegetables, or fish on Fridays.