This Lion Can Talk

I am now a seven-year-old schoolgirl in England and share my first kiss with Richard, but this happy event is soon eclipsed by tears:


It's school time and for some of the lessons we are separated into small groups painting, cutting and decorating pieces of large cardboard and paper. I have now learnt enough English (see post B Is For Bun) to understand Mrs Jones telling us that we will all be making our own costume masks for a school play called ‘Noah’s Ark'. I have no idea who Noah is, or for that matter what is a play, but all the children in the class seem to know and are dead excited and their enthusiasm is infectious, so I am carried along with them on a collective wave of eager anticipation.

Mrs Jones divides us up into groups of two and tells me that I am going to be a lion along with my class mate, Richard. I am happy about this because I like Richard and Richard likes me. During playtime we sometimes kiss. It's part of a game called 'kiss chase'. I never knew that such a game existed and this is how it goes: a boy that likes you chases you around the playground, and once you have been caught he kisses you. You must pretend that you really don't want to be kissed, whereas of course you really do. I always make sure that I run slowly enough for Richard to catch me. He can chase any girl he wants but I have counted that he saves most of his kisses for me. Richard’s eyes are cobalt-blue and of a colour that I have never seen before. Everyone back on my Island has brown eyes just like me and the eyes of this English boy remind me of two big blue skies (see post Share The Moon). Living in this new land called England clearly comes with certain benefits such as being kissed by boys with blue eyes! During these lessons, Richard and I sit side by side and decorate big brown paper bags that will fit over our heads so that we will both look like lions.

Week after week we work hard on our project turning an ordinary looking brown paper bag into a lion’s mask. We cut out a space for the eyes, paint on ears, a nose, a mouth and then finally we carefully glue on individual pieces of straw around the edge of the bag to represent a flowing golden mane. I work next to Richard and we both excitedly look forward to the moment when we can put on our lion masks and take our place on the stage. Two lions side by side, one with blue eyes and one with brown. The other children are all equally excitedly as they work on their own creations. There will be pairs of everything walking on the stage together, Mrs Jones tells us; two lions, two giraffes, two elephants, two tigers, two bears, two monkeys, to which Richard interjects, ‘Miss, how do they all fit inside one boat?' Actually, that's just what I am also thinking, but I cannot find the words in English to express myself so am happy that Richard asks also on my behalf. Mrs Jones addresses him firmly and says, ‘Richard, please do not interrupt me when I am talking.' I take this to mean that she also does not know how they will all fit into one boat, because this is exactly what Grandma Filomena, Mama's  Mama would to say to me back on my Island when I would ask her a question that she could not answer (see post Share The Moon).

The day of the play finally arrives and Mrs Jones tells us that after lunch we will put on our masks for the play. We all excitedly walk to the classroom to fetch our precious creations and prepare to put them on. Richard’s mask is on the table where he left it before lunch but mine is no longer there. It is nowhere to be seen us. I scour the room with great care and finally spot my mask on another girl whose name I do not know. I don't understand what is happening. It's my mask, yet she has taken it without asking! Why didn't Mrs Jones stop her? And there she now goes walking on stage holding hands with Richard in his own mask. Tears of indignation well up inside me and my little seven-year-old body trembles with emotion. Mrs Jones clearly thinks that I do not understand English well enough to follow instructions so has given my mask and part to somebody else! The play is a blur as I try to fight an overwhelming wall of tears. Parents in the audience happily look out for their children and try to spot them behind their masks. Mama and Papa are not there. It's not their fault, they do not know that even though it's school time parents can come to the school and see their children up on the stage in this way. I never heard of something such as this at school back on my Island.

After the performance is over, the school day is finished and Papa comes to collect me as he usually does. Together we walk back to the farm and to the caravan, and with me is my precious mask which I will proudly show to Mama and Sis, but I am still too sad to tell Papa what happened so don't say very much. I still like Mrs Jones, but if I could say something to her it would be that, I may not speak but I am not stupid and This Lion Can Talk.

To be continued.....

Next post 20th November : A Girl Named Marie


Note: All written content is the intellectual property of this Author. Image material is drawn largely from Pixabay with some small additions from private family archives.