Hannah's snake

The bell rang and the playground that was filled with laughter suddenly became silent as the children ran back into their classrooms.

The youngest group waited for Miss Hope to lead them inside. They formed a long chain of intertwined hands, so that nobody would be left behind. One by one, the children hung their coats, exchanging them for the content of their backpacks.

Today was a special day, probably one of the most exciting days of the month for a Year 2 student: it was Show and Tell Day.

The topic for this occasion was toys. Everyone who desired to do so could bring along their favourite companion and introduce it to the group.

Once the kids were all sat down in a circle, with all sorts of fluffy

dolls and monsters sat on their laps, Miss Hope asked the magic question:

-Who would like to start?

Twenty five out of twenty six pairs of small hands were streched towards the ceiling, competing for reaching the highest possible point in the air.

The teacher smiled sweetly. Unlike older students, her little ones -as she affectionately called them-, were always willing to participate in the development of the lessons.

-I have an idea -she resolved-. Why don't I start and then we can pass the turn to our friend on the left?

Everyone agreed in sincrony, and the show began.

Dragons, fire engines, crying dolls, footballs, cowboys, tool sets,

jigsaws... they all visited the middle of the circle, and their story was told by their excited owners.

-This ball is my favourite because my daddy gave it to me when his team won the cup -said Lena.

-I play with my teddy that I take him to the doctor when he is sick

-Cameron cuddled a bear wrapped in so many bandages that only its eyes and one arm were in sight.

Each of the children embraced their turn in the spotlight, except the last one.

-Hannah, did you bring anything to show your friends today? -Miss Hope gently stroke her arm, encouraging her to go ahead and imitate her peers.

The child looked at her hand, hidden in the right pocket of her

trousers, and hesitated. Her fingers fidgeted with the object they were protecting and a tinkle spreaded around the audience. Led by innate curiosity, some children crawled in her direction, hoping to be able to have a glance over the mysterious item.

Very slowly, without lifting her head, Hannah extracted her beloved toy, which produced a louder noise now.

There was silence for a few seconds, until someone asked "what is that?", with a not very nice inflection in their voice.

Laying still on Hannah's hands was a long, rusty chain made of bottle lids, some of which were metallic and produced the tinkle that had drawn everyone's attention.

Most of the faces that had been gleaming with curiosity moments before, had switched to frowns of disgust and disbelief.

-That's so old.

-And dirty.

-Yuck! Disgusting!

-It's not a toy, it's rubbish.

Hurt by her classmates' unkind comments, Hannah clenched her fingers

around her precious snake.

Hannah was a very introvert girl. She had moved to town with her family two years ago, from Syria. Her parents, both doctors, had lost their jobs and most of their posessions when the war had knocked on their door. They travelled across the country, doing their best for the injured in temporary medical facilities. In the end, they had had to seek asylum in order to save their lives and their children's -Hannah and Ali-, and moved to the country that was now their new home.

Ali was too young at the time to make any decisions at all, but Hannah had been allowed to bring five things along with them. She had chosen the only dress that had no holes in the fabric, her book with a rainbow on the front cover, Nana -her stuffed monkey from when she was a baby-, a chocolate bar and that snake, which her mum had helped her make only a few days before they left Syria for good.

She had shared the chocolate with her brother during the running away journey; her dress was substituted by new clothes; Nana had fallen somewhere while crossing the syrian border; and the book had endured such extreme weather conditions that the colours and the ink had faded to the point it was almost impossible to be read. The snake was the only thing she had left.

Miss Hope asked everyone to return to their seats, and then waited for them to apologise for their not at all respectful words. She tried to reassure Hannah so that she would tell the story behind her choice of toy. However, all her efforts were in vain.

After school, and because it was Friday, Hannah and her family walked as usual to the local Community Centre. That had been the first place they had been able to get help at their arrival. Now that they did not need of such help anymore, they felt it was their turn to give something in return for all they had received over the past two years.

The two doctors offered free of charge consult times once a week, and Ali and his sister used that time to socialise with other kids in the centre.

As Hannah entered the room full of children, she realised she was not in the mood for interacting with anyone. For once she had actually taken the courage to participate in the Show and Tell routine, all she had got were jokes about the most important of her belongings. They did not understand how much it meant to her. They had judged her without allowing her to explain the story, her story. Maybe they were right and her snake was something stupid; maybe it was just rubbish, and rubbish belongs in the trash.

With tears threatening to jump from the corners of her eyes, she walked up to the closest bin and held her snake over it. She was crying, ready to let it go, when she felt the presence of someone standing next to her.

A small boy with big black eyes, chubby cheeks and dense dark hair was streching his neck, trying to get taller to be able to see whatever she was holding.

-What is it? -he asked in arabic.

-Nothing.

-Can I see?

Hannah sighed with her eyes closed, holding back the convulsions that the crying had caused in her chest.

-Can I see? -the little boy insisted.

She kneeled down to his level and his fingers studied the lids with gentle touch and care.

-What is it?

He was so young that his vocabulary had serious limitations, even in his native language.

-It is my snake.

-Nice -he smiled. His smile and the light in his eyes were sincere when he innocently inquired:- Mine?

Hannah's impulsive reaction was to retract her hands and protect her treasured toy. However, she reflected about the situation: she would have got rid of it if that boy had not interrupted her with his childish curiosity. No other child at school had unterstood the value of her snake, probably because they did not know what a real war is. But this kid, he had lived similar things to the ones she and her family had experienced. Maybe he could keep the snake safe, give it a new home.

Hannah took a last deep look at the snake, pressed it close to where her heart was and kissed each of the bottle lids, getting a ferrous taste on her lips.

-Goodbye -she whispered.

On the way back home a few hours later, her heart missed a beat when her fingers couldn't find the snake in the interior of her pocket, but it then beated faster, aware that it would now be loved for many years to come.