decorated with squiggles of paint.
Inside is a small lizard
with a pink beard and no tail.
What happened? I ask.
Jean-Pierre grins and sticks his tongue
in the space between his teeth.
His tail fell off when I grabbed him.
Jean-Pierre!
Don’t worry!
Jean-Pierre says. He’ll grow another.
I hope so!
You need to be gentle with living things!
When I arrive home,
Gogo is in the garden.
Manman stands waiting
in the doorway
with Gregory in her arms.
Manman! School is wonderful!
I have so many new friends—
I step out of my uniform
and continue talking
without stopping—
Terèz, Romare, Bridget, Lesa,
and I forget the others,
but the teacher’s name is
Monsieur Leblanc
and he has a gold tooth
and no hair.
Don’t tell Gogo,
but we’re learning French.
Bonjour, Manman!
And, Manman,
have you ever seen a lizard
with no tail?
Serafina! Manman says.
I want to hear all about school,
but first you need to finish your chores.
There’s lots to do!
Gregory coughs
and she pats his back.
I pull out my
soggy banana leaf.
I brought you a present.
If you don’t eat,
Gregory won’t eat.
Manman shakes her head.
Mèsi, but this is your food.
Gregory coughs again
and she takes the leaf.
Tomorrow you eat.
Now prese!
I try to think only
happy school thoughts,
but angry bees
buzz in my mind.
Doesn’t Manman
want to hear everything?
Doesn’t she care
about anything but chores?
I wish Julie Marie were here.
I have so much to tell her!
Is her school wonderful
like mine?
Is it crowded?
What color is her notebook?
I think about Nadia again
and wonder where she is.
If she were close,
we could practice French together.
I wonder if Julie Marie is happy
living with her aunt.
I wonder if she’s made
new friends.
Does she miss me
as much as I miss her?
Uncle Bouki, Uncle Bouki,
I sing and hope Julie Marie
is thinking of me.
When I get back,
Gogo is shaking out my uniform
to freshen it.
I work by myself in the garden,
harvesting thyme and checking
for whiteflies.
Banza wanders between
the beans and mint.
He wags his tail and sniffs me.
Bonjour, Banza!
I had such a wonderful day,
even if Manman doesn’t want
to hear about it.
I made lots of new friends.
I got a green notebook,
and I am already learning
to write my name!
How was your day?
Banza licks my face
and runs away.
Papa comes home early.
Serafina! he calls.
I run to him.
I’ve brought a surprise
to celebrate
your first day of school.
He holds up a large,
hairy coconut.
Tell us everything! he says
as he pokes holes in the coconut.
Gogo holds Gregory
while Manman stirs the beans.
We wait for them to cook,
and drink sweet coconut milk.
Wi! Tell us everything,
Manman says.
Sweet, watery juice
dribbles down my chin,
but not into my heart.
I turn to Papa.
Have you ever seen
a lizard with no tail?
That night,
when I close my eyes,
I see loops and lines
and turning rope.
of my name
squiggling like a snake.
I see other letters too,
circles and hooks,
dots and crosses.
But I don’t remember
everything.
Tomorrow I’ll try harder.
Tomorrow can’t come
soon enough!
Bonjour, Monsieur Leblanc!
Bonjour, classe!
I want to see my name again,
but Monsieur Leblanc says that
notebooks don’t come out
until after lunch.
Today we start the day by counting.
Monsieur Leblanc taps the board
with a pencil.
Un — deux — trois — quatre — cinq.
Over and over, we recite:
Un — deux — trois — quatre — cinq —
six — sept — huit — neuf — dix.
Romare squirms on the bench
beside me.
She turns her hands over,
braids her fingers,
and wiggles them
like they are people sitting
on a bench talking to each other.
Un — deux — trois,
we repeat in singsong voices.
QUATRE — CINQ —
Suddenly Monsieur Leblanc
stands over us,
counting very loud.
He taps our table
and looks at Romare
with dark, sharp eyes.
Six — sept — huit — neuf — dix.
In the afternoon, Monsieur Leblanc
passes out our notebooks.
We copy letters from the board
and practice writing.
I wish I could take my notebook home
to show Papa, Manman, and Gogo.
But Terèz explains
that we leave them in school
until the end of the school year.
Monsieur Leblanc is afraid we’ll lose them.
Anyway, who has time
to do schoolwork
when we’re not in school? Bridget asks.
She is right.
Between gathering water,
working in the garden,
and helping Manman with Gregory,
I hardly have time
to pull out my stethoscope
and play doctor with Banza
when he comes to visit.
But whenever I’m at the ravine,
I always find time
to write my name in the dirt—
S - e - r - a - f - i - n - a.
Now I remember every letter.
Each morning, we fold our hands,
and without any pleasant distractions,
repeat the words Monsieur Leblanc
has written on the board.
Le soleil brille. He taps his pencil
in slow rhythm with the words.
Le soleil brille. TAP TAP TAP TAP.
Le soleil brille. The sun shines.
Inside our crowded classroom,
we sit with shoulders touching
while Monsieur Leblanc
TAP TAP TAP TAPs.
Le soleil brille.
The sun shines in French,
the language of our conquerors.
But outside, before school,
Solèy la klere.
When we jump rope
or fly kites,
when we play hide-and-seek,
soccer, or rocks and bones,
Solèy la klere.
When I gather water
or pull weeds,
when I wash clothes,
or sing to my brother,
Solèy la klere.
The sun shines in Creole,
the language of our ancestors.
On Tuesdays and Fridays,
Monsieur Leblanc teaches us
about the history of Haiti.
One Tuesday, he tells us
that in 1492
an explorer named
Christopher Columbus
stood on the deck of his ship
the Santa Maria.
He saw a beautiful land
with lush green fields
and fruitful mountains.
Christopher Columbus
called the land Hispaniola.
Monsieur Leblanc says Hispaniola
means Little Spain.
He said that the Spanish queen
paid for Christopher Columbus’s voyage,
so Christopher Columbus
gave the queen our land.
How, I wonder, can you give away
something that doesn’t belong to you?
On another Tuesday,
Monsieur Leblanc tells us how
the French conquered the Spanish
and brought slaves
to our flourishing island.
The slaves were forced
to work long hours
on sugar and coffee plantations.
Finally they revolted.
Monsieur Leblanc says the slaves
couldn’t read or write,
but they worked together
by sending secret messages
through the honk
of the conch shell
and the beat of a drum.
While he talks,
I remember Gogo’s words—
We were slaves, but now we’re free.
I think about Granpè
and the Tonton Macoutes.
I’m proud of Granpè
and of Haiti.
I’m proud of our honks
and our drums.
I am thankful
that we are free.
On the second day of November
we celebrate Jou Lèmò,
the Day of the Dead.
As we walk to church,
Gogo reminds me to always honor
our loved ones and our ancestors.
They are never far from us, she says.
Even when we can’t see them,
they offer us protection and love.
I think about Granpè and Baby Pierre.
I know they’re still close.
They listened to my prayers
and helped me go to school.
I feel them watching me,
caring about me.
I’m happy to have a day
to celebrate their memory.
This year, I also thank
the courageous slaves
who fought for Haiti’s freedom.
I ask Baby Pierre
to watch over Gregory
and make his cough go away.
Now is the best time of the year,
Jean-Pierre says.
We are walking together
to the mango tree
like we do every day
after school.
Once November comes,
Christmas is close,
and after Christmas,
there’s Independence Day,
and then finally, my favorite,
Carnival!
Jean-Pierre makes me laugh.
The only thing he likes
about school
is playing soccer
and talking about
what he’ll do
when he’s not in school.
When he grows up,
Jean-Pierre wants to be
a soccer player.
Wow! he says when I tell him
I want to be a doctor.
His eyes bulge.
I never knew a real doctor!
I laugh.
I’m not a doctor yet, I say.
Well, don’t forget me
when you are! he answers.
We stop at the mango tree
to take off our shoes and socks.
Did you start making your
Christmas lantern?
Jean-Pierre asks.
Christmas is more than
a month away!
Jean-Pierre grins.
I know, but it comes quickly,
and I like to make mine fancy.
Jean-Pierre, you are
the silliest boy I know!
On the way home,
I think about last Christmas.
Long after dark,
everyone walked
to Midnight Mass.
Nadia, Julie Marie, me, and
all the children in our village
carried our wooden lanterns,
decorated like little churches.
Nadia had made hers in school,
and it was the prettiest,
with little cutout windows
covered with painted paper
to look like stained glass.
Julie Marie and I
didn’t have paint
or fancy paper,
so we covered our lanterns
with leaves and branches
twisted to look like church steeples.
Gogo said it didn’t matter
what our lanterns looked like.
The important thing
is having a place in your hearts
where the Christ Child can rest, she said.
At Mass, we sang Christmas songs,
and afterward, all the families
walked home together
and visited until
our eyes dropped closed.
This Christmas
will be so different.
Papa has already said
that church is too far away
for us to walk at night.
And Nadia and Julie Marie
and their families
won’t be here
to celebrate with us.
But, Papa promised,
we’ll find a big branch
to bring inside and decorate.
And we’ll save our coins
for a Christmas feast.
Even though this Christmas
will be different,
we still have
Christmas songs to sing,
a Christmas lantern to light,
and our own blessed baby
to celebrate.
A few weeks later,
while we recite our lessons,
we work on our Christmas lanterns.
As we color and paste,
we listen and repeat
whatever Monsieur Leblanc teaches.
Jean-Pierre was right.
Ever since Jou Lèmò,
the days have been flying faster
than a hungry falcon.
Our coin jar is almost full again.
Gogo says some of the coins
are peppermint coins.
Papa says we’ll have enough
money to have a Christmas feast.
It’s hard not to be happy
at Christmas!
We’re already singing carols,
and even Monsieur Leblanc
is smiling.
Jean-Pierre says
when Monsieur Leblanc smiles,
his gold tooth twinkles
like the Christmas star!
Manman is nursing Gregory
when I return from the ravine
the next morning.
I quickly sweep the floor
and empty the chamber pots
&
nbsp; before changing into my uniform.
Today, Manman and Gogo
are going to Port-au-Prince,
so we’ll walk together
as far as the mango tree.
When I help strap Gregory
onto Manman’s back,
I notice a faint rash on his legs
that wasn’t there before.
Manman, did you see
Gregory’s legs? I ask.
Wi, Manman says quietly.
A shadow passes across her face
and Gogo places a bony finger
against her closed lips.
We lift the heavy tin of vegetables
onto Manman’s head.
In silence,
we walk down the hills
and across the fields.
When we get to the mango tree,
I put on my white socks and shoes.
Manman and Gogo
follow the road to the city.
I follow the path to school.
Today,
instead of excitement,
only worries
flutter inside me.
Late in the afternoon,
Gogo joins me in the garden.
We had another good day,
she says.
People say your peppermint
is the best in Port-au-Prince.
How is Gregory?
I ask.
Did you make a paste
from water and aloe?
Gogo nods.
It hasn’t helped.
How about basil or mint?
Again, Gogo nods.
Serafina, she says gently,
I will tell you
what I told your manman.
Worry is never a cure
for anything.
But—
But we have work to do, Serafina.
Work and prayers and hope.
The day before Christmas vacation,
my friends and I hug good-bye.
Jwaye Nwèl!
Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas!
When we reach the mango tree,
Jean-Pierre reaches into the bag
slung across his back.
I made you a present, he says,
smiling his big-space smile.
He pulls out a crèche made of clay.
Joseph and Mary are a little lopsided,
but the crèche is beautiful.
Mèsi, Jean-Pierre!
This is beautiful,
but I have no gift for you!
Jean-Pierre laughs.
That’s okay. I told you
I like to make things.
He smiles shyly.
Jwaye Nwèl, Serafina!
See you next year!
Jwaye Nwèl, Jean-Pierre!
I’m so glad we are friends.
I can’t wait to show Manman
my clay crèche
and my Christmas lantern.
The lantern isn’t as pretty as Nadia’s was,
but it’s fancier than last year’s.