Saving a Child From God, page 17
“What the hell are you on about, man?”
“ – to come back to my original question, how is that even an insult? Don’t you know you’re talking to a professor of linguistics? A professor. Apparently you have a rudimentary qualification in this field – congratulations – so it’d be appreciated if you could try to communicate with comprehensible language. Maybe get your confidence up by limiting yourself to words of one or two syllables.”
Hooligan put his hands on his hips and glanced at the floor. “OK, I’ll take it back. You’re not a shit-kicker.”
The professor nodded. “Thank you.”
“I mean, I don’t even know why I said such a thing when you’re clearly an arse hat.”
Hooligan turned and walked off, leaving the professor to call after him.
“I bring you back to my original point: such an insult is meaningless. What is an ‘arse hat’? There’s no such thing. And even if there were, who would wear a hat on their arse? It’d be impossible. For a start, you’d have to strap it on. And how could you even sit down? It wouldn’t be practical and – ”
Hooligan turned a corner and vanished.
“So once again,” he said, lowering his voice, “you’re using language in a meaningless way.” He dusted off his hands and picked up the bag again. “PhD 1, MA zero.”
He smiled at a puzzled-looking student and headed for the classroom. He walked in to see the Virgin Ostrich’s eyes unmistakeably widening as Louisa approached the window near him in a figure-hugging yellow dress.
“Good afternoon, class. And I hope everyone’s well.” They looked at him a little warily, although a few managed to say hello. He put the bag down and busied himself with the basics, eventually addressing them from behind the e-podium while inserting a USB.
“Now, you guys. What would you like to learn today? I see our esteemed IELTS text book is promising us the intricate delights of modal verbs and collocations.”
No one responded. Boris sipped his coffee, Anna played with her phone on her lap and the Virgin Ostrich stared into infinity.
“OK, then. How about we do something different?” He went to the smart board and wrote Man-child in its middle. “Now, what do you think this word means?”
The students frowned and a few conferred.
“Come on, have a go. Tell me your answers. Don’t be shy. You can’t learn unless you make mistakes.”
Their attempted answers ranged from the barely comprehensible Two people to the plain bizarre Man on child, although he sensed one or two were in the ballpark.
Gisette put up her hand. “A man who is child. He behave like boy.”
“Very good, Gisette. Excellent. A man-child is a man who acts just like a child.” He drew a circle around the word. “Now, I’d like you to think of some adjectives and nouns to describe a man-child. Think of children. Think about how they are and how they behave.” He noticed Anna had put her phone away and actually looked as if she were trying to think. “I’ll give you an example.”
He drew a line from the encircled word and wrote emotional.
“A man-child is emotional. E-mo-shun-null. It is very easy to understand what he is feeling – whether he is happy or sad or angry. His feelings – his mood – also changes a lot.”
Louisa stuck up a hand, making a silver bangle on her wrist slide down her arm. “Selfish.”
“Very good.” He wrote it on the board. “And what does selfish mean?”
“My nephew. This is right? Son of brother. Yes?”
He nodded.
“He is four years. Always” – she tapped her chest repeatedly – “me, me, me!”
He smiled. “Excellent, Louisa. As children, we are all selfish. We think the Earth revolves around us but as we mature, we realise there are other people in the world and their needs are just as important. We stop being so selfish. Or at least some of us do. Some people... well, they just remain selfish until the end of their life.”
He carried on eliciting, ending up with a list of words that included clumsy, immature, reckless, impulsive, careless and dishonest. Their vocabulary was actually a bit better than he’d given them credit for, although the Virgin Ostrich, of course, hadn’t contributed a single word.
“Now if you think about all these words, can you think of a very famous character who has them all? Hmm...? I’ll give you a clue. He’s British and he’s on the TV.”
Anna’s hand shot up. “Mr Bean!”
The professor smiled. “Very good, Anna. See what you can do when you stop playing with... I take it that they have Mr Bean in the Ukraine?”
“Yes. Most funny. Rowan Atkinson. Stupid face and I watch.”
“Mr Bean is shown all over the world. He is very pop-u-lar. That means lots of people like him. Just like me. Now I’m going to show you an episode of Mr Bean and I want you to watch very carefully because there’ll be a quiz at the end. Understand?”
They all nodded and some excited chatter sprang up. He raised his palms.
“But first, I have another surprise. I’ve been informed my lessons are a little... dry, so I’ve decided to...” He shrugged. “Add some liquid.” He picked up the bag and gently lowered it onto the table.
Then he pulled out a bottle of wine.
The students gasped and he suddenly had an insight into what a magician on stage felt like. He liked the feeling so much that he quickly pulled out the other two bottles.
“Teacher...” Gisette said. “You give us wine?”
“That’s right. What could be better than whiling away an afternoon watching a funny TV show and enjoying a nice drop of vino?”
Apart from the Ostrich, they all clapped and cheered.
“Gisette and Louisa, can you help me, please?” They both stood and slinked their way down to the front as he unscrewed the caps. “Give a glass to each student, please.” He poured a generous measure and watched with interest as they did their best high-class waitress impersonations. Before long the students were nodding, giving him the thumbs-up and clinking glasses.
He looked at Fawaz, who predictably hadn’t moved in the far corner. Ostrich, I’ll be damned. This guy’s fizzog was starting to look like ET’s. He carried a glass of red over.
“Aah, Fawaz, they say travel broadens the mind so it’s time to stray outside your comfort zone and embrace the grape.” He gently swirled the contents of the glass, took an exaggerated sniff and placed it on his desk. “Beer is made by men, wine by God!” He leaned closer. “Wouldn’t you agree, you gormless nonentity?”
Fawaz appeared frozen.
He placed a hand on his shoulder. “Go on, fellah. Live a little. Let’s take a file to one of those links on your religious chains.”
Fawaz managed to glance at the glass with his nostrils twitching and then back at the professor.
“Well, Fawaz, it’s your decision. I’m no bully.” He winked. “But who would’ve thought that the devil looked like me?”
He returned to the front of the class, switched off the main lights and clicked play. “Now remember, watch the video carefully and I will give you a quiz at the end.”
He dragged out a spare chair to put his feet on as the screen came to life. Mr Bean was behind the wheel of his Mini pulling faces and driving like a complete idiot.
The professor looked around. His students were laughing and pointing and the wine was slipping down a treat.
****
Professor Jeggert pushed open the front door and let it bang on its hinges. He carried in the small desk, turned and went back for the lectern and whiteboard on wheels. Something had been bothering him about teaching Abdullah in the living room and he realised it was having him sit in an armchair.
A bit too informal, really. It was his job as a teacher to create the right learning environment and surely a desk, a lectern and an old-fashioned whiteboard would help his student take the whole thing that bit more seriously. He smiled. Perhaps he could even start using his laser pointer again.
He shut the door and positioned the new furniture in the living room with the lectern a few feet to the right of the big screen. Today he was going to teach natural history, an attempt to build on the foundation of the dinosaur lesson. After all, kids loved dinosaurs and animals.
He went to the kitchen and thumped Abdullah’s bedroom door.
“Get ready, Abdullah. Time to start your lesson.”
He was just turning when something about the key struck him as odd. It was hanging out of the lock at a funny downward angle, as if it had been knocked loose from the other side. He rubbed his goatee. How smart was a six-year-old child? Had he been trying that old trick of sliding a sheet of paper under the door, knocking the key onto it and then carefully reeling the paper back in?
He stooped and took a closer look at the crack under the door. It was just about wide enough for the key to slip under there.
The professor straightened, doubting Abdullah would have been able to plan something like that. Then again, it was perfectly possible he’d seen something similar on TV. Monkey see, monkey do.
Should he challenge him about it?
Maybe not. He didn’t want the kid to fear some sort of punishment was on the way. Much better to encourage, rather than chastise.
Anyway, all he needed to do was remove the key. He unlocked the door, pulled the key out and put it into a pocket.
He opened the door to see Abdullah pacing around.
“Come on, young man. Time to expand your mind.”
He shepherded him into the front room and locked the door behind them, smiling as the boy immediately sat at his desk. The professor looked around for the wireless keyboard and placed it on the lectern. He stood behind it and rapped its side.
“Quiet, please, class. I shall take attendance first. Abdullah.”
Abdullah put his hand up. “Here, teacher.”
“Very good.” He waited for Abdullah to laugh but the boy listlessly looked around instead. He scooted around the lectern and placed a notepad and a couple of pencils on his desk. “All good students take notes, Abdullah. You can’t be expected to remember everything I say so please write down whatever you think is interesting or any questions you want to ask.”
Abdullah blankly picked up a pencil and began doodling on the pad.
“Now, Abdullah. I want you to think of a beautiful animal. Abdullah! Teacher is talking now. The lesson has begun. Stop drawing and listen. Think of a beautiful animal. Please.”
“Butterfly.”
“Good choice. You really are a smart little boy.” He called up images of butterflies on the screen. “Look at all those colours, all those intricate patterns. Yes, butterflies are truly beautiful creatures. Now another, Abdullah. Tell me a beautiful creature.”
“Peacock.”
Professor Jeggert did the same. “Another splendid choice. What magnificent tail feathers! Who could possibly disagree? And the last one, Abdullah. One more beautiful animal, please.”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, Abdullah.” He tapped a temple. “Think.”
He shrugged. “Tiger.”
“Yes. Excellent.” He searched for the animal. “Look at its grace, at its power. What a glorious animal. It’s easy to see why some people believe that such a design is divinely inspired. Now, Abdullah, do you believe all these animals were created by God?”
“Yes. Allah makes everything.”
“You said it, buster. Allah makes everything. So, let’s see what else he makes.” The professor typed and hit the enter button, filling the screen with images of cockroaches. “Urgh! Yuck! What’re they, Abdullah?”
“Cockroach.”
“Very good. You do know your animals, don’t you? Can you tell me anything about a cockroach, Abdullah?”
The boy grimaced. “Dirty.”
“Yep. Can’t disagree there. They love muck. Did you know a cockroach can survive after having its head cut off and that the decapitated head can even wave its antennae about for hours afterward?” He typed again and up came pictures of tapeworms. “What’s this?”
The boy shook his head. “Dunno.”
“It’s a tapeworm. Horrible, isn’t it? A parasite that sits in your guts and can grow dozens of feet long. Some of them can even migrate to your brain.” He leaned forward on the lectern. “I could go on, Abdullah, and show you pictures of maggots, mosquitoes, the Ebola virus and all the other lovely things that your God apparently dreamed up, but I think you see my point. What is my point?”
Abdullah had returned to scribbling on the pad. The professor sighed. The boy didn’t appear able to concentrate for longer than a half a minute. Maybe he should take the pencil away.
“Abdullah...? Please try to focus. This is very important. What I’m trying to say is... If you believe God made butterflies and all the lovely other life forms, then by the same logic you have to accept he also came up with black rats, fleas and the bubonic plague. People always coo over the most beautiful animals and point to them as being evidence of God’s wondrous abilities, but they’re very much selectively choosing. If that’s your case, then you have to drag in their less glamorous cousins as well. Because if you really believe God is behind everything, it’s obvious he’s – at the very least – deeply schizophrenic. Don’t you think, Abdullah?”
“When can I see my mummy?”
The professor sighed. “We’ve had this conversation, Abdullah. Remember? Your mummy and daddy are letting me look after you for a little bit.”
“I want to go home.”
“You are home.”
“No, I’m not!” He flung the pencil at him but his aim was bad and it bounced harmlessly off the big screen.
The professor did not move, preferring to stare at the child.
“Abdullah... please be a good student. I don’t want to see petulant displays like that in my classroom. Do you understand? You do something like that again and I’ll keep you behind after school and make you do lines.” He shook his head. “I don’t think you appreciate the enormous sacrifice I have made in becoming your teacher. I am risking everything for your education so please try to show some respect. OK, Abdullah?”
Abdullah’s head was down. “Yes, teacher.”
“Very well, let’s continue.” He called up YouTube and searched for the video he wanted to show. “Now, I’m going to show you a little two-minute video and then we’ll have a chat about it. Here we go.” He clicked play.
A lone lioness at dusk was standing by the edge of a shallow lake that appeared to be more mud than water. The unsteady camerawork was obviously not professional but the focus was sharp and everything held up surprisingly well on the big screen.
Then the picture switched to an impala stuck in the mud up to its neck, having obviously jumped in to escape the predator. Another shot showed both in the same frame, establishing them to be about twenty feet apart. The lioness yawned and lay down to wait.
The director began jabbering in German before zooming left to show a hippo sliding into view behind the impala. Meanwhile, the big cat had got back to its feet and was lapping water.
The hippo, a massive territorial bull, crept closer to the antelope, which was becoming visibly more nervous. The difference in size and bulk was striking and it must have weighed fifty times as much.
The hippo loomed over it, seemingly revelling in its power. It opened its mouth to show a set of fearsome tusks, causing the impala to struggle frantically in a bid to get away.
And then there was a spray of black filth as the hippo grabbed it by the neck and hurled it over its head. The impala ended up upside down with three legs protruding from the mud. Its neck was probably already broken as it sucked watery ooze into its lungs.
The hippo remained motionless, its head slightly turned toward the drowning antelope as its upside-down legs slowly stopped twitching.
Back on dry land the lioness seemed to understand what had just happened before wandering off with a vaguely disappointed look.
Professor Jeggert paused the video, wondering if it were possible to better illustrate the phrase Caught between a rock and a hard place.
“What do you think, Abdullah?”
“I didn’t like it.”
“Why?”
“Because the deer died.”
“Antelope.”
“Why did the hippo kill it? It didn’t even eat it.”
“Because it was in its territory. Animals are very territorial, including us.”
Abdullah frowned and looked a little sulky. “I’m not an animal. I’m human.”
“But you are an animal. I know – ”
“I’m not an animal!”
The professor waited for him to calm. “I know your holy book teaches you people are special but we really aren’t. We’re animals through and through. The only difference is we’re simply more intelligent and aware of our own mortality. We know we’re going to die, Abdullah. That’s very difficult for us to accept so we make up stories about God and going to heaven and all that other stuff. We’re desperate to convince ourselves that we’re special, that we matter. But it’s nothing but ego. Don’t you see? For when it comes down to it, we’re merely animals crawling over the face of the Earth engaged in pretty much the same activities as that hippo and impala.”
Abdullah started ripping a piece of paper, mumbling to himself.
“Do you ever think about nature, Abdullah? How hideously cruel it is? Because scenes like that” – he pointed to the screen – “are played out every second of every day. Nature is relentlessly nasty. That’s how it’s been designed. I could show you video after video to illustrate my point. Take the assassin bug. That little blighter sticks its paralysing proboscis into its prey and injects a substance that liquefies its insides before it all gets sucked up. There are wasps that lay their eggs inside caterpillars and turn them into walking larders for their larvae. I could go on and on.
