FLOYD THE DOG

The longed for Christmas holidays finally arrived and the school, in East Africa, was emptying, as the parents of those children who lived conveniently near came to take their children home. Others were escorted by teachers to the train station. They would meet their parents on arrival at the station nearest to their farm. Some children would travel for two days or more before they reached home.

This year I would not be going home by train. I was to spend the Christmas holidays with Aunt Maria. She was my guardian while I was at school and she wanted to offer me, and John, a classmate and friend whose guardian she was also, a special Christmas Day.

We were both supposed to take the train for Tanga and meet our parents the next day. Instead, Aunt Maria came and picked us up from school.

“You know children, Father Christmas wrote to me to say that he will pass near the Usa River and will visit my house. So we must do a great deal of preparation. Will you help me?” she said, hoping that we would not feel disappointed at not going home.

“Of course we will!” we both exclaimed.

“What are we going to do, Aunty?” I asked.

“Are we going to decorate the tree?” John added.

Aunt Maria’s house was a two-storey mansion at the end of a tree lined driveway from the main road that joined Kenya and Tanzania. From the highway it appeared like a little palace in the jungle. It looked like the ‘Petit Palais’ in Paris. Every passer-by, tired by the long distance drive, would instinctively turn into the drive and visit the house. A cup of tea and cakes, or lunch, depending on the time of the visit, was always available. It was like an oasis in the desert!

“Yes,” Aunt Maria said. “I asked the gardener to cut down a big Christmas tree and place it under the staircase. We may decorate it if we stand on the steps. The star will be placed on the top, near the roof.”

“Oh, it must be very big!” John exclaimed.

It was a spiral staircase, at the bottom of which stood a curved bar. The tree was to stand inside the bar, on the counter where the traditional refreshments were to be placed as an offering to Santa.

The tree was enormous. We were both very excited and helped the house staff to decorate it under Aunt Maria’s instructions:

“John, give this ball to Edmond!” she would say.

“Stella, the red one, give it to Mamoud!”

“No, not on that branch! It looks better on top. Try it a little to the left…to the right… I think you had better place the red ball there. Stella, give him the red ball… John, hold the ribbons…” Aunt Maria’s ceaseless commands, given in such an enthusiastic way, motivated everyone to work and create and improvise. She even accepted some of our ideas!

Within a couple of hours, the whole house was brilliantly decorated. The platters with sweets and dried fruit beautifully decorated were placed on each side of the gorgeous Christmas cake on the bar. Brilliant garlands were positioned all around the house. The place really looked festive and ready for its distinguished guest: Father Christmas!

“Now children,” Aunt Maria said, looking contentedly at the result of our labour, “Tomorrow night, Santa will come. If you want to see him, you must be very good. It is already dark. You can have your supper and go to bed now. Tomorrow you will play outside, so that you do not accidentally destroy anything.”

“Yes, Aunty, whatever you say!” we both exclaimed. We ran to wash our hands and do what she said. We behaved as if we were two little angels!

The next morning, after breakfast, we ran outside. The garden was endless. The trees, full of different sorts of ripe fruit and of course inhabitants: Monkeys! They too enjoyed playing around and eating all the fruit they liked. There was an abundance of food, enough for them too.

One little monkey, whom we called Mickey, was particularly friendly towards us humans and would approach us when we climbed the trees to cut down fruit, so that we would give him some. He also ventured into the kitchen for a snack. Aunt Maria would always give him bananas, and we often played with him. We even taught him to play ball. We threw the ball to him and he threw it back!

That morning was fantastic: When we were tired of climbing trees and playing with Mickey, or he with us, we went into the fenced area of the garden, where all the hens, roosters, ducks, geese, turkeys and peacocks were. We played with the chickens and collected the eggs. We chased crabs in the meandering stream, where the ducks enjoyed the water. John, attempting to catch a crab, fell in and I tried to help him get dry before Aunt Maria saw us. I was chased by a giant rooster that eventually managed to bite me on the leg, just above my knee.

At lunchtime we were back inside. Aunt Maria looked at us suspiciously, as John’s clothes and shoes were in a mess but there was no real evidence that we had ‘crossed the line.’ I did not complain about the rooster’s bite hurting me.

“I hope you children have not been naughty.”

“Oh! No, Aunty. We have been as good as gold,” we both protested.

“Well then, after lunch, you must have a nap, because it’s going to be a long night tonight and you don’t want to miss Santa, do you?”

Once in my room I read for a while and then I slept. I woke feeling something on my shoulder coming down onto my chest. I opened my eyes and saw a long ‘tail’ starting from my chest, passing my shoulder and… God knows where it ended. A black snake! I was petrified. At the slightest movement, I just knew it would bite me. My imagination ran wild. I had grown up knowing that the only chance of survival when you meet a wild creature is to remain totally motionless, as if dead, so that it is not scared by your movement and attack you in self-defence. Now if I moved, the snake would bite me. Its head must be just behind me, so it would definitely bite me on the neck. Instant death! I froze! I prayed to God that the snake would move on without noticing me. If I died I would miss Santa! The snake’s tail did not stir. I was achingly stiff. I needed to move, but that would be fatal.

I must have stayed like this for about ten to fifteen minutes, which to me were an eternity. Eventually I accepted the idea of death:

“Oh, well,” I thought. “What if it does bite, what if I do die. I will go to heaven and meet my dad. He has died; he’s in heaven; so I won’t be alone...”

I decided to stretch myself and accept my fate. Just then I felt the tail moving slightly. Two little legs and ten tiny toes appeared moving down my shoulder!

Mickey!!! br>
I jumped up as he dashed onto the dressing table. I threw my slipper at him; he threw it back. The fight began. I threw anything I could reach at him, and he, jumping and dashing from the dressing table onto the cupboard and then on top of the lamp and all around the room, was doing the same.

John heard the commotion from his room next door. Opening wide my door, he dashed in, leaving the door open.

The fight was widened. Now it was two against one! The mischievous monkey, escaping through the open door, took refuge on the Christmas tree! Complete disaster! A cyclone in the house! Decorations, garlands, branches; all were flying around.

Aunt Maria seemed to be having a fit. She was screaming, and so were we, in our wild chase of Mickey. Eventually, the staff managed to capture Mickey and led him outside. He sat on a tree and watched us in the middle of chaos, while he enjoyed the dry sugared fruit that he had managed to grab on his way out.

“What shall we do now?” Aunt Maria asked as she sat almost breathless from the effort, trying to recover from her shock.

“Can’t we try to repair the damage?” I whispered.

“We can mend it all in no time at all Aunty, if we all work together.” John said reassuringly.

“Well then, let’s start now!” Aunt Maria commanded.

We all worked hard, quickly and non-stop.

We picked up the fallen objects, mending what we could, repaired the tree and generally cleaned up the place. By the time it was dark, everything was back in order. Aunt Maria re-arranged the plates and put the decorations back on the Christmas cake.

When all was done, Aunt Maria remembered to ask what had happened, and how had Mickey got into the house. He was in my bedroom. Everything had begun from there, so I was to blame. But John had entered my bedroom and had not closed the door. So he was responsible for the expansion of the calamity. I said nothing. I was still confused.

“Now, children, go upstairs, have a shower, get dressed and be ready for Santa.” Aunt Maria said brightly getting back into the festive mood.