Saturday, January 08, 2005
"No Coloured People!"
That is what the sign in the window read. Tommy had seen it, sent by his mother to help his elderly his Aunt Maude in her little tea shop off the High Street. He never understood it, so one day he worked up the courage to ask his stern old Aunt what it meant.
"You can't trust those coloureds," she said, raising her eyebrows in an all-knowing way. "I won't have 'em in my shop."
"Why not?" Tommy asked. "Don't they like tea?"
"Don't be stupid, boy!" she muttered. "They're just... bad people, that's all! They have funny customs, and you can't trust 'em"
Tommy nodded doubtfully at this, then thought for a moment, making a few half-hearted sweeps with the broom. Finally he posed another question. "Aunt Maude," he began, then paused again. "What... what colour are they? Are they, you know, green or purple or something? It's just that I-"
Swift as a cobra, Maude clipped Tommy around his ear. "Don't ask stupid questions, boy!" she growled. "You know perfectly well what colour they are."
"No, Aunt Maude, I promise!" Tommy pleaded. "I really don't know!"
The old woman, looking like a Russian Babushka doll wrapped in an old lace doily, cast her eyes heavenward and shook her head in frustration. "Listen boy," she said slowly, "they aren't brightly coloured like... boiled sweets or daisies. They're just a different colour from us."
Tommy's face wrinkled in confusion. His aunt saw his expression and sighed dramatically.
"Very well, boy. Ask whatever silly question it is that has you so baffled."
"Well..." began Tommy, moving slowly like a man tiptoeing past a sleeping tiger, "I am a different colour from you." Now that he had begun, he said the remainder in a rush. "It's just that you've been working here all summer and you see I went to the seaside with Lucy and Uncle Eric so I got all burnt and I peeled a bit but when I came home I was all brown... and... well, you're not."
Aunt Maude threw her hands in the air. "You are slow, boy! Listen. You and I are English, you see? It doesn't matter if you go to Africa and live with the monkeys for a year and come back as brown as a Brazil nut, because you'll still be English."
A light finally went on inside Tommy's head. "Oh, I see! So, foreigners are bad people! Is that right?" He saw his aunt nodding and went on with confidence. "So, if I ever find an American in your shop, I should-"
"No!" thundered Aunt Maude. "I think you're just making fun of me now. Don't bother with the floor, boy, just go home and leave me in peace!"
Tommy, frightened by his Aunt's raised voice, dropped the broom with a clatter and ran out the door. His Aunt watched him go, shaking her head as he vanished down the street. "Children these days," she muttered. "You can't teach them anything."
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