The Rooftop. Toby Hammerschlag

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      Mr Zulman cleared his throat and, in his nervousness, immediately plunged into the story that he had carefully prepared the night before:

      “In the weeks ahead, we are going to travel back 3000 years as if we are in a time capsule to when the Jews, then known as Israelites, had been kept in captivity as slaves for 400 torturous years in Egypt. We arrive at a time when the slaves were still suffering under Pharaoh, king of the Egyptians, who ruled the land with an iron fist. The Jewish festival of Passover, which we are going to learn about, celebrates the liberation or freeing of these slaves and of all people who are oppressed. This is a story for all times, not just a tale to be dusted off and then forgotten. It is a blueprint telling us that every one of us has the right to live in freedom, then and now.”

      Mr Zulman stopped and ran his fingers through his long, wavy, sun-bleached hair and adjusted his small skullcap. He realised that in his haste to begin, he had forgotten to ask the students their names.

      “Before we continue, please tell me your names,” he said, looking a little embarrassed.

      Simon sat upright in his chair and stuck out his chest, trying to make his small frame larger before this huge man:

      “I’m Simon Abbot.”

      Mr Zulman nodded and looked over at the next student.

      “Emma Beaumont,” she said brightly and smiled at him.

      “Pleased to meet you, Emma,” he said and smiled back at her.

      “Talia Leveson,” Talia announced loudly and with the back of her hand unconsciously pushed back a lock of curly hair that had fallen across her eyes.

      “Pleased to meet you also, Talia.”

      “Maha Hamdan,” Maha said softly and did not even look up.

      “Now let us start again,” Mr Zulman said. “Let’s climb back into the time capsule and land in the distant land of Egypt all those years ago.”

      Mr Zulman took a breath. Calm down, he told himself sternly but still launched into his story:

      “Pharaoh, king of the Egyptians was a brutal man. To add to the suffering of the slaves, he passed another cruel law decreeing that all male, newborn babies of the Israelites be slain. Can you imagine the terrible suffering of the slaves, especially of the mothers? It is amidst this dark, sad time that a baby boy called Moses was born to a woman called Yocheved. Instead of the birth being a happy time, it was a moment of terrible fear that her newborn baby would be put to death. This distraught mother wept and wept. In a brave attempt to save her baby, Yocheved defied Pharaoh by instructing the baby’s sister Miriam to hide him in a waterproof crib in the bulrushes, which are these long reeds that you sometimes see in lakes and rivers. Miriam obeyed her mother and placed his crib gently in the bulrushes keeping guard over her helpless brother. Miriam was gripped with fear when she suddenly saw from her hiding place the arrival of Pharaoh’s daughter who had come to bathe near the bulrushes and caught sight of baby Moses. Miriam stayed hidden watching with dread as the princess tenderly lifted the gurgling baby from the crib into her arms. In that moment Miriam knew, even though her heart was breaking, that her brother would be saved if she allowed him to be taken into the safekeeping of the Egyptians. So Moses, child born of an enslaved people, was taken to live in the palace.”

      Mr Zulman stopped for a moment breathless, realising that he had been speaking non-stop in his nervousness. He looked around at his students and thought that they all looked interested except for Talia, who was fiddling with her pens. Feeling encouraged, he continued:

      “The mother and sister of baby Moses, Yocheved and Miriam, were two selfless and brave people who gave up their son and brother to ensure that he was kept alive. Now we all live in Australia, many years later, far removed from that land of oppression; however, we may still have experienced even small acts of kindness by others in our lives. And I am sure that there has been a time when you have put others before yourself. Would anyone like to start by sharing a story where you encountered kindness or perhaps when you have been the person who showed kindness?”

      He looked at the students anxiously, wishing for one of them to speak. Maha had tried to follow what Mr Zulman was saying but her English still needed some improvement and some of his words seemed to escape her and she had stopped listening. Her eyes glazed over as she remembered her final night before leaving Iraq. All around her at the airport, there was frantic activity as shouting, sweaty people gathered their precious possessions. She had snuggled into her grandmother’s lap and had felt her grandmother’s arms wrap around her. Her grandmother’s tears had merged with her own as she repeatedly lowered her head to kiss Maha`s face. Then she remembered her father lifting her gently from her grandmother’s arms and carrying her to the plane as she wept with her head buried in his shoulder.

      As if awakening from a trance, Maha recognised Simon`s voice, “…only see my father every six months as he lives in America. When he comes to Sydney, we spend all our time together. We stay in the Hilton hotel and I’m allowed to order whatever I want from room service. Every morning we drive down to Bronte Beach. My father is a strong swimmer and however fast I swim to try and get away, he always grabs me and throws me СКАЧАТЬ