Sammi and Dusty (5 page)

As soon as the meeting was over, Sammi stuffed the petition into his bag. He didn’t want to think about it. He would go out and spend time with Dusty while he still could – while City Farm was still open.

He was about to sneak out of the barn when Kerry called him.

‘Sammi – would you come here for a minute?’

Dragging his feet, Sammi went over to her desk.

Kerry smiled kindly at him. ‘Thank you for taking a petition sheet, Sammi,’ she said. ‘Do you understand what it’s for?’

‘I understand,’ said Sammi. ‘City Farm need help. But I don’t...’ His voice trailed off, and he shrugged. He didn’t know how to explain.

‘I think I can guess what you’re thinking. You feel that you don’t know enough people,’ Kerry finished for him.

Sammi stared at her in surprise. She’d guessed exactly right! He nodded.

‘That’s OK, Sammi,’ said Kerry. ‘But think about it. You have neighbours, don’t you?’

‘I not know them.’

‘You don’t know them
yet
,’ said Kerry gently. ‘But I’d like you to try talking to them. The petition gives you a good excuse, doesn’t it?’

Sammi swallowed. He still felt really scared. He sat silently for a bit, but Kerry just waited patiently. ‘My English is not good for this,’ he said at last.

‘You might be surprised,’ said Kerry. ‘Maybe you’re better at communicating than you think. You soon understood what Dusty was trying to say, didn’t you? We all thought he was just a grumpy donkey, but he’s been lovely and gentle with you.’

Sammi thought about it. It wasn’t easy to grasp all the words that Kerry was using, but he had worked out what she meant, more or less. What she said about Dusty was true.

He smiled hesitantly. ‘I’ll try,’ he said at last.

‘That’s all any of us can do,’ said Kerry. ‘Just do your best.’

* * *

His mum was busy cooking when he got home. He knew she found it hard to find exactly the same ingredients that she was used to using back in Afghanistan, but she still managed to create the delicious rice dishes they’d always eaten.

He gave Giti a big hug and grinned as she showed him the homework exercises she’d already finished, then sat down on a stool while his mum stirred something in a saucepan.

‘So how’s it going on the farm?’ his mum asked. ‘Did you have a good day today?’

‘I really like it there,’ said Sammi. ‘Most of the animals at City Farm look different to the ones back home, especially the sheep and goats. But the donkey’s just the same. He loved the carrots.’ Sammi paused. It was such a relief to talk in Pashtun after struggling in English all day! ‘His name’s Dusty,’ he carried on. ‘Nobody understood why he was so noisy until I explained to them.’

‘I’m not surprised. I haven’t seen any other donkeys in England,’ said his mum. ‘They’re not used to them at all.’

‘No. Dusty’s the only donkey I’ve seen too,’ said Sammi. ‘But they care for him really well. He eats lots of hay, and he doesn’t have to work very hard. There’s nothing to carry or pull, and I don’t think they ride him much at all.’

‘And you’re spoiling him with carrots,’ said his mum.

‘Well – only a few!’ laughed Sammi. ‘But actually he might not have a home at all, soon. There are people who want to close the farm down. Everyone’s really worried about it.’

Sammi’s mum frowned. ‘Close it down? Why?’

‘They want to build houses there instead. But, Mum, I want the farm to stay open! I feel really happy there and I don’t know what’ll happen to Dusty if it closes. And it’s really bad for Rory too. He’s the man you met, the one with the white hair. He lives there, so he’ll lose his home.’

‘But this isn’t Afghanistan!’ exclaimed his mum. ‘Isn’t there anything they can do about it?’

Sammi hesitated, thinking of the petition sitting in his bag. ‘Well... they’re going to try. They want me to help. They’ve given me this piece of paper for neighbours to sign, saying they’re against it. I’m supposed to go round and ask them to give support.’

‘What’s this? Show me,’ said his mum.

Reluctantly, Sammi got up and fetched the petition. He translated the declaration at the top of it, missing out the big words that he didn’t understand. Half of him hoped that his mum wouldn’t approve, but there was no chance of that.

‘What a good idea!’ she exclaimed. ‘You will have to go and talk to people around here! That will be very good for your English!’

Sammi sighed. ‘That’s what Kerry said.’

‘I told you. I like that woman,’ said his mum approvingly. ‘She’s very sensible, and she knows exactly what’s good for you. You should do what she says.’

‘You really think I can do it?’ asked Sammi.

‘You? You can do anything you want to do,’ said his mum fondly. ‘You always did, back home.’ She glanced down at his little sister. ‘And Giti can help you too.
’

Sammi took a deep breath. ‘All right then. We’ll try. It would be brilliant if I could help City Farm – and Dusty!’

* * *

On Monday morning, it felt strange to be sitting back in class. So much had happened since he’d started going to City Farm, and Sammi realized he was a bit more confident now. He still couldn’t understand everything Miss Crawley said, but he was getting there.

Jack was at his usual desk. He looked across at Sammi, and they nodded at each other. They weren’t exactly what you’d call friends – they didn’t spend any time together at break time, or lunch time, as Jack was off with his own friends and Sammi ate alone as usual. Sammi didn’t mind. At least Jack didn’t seem angry with him any more. All the same, when Jack sidled up to him at the end of the day, he felt quite surprised.

‘You going to City Farm?’ Jack asked, as they walked out of the gates.

‘Yes. I go see Dusty,’ said Sammi.

Jack shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘D’you want to go together then?’ he asked, a bit awkwardly. ‘I’m going there too.’

Sammi tried not to show his shock. He started to shrug, then stopped himself. ‘OK,’ he said instead. ‘Thanks, Jack. Good idea.’

Jack gave a lop-sided grin. They walked along to the bus stop and ran to catch the bus, then sat down at the back. They sat saying nothing for a while. Jack looked out of the window at all the houses and offices, but he seemed on edge. Sammi got the idea that he was building up to saying something, so he waited, wondering what it was.

Suddenly, Jack turned to him. ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry I left you. You know, on the farm.’

‘Left me?’ Sammi was baffled. What did that mean?
Left
was the opposite of
right
...

‘Yeah. After the rabbits and all that. I left you on your own.’

Oh.
Sammi understood. It was another funny English phrase. He didn’t know why Jack was apologizing. It had seemed like quite a normal thing to do. Jack had done his best to show him everything about the rabbits and the guinea pigs, hadn’t he? It wasn’t Jack’s fault that he hadn’t been interested. ‘Is fine,’ he said. He flushed. ‘I sorry I call you stupid, in the class. I use wrong word. Not what I mean say.’

Jack shrugged. ‘Oh, that’s OK. I know it’s hard, not being good at English. I’m no good at it, either.’

Sammi was puzzled. ‘How? You are English. You know English.’

‘Yeah. I can speak it all right,’ said Jack. ‘But I’m rubbish at reading and writing. That’s why we’re in the same class.’

Sammi shook his head. ‘I not understand.’

Jack took a deep breath. ‘I’ve got a problem,’ he explained. ‘It’s called dys-lex-ia. It means I can understand everything OK, but when I read or write, I get my letters muddled up. Especially “b”s and “d”s, letters that look similar.’

Sammi was listening carefully, but he still couldn’t quite get it. Jack dived into his school bag, and pulled out three story books. He handed them to Sammi.

‘See here,’ he said, pointing to a word on one of the covers. ‘I know that says “bad”, but if I lose concentration, it looks like “dab”.’

It was beginning to make sense. ‘I see,’ said Sammi. He handed the books back. ‘I think this not easy for you. Very hard to learn.’

‘Yeah, it’s a pain. But I’m getting there,’ said Jack. ‘It can’t be as hard as what you’re doing. You’ve had to learn a new alphabet and everything!’ He hesitated, then shoved the books towards Sammi. ‘Take them. I brought them into school for you.’

‘For me?’

‘Yeah. They’re easy to read, but not babyish. I thought they might help you.’

Now Sammi was amazed. It was a really nice thing to do. He didn’t know what to say. ‘Thank you,’ he stammered eventually.

‘That’s OK,’ said Jack. ‘Don’t give up. You’re doing really well. You just need practice, that’s all!’

Sammi grinned. ‘Practice more easy, when I have friends.’

‘Come on, Sammi! Let’s go!’ cried Giti.

‘Wait, Giti. I have to finish my homework first,’ Sammi told her. He had lots of English spellings to learn, and they were giving him a headache.

‘Finish it. Finish it,’ Giti ordered him, in English, and he laughed.

It was Wednesday evening and Giti had been bouncing around with excitement ever since Sammi had got home from school. They were going to show the petition to all their neighbours, and she couldn’t wait to start. Not for the first time, Sammi envied his little sister. For her, it was just a fun adventure with her big brother. She loved chattering away to people and showing off how much she’d learned. It was going to be so much harder for him!

He completed the last few words –
talk
,
laugh
and
enough
– and checked them against his list of correct spellings. They were all right! He punched the air in triumph. ‘I did it!’ he yelled.

‘So we can go?’ begged Giti, hopping from one foot to the other.

‘Yes, we can go,’ Sammi sighed.

He put his schoolwork away and went to fetch the petition. There were butterflies fluttering in his stomach as they stepped outside and walked up to their next-door neighbour’s house. Giti gripped his hand tightly as he rang the doorbell, her eyes shining in anticipation. He smiled down at her, trying not to let her see how nervous he was feeling.

They heard footsteps, and then the door opened. A kind-looking Asian woman peered out. ‘Yes? Hello? Who is it?’ she asked.

‘Hello. I... I am your neighbour. My name is Sammi. And this my sister Giti.’

The door opened a little bit wider. ‘Ah... ah. Yes. I saw you move in a few months ago.’

‘Yes. We are from Afghanistan.’ Sammi cleared his throat.

‘Are you? Our family is from Pakistan originally. Neighbours over there as well as over here, then!’

Sammi didn’t quite follow, but he heard the word ‘neighbour’, so he smiled, and nodded.

‘Your little sister is very pretty. Aren’t you?’ said the woman to Giti. ‘What did you say your name was?’

‘Giti,’ said Giti, suddenly all shy.

‘And how old are you, Giti?’

‘Six,’ she said, sounding a little braver. ‘But I’m seven very soon.’

‘Well, that’s very clever, knowing your age in English,’ said the woman. ‘Do you know what comes after seven?’

‘Seven-six-nine-eight-ten!’ said Giti, in a rush.

Sammi grinned, then decided he ought to get to the petition. ‘We have something we want to show you,’ he told the woman. ‘Have you ever go City Farm?’

‘City Farm? Oh yes. I went there a couple of years ago,’ said the woman. ‘It’s a lovely place. They have wonderful animals, and they make very tasty jam.’

Sammi thrust the petition into her hands. ‘Well, you see, they are a problem,’ he said. ‘The council want City Farm to close. We want to say no, not close it.’

‘Close it? But that’s not good, not good at all.’ The lady looked really upset. ‘City Farm has been there for many years. That old barn is a real piece of history. My own children used to visit when they were younger – they loved it!’

‘Then maybe you sign?’ asked Sammi, pointing to the place on the form. ‘And maybe you come October twelve? Big meeting then. We want many people come, tell council to make City Farm stay open.’ He knew he was jumbling his words a little bit, but the woman seemed to understand him perfectly well.

‘Of course I’ll sign,’ said the woman. ‘And I’ll come on the twelfth as well. It would be a pleasure, a real pleasure. Just wait a minute, I’ll go and get a pen.’

‘I have a pen,’ said Sammi. ‘Here!’

As he handed the pen over, he was glowing inside. This was much easier than he’d expected! The woman was really friendly, and now he had his first signature too!

* * *

He and Giti carried on along the street. After a few houses, it got easier and easier to describe what was happening up at City Farm. Sammi even managed to explain that all the animals would be made homeless if the farm closed down. A couple of people shook their heads when they saw Sammi on the doorstep with his petition, and shut the door before he had chance to say anything, but most people wanted to understand exactly what was going on, so they were happy to listen to him, and help when he stumbled over his words.

They reached the end of the street and knocked at the final door. This time it was a boy who answered. He looked a couple of years older than Sammi and had a football tucked under his arm.

‘Hi,’ began Sammi. ‘My name is Sammi. I live close to you...’ He waved with his hand down the street.

The boy looked interested at once. ‘Cool,’ he said. ‘Do you play football?’

Sammi was surprised. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Of course!’

‘Thing is, we’re looking for more people to play,’ the boy told him. ‘We go down the sports centre every Wednesday night, but a few people have given up recently so we’re a bit short on numbers.’

Sammi frowned, trying to follow. ‘You want to play football... ?’ he asked, worried in case he’d got it wrong. He hesitated. ‘With me? Now?’

The boy grinned, and glanced at Giti. ‘Well, maybe next time,’ he said. ‘You any good? What position do you play?’

Sammi knew all the footballer positions from watching television. ‘Midfield,’ he said. ‘Thank you. I would like to play. But today I very busy.’ He waved the petition. ‘We are trying to help City Farm. The council want it close, but we all say no.’

‘City Farm! We went there once with school. I remember collecting eggs from the chicken sheds. It was cool.’

‘Then you sign?’ asked Sammi.

‘Let’s see,’ said the boy.

Sammi handed him the sheet, and the boy read it over quickly. ‘Sure I’ll sign it,’ he said. ‘My mum and dad will too. And my nan – she’s visiting today. Hang on, I’ll just take it in to them.’

The boy disappeared into the house, and came back a few moments later with three new signatures on the petition. Then, with Sammi watching, he wrote down his own name too.
Robin Stewart
, Sammi read.

‘Also we need people to come to the farm on October twelve,’ Sammi told him. ‘You can come, and bring other players?’

‘Why not?’ grinned Robin. ‘Sure, we’ll be there. It would be fun to see City Farm again.’

‘Thank you, Robin,’ said Sammi. ‘See you soon!’

‘Yeah, sure,’ said Robin, as Sammi and Giti retreated down the path. ‘And don’t forget – football in the sports centre next Wednesday, six o’clock! I’ll be counting on you!’

‘OK,’ called Sammi happily over his shoulder.

As they walked off down the road again, Sammi was beaming. He’d made a new friend, just like that! He couldn’t think of anything better than having a local football team to play with. Kerry and his mum had been so right. If he hadn’t been brave, trying to get names on the petition, he wouldn’t have met Robin and he wouldn’t be spending so much time chatting away in English. Maybe he could build a happy life here, after all... and it was all thanks to City Farm.