12 children and a nativity play comes to life!
View(s):By Dr. Carmeline Fernando
Growing up in the sixties we had a neighbour called Uncle Joe, who used to organise a Nativity play for the neighbourhood children every year. It was one of my fondest memories and I felt sorry for all the present day kids in my neighbourhood who didn’t have an Uncle Joe. But then the thought struck me – “Why couldn’t I be one?” It would be a fitting tribute to Uncle Joe who passed away years ago and never knew how much we enjoyed those concerts.
Organising the play posed a problem as I was a busy doctor working away from home and was free only every other weekend. But the response from the kids was highly enthusiastic. I rounded up 12 children their ages ranging from six to 13 years. Some were Buddhists who didn’t know the story of Christmas, so my first task was to relate it to them. We then started rehearsals. Being single and not having had much to do with children, I didn’t know what I was letting myself in for.
The songs and singers were chosen. Those who could sing in tune were chosen for solos, and the others’ voices I hoped would be drowned by the music. They sang lustily (their idea of good music seemed to be – the louder, the better) and after an hour, a break was announced. I needed one after that onslaught on my eardrums!
My respite was brief. A fight started in the garden with missiles flying everywhere. Running out, I separated the combatants, and multiple piping voices shrieked out explanations. Apparently, one of the boys named Tikiri had revealed his sister Tamara’s nickname to the other kids and they had all taunted her. Furious, she had taken on four of the boys single handed, and had been well on her way to victory, when I stepped in to break it up. Peace restored we went back in for rehearsals.
The cue for the shepherds’ entrance onto stage was the carol “Softly the Night is Sleeping”. I kept on playing the carol on the organ, but no shepherds appeared. Going backstage I found that the fight had restarted. Tamara, who was cast in the role of Angel Gabriel, was battling it out with the Three Kings and one of the shepherds, with the rest of the cast egging them on.
“That’s it. The concert is cancelled,” I threatened, and was immediately engulfed by little ones, all contrite, saying “Sorry, Aunty, we won’t fight again.” Being a doctor on call for 24 hours was much easier than being a mother for two hours, I thought!
The roles of Mary and Joseph were played by a brother and sister. They were instructed to walk slowly around the stage to the accompaniment of “Mary’s Boy Child” asking for room at the inn. But they didn’t walk, they ran; and before I had played four bars of the song they had already entered the stable. “Slow down. It’s not good for Mary to run. She is to have a baby,” I said. Their father being an obstetrician, no further explanations were necessary.
And so, the rehearsals continued, always punctuated by squabbles and after some time, I got used to it. On the final day we held a dress rehearsal, which turned out to be a disaster. Mary, when changing into her costume, removed her T shirt which emanated a strong smell of sweat. When her brother sniffed at it and called her “Smellie”, she walked off in a huff, and like the little prima donna that she was, refused to come back. Where could I find another Mary of the same height? The only option was my nephew – but, “I don’t want to be a female,” he protested. From the corner of my eye I saw Mary slinking back, so nothing more was said.
Everything that could possibly go wrong, did. Entrances and exits were missed, wings fell off shoulders, tinsel crowns fell off heads, shepherds trailed blankets all over stage and even I played several wrong notes on the organ. I fervently hoped that “Everything would be alright on the night”.
And it was. The little innocents did me proud performing way beyond my expectations. The appearance of Santa at the end was totally unexpected by the children and it was a delight to see the wonder in their eyes as they got their gifts. They clambered all over Santa which loosened the pillow that was tied to his tummy, and he had to make a hurried exit, but not before he handed me a surprise gift which had been thoughtfully provided by Mary and Joseph’s mother, in appreciation of my hard work.
It was hard work but worth it all, when at the end, Tikiri asked me with regret in his voice and a hint of tears, “Aunty, does all this end after Christmas?”
Uncle Joe, I hope you were looking at us from above, and now know how much we appreciated your efforts. I carried your torch and I hope that these kids, and the generations after them will continue your tradition for years to come.
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