UNDERGRADUATE PAGE
The Children of Omar
By COLIN SHAW (St. Peter's Hall, Oxford)
THEY were small and shy and looked at Western life up a slight slope. They came aboard late, and I found them in hammocks on either side of .me early the next morn- ing. They smiled pleasantly and borrowed a razor-blade. The Corporal said he wasn't going to stand any nonsense, and, in his opinion, freedom from foreigners ought to be incorporated in the Atlantic Charter. The Sergeant, descending upon us from the luxury of a six-berth cabin, said he hoped we should all get on well together and made a joke about flying-carpets. The Flight-Lieutenant, noticing the irregular effect of two grey uniforms among the swaying ranks of soiled blue, asked where they had come from. The Persians shook their heads, grinned and were dismissed. They retired to the rail and rolled cigarettes until the parade was 'over. Then they sold the cigarettes.
Zipi, darker and thinner, came from the South ; Sam, who might have been taken for a European, from the north, a hun- dred miles from Tehran. Neither Zipi nor Sam was the real name, but the result of a rapid compromise. They had been sent to England by the Persian Air Force. For eighteen months they had followed a technical course, which had filled their English vocabulary with words of considerable length but little general application. They had been due to sail home eight or nine weeks before. Both, however, fell ill and missed the boat. They had spent a month in hospital not without profit. Zipi had acquired a text-book on rush-work, while Sam had gathered a rich collection of English phrases, of which " First-rate, Sir Henry," seemed the most startling. One of the doctors, he said, had used it to a visiting surgeon. He would repeat the phrase time after time, glancing round for approval. On being dis- charged from hospital, they had spent a month in a transit camp, neglected by authority until, at six hours' notice, they had been sent aboard the troopship as she prepared to sail.
We sailed on, down the coast of Portugal and into the Mediterranean. Zipi and Sam were, in one of Sam's, phrases, on a first-rate good thing. They had no parades, no fatigues ; nobody wanted to look at their feet or their teeth. Surpassing all these, they had no problems over kit. When we were officially translated into tropical uniforms, the discarded blue had to be persuaded into an inadequate space at the top of a kitbag. It was true that we had two kitbags, but it scarcely , seemed to make any difference. I had successfully turned down the offer of a spine-pad and the topee which Uncle Nigel found such a boon in Cyprus, but even then, with anti-mosquito cream and countless tubes of toothpaste (" But, dear, you never know where you might be asked to go "), there seemed very little room for the equipment I was officially assumed to be carrying. Finally, I enlisted-Zipi's support. Two cigarettes brought him round. He agreed to carry my uniform ashore over his arm. It was a little unorthodox, and, when it came to the point, almost led to his arrest, but it saved the lives of six tins of boot-polish (" But, dear, you never know where . . .").
The only real contribution Zipi and Sam made to the life of the ship was their assistance at the children's party. Eight of us, with Sam and Zipi in polished attendance, paraded outside the orderly room and were despatched to the sun-deck. Since the Adjutant was waiting for us, we were late. However, now that we were there, he hoped we would muscle in. He wanted the afternoon to go with a swing. ,There was something a little unearthly about the accompanying gesture, but we set about chalking lines on the deck and iplanning the course for the obstacle race. The C.O. came up to watch. He was carrying a. small cup of coffee, and was glad to see us getting down to it. The important thing on a long voyage, he said, was to have a lot to do. He had evidently talked the whole business over with the Adjutant, for he wanted the afternoon to go with a swing as well. The:accompanying gesture swung him round to confront Sam and Zipi. It was then that the idea came to him. Invention broke all over his face. " Would you chaps," he began, " like to be a donkey? " " First-rate,- sir," said Sam, checking himself on~ the very verge of disaster. Zipi nodded unhappily. They followed the C.O. along the deck. He gave Zipi his cup to carfST. The rest of us returned to our chalk- lines.
We gave the children their tea after the ball-and-fork race, an interesting variant devised by the Adjutant's clerk. It is a curious and unexplained feature of heredity that the higher The father's rank, the more liable the child is to choke, but eventually the last jelly was .secretly tipped into the sea and the CO. clapped his hands for silence. At that moment the donkey made its appearance from behind the after-funnel. Four *grey- trousered legs made an unsteady attempt at Co-ordination, and the animal came to rest against a lifeboat. It was constructed of canvas, and had been dressed with a small carpet from the first-class lounge. Sam had rather unwisely taken the latter end and Zipi, who had lacked confidence in the whole scheme, manipulated the bead in a series of forward rushes. The Adjutant went across and whispered, " Chase the children. They always love it." Zipi, alas, did not hear properly, and slid gently to the ground. The canvas split abruptly and Sam's head broke through without any warning. The children were ecstatic and screamed for more. The C.O. and the Adjutant were disgusted. As for the Corporal, he could have told us what would happen all along.
Two days later we reached Egypt. Zipi went ashore, my uniform over his arm. He was prepared to call it a souvenir if anyone challenged hini 'about it, but we gained the train un- accosted and, finding a seat by a window, raised the shutters. Three hours afterwards we arrived at the transit-camp. Zipi began to hand ale the uniform, when the Corporal accused us of trafficking in Air FOrce property. Between us we managed to convince him of our innocence. Sam came up and testified to Zipi's honesty. " First-rate good man," he said. " First-rate, Sir Henry." We retired to our tents.
Sam and Zipi spent about ten days in the camp. It was in the summer of 1948, and relations between Egypt and Israel were at their worst. The unfamiliar colour of the Persian uniforms aroused the worst suspicions of the local Egyptians.
They would point as Sam and Zipi passed. mutter, " Haganah." After they had been suspected of designs on the main railway-line, Sam and Zipi never ventured out alone again. The day before they flew home I took their photographs. They stood outside their tent, their arms folded, their caps set firmly on their heads. Then they took my photograph in turn. We collected the prints from the photographer's in the evening, and were all delighted. We vowed eternal friendship, and toasted each other in coca-cola. In the moonlight, outside the N.A.A.F.I., we parted, shaking hands many times. That was the last I saw of lhem. They flew off in the dawn of the following day. " Go home? First-rate, Sir Henry." In the interests of Anglo-Persian solidarity in these critical days, I should like to think that my photograph adorned a wall some- where in the south 6r a hundred miles from Tehran. But, alas, that cannot be, for I found the photographs next morning in the pocket Of my shirt.
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