The Color of Home

“We have a new boy joining us in school today,” said Miss Kelly.
“His name is Hassan and he’s from Somalia. I want you to make him feel at home.”
Bet the classroom didn’t feel like home to Hassan at all. In his real home he had lessons outside from early in the morning until the sun got too hot midday. Here he had to stay indoors except for recess, when he shivered outside on the damp playground.
The children were friendly. They smiled at Hassan, and one of the boys kicked a soccer ball toward him. But he didn’t understand anything that anyone said – only his name and “hello” and “bathroom.” It was tiring even learning a few English words.

After lunch, which Hassan didn’t eat because he didnt knew what it was, Miss Kelly gave all the children big sheets of paper and pinned them to easels. She gave Hassan paintbrushes and a jar of water, and showed him where all the colors were. He understood from her smiles and movements that she wanted him to paint a picture, but he had never done such a thing before.

He watched the other children for a while then chose a bright blue.

He painted a blue, blue sky without any clouds. Then a white house, a yellow sun and mimosa trees.
Outside the house he made stick figures – himself, his father, his mother holding a bundle that was his baby sister, his grandparents, his uncle. his two cousins. There were nine people outside the house, who all lived inside it.
Then Hassan took more paint and put in the animals a flock of white sheep, some brown goats, and a small sandy creature that was supposed to be his cat.
What a lovely picture, Hassan, said Miss Kelly. “What beautiful bright colors!”