Zelda tells a sad little tale about a badly misunderstood small girl.
I READ
ZELDA MARGO
I was born in the platteland to a unsuccessful farmer and an indomitable mother. An only
child, I had a friend Emma, who lived behind the curtain. I claimed that it was Emma who
taught me to read and write.
At age eight I was kitted out in my new school uniform: [financial manouevering on
Mother’s part.] Hair plaited, face and shoes shining and off to school for the first time. I
was thrilled, I’d make friends and read and recite.
Miss Crisp, our teacher, tall and mousey-haired, corn-flower blue eyes behind black-
rimmed glasses, handed out the reading books. I was shaking with excitement.
“Children, this is a book of animal stories. You might have to sound out the difficult
words, but I know that you will love the stories. So, when I call your name you’ll stand up
and read.
None of those called could read as fluently as I could. I waited impatiently.
“Amanda.”
I stood up straight and proud and began –
“Evwey thing was vewy still. Suddenly there was a gig cwash. Poo the little wabbit was
tewwified. He wan and wan as quickly as he could ...”
The giggling in the classroom washed over me. I looked to Miss Crisp and saw she was
suppressing laughter.
“Miss Cwisp, what ...”
“Thank you Amada, you may sit down.”
“Gillian, please continue.”
What I was experiencing was the death of my spirit. I was too crushed for tears.
The bell allowed me to escape. I crept out of the classroom into the playground, only to
be surrounded by children chanting,
“Wun wabbit, wun wabbit, wun, wun, wun.”
Condemned to be a figure of fun on my first day at school.
I got home and into my room. Emma popped out from behind the curtain. I was too
hollowed out by pain to speak. She pushed an exercise book in front of me. I picked up a
pencil, licked it and in a flood of tears told the story.
That is when I started keeping a journal. That was when I started stuttering, barely ale to
utter a word. Too terrified to speak I listened. I listened and wrote. Dredging up humour
from the dark and scary places. Using brisk straight-forward language to express the
pain of contemporary reality.
That is the heart of the appeal my books have for readers.
They have placed me on the best-seller list.