“Good morning to you all. First and foremost, I have this bit of information to share with you.” He looks down at the piece of paper in his hand. “There is something like the plague going around. They call it a virus, but it’s a plague. Everybody says so.” He stops here to see who is listening. Ali, whose mother is an important minister, is staring at the wall, yawning. At the back of the classroom, the Emerson sisters have not stopped whispering, giggling. Meanwhile, Mohammad, who is forever raising his hand, is raising his hand. He continues, “The newspapers, the TV say we must be extra careful. For a start, wash your hands like you mean it. That, and stay away from others. Any questions?”

This brings some general classroom murmuring, some nodding and much looking down at their hands, turning them this way and that. Mohammad holding up his hand.
“By the way, if you must sneeze or cough do it in private, better yet, wear one of those doctor masks. You’ve seen them on TV, the doctor shows, sah? Like that, and who knows, you may even become a doctor someday.”
“Sir, my mother wants me to become a doctor someday. She says it would bring respect and honor to our family,” says Mohammad, who has held up his hand up long enough and cannot wait any longer.
‘Quite right. Anybody else?”
“My grandpa says doctors make lots of money and he wants me to make lots of money.”
“Me too.”
“Me too.”
“I won’t mind wearing a mask if it will make me money,” smiles Mohammad. “Sir, can I wear a black mask? I mean, is there any rule about what color?”
“Yes, black is fine.”
“Wait, only bandits and gangsters wear black masks. You’ll look like a robber,” says, Khalid, who sits next to Mohammad, who is his friend, who has convinced Mohammad that they should fail math together, as friends.
When the Emerson sisters laugh, both Mohammad and Khalid turn to look, to frown together.
“How about a green mask? My uncle wears a green mask, I’ve seen it.”
“Green is for vegetables and grass. Doctors would never wear a green mask.”
“Yes, any color will do. The mask will help keep you safe from others and that way your germs will stay trapped around your mouth and nose. Better you than others. Regardless, this plague is nothing to sneeze at.”
He waits for what should have been laughter, but the Emerson sisters haven’t stopped snickering at Khalid, while the others continue to look at their hands.
Now it is his turn to look out the window, squinting at the sandy blue heat of midday. He starts by speaking to the window pane. “Truth be told, if it is not a disease like the Black Plague, smallpox, yellow fever, if not some germ, thenthere’s always some war going on down the street, some gangster in the alley ready to take your money or your life.” He turns to the class and some of them are watchful, most not. “Class, the ready-made list of catastrophes is lengthy: assorted earthquakes followed by a tremendous tsunami or two; massive flooding and swarms of locust are fashionable these days. Throw in the daily death and dying of old age and cancer run unchecked, and there you have it. But massive events like this virus only happen every generation or so. It has to do with cycles, natural cycles, a matter of striking a universal balance. It is all very natural. Very natural.” Mohammad has raised his hand. “Some of us like this natural cycle explanation, because then it is not our fault, nobody’s fault. You see? It just is. Still, we have a chance if we do the right thing, follow instructions and hope all will work out for the best. That is what school is all about: listen carefully and follow their instructions. Listen carefully.”
Front-row Sara is looking up at him, writing in her notebook and looking up at him: writing, looking, writing, looking. There is some general shifting of desks and scraping of chairs. The three cousins sitting next to the big window are watching something outside, but when he steps closer to see what they see, he sees nothing but the everyday street and trees, and one…. two taxis.
“Sir, I have a question.” “Yes.”
“Sir, who are the ‘they’?”
“They?”
“Yes sir, you keep talking about they—they want us to wear a mask, they want us to wash our hands. Who are they?”
“They, the big they. People who know, who are experts, who spend their whole life studying things like plague and virus and horrible germs. You know, they.”
“Yes, sir, I see,” says Mohammad. Sara has not stopped writing.
“Any final questions?”
“One final question, sir.”
“Yes, Mohammad.”
“So, I can wear a black mask and won’t get in trouble? I mean, terrorists wear masks all the time.”
The three cousins have stopped looking out the window at that something that he never saw, but for some reason he does not find this reassuring. “Yes, we will make an exception for you, this one time.”
“You said we must stay away from each other, but how?” says Khalid, still glancing back at the Emerson sisters. “How, sir?”
“How?”
“Sir, I have friends, three, maybe four, and then there is my family, my brother Saud is a fireman and my sisters Dina and…. “ ‘
“Never mind, just do it.” And he drops the piece of paper on his desk. “Now, anything else?”
“Sir?” asks Khalid.
“What is it?”
“Sir, will any of this be on Thursday’s test?”
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash.