FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL

Alegria waited a few weeks before enrolling me in the local school. It was with regret that I left my grandmother's property to get into Pedro's car which was to take me there. Returning to the city centre weeks after my arrival on the island, I noticed the colourful old cars from the 1940s and 1950s, the dilapidated colonial buildings, the omnipresent poverty of all ages roaming the streets, the smell of cigar that had become familiar to me because of Pedro, and of course salsa music with its voices and rhythms.

I hadn't completely forgotten the events of the previous weeks that had caused my exile, and the fear of reproducing the same sacrilege still haunted me. Armed with my beautiful white and blue uniform, and Alegria's kisses, I got out of the car with my backpack, determined to make better choices this time around; the choices adults expected of me.

A school official showed me the way to my class. I took care to watch my feet at all times to avoid any dangerous interactions. I sat quietly on my designated chair while keeping my head low. The colourful faces of the pupils and the teacher reassured me somehow. My curly brown hair, my olive skin tone and my blue-green eyes didn't look awkward even under their sun. I could easily pass for one of them. 

With great regret, I heard my new teacher start the class by announcing me like a presenter announces an entertainment show:

"Good morning children, today, we're welcoming among us a friend from Europe named Borys..." She hesitated for a fraction of a second before furtively glancing down at the piece of paper in her hand to continue: "Lesniski".

She turned to me with a broad smile as if to ask forgiveness for having mispronounced my family name. "Borys, do you want to get up to introduce yourself to the class?"

My heart started beating wildly as I got up from my seat to turn to my audience who was staring at me curiously and smiling. I immediately lowered my gaze. Alegria and I didn't talk much or at least, I preferred to let her do all the talking. On the other hand, Pedro was talkative, and I liked to listen to his adventures and jokes while working in the garden with him and Alegria. There was also the radio blaring from dawn to dusk at the top of its lungs: music, sports commentaries, news, prayers, ...

"My name is Borys Leszczyński. My dad is Polish and my mum is Cuban. I have an older sister called Iwona and a younger sister called Ania. My whole family is in Katowice, Poland, except Grandma Alegria. I now live with her and her partner, Pedro."

When I closed my mouth again, my lips pursed and dry, I raised my eyes to my classmates who were looking at me with great interest, grinning from ear to ear with joy. Without a doubt, I sounded just like them. I smiled shyly, and like a reflection in a mirror, they all smiled back at me. I turned to the teacher whose face expressed astonishment and glee. Her gaze was sparkling with a new light that seemed to say: "Did you hear that? His father can be Polish if he wants, but this child is definitely one of us!"