Autobiographical Tidbits #3: Académie Française Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

August 1947. I am 7 years old. We debark in Casablanca
from a 4-day voyage that started with a long wait
in the United Nations Displaced Persons camps in Austria.

We traveled by train through France to Marseilles and on to
Africa by ship. I see my first whale in the Atlantic. Rommel
by now is kaput and the Sahara is there for me to conquer.

My imagination goes wild. I adapt the best I can. I came
with already 3 languages in my vocabulary except the one
spoken around me. French.

After a couple of months, on October 1st of the same year
I am delegated to the classroom back row for weeks
and months. Breaks are spent in the school yard.

All the buildings are constructed of brick and stone.
Nobody attempts shows any interest in me except the bully
and his clique. At one time they corner and trip me

with one of them slipping behind me kneeling on all fours
while the bully talking at me pushes me backward.
I tumble but pick myself up too quick and stagger against

the corner of a wall. Scar number 2 defined by a dozen
sewing stitches. Yeah, the old knitting style. Upon waking
I speak fluent local language in 4-letter words

and make plans to study the laws of physics.
Especially the laws of acceleration and deceleration
and coefficients of comparative hardness.

~~~