My Name Is Not Jacob Ramsay Read Online Free PDF Page A

frown.
    "Tea, or hot chocolate perhaps?"
    "Tea. I want tea," she said, abruptly.
    "Please. Tea, please," corrected Michael, with a smile.
    "Yes." Anna nodded her head and turned away to look elsewhere. She retrieved a copy of the Metro newspaper and flicked through the pages rapidly, as if on a page-seeking mission, honing in like a guided missile until she locked onto her target: the Sudoku page.
    Michael raised an eyebrow and straightened. He made his way back to the tea-making area.
    "She's as coldski as ice-ski," he joked, in a stereotypical Eastern European accent to Paul, who responded in a similar fashion, smiling.
    "Niet, I see she will be good fun here."
    Patricia shook her head. "Entertaining for you, you mean Mr Jones."
    Michael gave Anna her cup of tea.
    "It has sugar, yes?" she asked.
    "No sugar. We don't have any today."
    Anna shrugged like it didn't matter either way.
    Michael headed to the wall where the trio of boys were sitting.
    They were more like men and straightened when Michael approached. They had set themselves apart from the other pupils. One by one each extended their hand to Michael, with a smile.
    "Good morning," said one, shaking Michael's hand.
    "See you yesterday," said another, causing Michael to frown.
    "Good morning," he said. "You say 'good morning'."
    The Afghan nodded his head. More like a Royal Variety Performance, with Michael moving along the line.
    He shook hands with the variety acts. In fact, it was exactly that. He was Royalty to them.
    They adored his presence and the positive vibe he gave off. They were an unusual, performing trio, forever surprising and interesting for Michael's monarch-like status.
    He shook the third boy's hand.
    Abdul Rah-Maan was supposed to be a fourteen. He looked, like his fellow Afghani students, nearly twice that age. Handsome, with a friendly smile, yet his eyes spoke of pain that viewed a continually frustrating journey. Born in Pakistan, he'd lived his whole life in Herat and Kabul.
    Herat province was taken over by the Taliban in 1995 and prior to that, the Mujahedeen and the Soviets battled each other no end throughout the nineteen eighties. Armed forces of the United States and the Coalition, assisted by the Afghan Northern Alliance in 2001, removed the Taliban from the province.
    There were around fifty-seven different tribes and ethnic groups in Afghanistan. The population included Pashtun, Baloch, Aimak, Turkoman, Tajik, Hazara, Pashtoon and Uzbek. With all the groups naturally came many different languages, the most common being Dari and Pashto. They were the official languages of the country and came originally from Iran. Other languages included Farsi and Hazaragi, spoken by the Hazara people. Lesser languages included Pashai, Balochi, Brahui, Nuristani, Pamiri languages and Hindko.
    Ninety-nine per cent of Afghans were Muslim. Shia and Sunni.
    Abdul Rah-Maan was a Muslim and spoke seven different languages. He was in foster care and being looked after by a Pakistani family in Royal Greenwich. Abdul was found by Kent police officers at a set of traffic lights, by the roundabout at the Swanley and M25 junction. He was an extremely polite and respectful young man.
    The Home Office assessed his age and officially classed him as fourteen. His school file revealed Abdul's mother was killed by the Taliban and the whereabouts of his siblings and journalist father were unknown to him.
    Michael smiled at Abdul. "Good morning, Abdul." 
    "Good morning, Teacher," replied Abdul.
    "Michael. You can call me Michael." 
    Abdul smiled politely, but masked his awkwardness.
    "No, Teacher. I say Teacher. In Afghanistan, I say Teacher because it is, um, what is the word for respectful?" asked Abdul.
    "No, you're right. Respectful is right," said Michael.
    "Understand. So, it is difficult? Yes, difficult for me to say your name."
    "But that is my name. Michael is my name. Abdul is your name."
    "Example please, Teacher," Abdul asked.
    "In England, when somebody