She was already on edge, uncertain about what was expected of her, or of the students. If a group of brawny six-foot warriors—or in this case supposedly ex-warriors—could be referred to as students. They arrived singly, in pairs, chattering, silent, some hand in hand. She smiled. ‘Ni sã bula.’ ‘Good morning,’ they replied. Then progress stalled. Lessons as she had known them back home were impossible, and it would be ludicrous to simply repeat words for an hour and a half like a deranged parrot. These were not children, but grown men. Lost for words, Hannah stared at her first class. The class stared back. Joshua came to the rescue. ‘They like stories.’ Good. Hannah liked stories too. She just wished she could think of some. A man at the front, seated cross-legged like a child, gave her a toothy grin. Hannah could just imagine how Red Riding Hood felt as she looked at the impostor in the old lady’s clothing and said, ‘What big teeth you have, Grandmother!’ A shiver shook Hannah as she remembered the wolf’s reply.
