The universe. Big, powerful, 'out there' and at times possessing a quirky sense of humour. Flash back in a De Lorean style to 1966. I'm five years old and it's my first nativity play; in fact my first foray into the world of acting. Everyone in the class is hungry for the big roles: Joseph, Mary, the 3 Kings, the Good Shepherds, Archangel Gabriel et al. It's a nervous time and you can smell the tension eminating from the carpet we are all sitting on, (at least I think that smell was tension ) waiting for the teacher to announce the casting. I'm really quite excited by the whole thing as it's been built up in the run up to Christmas that this is THE highlight of the primary school calendar.
One by one, the parts are announced…ok so I'm not going to be Joseph…or Mary for that matter. That's fine because a) Joseph is a bit of a boring role, even if he is a main one and b) the days of gender specific casting are still in play. I'm not overly surprised that Joseph has been given to a boy who's been a milk monitor for the past few weeks. Next comes the Archangel Gabriel; a good part in terms of costume and that glittery halo really adds the stamp of authority. Again my hopes are dashed and it's given over to a boy who wipes the blackboard clean at the end of the day. The 3 Kings are announced in quick succession, and those of us who have not yet been named, are rapidly calculating what's left for the taking: Shepherds and Animals.
Suddenly, there is a glimmer of hope, as the role of the Innkeeper is announced. The 'un-named' sit up straight, straining with enthusiasm that it will be our name that will be called next. The immortal line "There's no room at the Inn" is one of the iconic lines in the Nativity and a real scene stealer. Hope soon fades. It's given to the son of a local greengrocer, mainly I suspect because his Dad runs a shop so he will have some experience of running a small business which will be useful for the Innkeeper role. My only consolation is the girl chosen for the role of the Innkeeper's wife starts to cry when she realises who she is being partnered with.
At this stage I'm beginning to think that this casting process is not about what you can do, but how well behaved you've been in class. I'm not a monitor and I don't think I've been a problem, but it would seem that the casting of the main roles is solely based on who is the teacher's favourites. This was a real light bulb moment and the point where I turned communist. I barely listened as the Shepherds were cast as I had a gut feeling that I was destined for the animals list.
There's not many of us left now without a part. A group of girls get cast as sheep and begin to giggle and bleat about it to others. The boys who struggle with Maths are herded together as cows. I've resigned myself to either being a cockerel or a pig. Everyone is looking at me, knowing that I'm not yet in the Nativity gang. The teacher smiles, looks directly at me and says:
"And as for you Christopher, you're going to be our donkey !"
Donkey. Don-key. What sort of a part was that ! For a start it was a non speaking role and I didn't fancy the idea of having to piggy back Mary (aka Rebecca W) across the stage as we searched for an inn. The rest of the class took great delight in laughing at my donkey casting. The die was cast…..
Opening night (well afternoon actually) and I'm waiting to go and pay my donkey respects to the baby Jesus. As if to add insult to injury, I've been put in some brown corduroy trousers, a black roll neck pullover and a cardboard mask over my head. A rope tail swings behind me. This is apparently what costume deem as 'Nativity donkey'. It's a big occasion because my Mom is in the audience and so the pressure is on to make sure I deliver my part so convincingly that the audience believe that I am that donkey. Thing is, I'm still not relaxed with the role and I somehow cannot get into character. The brown corduroy look certainly hasn't helped. Suddenly, I'm pushed onto the stage and before I know it I'm kneeling at the crib, looking at the smug faces of my fellow classmates, dressed in their Kings finery, their Shepherds tea towels and paper angel wings. Joseph is standing with his hand on Mary's shoulder, looking at me as if to say "You will NEVER be a milk monitor". Everyone is happy and smiling-except me. I never wanted to be the donkey, never felt corduroy did anything for me, never wanted to be a monitor…and to show my angst I turned round to look for my Mom in the audience to communicate this to her.
That's when the camera clicked.
The picture shows me there, at the front, in my 'don't mess with the donkey' pose. My first acting role. A donkey. I don't remember receiving rave reviews for that first performance, but strangely it had given me the urge to do more acting to show I was not just a one trick pony. And of course, in hindsight, the universe was telling me that being a donkey was going to be not such a bad thing at some stage in the future…...
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| Don't mess with the Donkey |
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