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SAMANTHA, NOMUSA AND Jessie, like the rest of the girls in Mr. Howell’s class, passed the next hour alternating between suppressed laughter and bored stupor. But, by the end of the double period, Samantha was not amused.
“How are we supposed to stay on top of maths and science with him teaching?” Samantha said as she, Nomusa and Jessie headed to the school office to collect their weekly post. “It’s impossible to even stay awake when he talks so slowly and dully.”
“Yeah, and it’s impossible to stay asleep when he clears his throat,” Jessie complained. “I was just slipping into a lovely doze when he scared the– Well, let’s just say it’s not easy to sleep through that crazy noise he makes.”
“At least Mrs. Naidoo had more-or-less finished the syllabus,” Samantha said, sorting through her few letters. “I guess we can do revision by ourselves.”
“Speak for yourself,” Jessie said. “Anyway, there’s more to life than schoolwork.”
“Yes, like appearing on TV in two weeks’ time!” Nomusa said, holding out a letter for them to see. “It’s from my father. He says that the departments of Marine and Coastal Management and Environmental Affairs will be meeting with representatives from the fishing industries of Thailand, Korea, Japan and China during Marine Week in November. And they’ll all be signing an agreement to respect protected waters and use more turtle-friendly methods — like circle hooks and deeper drop-lines and regular longline checks. We’ve won!”
Jessie and Samantha grabbed the letter and read it through.
“This is awesome!” Samantha said.
“Yeah, but what was that about TV?” Jessie asked.
“Oh, that’s in this one, from the SABC.” Nomusa handed them another letter. “We’re going to be ‘youth representatives’ on one of their Marine Week specials. They want to interview us about leatherback turtles!”
“No way!” Jessie said.
“Way. And you two” — Nomusa poked Samantha and Jessie in the ribs — “will have to do the talking.”
In the end, it was Samantha who did most of the talking. She, Nomusa and Jessie were driven down to uShaka Marine World in Durban in the school bus, dressed — at Mrs. Grieve’s insistence — in their full school uniforms.
“You are to wear your blazers during the filming and please be sure to mention that you are pupils at Clifford House,” she said, clearly eager to get the school some free publicity.
The bus had no air-conditioning, and by the time they clambered out into Durban’s sweltering air, they were all red-faced and sweaty.
Jessie, whose hair had exploded into even more curls than usual, wondered hopefully whether they’d get to wear full makeup, but when they found the TV crew at the aquarium, they only had their faces powdered by a skinny, bad-tempered makeup artist who said sarcastically, “Teenagers. Oh, joy. More spots and shiny T-zones.”
They were marched off in a great hurry to stand in front of the massive shark tank, where they waited for over an hour chatting amongst themselves, while various technicians meandered around making adjustments to the equipment. Eventually, the director seemed ready to get going and the makeup artist settled into one of the chairs to watch.
“This’ll be riveting,” he muttered.
“Say something, girls,” the director instructed. “We need to test light and sound levels. We’ll start filming soon.”
“I’m so glad,” Samantha said. She’d grown mightily bored with all the standing around doing nothing.
“Yeah, your levels are fine. Now you,” the director said, pointing at Nomusa.
“Me? What must I do?” she asked nervously.
“That’s a check.” The director looked expectantly at Jessie.
“I’d just like to thank my agent, and my mother and father, and all those wonderful people who’ve helped me win this award,” Jessie trilled.
“There’s always a joker,” the makeup artist said sourly, but the director gave her a thumbs-up and, looking around, said, “We’re good to go, where’s CJ?”
A host of voices took up the call, “CJ? CJ!”
Eventually, the show’s host arrived. CJ was a young man who darted around like a hummingbird and laughed manically at everything the girls said. He told them some of the questions he’d be asking, and Samantha began to prepare possible answers in her head.
“All okay?” CJ asked. “All copasetic? ‘Cos once we start rolling, we don’t stop rocking, right?”
Samantha nodded. To her surprise, CJ ran away from where she was standing with Jessie and Nomusa, and bounded up two of the steep concrete stairs where the public normally sat to watch the sharks circling in their vast tank.
The director, who was standing somewhere behind the camera, yelled, “Rolling ... and ACTION!”
Immediately, CJ leapt off the stairs and landed in one bound right next to Samantha. She gave a small scream of surprise and stepped backwards into Nomusa.
“CUT!” called the director.
“What’d you scream for, man?” CJ asked.
“What’d you leap out of nowhere for?” Jessie said.
“For a little ex-CITE-ment! Just go with the flow, little ladies, go with the flow.” With a sudden grimace that was maybe supposed to be a smile, he spun two full circles and then scurried back up to his spot on the stairs.
“Take two,” the director called. “Rolling ... and ACTION!”
This time, Samantha was prepared for CJ’s flying entrance, and only flinched a little.
“We’re here,” CJ said, moving his hands like a mad magician, “at uShaka Marine World. And we’re talking” — he twisted his mouth as if screaming a rock song to an audience of adoring fans — “to these girls from Clifford Primary School.”
“Clifford House,” Samantha corrected, remembering Mrs. Grieve’s instructions.
“Ay?”
“We’re from Clifford House,” Samantha said.
“CUT!” the director yelled.
“Neverrr,” CJ said, drawing the word out slowly and waggling his jaw from side to side, “NEVAH, correct the host! Understand?”
Disconcerted by his contorted writhings, Samantha merely nodded.
“Take three. Rolling ... and ACTION!”
CJ bounced and spun and had just introduced the three girls when the director yelled, “CUT! Marty! Can’t you do something about the shine, Marty? I’m got more reflections than a hall of mirrors on this shot.”
The make-up artist stalked back over to the girls with an I-knew-this-would-happen expression on his face. He dabbed at their noses none too gently with his powder puff while muttering bitterly, “To think I used to work with models. Top models. The things I do for money ...”
“This place is like a circus,” Jessie said.
“Guess that makes you the performing poodle, sweetheart,” Marty said with a final dab at her chin.
In the end, it took twenty-two takes to record the interview. Samantha tried very earnestly to list the dangers which faced leatherback turtles and to explain what could be done to try and save them, but she was not sure that CJ heard a word. He kept leaping about, poking his head in front of the camera and making strange noises. Samantha thought that all his crazy antics detracted greatly from the seriousness of the message which they were trying to get across.
The strangest part of the entire process came after they had answered all the questions. Someone came to remove the tiny microphones which were pinned to their blazers, and Samantha assumed that they were free to go. But as they turned to move away from the shark tank, CJ pounced down in front of them and said, “Freeze, babies!”
“Go back to exactly where you were,” the director said. “We need to get the pickups and over-the-shoulder-shots. We’ll sandwich them in between your replies in editing.”
The camera was moved to their other side, so that it was more behind the girls and focused on the interviewer. CJ pulled another strange face — Samantha was used to these by now, and hardly noticed his bulging eyes — and ordered, “Now the important thing here, babies, is to be Barbies. Freeze and stay frozen. No talking, no moving, no nothing. Just let it be, see?”
The director called the shot and once the cameras were filming, CJ repeated all his questions, leaving silent pauses between them during which he grinned like a madman, nodded seriously, or made expressions of concern and distaste. It was bizarre to watch him responding enthusiastically to non-existent replies, and Samantha felt a giggle bubbling up inside her. She only just held it together until the director called the final cut, and then burst out laughing. Nomusa and Jessie joined in, but CJ looked a little wounded.
“And that,” Nomusa commented later on the drive back to school, “was his only genuine facial expression of the whole day!”