“In England the stars have to sleep. They take it in turns to shine.”
Mr Kelo to Alem, Scene 1
In the play's first scene, a father turns a strange country into a bedtime story. The personification of the stars as taking turns makes England sound orderly, fair and gentle, a place where everyone gets a chance to shine. It is dramatic irony in slow motion: the audience will soon see how unfairly England shares its light. The stars return in Scenes 7 and 29, so this line becomes the motif that ties Alem to his father across distance and death.
“I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to hurt you.”
Mr Hardwick to Alem, Scene 2
Pearson set this line for its specimen question on fear, and fear runs both ways in it. Alem is terrified, alone and screaming in Amharic; Mr Hardwick repeats his reassurance because he is frightened too, of a boy he cannot understand. The repetition shows a man trying to calm himself as much as Alem. Mr Hardwick is the first British person Alem meets in the play, and his words are kind in intention, helpless in effect, and a sign of the misunderstandings ahead.
“you're all poison”
Sweeney to Alem, Scene 4
Sweeney's metaphor turns people into a contaminating substance, something to be kept out. The plural “all” erases Alem as an individual: he is no longer a boy but a category. The BBC's revision guide points out that the soldier in the first flashback also uses the word poison, so the insult links a boy from a London children's home to the soldiers of a war zone. Use it to show that prejudice speaks the same language everywhere, and to set against Sweeney's change in Scene 15.
“My family don't act like sinners. My father is a good man.”
Alem to Sweeney, Scene 4
Alem answers Sweeney's claim that family messes you up with a loyal, simple defence. The short declarative sentences show certainty: he does not doubt his father even after being left alone. Dramatically, it is the line that provokes the attack, because Sweeney hears it as an insult to his own family. The moment reveals both boys at once, Alem's security in his parents' love and the wound in Sweeney that makes that security unbearable to him.
“Blood sprays from her mouth in an arch and lands like fine dust”
Mr Kelo, Scene 5
Pearson printed this line for its 2024 question on aggression. The soldier strikes Mrs Kelo on stage, and Mr Kelo narrates the blow. The precise, almost slow-motion description, the arch and the simile of fine dust, suggests a memory replayed over and over. Putting into words what the audience has just seen fixes it in their minds, and the calm, exact language shows trauma: he cannot stop seeing it. It is the image that explains why he leaves his son in England.
“Shut up, I hate you. I hope they send you back.”
Ruth to Alem, at the Fitzgeralds' house (Scene 8)
Ruth's outburst comes when Alem teases her about crying out for Themba in her sleep. The blunt command and the flat “I hate you” are the words of someone in pain, not only someone cruel: he has touched the grief she cannot speak about. The final sentence is the cruellest thing she could say to a refugee, which is why she says it. Set it against her promise in Scene 14, “you can trust me”, to show one of the play's clearest changes, from grief turned outwards to grief shared.
“now I need you to be strong more than ever”
Alem, reading aloud one of the letters from his father
Pearson printed the full sentence for its 2023 question on courage, but without saying which of Mr Kelo's letters it comes from, so check the scene in your own copy before you name one. The phrase “more than ever” shows a father who knows he is asking too much of a fourteen-year-old. Because Alem reads the letter aloud, the father's voice comes through the son's mouth, and the audience watches him receive the burden. The letter form suits a play about separation: Mr Kelo can only parent at a distance, through words that arrive after the event.
“Dirty dog traitors. Leave Eritrea or die!”
A soldier, in the flashback set in Eritrea (Scene 12)
Pearson set this line for its 2022 question on anger. The animal insult dehumanises the family, and “traitors” accuses them of betraying a side they never chose. The brutal choice, leave or die, repeats the Ethiopian soldier's order in Scene 5 with only the country changed. That echo is the point: whichever border the Kelos stand on, they are the enemy. Use it to show the impossibility of their position and why Mr Kelo refuses to say anything but that he is African.
“I can't think about him every day. Every God-forsaken day.”
Mrs Fitzgerald to Ruth, about Themba (Scene 13)
Pearson set this line for its 2025 question on suffering. In it Mrs Fitzgerald calls Themba only “him”, and the BBC's revision guide notes that she struggles even to say his name. The repetition that builds from “every day” to “Every God-forsaken day” shows grief breaking through her self-control. The line shows that suffering in the play is not only a refugee's: the people who care for others are wounded too, and have their own reasons for silence.
“Whatever happens, whatever, you can trust me. Like I'm your sister, right?”
Ruth to Alem, Scene 14
Pearson printed this line for its 2025 question on Ruth and Alem. The repeated “whatever” sounds urgent and teenage, a promise made clumsily but meant completely. The simile of a sister offers Alem a new family at the moment he learns he has lost his mother, and the tag question “right?” asks for his agreement. It marks the turning point of their relationship, from Ruth's outburst in Scene 8 to the alliance that will lead the campaign.
“You don't want to be like us, Alem. Messed with. Messed up.”
Sweeney to Alem, Scene 15
Pearson set this line for its 2021 question on helping others. Sweeney, who once refused to use Alem's name, now uses it. The two short phrases compress a life into cause and effect: first he was damaged, then he became damaging. The pronoun “us” admits he is part of a group he wants Alem to escape. It is the play's clearest statement that violence is learned, and the moment the bully becomes a protector.
“Every car I see I think it's him driving his way back”
Mustapha to Alem, Scene 15
Mustapha's comic obsession with cars is revealed as grief. The habit of naming every car is really a way of watching for his father, who was driven away and never came back. The present tense and “every” show a hope he has never been able to put down. The line makes the audience look back at his earlier jokes differently, and links him to Alem, another boy waiting for a father to return.
“this great country of Dickens and Shakespeare”
Mr Kelo, Scene 17
Mr Kelo uses this phrase as he explains that he and Alem must ask Britain to let them stay. His Britain is the Britain of its greatest writers: noble, educated, just. The adjective “great” is sincere, which makes it painful, because the next scene is the court's refusal. The phrase shows his faith and his naivety at once, and lets the play measure a literary idea of Britain against its institutions.
“We are here because Mother was a fighter and would not stay quiet”
Alem to his father, Scene 20
Alem answers his father's caution by invoking his mother. Calling her “Mother” keeps the formal respect Mr Kelo expects even as Alem overrules him. The phrase “would not stay quiet” turns silence into a choice and protest into loyalty to the dead. It marks the reversal of the father-son relationship: the boy who was protected now leads, and argues that speaking out is the family's inheritance.
“It is time that the voice of the youth be heard”
Ruth, at the rally (Scene 23)
Ruth's speech moves from personal loyalty to public argument. The formal phrasing, “the voice of the youth”, sounds like someone deliberately taking up the language of adults to challenge them. It gives the play's young characters the authority that the adjudicator and the soldiers have abused. The BBC's revision guide reads the rally speakers as Sissay's mouthpieces, and this is the line where that reading is strongest.
“we must become that new generation of peacemakers”
Alem, at the rally (Scene 25)
Alem's inclusive “we” turns his story into a responsibility for everyone listening, on stage and in the audience. The word “peacemakers” links him to his parents' work for peace and redefines what a refugee can be: not a problem to be managed but a person with something to give. Coming just before Scene 26, the line is almost unbearably ironic, because the audience is about to see where the old generation's conflict leads.