Black and grey fine line script reading Hakuna Matata across the forearm.

Hakuna Matata script on a forearm

Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a forearm with the words Hakuna Matata written in a flowing, handwritten script. The linework is thin and even, with the capital H and the second M looped in a continuous stroke. The plain grey background and soft focus keep attention on the lettering.

Fine line Lettering Forearm Script Phrase Handwriting

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Marjorie,

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The new lad on the Corrie Lass came aboard in Oban with a rucksack and a face like a wet Sunday. Cook's mate, they told me, though nobody had asked me first. I put him on potatoes. He peeled them so thin I could read the Ordnance Survey through the skins, and every time the galley boiled over he'd shrug and say the same two words, slow and grinning, like a password. Hakuna matata. I asked him what it meant. He said a lion had taught him it, then went red and said he was only joking, it was a phrase from his nan's telly.

I didn't believe him about the lion, but I liked the sound of it. Thirty-one years on the water and I've never once heard a man say no worries with his whole chest.

Then in the third week we took the swell off Mull, the kind that throws the mugs from the hooks, and the skipper shouted for everyone on deck. He came up the ladder with the spud knife still in his belt and his knuckles white on the rail. His face wasn't grinning then. He kept saying it under his breath, hakuna matata, hakuna matata, like a prayer he didn't quite trust.

We came through. Nobody lost. That night he sat on the stool by the range and asked me to write the words down properly, because he wanted the spelling right on something. I've enclosed a scrap of the order pad. It's his handwriting, all loops and joins, and it's the only thing I've ever seen him write that didn't wobble.

Love to you and Dad, Irene