The Refugee Read online

  Outside, they were met by a black SUV. It seemed new but had no make or model and the wheels looked like they belonged on a tractor. The windows were blacked out with a limo tint, including the windscreen. The driver wore a black and white scarf over his face, only exposing his big brown eyes. He didn’t speak much; in fact, he didn’t speak at all. He drove fast, keeping a close eye on the rear-view-mirror.

  Ahmed looked out of the back window of the truck and got one last glimpse of their home. It seemed unreal. It was hard to believe that this was actually happening. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t leave regardless of what was to occur. But promises were sometimes made to be broken, as Ahmed would soon learn.

  The journey felt like was never going to end. They drove silently for almost six hours before getting to Adana in Turkey. They were out of Aleppo. They were out of the warzone. They had no idea about what was to come next but they had escaped the bombs.

  The mysterious driver brought them cold bottles of water each time they stopped for fuel. And as Afzal promised, they weren’t stopped, not once. The vehicle passed checkpoints and road blocks like a ghost.

  Adana was a major city in Southern Turkey, on the Seyhan River. Ahmed was amazed at the modern buildings, people were walking around without fear. It was like a different world, a beautiful peaceful world, just next to theirs. A depiction of heaven in comparison. They had been so used to seeing buildings with holes, and tanks roaming the streets, with threatening armed men, that they almost felt out of place in a normal world. A world where children were walking to school, people were dressed smartly and walking to work, and into shopping malls. The only screaming being heard was screaming children, having fun in a park. The only people running were joggers.

  They’d had to swop cars and their new driver was also a mute, but he didn’t have his face covered, not with a scarf anyway, his huge shades, however, hid his identity somewhat. The vehicle they swopped to was also an SUV. It was a shimmering black, with limo-tinted windows, like the other.

  The drive to Konya was long and exhausting. They drove for eight hours with only two stops. They were relieved to get to a small hotel, where a room had been arranged for them to stay in. The hotel manager looked nervous when he let them into the room, as if he was taking a great risk with them being there. He didn’t make eye contact and looked around every so often, nervously. Ahmed felt guilty that because of them so many people were putting themselves at risk.

  Inside, the room was small and only had one large bed, not that it bothered him. They all crashed, and stayed knocked out for five hours before the driver knocked on the door. The next seven-and-half-hours of the journey were probably the most painful. Ahmed’s back was murdering him, and Maryam’s lap had gone numb from Malik resting on her. It didn’t help that the driver became edgy after they passed the Izmir Province. His eyes kept moving from side to side, hands clenching the steering wheel so tightly, they were red.

  The last part of the drive to Cesme was just as intense, and the rough surface wasn’t doing any favours for Ahmed’s back. Even the powerful suspension on the vehicle wasn’t enough to absorb the shock, as they went off road. The driver looked confident, like he had done this journey a million times. But from time to time, his hands trembled and his eyes grew.

  Ahmed knew that they were near the sea as the air became more humid – the sticky horrible kind of humid. The AC in the vehicle was doing nothing, so the driver wound down the windows, not that it helped. It felt like an oven blowing warm air into their faces. Their clothes were drenched with sweat.

  “We’re nearly there... sit tight and keep your heads down, the driver instructed. His voice was shaky. Ahmed held Maryam’s hand as the car drove over rocky ground.

  The vehicle came to a sudden halt. The driver leant over to the glove compartment, removed a bag. It looked like a purse, though more masculine, like the ones in which people carried their passports and important documents.

  “Here take this... Afzal gave it for you. The bag is water proof and can be strapped around your body in case...” He fell silent. There was a strong leather-like smell coming from it, like it was brand new. Ahmed had a quick look inside: ID cards, paperwork and money, a fair bit of money, Euros mostly. “Keep the zip closed so water does not get in. You are going to have to do the rest of the journey on foot. The truck will definitely get us all shot,” the man said. “It’s just over this small hill, not far, shouldn’t take you more than fifteen-minutes.”

  Maryam was looking at Ahmed with her mouth open wide, as if she expected him to argue with man.

  “How can he just leave us here?” Maryam whispered loudly to Ahmed. “We do not know what is beyond that hill? Surely he can’t just abandon us?”

  Ahmed put his hand on the man’s shoulder, “Thank you friend... I know that you have risked your life to get us this far.” The man nodded but didn’t speak. Out of the corner of his eye, Ahmed could see Maryam looking at him incredulously. “May God protect you,” Ahmed said, as he grabbed their bags and gestured for his family to get out of the vehicle.

  As they made for the hill, the humidity was getting worse and the sky was waking up. Streaks of a lighter shade of blue were appearing and this alarmed Ahmed, for he had been using the darkness of night as a shield.

  The man was wrong about the distance, they weren’t sure whether he just judged it incorrectly or whether he had lied, but they had been walking for almost forty-five-minutes, and still there was no sign of the boat, or the sea for that matter. Malik had fallen asleep on Ahmed’s back and Ahmed was still thinking about one of his bags that he had to dump ten-minutes ago in order to keep moving at a good pace.

  “Ahhhhh...” Maryam cried out, and then fell to the ground. “My foot!” she screamed.

  Ahmed bent down to let Malik off his back. He tore off the sleeve of his shirt and scrunched it into a ball, “bite on this...” He took off her shoe.

  “What is it?” Maryam asked.

  Ahmed, closing his eyes, pulled out a wedge of glass from her foot. Maryam’s eyes rolled back in pain and blood seeped out.

  “You stepped on some broken glass.”

  He waited a moment for her to get over the initial outburst of agony and then gently removed the sleeve from her mouth. He kissed her lightly on the forehead and whispered, “Sorry...” in her ear. He wrapped the sleeve tightly around her foot to try to stop the blood.

  “I cannot walk like this. What are we going to do?” Maryam said, “this is like a nightmare.”

  “Dad...” Malik tugged at Ahmed’s arm, “I can hear waves.”

  Ahmed listened carefully, “Yes, I hear the waves...” his eyes lit up, “we must be close. Are you okay to walk for a bit Malik? I need to help your mother.” Malik nodded and helped Ahmed get Maryam up. “Put your arms around me,” Ahmed instructed. Maryam held on tightly and they struggled to where the sound of the waves was coming from.

  “There!” Ahmed quietly cheered as they saw a ghostly Silhouette of a large boat in the distance. “Come on...” They could see a few men with guns surrounding the boat, and the guns raised higher as they got closer. “Please... we don’t want any trouble...” Ahmed said, his arms high.

  “Paper work!” one of the men demanded. His face was covered, except his menacing eyes, which sent chills running through Ahmed, forcing him to shiver as he handed over the papers that were in the black leather bag.

  The man looked through the papers, then looked at Ahmed, then at Malik and Maryam. A second man now had the paper work, he nodded, as if to say that they check out ok. The first man looked down at Maryam’s foot and noticed the blood. “Wait here...” He went back and the men started talking quietly among themselves in a language that Ahmed didn’t recognise.

  “What is going on?” Maryam asked. Ahmed was getting paranoid, worried that paperwork was not okay. He began to question that everything was all right.

  The first man strolled back. “You and boy go, but woman stay.”


  “What?” Ahmed said looking perplexed. “What do you mean? We have the correct paperwork, for all of us, right?”

  “You have paperwork... but woman cannot travel because of foot.”

  “Why? She is fine, it’s just a cut... please, we need to get on that boat, all of us.” Ahmed pleaded.

  “She not getting on. You have two minutes or you stay, too,” the man said robotically.

  Maryam began to cry as the man walked away. “Just go... take our son and save his life, I can’t bear to see him live like this...” she sobbed. Ahmed’s head began to spin.

  “Ahmed... please, you don’t have much time, you have to go now. Think of our son.” She hugged Malik tightly and her tears began to soak his shirt, triggering his own tears.

  “I love you,” she whispered to Ahmed. His watery eyes filled with anger.

  “I am not leaving you here!” He grabbed the leather bag and ran towards the men.

  “Please... help us... I have money.” Money, a language that everyone understood. Ahmed reached into the bag and grabbed a handful of the Euros, “Here!” He held out the notes. “Please let us all on that boat... please.” The man looked at Ahmed and then at Malik and Maryam. He pushed Ahmed’s hand back, “She will not make it. You have more chance if you leave her.” The man looked at them with a hint of compassion in his machinelike eyes.

  “I’ll take my chances... please.” Ahmed begged, “please... let us all on.” Ahmed offered the money again. “Keep money... you will need it.” The man nodded, “Get on – all of you.”

  “Thank you... thank you.” Ahmed ran back to Maryam and Malik.

  “Come on, let’s go.”

  They rushed on to the boat as fast as they could, Ahmed hoping, praying, that the man didn’t change his mind.

  Maryam was, as usual, as paranoid as ever, any minute now... any minute, he is going to say stop and they would all stand there laughing – this was cruel joke that they were playing. Her legs were wobbly, or maybe it will be worse, maybe they will just open fire and compete against each other on who had the most accurate shot...

  “Stop!” one of the men with guns yelled. I knew it Maryam thought. She closed her eyes and shielded Malik with her body.

  2

  The man came running towards them with something in his hand. Ahmed could see that Maryam’s eyes were shut tightly, her lips moving silently in prayer.

  “Here.” The man handed three life vests to Ahmed. Maryam released the tight grip she had on Ahmed’s arm and gasped for air, as if she had been holding her breath the entire time.

  “Thank you,” Ahmed said and grabbed the vests and rushed them toward the boat.

  Even though the boat was large, it seemed tiny relative to all the people cramped inside. It was wooden and looked like it had been punched a few times – quite a few times. There was an overwhelming smell of damp wood in the air. This, along with the smell of a hundred or so people’s sweat and fear, made Ahmed want to gag. An uneven combination of men, women, and children, were squeezed together like caged chickens.

  Still trembling, they finally found a small corner with just enough room for them to sit and curl together. Ahmed’s eyes began to sting from the sweat pouring from his forehead. He used his shirt to wipe his face, tempted to hide under it and cry.

  “We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?” Maryam asked, looking like her eyes were fighting to stay open.

  “Of course, we are,” Ahmed replied, trying not to make direct eye contact with her, afraid that his eyes would give away his real thoughts.

  He waited for her and Malik to fall asleep before taking out his A4 journal. He always found it easier to process his thoughts when he wrote them down.

  Forced to flee our land, our home, we have embarked on a journey that has so far proved to be dangerous and unpredictable.

  I am fearful of whether my wife will be strong enough both mentally and physically as much as I am fearful for the well-being of the young girl, sitting close by, who has been coughing for 2 hours. She may have pneumonia, and there is no way anyone can help her. Her mother looks at her like she is ready to change places – a trade that she knows can never take place.

  I am surrounded by cruelty and misery.

  I am fearful that the boat is not going to make it and my confidence in this journey is low. I have made a choice to leave my home in a bid to save my family, but I am fearful that I have not changed our fate. I hate the fact that I have given my family hope, yet have not even a pennyworth for them.

  I am fearful that I may not be able to keep up with this lie – a lie that I have almost fooled myself into believing. I am certain that we will only make it to Europe as a headline...in a newspaper.

  “Water...” Maryam mumbled, “I need some water.” It had been a fair few hours since they had water or food.

  Starving to death... that was another possibility Ahmed thought, maybe we’ll starve to death before this boat sinks. Ahmed rummaged through the bags, even though he knew for sure that there was no water or food in them. He gazed helplessly at Malik, who was swallowing continuously. Ahmed noticed a young woman staring at them; she then looked at her husband who shook his head in apparent disapproval. She peered back in their direction fixing her eyes on Malik, and then back at her husband with a pleading look. He shook his head, looking annoyed, but walked toward them holding a plastic bag.

  “Asslamulaykum,” the man said. He appeared to be forcing a smile. ‘My wife... we noticed that you haven’t eaten or drunk anything since you boarded.”

  “We haven’t. We do not have any food or water,” Ahmed responded, now fully understanding how the poor people he passed on the street each day, felt without water or food.

  “We don’t have much, but would like you to have this.” The man handed Ahmed the bag, which held one loaf of bread and two bottles of water.

  “Thank you... you are very kind... thank you.”

  The man smiled and walked back to his wife who was also smiling with teary eyes.

  Ahmed opened the bottle of water and poured some into Maryam’s mouth, and then poured some into Malik’s mouth. Both were seriously dehydrated. Their skin was ghostly and their eyes had a haunted look. The irony of being dehydrated whilst surrounded by water would have been humorous had the situation not been real.

  After a few hours, Maryam woke up. She moaned of a bad headache and feeling groggy, probably because this was the longest that she had slept in a while. Malik had his eyes glued on the bread, and Ahmed could see why, because, although it was just a loaf of bread, it looked tastier than a steak.

  Ahmed broke the loaf in half and gave the other half to the little girl, who still hadn’t stopped coughing. She had turned a pale blue, was now unable to speak. Her mother looked at Ahmed with eyes that begged for help. She had spent so long rubbing her daughter’s chest to keep it warm that her palms looked sore.

  The little girl was the first to go – tossed overboard to stop her body from rotting on the boat. Her mother fought to stop it, but she couldn’t. It was the only option, there was nowhere to store a dead body – there was hardly enough space for the living. What a waste of life... something that could have been avoided had we had even the most basic medicines, Ahmed thought.

  The next few pages in his journal were filled in furiously:

  We have created technology beyond our own imagination, we have discovered more about ourselves than the human eye could see, we have touched the tips of the tallest mountains and delved in the depths of the seas, we have seen the heavens and touched the moon – yet we couldn’t save a little girl. We could give her nothing except weak smiles and useless looks of sympathy.

  I am haunted by her helpless little body, roaming the vast sea, alone – alone, without the dignity of having a funeral or even being buried in the earth, like other humans.

  Was she not human? Or maybe she was just food for the sharks.

  What was her name?

  We all knew her as the little girl
with the cough... and now, as the little girl who was lobbed into the sea like a piece of old worthless junk.

  It was in situations like these that the true character of people would surface. When they had food, they were happy to see others eat but when their bellies filled with emptiness, their faces changed. Their pretentious smiles would be exchanged with heavy frowns and their eyes would no longer appear human.

  Most of the people (the young, healthy, and single men) that appeared to be the strongest, were the weakest from among us. They had become selfish and thought only of themselves reaching Europe with nothing getting in the way.

  Inevitably, the conditions on the boat caused others to die – all tossed overboard, their names soon converted into numbers.

  It had been thre days and the floor of the boat was drenched and no longer felt balanced. There was a strong mechanical smell in the air, the sort that you would catch a whiff of just before something caught fire. Most people on the boat had lost energy and faith, the thought of just sleeping and slowly drifting away was becoming more, and more appealing.

  “Maryam, Malik... get up!” Ahmed tried to wake them, “We need to get to the back of boat now...” Maryam didn’t respond.

  “Maryam!” Ahmed shouted. When she didn’t stir, he moved closer to her so he could shout directly into her ear. “Please… get up!”

  “Why?” she responded, her eyelids moved slowly.

  “I think we’re sinking!”

  She began to blink fast, like windscreen wipers being suddenly put on fast mode. She struggled to her feet, the injured one she could hardly move. They moved to the back of the boat, Malik held his mother’s hand tightly with his own, still clenching Quww in his other. “We need to stop the engine!” Ahmed shouted. “I think it may have over-heated. We must stop the engine now!” he could see people waking up and expressions of alarm arose in their faces.