Hell Again

by Mihret Adal Gidi

  “I saw her,” she says, smiling partially. The man in a black hooded cloak and isn’t uttering a word over what she is reporting for him; he is simply standing, facing ahead of him. His focus is rather on the hard-laboured humans, suffering as they are forced to build a bridge, and something they call a wall. They are building it up in the air and in what feels like there is no gravity, it is hanging on, in what feels like a floating manner, and horizontally back ward from the land they are into, but towards what seems the edge of it. “It seems like she just accepted her offer, they are on the move now,” she adds. “Are you sure?” she asks as she stands beside him.

  “We have been working so hard on his for all this time,” he says, with a deep and stern voice. He is well disguised; no one will be able to identify him.

  “Oh,” she exclaims sadly. “You know what I am asking you about,” she says and turns to look at him. “I know your choice is your weakness and she will wake soon, as you wish,” she presses her lip hard. “This is unlike you, but your wish is my command and I have already done it, I must tell you,” she says and breathes the air in, lovingly. “I love the smell of air here,” she adds. “Pain everywhere. May I ask why you can’t keep her?”

  “I couldn’t and I don’t know why either,” he says quietly.

  The air is ill. It’s filled with dusts from the hard labour and mostly of cinder. The air is coloured red and the stream of volcano forming its way seems like a red waterfall.

  “Soon you’ll be totally free from your burden,” she says, breathing in once again.

  “When the wall is done, I will find her there. This will only be temporary.”

  “Let’s hope you won’t be beaten to it, to the terrible faith. Most are looking forward to that direction,” she smiles and bows her head, nodding hard once. “You should know that they have noticed she’s different,” she warned him.

  “That’s why she has to leave. I must stay focused.” He turns his face and starts marching with full force. She follows him with her eyes and presses her lips with a smile.

  “I think this is a path of challenge for all of us…or you,” she says to herself, and turns her attention back to the place with hard labour. Tilting her head back, she breathes in, in satisfaction with a smile.

  ***

  Human perception works in a funny way. I understand that now when I couldn’t understand what’s right before me. Maybe I’m choosing not to understand. I’m not sure if my eyes are deceiving me now or hours before. I was in a world that feels like the typical heaven I imagine it would be and now…I guess you can’t blame me after all. Is it possible that both heaven and hell exist in a place, at the same time?

  Zhai and I are hiding behind a huge stone that’s rested on the ground, in fair distance that would allow us to descry every possible inch of the area. She knows her way in this place, and she doesn’t like it here, I can tell that much. This place looks and feels bad; the air is polluted by the dust as well cinder in the air. I don’t know how they manage to build a bridge that floats in the air, but it feels scary when it should have created a fascinating feeling. Maybe it’s what I am seeing that’s making me experience fear; I can see the clear line of human’s place in this world; they are being treated cruelly terrible and like slave. They are forced to build the bridge. The hate is clear towards the humans; even though they are carrying huge stones on their back and they look feeble they are under an influence of a rough whipping or beatings from those who are inspecting their work.

  Just like the strange environment, the place feels tormenting and disturbing. My eyes are feeling giddy from the perception of a gaudy class difference; labelling of masters and slaves.

  From where I am, I can perceive that there are soldiers; both sexes, but dressed in different colour of old-time armour as they are heavily armed. The women are in sangria red colour garment, jump suit clothing with silver armour, in general; as their cloak is lifted up by the wind, I can see, the silvery cuirass, that seem tight, with symbols curved on it, as well more weapons, hanging by their belt, besides the long spear and the kite shield that’s occupying their hands. The silver greaves for the protection of the shin has a curving of the same sign as the one on the cuirass and the pauldron. As for the men, they are dressed in black garment jumpsuit with golden armour and the only difference between the male and female warriors, besides the colour and shape, are the weapons; the weapons in the possession of the males seem oddly heavy; battle-axe and Warhammer. It’s hard to express the black face max they are using; it seems like it is moving in spiral rounds around their head, as if getting tighter and it’s unsure to say if they can see through it, but they seem fine as they are focused on guarding the perimeter.

  Some are on watch at what seems coast of the world; they’re on guard so nothing passes in to this world…it feels like that way, since they stand facing towards what seems the end of this world, as if the land is flat and not of round as our earth. They are attentively watching over, fixing their gazes and standing still; their feet apart in comforting distance, their foreheads arched forwards in a golden barbuta mask and their hands firmly gripping on their weapons There are those who are detecting the toil of the humans; they whip those carrying stones and walks to the bridge they are building. There are those who beats those who can’t go further and fall, in exhaustion. The women seem much more crueller than the men; they would even whip them with their spiked chain; they bleed and scream as the chain makes brutal contact to their skin. They even seem to enjoy the pain they cause them. These ones are dressed a little different from the warriors; they are dressed in what comforts them, it seems, but I can see how different in nature they are, monstress behaviour and looks.

  Their cruelty is beyond compare to how they’re treating the working classes…I mean, humans that I assume to consider normal like me and Zhai, perhaps they’re from the world that I was born and raised in, brought here the same…or somehow get here the way I get here. These peoples are too tall and too perfect, too cruel; I would even say too strong as well. They keep whipping the working classes over and over again, trying to shape the peoples in line, carrying stones beyond what they can. They seem like they’re starving and exhausted, their clothes ripped up and dirty, like they’ve been wearing it for decades, some of them with their hair dreaded up for lack of care, their skin too dry and covered with fire smoke and dirt from the sand.

  “What is this place?” I whisper, looking at her in horror, as well as in disbelief.

  “This is real, we are all here for same ugly faith,” she utters with what feels a lot like sobbing.

  “I don’t…I’m not understanding.”

  “Human here…is just they…slave,” she says, swallowing hard, “women like you and me too.” I close my eyes, trying to find something that is close to something…something that would feel like making sense to my grasp.

  “But…”

  “No,” she holds her hands up to me so I would cease to talk. “You see now, many like you and me,” she says, pointing to me and then pressing her chest with her right hand’s palm. “You should leave when you can.” She stands and starts walking tiptoed into the woods, careful not to make a sound to turn anyone’s attention to our hideout behind the stone.

  Swallowing hard, I look back to the long line of people, working and carrying stones. I fix my attention to an old man struggling in weakness. As he staggers and falls down losing his balance, I gasp with energetic push in me, to run to him, though the pull of fear to stay in my hideout is greater than the need to act on humanity. He looks so thin and minutes away to his grave. One of the women walks to him and strikes him on his belly hard with her left feet, and I yelp in shock and duck down, hiding my lips behind my palms. Before I come to any realisation my eyes start watering hard in fear.

  “Line up!” I hear her screaming and I squeeze my eyes shut in disdain. I slowly lift my head up to see beyond the rock and there he is, the same man gathering his so little energy once again.


  “Please,” he pleads, looking at her, “some water and I will work harder,” he pleads. I don’t know how can it help my situation, but I can’t stop the vibrating shiver on my lower lip. The women say nothing at all, she just looks down at him, in disgust.

  “Shush,” I yelp to the voice that pours in my right ear as a hand covers my lips. I was shocked for a moment, but it all goes away, looking back at Zhai. “Come,” she whispers, pressing her lips sadly. “We can’t help,” she adds, as she once again leads the way. Closing my eyes, I gather the courage to not look back but to follow her tiptoed, carefully and fearfully, with each step I take.

  ***

  “No!” Membere is screaming and crying. How could he say this to her? Her husband is taking it too far this time, knowing how she is about Adha. “You are sick! Who do you think you are?” she says, after brushing her hair to her back. She is standing to a corridor that takes to the bedroom, with her hands on both side of her waist. Her nose is too red with too much rubbing and crying as her cheeks. She is in a black jeans and silver grey twisted knit sweater on top with black mini crew socks. She looks like a mess and is worn out.

  Her friends are crying. Unlike other days, no one is uttering a word regarding their situation. She is not getting any response to her question and unless she gets it, she is not willing to give into what her husband is suggesting. She is not ready to give up, not now. Her search for her is not over in her mind. She went to so many places with her husband, she has asked many people if they have seen her, for a same response, but her search isn’t over yet. Four hundred and fifty days have passed, and she still believes that she would find her. Anyone can name her feeling, anyone can say it’s just a mother’s intuition but she knows, she knows since she is the only one who can feel what she is feeling now, only her; and she feels that her daughter is somewhere, looking for ways to get back home; she feels her calling out for her in ways. Not direct calling, just a feeling.

  It’s not like Mr Bamlakfekad wants to believe this but he wants to make his move, he wants to make sure that some things are resting. He wants to be in action, avenge his daughter, for whatever happened to her. He doesn’t give up so easily but when it comes to his daughter, he doesn’t know what to think or do. It’s not like he knows what happened to her and by who, he is just hoping for something crazy, a witch hunt. He thinks and functions quite differently. For now, all he wants is to have someone taking responsibility for her disappearance.

  He is sitting on a single seat sofa, listening to his wife’s sour sobbing and bitter words. The last time he saw her sobbing this much was when he told her that he made his stand clear that he wouldn’t join them on their journey to Canada. His eyes are closed, his head tilted to the left. His hands are clenched, holding the sofa’s arms with his hands. If there is one thing he isn’t good at, as much as listening to his inner voice only, it is to comfort his loved ones. For him, vengeance is the true solution to a given problem, eye for an eye, blood for blood. The time is flying, and he doesn’t want to waste it waiting for her or looking for her. He is a man of action and he is ready to take a risk one or the other way. All that’s left is knocking door to door, to all the lists of suspects in this case; his enemies and frenemies.

  “Where’s the body?” she asks, and her friend closes her eyes in tears as her lips shakes. She seems to share her pain. “Show me something…give me something to burry!” she screams and presses her lips to the centre. Her tears are drying on her cheeks and her eyes seems a bit swollen but still she stresses them to open to the extreme.

  “Please calm down.” Selam is her best friend and is always supportive of her. “I’m with you but you should calm down.” She knows what she is going through, she even agrees with her over what she is saying now, though she thinks she is overdoing things and before many peoples.

  “Why? He is worthless, thinking stupidly. He thinks what he is about to do is going to help.” Opening his eyes, he looks at her in shock, but she holds her right hand to his direction to cease him from talking. “Yes, I know, cause I know you better than anyone,” she says and walks down the corridor to a first room on the right side.

  “Please, Membe,” Selam follows her into the room and closes the door behind her.

  “Give her time,” an older man utters, patting Mr Bamlakfekad on his left shoulder sadly. “She needs time to understand you,” he says once again with his elderly but sad voice. He is trying to understand both of them, since he is their old neighbour and they have seen the worst and the best together. Mr Bamlakfekad looks to his direction and nods, closing his eyes. “Stay calm and wait for her to come to her realisation.”

  “Thank you, Mr Ibrahim, thank you.” He says, feeling grateful to the way his neighbour is there for him. Mister Ibrahim nods, closing his eyes as he nods, expressing his sadness on his chocolate-coloured and well curved facial deep linings that display his age loudly.

  Despite the fact that I hated going out, it was great in the eyes of my Mum and Kate. They thought he was worthy of it and I didn’t want them to conclude on the thought that all my past relationships that ended before it started were all for nothing. All that I was worried about was just to settle the rumours about me. Everyone was talking behind my back; I don’t know why it was a worry for most my mother’s friends, that I was never settling with a man, but I was an issue. So, I felt like I needed to change that. Mum was standing by the door to my room; with her arms crossed on her chest as she stares at me smilingly. Kate was too busy going through my wardrobe looking for something that would make me look good.

  “Summer is not my thing,” I blew air exasperatedly. I was lying on my bed looking at the ceiling.

  “Why? Cause you have beautiful legs to show?” I lifted my head up to see Kate, who was rolling her eyes at me. I was lying, I loved and still love summer, I feel alive with all the heat and colourful trees, that’s if not to mention that the animals at work look more beautiful and fun at this particular season.

  “I only hope this time around, this would work,” Mum uttered playfully, and I bit my lower lip, smiling.

  “Don’t worry,” Kate turned to her, holding her left hand in the air. “I know this would go far enough.”

  “Yeah,” Mum blew air teasingly. “The question is, how far is far?” I sat up, frowned at the way they were conversing; like I wasn’t there and as if they’re gossiping.

  “So, this is the gossip about me?” I asked, holding my hands in the air, looking at both of them, once each time, rolling my eyes from left to right.

  “I just hope the rumour won’t reach to her dad’s ears,” Mum adds as Kate winked at her and Mum walked away. “I’ll leave you girls to finish up with…” she waved her hands in the air, rolling her eyes, making me gasp speechless. “whatever you girls are doing,” she adds, pointing to Kate with her index finger.

  “Well, I should try,” she giggled to answer her question.

  “Seriously?” I looked at her quizzically and she shrugged. “You know what, I will do my best so this would work,” I uttered, as I get up on my feet, smiling as I took them on their challenge.

  “Hey, Ted is worthy of it,” Kate uttered, pressing her lips as she passed me a metallic gold, baby doll dress.

  “This is just a date,” I pressed my lips, rolling my eyes up for a thought. “Lunch date,” I pressed my lips, pointing to the dress she had chosen for me; it would have been good for night for all the glitter.

  “And summer, the colour is good but,” she pulled her index finger out and pulled out flaxen yellow halter dress. “This could be a great go for as well,” she giggled, and I smiled, shaking my head as I took it from her hands. I wasn’t and still am not much of a dresser, but I wouldn’t go for that blindly.

  “Know that I still don’t think this is the guy,” I pressed my lips and she held her hands in the air, but in a promising surrender.

  The memory plants a frown on my forehead. I remember how much I was against dating the man I was about
to get married with and how I fall in the trap easily; he wasn’t and still isn’t bad to me.

  Am I that fool? I bite my lower lip hard, for both; my thought and the struggling walk that Zhai is leading me to now. It’s hard to keep up with her but she looks just fine on her speed. She seems stronger than she looks.

  “You b tired of many thig,” she says and I press my lips, ceasing on my steps.

  Is she trying to say that this is nothing? I press a deadpan smile and she stops, looking at me with sorry eyes. “I dot wan you to b like me, stay here long,” she says, spreading her arms sideways as she points to the place with her head nodding up. I don’t really want to utter a word about anything that I am feeling now.

  You don’t want to know what I’m feeling now. I doubt you would understand either. I lean back on an oak tree and try to breathe in and out, closing my eyes, to calm myself down. I’m exhausted, but I don’t really want to act on it since she seems fine, though we walked to what feels like forever.

  Have you ever run in your mind so fast that you feel exhausted physically? Have you ever exercised without giving a time limit to your body physically that you fail in exhaustion? Do you know that feeling where your body feels detached to your soul and you can feel the slow agonising process, that tormenting experience?

  It’s an unbearable; scorching squeeze between your chest, at the start of your belly and the end of your chest…right between at the end of your ribs bone; the roughly fidgeting kick within your belly that feels like something in you looking for a way out, pushing you to every direction, up, down and to every side…back and forth; the strangling feeling that suppresses you on your neck, the stretch on every muscle, my brain feels like its tightly expanding in my skull, testing its strength limit…that and beyond that types of stressing feeling is tormenting me now, ten times greater than it should.