by Zoha Kazemi
It was in one of his journeys to Oxan Island that without any preparations, he was unexpectedly separated from his son. The Oxan market was crowded. Many things were sold and bought in the large and small shops of the market: different kinds of fish, prawns and octopus, produced goods like textiles, tools and oxygen masks imported from far away ships and raw material dived out of the drowned cities like wood, plastic bulks and metals. Tirad’s father wanted to sell his sacks of dried fish and find a new, cheap fishing net. He had given a coin to Tirad and had told him to go off and buy something for himself. Tirad had wandered off from his father, walking through the shops and stalls. He had gazed at other children playing and running around the market. The relishing smell of cooked seafood had filled his nose. He had sat down tired in a corner and stretched his bare heels among the soft dust that covered the island. He had taken the coin his father had given him and started drawing vague shapes on the sand. Then he had drawn more concrete shapes like a circle and a rectangle and had sketched the four-line Saviour tattoo of the sea residents that he also had on his arm. This was something he had enjoyed the most. He had wandered more between the stalls and the stands in the market but nothing had caught his eyes until he had come across a counter that sold strange dived out goods: large and small things that no one could clearly say what they were and what could they be used for. A lanky, old man was trying to come up with stories and uses for each item at his counter. He had raised a screen the size of two hands with a glass surface and a silver back and explained that the pre-rain people could see the whole world through this gadget. The children had gathered around his stall listening to the tales of the old man, and looking in wonder at the deformed plastics and the misshaped metal items that no one knew whether they were individually used for something or they were parts of another bigger unknown thing. Tirad had stood beside them and tried to imagine how the pre-rain people could communicate with each other through a small, glass surface.
Something had finally caught his eyes on the old man’s counter: a few colourful papers. The papers were divided into lined rectangles and each of them had pictures in them and white bubbles with written words inside them. He had recognised the writings since he had seen written font before. A Saviour Missioner that had come to their ship had shown them what it was to write by drawing the letters with a carbon stick on a piece of paper. Tirad had lifted up the papers from the counter and stared at the pictures. A man was in the pictures with a four-legged, white and hairy animal. The pictures had bright colours. The man in the pictures changed a little from one frame to the other, although it was the same man with short, yellow hair and a blue shirt. The old man had told Tirad that he could only buy one of the papers with his coin. Tirad had looked at the papers for a long time but he couldn’t choose between them. He had felt a touch on his bare and sun burnt shoulder. His father was standing behind him, worried for Tirad’s late return. Tirad had shown him the papers. His father had looked at them and said the papers are only good for burning and starting a fire. But Tirad explained to him what he had discovered: the movement of the man from one frame to the next and that the pictures were telling a story; they were not just papers, they were pages of a book. He had also pointed at the written words emphasising that the story of the pictures must have been written in the white bubbles. He had begged his father to buy him all the four pages and his father, even though he was unsure of the worth of the papers, had bought them for Tirad after a good discount given to him by the old man.
Tirad and his father had spent the night in Oxan. Tirad wouldn’t go to sleep. He had stayed awake the whole night looking at the colourful pictures and making up their stories. Each time, he would come up with a new story for the pictures. And he would narrate them loudly and passionately for his father and his fellow fishermen. His father’s friends encouraged him to try the boy’s luck in the Saviour Ship since he was imaginative and eager to read and too weak for sea work. The next day, Tirad’s father took him to Hurmaz who was at the time a Saviour Missioner in Oxan. He had explained to Hurmaz that the boy’s mother had died and because of his heart problem, he could never work on the sea. He had asked Tirad to show Hurmaz the papers and the boy excited of having a new audience, was happy to come up with a new story for the pictures. His father had said goodbye the same day and left him to the care of Hurmaz. Tirad was too engaged with the pages to take notice of his father’s goodbye. The next day, he had travelled to the Saviour Ship with Hurmaz. The first few nights on the ship, although his papers still amused him but his father’s absence had made him restless. Hurmaz had ordered one of the ship’s maids to take care of Tirad and to put him to sleep in her cabin besides Lealy, another child who was recently brought to the ship. But Tirad wouldn’t stop crying, he wouldn’t eat or sleep and no matter how hard the maid tried, he wouldn’t calm down. She had taken him to Hurmaz with his papers tightly embraced in his arms. Hurmaz had taken the papers from him and asked him if he ever wanted to know the true story of the picture? Whether he wanted to learn how to read? Tirad had wiped his nose with the back of his hand and nodded. Hurmaz had told him to calm down and start his lessons from the next morning and his words were like cool water putting out a flame in Tirad’s heart.
Tirad’s first teacher was Akhgar, an impatient and bad-tempered man. Tirad would take the stick in his hand and try to draw the shape of the words on the sand board. But he would only draw them as he would copy the pictures from his treasured papers. He couldn’t understand the meaning of the letters that made up a word and couldn’t read from the words he had drawn. The classes seemed too long and too boring to him. The only classes that he enjoyed were the history courses where Saviour’s life story was narrated for the children. After a year, Akhgar had hopelessly told the Circle that Tirad was slow witted and couldn’t learn anything and it was better if they would return him to his father. Hurmaz had asked the Circle to give him a chance at trying to teach the boy. His private lessons with Tirad were not something that people were used to on the ship, nor something they would approve of. But Hurmaz had continued with patience and care and he had finally taught him to read through Tirad’s own learning method. Hurmaz never said anything about letters and words and how words were constructed by letters. He treated each word as a shape and had made Tirad memorised the shape of each word and to say the name of the shapes aloud as he saw them. In this way, Tirad was able to read the sentences made up of the shapes he had already knew by heart. Hurmaz had made him practice a lot, especially for Tirad’s ‘read and write exam’ and he had demonstrated his victory and Tirad’s reading ability in Akhgar’s presence. Tirad was only saved from being expelled from the Ship but he still had to learn how to read and write like others. Hurmaz began explaining the letters to him, and it took Tirad two years to finally learn to read and write properly. But through these years, his hand was quick on the paper and before he had turned seven, he could easily draw anything that he saw. If it wasn’t for Tirad’s extraordinary ability to draw – something that no one on the Saviour Ship could do – Hurmaz would have had to return Tirad to his father. Not just because of Akhgar’s disapproval of Tirad but to keep the boy safe from being bullied by other children.
The first two years at the Saviour Ship were hard times for Tirad. But at last, the reading spell had taken over his sadness and pain both from missing his father and students bullying him. Tirad was allowed to go to students’ library and read the books over and over again. He read anything he could find, from Saviour Narratives to the few fiction books left from pre-rain era; stories that took place on land, on towns, crowded places called cities and strange places called jungles, mountains and moors. He would travel to new places in different times by every book he read and devoured every stone, leaf, colour, shape and living creatures of pre-rain times that he read about. He had discovered a joy that was not comparable with any other, and this newfound happiness had helped him deal with his father’s absence and the abuses of the Saviour Ship residents
. As he grew, he was allowed more access to the fiction books and the more he read, the more he would distance himself from his fellow students. How could he care about the trivial conversations of the boys or laugh at Mart’s boring jokes when the wonderful world of pre-rain was revealed to him through words, sentences and paragraphs of the old books.
Too much reading had made him lonely. He had no friends and he was only happy in his limited alone times when he could read and sketch what he had read about, on his more limited share of paper in the bleak light of a small candle he had been given. He liked to show his drawings to others and join them in the pleasure he had experienced while sketching them. But his pictures had become vaguer for those who had no familiarity with the stories and settings of pre-rain times. The boys used his drawings against him and made fun of him even more. The only person that paid attention to his drawings was Hurmaz who would look at them interestingly and would praise Tirad for his unique work. He was happy for this attention. The only picture he never showed to anyone, not even to Hurmaz, was the picture he had drawn of his father. A man’s face with tears trailing on his cheeks with sad and scared eyes and shaking lips that tried hard to say a word: the picture of his father right before he had said his last goodbye to him.
Chapter 5
Hurmaz sits in front of Tirad. Lealy comes in with two dishes. Tirad tries to separate in his nose the appetising smell of the roast fish from the stench of the oil lamp, both sourced from the sea creatures. Tirad can’t take his eyes from her and stares at her every movement, the way she delicately moves her short, wide fingers and puts the dishes on the table to the gentle bending of her waist as she does that. He suddenly notices Hurmaz’s glance and throws his head down. Although he wasn’t just looking at Lealy in praise of her beauty, he didn’t know what to look at to avoid becoming eye to eye with Hurmaz. He is worried that Hurmaz might want to scold him for having spoken so unwisely in the Circle meeting. Lealy turns around elegantly on her plump legs and walks towards the cabin door. Hurmaz starts eating but Tirad loses his appetite because of the bad smell of the oil lamps that seems to have overcome the smell of the food and the frown he sees in Lealy’s face as she goes out.
“Don’t worry! You didn’t say anything wrong!” Hurmaz says after he swallows his bite. Tirad, still puzzled and unsure, looks at him and finally exhales his trapped breath.
“Eat! I know you are hungry. We haven’t eaten together for a long time but I have raised you myself and I know you can’t focus right with an empty stomach!” Hurmaz continues. Tirad starts eating his fish and although he knows that Hurmaz is staring at him the whole time, he won’t take his eyes off his plate. He is careful not to take in any fish bones. The thought of a fish bone getting stuck makes him feel itchy in his throat and he coughs a short, dry cough, projecting more chewed fish out of his mouth. He feels embarrassed. He doesn’t know why he eats like a small child every time someone watches him.
“I am really worried. We have been discussing the matter of Tiraje Ship for over a year now. Perhaps Khunas is right to an extent. We can’t have exemptions. If we allow one exemption now, we will have to exempt more and more in the future and we won’t be able to control them. All the Saviour Rules will get out of our hands… but I’m worried about something else…and that’s why I need you to go with Mart…” he says, drinking water from his glass. Tirad can easily see the worried look that lies under the full-white brows of Hurmaz’s face. He will have to stay silent for now and let Hurmaz finish his word.
“The Circle is allowing Mart to get rid of the refugees any way he can. If he can’t get them out of Oxan through negotiations, he is allowed to use any effective means! Can you imagine? Any means?” Hurmaz continues.
“And you have agreed to that?” Tirad asks. Hurmaz sighs and shakes his head meaning that he never agreed.
“All six of them were unanimous on the matter. What could I do? I would never sign off on such permits. I have already said no to that and have made them think it through and come up with an acceptable solution… I’m afraid that they might want to resolve the situation by using force and violence… But you already know that if all six of them sign the permit, my opinion is overruled,” Hurmaz explains. Tirad feels dizzy as if the bookshelves in Hurmaz’s dimmed-light room are circling around him. He tries to focus and say something, but he can’t find the right words. It seems very strange to him that the Circle had signed off on something against Hurmaz’s will. If Tirad was in the Circle, he would never vote against him. Hurmaz stands up and puts his hands on Tirad’s lean shoulders. Then he goes towards the drawers near the cabin door and takes out a handful of blank papers, puts them before Tirad and smiles.
“I have increased your share of papers… I thought you might need them for your journey to Oxan. Write down or draw whatever you see and send them to me. Keep eyes on Mart. I will express my opinion again in the Circle meeting tomorrow… But I’m afraid…” Hurmaz says. Tirad thanks him for the papers and watches him walk towards his chair. He takes slow and weighty steps trying to show that he is calm as always but his hands move anxiously in the air. He sits and continues his words:
“If any of you and Mart solve the refugee problem, he will immediately enter the Circle since it is a very serious and important matter. And if you solve it together, you will both get in… But…” he pauses. Tirad already knows that he will go for the latter, even though Mart and he have always had their childish disputes. He is willing to let it all go for the better and he already knows that Mart will resist and will try to do anything to stop Tirad from getting into the Circle. He encourages Hurmaz to finish his sentence and tell him, but what? Hurmaz lowers his head and seems unsure whether he should say his words out. After a short pause, he finally raises his head and continues:
“This is the first time that the Circle members unanimously voted against me. Whatever I have promised you can only hold if I am still alive by the time things have resolved… Anything is possible. Be careful and take great care of yourself whether I live or not!” he says. Tirad is raged by his words and protests saying that no one dares to harm Hurmaz. But Hurmaz does not want to continue this conversation and won’t allow him to say more. He puts another pack of papers in front of Tirad and tells him that these papers are the more important matter right now. He wants him to go through them and as Tirad looks at the papers, he explains what they are for. The papers contain reports, some only written and some with lousy, hand-drawn pictures.
“This is your real mission! We better be sincere! I doubt that you can easily handle Mart and join the Circle; he will probably take all the credits and throw you out. But if he is to get in, I want to you to get in too, otherwise who knows what will happen to the Saviour Ship and to me. I want you to accept this mission as well as the one that the Circle has given you,” Hurmaz explains and points to the reports.
“There have been reports of the mysterious deaths of pregnant women in the sea… I want you to follow up this issue and give me a full report!” He moves and sits next to Tirad and shows him each report one by one.
“It started two years ago… At first, it was only missing reports for the pregnant women who were close to their due date. Then the bodies were found with the babies missing. The bodies of the babies were never found… If they had given birth in the water, their babies would have been eaten by the fish. The number of received reports has increased in the last few months, and it is worrying!” he explains. He takes out a paper from the rest of the reports and shows it to Tirad.
“This is the last report that I received today. The body of a pregnant woman was found in Oxan yesterday morning. A boatman had found it by the harbour. It was stuck in his boat’s chains… Here…look.” He passes the report to him. Tirad carefully reads the report. It is full of spelling and grammar mistakes, but it has explained the happening. According to the report, they could not identify the body, and since they had thought the woman had died of a sickness, her corpse was burnt according to
Saviour Rituals and not thrown back in to the water.
“Are the reports limited to a special area?” Tirad asks.
“If you mean Oxan, then the answer is no. I sent a letter to Atlan a few months back and asked if they had any similar incidents. They had, but they believe it was some sort of a contagious sickness amongst pregnant women. They even wanted to quarantine their pregnant women. But I didn’t follow up the matter anymore. I also asked Harlan and they had only a few reports and had considered it as a random occurrence,” Hurmaz replies. Tirad shakes his head puzzled but Hurmaz comes to his help. He tells him that he should ask around and see which areas in Oxan had the more victims, put the numbers together, see which sicknesses could cause such deaths, investigate food and water supplies on the ships for signs of contamination and give him a full report on all that. Tirad understands and nods.