Refugee 87

by Ele Fountain

  I want to shout at Medhanie and tell him he’s wrong, or snatch the phone back and type the number again. Instead I sit very still. Now I don’t know when I will hear Mom’s voice again. Perhaps I will have to wait until I get to England. There I will be able to call my uncle to find out what is happening. He will be able to tell me whether I can speak to Mom without putting her in danger. It feels like such a long time to wait.

  “Do you have another number you can call?” Medhanie looks impatient.

  I sift through all the names and numbers stored in my head, trying to stay calm and not to think about the military grabbing my mother’s phone from her hand. I sense that this man will give me only one more chance. I choose Uncle Batha.

  “Yes, I have another number.”

  Medhanie types in the country code and hands me back the phone. The phone rings four times, then a man answers. I do not recognize his voice, either, but I haven’t seen my uncle for a couple of years.

  “It’s Shif,” I say.

  There is silence, then the man asks, “What do you need?”

  “I called Mom and she wasn’t there. I need some money.”

  There is another pause. “Your mother isn’t at home. Lemlem is okay. How much do you need?”

  “Five thousand dollars,” I say.

  There is another pause. “And what about Bini?”

  “Bini didn’t make it across the border.”

  “Will he meet you later?”

  “Bini is—” My throat seems to seize up. “I don’t think Bini will be able to meet me later.”

  “Call me back in one hour.” He hangs up.

  Medhanie is looking at me with renewed interest. “You came with a friend?”

  “Yes, he was hurt near the border.”

  “So you’re on your own?”

  “He’s not on his own,” says Mesfin firmly. “He will travel with us.”

  “Maybe,” says Medhanie. “Does your uncle have the money?”

  “He asked me to call him back in one hour.”

  I sit with Mesfin while Medhanie talks to his friend, who has wandered back out. They talk loudly, laughing a lot, as if Mesfin and I aren’t there.

  An hour passes quickly. Medhanie gives me his phone again.

  “Hello?” my uncle says. “Your mother hasn’t saved as much as you need, but I’ve spoken to Bini’s family. They want you to have the money Saba has saved for him. With that you’ll have enough.”

  “Please say thank you to Saba.” But “thank you” sounds as if I am grateful for a cake she gave me. Not the money she had saved for her own son.

  I read out the numbers for the bank transfer.

  “Is Mom okay?” I ask.

  “Your mother is okay,” says Uncle Batha.

  But before he can say more, Medhanie takes the phone from me.

  “That’s enough. It’s not cheap to make international calls. When the money arrives in my account, then we can discuss dates.” He nods and then he and his friend go inside, leaving me and Mesfin to let ourselves out of the gate and back onto the street, into the cold night air.

  When we get back, Shewit and Almaz are laying down blankets to prepare the room for sleep.

  Almaz comes over immediately, still clutching a folded blanket. She stares at me, trying to work out if it’s good news. Perhaps I don’t look as happy as she’d hoped. “Did you get the money? Are you coming with us?” she asks.

  “My uncle has the money. If he manages to transfer it, then I’ll be coming with you.”

  A smile spreads across Almaz’s face.

  I try to smile back.

  “What’s the matter?” she asks. “This is what you’ve been waiting for.”

  “I tried to call my mother but she didn’t answer—a man did, someone I don’t know.”

  Almaz’s smile fades.

  Shewit has been listening. “It was probably someone from the military. It’s unlikely they’ll do anything but watch your mother and sister,” she says. “Your mother has been through this before, hasn’t she? She knows what to do.”

  “My uncle said she wasn’t at home.”

  “Maybe she’s with your uncle. It’s good for your mother and sister to be near family right now.”

  What Shewit says makes sense. I like the idea of my mother and Lemlem staying with my uncle. I hope Saba isn’t alone, either. I’m sure my mother wouldn’t leave her on her own.

  Before Shewit finishes, Almaz disappears inside. She returns a second later, clutching the tissue box.

  “Shif, I need your help,” she says.

  “What?” I ask, happy to think about something else.

  “I need you to eat eggs for lunch tomorrow,” says Almaz.

  I look at her, confused.

  She holds up the gebeta box—half the eggshells have broken.

  “I dropped it,” she confesses, “when I was tidying up.”

  She looks so concerned that I find myself smiling.

  “Okay, eggs tomorrow. Perhaps we should buy extra—just in case someone drops a few.”

  She makes a face at me.

  Hunted

  Almaz and I cook dinner every night. I never cooked with Mom. She and Lemlem were a team. But I never offered to help, either. There is no money for anything but lentils, flour, vegetables, and some spices. No one has asked me to contribute, so I make myself as useful as possible. I learn to slice onions and about which spices to add to the lentils. Almaz shows me how to soak garlic and ginger and is patient when I burn things because the pan is too hot or I forget to stir it. In the evenings we play gebeta. She beats me more than I beat her.

  “Have you ever played chess?” I ask.

  “No. What’s that?”

  “You have a square board, and different pieces are allowed to move in different ways across the board. You have to try to plan each move in your head before you make it.”

  “That sounds complicated,” she says, but I can tell she’s interested. “Perhaps when we get to England, you can teach me. Then I can beat you at that, too.”

  When she says this, she reminds me of Bini.

  “What do you want to do when we get to England? What do you want to be?” she asks.

  “I want to become a teacher. Perhaps math—that was my favorite subject. How about you?”

  “I want to study paleontology.”

  “Paleont—What?”

  Almaz laughs. “Someone who studies dinosaurs.”

  “Seriously? What kind of job can you do after learning about dinosaurs?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe in a museum, or something to do with archaeology.”

  “Where did you learn about it?”

  “I can’t remember. I think my science teacher mentioned it once, and I didn’t know what she meant, so I looked it up. I like history, but I’m not interested in the history of presidents and kings—I want to learn about the history of the world, from the very start.” She carries on slicing chilies without looking up. “My mother wasn’t allowed to go to school. She doesn’t mind what I study, as long as I work hard. I like math, too,” she adds, “but not matrices.”

  I nod. “Bini didn’t like them, either.”

  “Who’s Bini?”

  “My best friend.”

  She stops chopping and looks up at me, but I cannot meet her gaze. “Is he the one who tried to cross the border with you?”

  “Yes, that was Bini.”

  “We won’t forget the friends we’ve left behind” is all she says.

  I’m glad she doesn’t ask me any more.

  “How did you get across the border?” I ask. I’m not ready to talk about Bini, but I like talking to Almaz. “Did you walk?”

  “We were hidden in the back of a truck—me and Mom and Dad. My father knew someone who worked for border security. He paid the man some money, and the man arranged for us to travel in the back of a truck, hidden under plastic sheets and sacks.”

  “Someone from border security helped you to get across
the border?” I’m not sure whether to believe it.

  “I know. It seems so stupid. And if you have enough money, you can get straight from the border to the coast.”

  Money never seemed to matter very much when I was at home, but now that I’ve left, it seems money can decide everything.

  Despite trying to keep myself busy, as soon as people leave in the morning the room begins to feel smaller and smaller. I haven’t set foot outside for at least a week. I practice standing on my tiptoes, then dropping down onto my heels. My ankle feels completely better, and my ribs aren’t quite so visible in my chest as they were when I first arrived. I start doing push-ups in the little courtyard. The longer I stay inside, the more I find myself thinking about my mom and Lemlem, and missing them.

  Sometimes I allow my thoughts to stray toward Bini, but never for more than a few seconds. Just long enough to wonder if he was alive when they took him back to the camp, or whether he died before he even got there. Then I think about when Medhanie will get in touch with us again. Surely he must have the money by now. My thoughts seem to grow and fill the room.

  But then when I look over at Genet, I realize that I am lucky. I am almost completely better, but her cuts refuse to heal and her fever has returned. Her wounds are starting to smell bad.

  One morning when everyone leaves, I can’t bear it any longer. Almaz and her mother are the last to go. Only Genet is in the room, asleep in the corner. I slip on my shoes, open the door as quietly as I can, and pull it gently shut behind me. I step outside and blink in the daylight, which hurts my eyes. The alley stinks but I don’t care—it makes me feel good just to be somewhere else. I twist and turn down the narrow dusty roads until I reach the main road leading to the market.

  Almaz is walking just behind her mother on the near side of the market stalls. Despite Mesfin’s warnings to stay out of sight, I wander inside and look up at the roof. I find it hard to believe that I managed to sleep in the rafters. It’s Thursday morning and the market is quickly becoming busy.

  I lose sight of Almaz and then see her again by the stall that sells lentils for a good price. Her mother is walking toward the fruit stall. As Almaz leans forward to pass her money to the stall keeper, I see a flash of movement as a man grabs the purse from Almaz’s hand, then runs down the aisle toward the main road. He is wearing a red keffiyeh. She shouts and runs after him. Her mother sees what is happening but is separated from her daughter by sacks of flour and lentils.

  The man dodges the other shoppers or pushes them aside. Almaz follows. She is nimbler than the man and is gaining on him. I realize that catching him could be a very bad idea. I jump over a sack of onions and chase after Almaz, swerving around women, who shout at me.

  The thief crosses the main road; a man on a motorbike turns sharply to avoid him, and his bike clatters to the ground as he jumps aside. Then the man in the red keffiyeh does something strange: He tosses the purse toward the curb. I realize it’s not the money he wants—it’s Almaz.

  Almaz reaches the main road and crosses toward the grid of narrow streets on the other side. My feet stumble as I look ahead to make sure I don’t lose sight of her. She darts down a dusty street after the man. I skid to a stop at the top of the street. Halfway down I see that the man has stopped, too. He is holding Almaz by the waist. She has her back to him and is struggling to kick him or twist around to scratch at his face.

  “Put her down!” I shout.

  He doesn’t even look up. He is much bigger than Almaz and starts to overpower her, dragging her down an alley to the left. She is out of sight but I hear her yelling.

  I sprint toward them, ignoring the shooting pain that has restarted in my ankle. No one from the market is coming to help. I turn left and see Almaz and the man ten yards along the alleyway. When he sees me, he starts shouting. He has a long scar down his cheek.

  I run the final stretch down the alley until I am beside them. The man is about six feet tall; I push at his shoulder and try to grab his arm. He pins Almaz against the wall with one hand, then hits me in the face with the other. I fall backward; my cheek and nose explode with a coldness that almost immediately turns to throbbing pain.

  Almaz manages to dig her knee into his stomach. As he doubles over, I scramble to my feet and knee him in the head. He falls backward onto the cobblestones as another man appears at the far end of the alley and starts running toward us. I grab Almaz’s hand and push her in front of me.

  “Run!” I shout, but she is already running as fast as she can back toward the market.

  As I sprint after her, I hear the crunch of gravel as the injured man gets up and, with his friend, starts to chase us. We reach the end of the street and cross the main road to the market, swerving around the motorcycle that is still lying there.

  Shewit is standing by the edge of the stalls, looking frantically around. She sees us and lifts her hand. When we reach her, she pulls Almaz toward her, wrapping both arms around her shoulders. She releases Almaz only when she notices me, then grabs my face between her hands and kisses me on each cheek.

  I wince as she brushes my nose. I can feel the area around my eyes beginning to swell.

  “You saved my daughter. Thank you for saving Almaz.” Then she turns back to Almaz and says, “What were you thinking, running after that man?”

  Almaz looks down. She ran after him without hesitation. She has courage, but it seems to disappear with the realization that her mother could have lost another child, and of what that might do to her.

  I scan the market but cannot see either of the men who attacked us. The growing crowd must have forced them to keep their distance. But the people gathering around us don’t seem entirely friendly. There are some raised voices and a few people are pointing.

  “Heads down, and walk,” Shewit says quietly.

  Hiding

  We pass through the doorway into the cool room, which no longer seems small and stuffy. It feels friendly and safe and hidden.

  Almaz goes to make tea. While she is busy, Shewit soaks a cloth in water and passes it to me. I rest it gently against the side of my throbbing nose.

  When Almaz returns, Shewit says softly, “A purse can be replaced. A daughter cannot.” Then she looks at me. “Let me see your face.”

  I peel away the cool cloth. “Does it look bad?” I ask.

  “Your nose might be broken,” says Shewit, “but it’s still straight, so you’ve been a little bit lucky.”

  When Mesfin comes home that evening, Shewit draws him toward the courtyard at the back of the room. I hear her talking quietly. After a few minutes, Mesfin returns looking agitated. He calls Almaz over and she sits down in front of him.

  “Promise me you will never do anything so reckless again?” he says quietly.

  “Yes, Dad, I promise. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re very lucky that Shif was there.”

  Mesfin calls me over next. I crouch low, and he leans forward and takes me by the shoulders.

  “Thank you,” he says.

  That night, although there are only lentils and chopped onion to eat for dinner, the room buzzes with conversation. It feels as if everyone has been waiting for something like this to happen, and now that it has, they are relieved, but also worried that the slave-buying tribe knows we are here—and that they want Almaz enough to try to grab her in broad daylight.

  I think back to the truck that drove toward me as I stood by the thornbush.

  “I think some men like that nearly picked me up when I was walking toward town from the desert.”

  “But they left you alone?” asks Mesfin.

  “They turned the truck around when I stood up.”

  “Perhaps they saw that you were injured. Maybe they thought you weren’t worth much in that state. A beautiful girl, on the other hand, is worth a lot of money,” says Mesfin.

  “Didn’t anyone from the market come to help?” Mesfin asks Shewit.

  “I think they were frightened, too,” she says. “Or perh
aps they don’t like so many refugees passing through their town.”

  “In that case,” says Mesfin, looking at Shewit and Almaz, “you two cannot leave this room again until it’s time to go.”

  “Then how will we eat?” Shewit asks.

  Mesfin turns to me. “You asked if you could do something to help. Now you can. You will go shopping for all of us.”

  I nod, feeling happy that finally I can do something useful.

  I go outside to help Almaz with dinner.

  “You look like a panda,” she says.

  I automatically lift my hand to my nose, then wish I hadn’t as pain shoots across my forehead. “What do you mean?”

  “Your eyes are black.” She giggles.

  “Well, I’m glad it’s so funny,” I answer, embarrassed by my appearance. “Next time I’ll just let you get kidnapped,” I add, but it’s hard to stay grumpy when Almaz giggles.

  After dinner, Mesfin beckons for me to come and sit with him.

  “Ato Medhanie wants to see us tonight,” he says. “We’ll go now. It’s safer while there are still people on the streets.”

  As I slip on my shoes, Almaz comes over and touches my arm. “Good luck,” she says.

  I follow Mesfin out into the alley, taking the same route across town as before. I recognize the compound by the enormous grapefruit tree in the corner.

  As we knock on the gate, a coldness passes through me. If the money hasn’t arrived from my uncle, then I will be staying here in this town on my own. I will need to get a job and cook and shop for myself while trying to save money at the same time. I will need to learn how to speak the language. It might take me a year, maybe five years, to have another chance to leave. Assuming I don’t get kidnapped first.

  But the thought that frightens me the most is being separated from Almaz and her family. They are the reason I am still alive right now. They give me the strength to keep going when Mom and Lemlem are so far away. I’m not sure I could start all over again on my own.