“I’m not lying, I promise. I wish I could see you later,” I said sadly.
“You name the time and place, and I will be there,” he responded without hesitation, but I told him we couldn’t meet just yet, I had to make sure the children were settled first, but I promised I would call him in a few days. We chatted for a while, he told me he was doing well working at a school with young boys as a teacher, and after our chat I made my way back to the house. I had a sense of new found freedom, and everything around me looked, and smelt, different.
Once inside the gates I watched the children play as I took off my sharsharf, then while I was adjusting my head scarf I realized I didn’t need to cover my hair inside the gates anymore. As I took off my scarf I ruffled my hair with my fingers to allow the fresh air to breeze through, and then I threw my scarf on the floor and went to play with the children.
They were surprised to see me with my hair uncovered; it was something they hadn’t seen before. “Mum, what if someone sees you?” Tarek asked, concerned.
“No one can see us from outside the gates, but does it upset you?” I asked, unsure what his answer would be.
“No! I don’t care, as long as you’re happy,” he smiled.
The night time came and the children fell asleep, their smiles were almost complete. I could see that the older two still had fears that their family, or mine, would turn up and take away our happiness. It was endearing yet upsetting to see how much they protected their younger siblings, but it was the way they had been brought up, loving each other and knowing when to shelter each other from harm’s way.
I’d watched them play that afternoon, and how they would all automatically stop playing if a strange sound was heard outside the gates, whether it was a knock on a nearby gate, or a heavy truck pass by the nearby fields. Nasser would be the one they would run over to and pick up, and hush him to stay quiet, just in case the threat was a real. I’d spent the afternoon reassuring them that it was OK, nobody was coming to our new home, and that we were safe. As they slept I snuggled up beside them, and told myself the same, we were going to be OK!
The next morning I fed the children and gave the older two instructions for the day ahead. It wasn’t a good feeling knowing I was going to be leaving them all alone, but they had been through much worse, and I knew I needed to provide for my children. With Nasser in my arms, I made my way to the nursery.
We got there before anyone else, and Louise took us inside to introduce us to her house staff, and familiarise ourselves with the house. She told me her husband had just left for work, but she hoped we could meet him another time. Her nanny was in the kitchen getting her son ready for school; her kitchen was beautiful, she had things in there I knew existed, but couldn’t remember what they were called, or how they worked!
I remember looking around thinking she must be really rich because she could afford to have a washing machine and a real cooker! The fact that she had people working for her didn’t make me think she was rich, many people could afford human labourers, it was the fact she possessed these materialistic items that are not easily accessible in Yemen which made her stand out! She also had a cleaner, and another nursery teacher called Jamela. Jamela was leaving the nursery in a few days, and I was her replacement!
Nasser was in awe of all the play areas, and his favourite was the soft play area; this was a completely padded out room with loads of soft cushions and toys, to ensure the children couldn’t hurt themselves. It was called the blue room.
There was a class room with desks and chairs and full of paints, crayons, books etc. Also a room full of cots, mattresses, blankets and pillows for the children to take their naps! There was a room that was full of toys I’d never seen before; it had a rocking chair and rocking horse! Her bathroom had a bath, shower and toilet, something that confused Nasser!
Nasser was happy playing with the toys in the garden while I stood back and watched Jamela greet the children once they started to arrive. She opened the doors for them, and took them from their parents as they got dropped at the gate, but while I watched her greet the children it became obvious to me that she didn’t have a natural connection with the children; she wasn’t mean, but she wasn’t warm.
After a few had been let in a little girl, no older than three years old, turned up at the gates; I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She looked like a little doll that could break at any moment. She had the bluest eyes and beautiful blonde hair, and she was tiny. When Jamela took her from her mother she was crying, and after she closed the gates she immediately put her down, even though she was still crying over her mother!
I went to her and gently picked her up, mindful of the fact she didn’t know me. “Hi, my name’s Muna, what’s yours?” I asked wiping away her tears, in between her sobs she told me her name was Carrie; she had a lovely English accent but I couldn’t place it. After I quickly glanced over to make sure Nasser was still OK, I took Carrie into one of the rooms, chatting to her on the way, and reassuring her everything was going to be OK, while letting her know who I was and why I was there. I sat with Carrie in the rocking chair for all of a few minutes before she stopped crying and jumped off my lap, then ran back outside, ready to greet the rest of her friends who were still turning up.
I followed her outside and watched as the rest of the children came in. There was no mistaking Andrew when he turned up, he put a smile on my face as soon as he walked through the gates, and I knew from the start that I would develop a soft spot for him, no matter how naughty he was!
He was big for his age, he had blond, almost white hair, and he had a dummy firmly attached to his mouth, and with a squinty face he looked up and grunted at Jamela when she said hello. Then he stormed past her into the garden, where he stood firmly sucking on his dummy, as his eyes roamed around to see who was where, and playing with what. When he spotted me he approached Jamela and pointed at me. “Who’s that?” he demanded to know in a squeaky voice that was muffled behind his dummy.
“That’s Muna, she’s going to be your new teacher because I’m leaving,” Jamela responded half-heartedly, but Andrew looked happy with her answer. “Good, I’m glad you’re leaving!” he yelled at her as he ran off to play on the swings.
I watched as Andrew approached Nasser, and I could see he was attempting to talk to him, but Nasser wasn’t taking any notice, so I slowly walked over closer to where they were, aware that Nasser wasn’t able to speak English, and wary of Louise’s advice about Andrew being difficult to handle. As I was watching them and the other children play, Andrew came over to me.
“Who’s that?” he asked, pointing over at Nasser.
“That’s Nasser, he’s a new child here,” I answered.
“Why won’t he speak to me?” Andrew asked, chewing on his dummy.
“Oh sweetheart, that’s because he can’t speak your language, but I can speak both his language and yours, do you want me to speak to him for you?”
Before Andrew could respond Louise came out from the house and blew a whistle to let the children know it was time to go inside, so I called Nasser over and told him what was happening, and to follow the children. On the way in Andrew attempted to sneak past Louise with his dummy in his mouth, but she stopped him, stretching her hand out in front of her, demanding his dummy. Although he grunted at her, Andrew reluctantly handed over his dummy and followed the other children inside. “We don’t give them their dummies unless its nap time,” Louise told me as we led the children into the play rooms.
As the morning went by I got to know the children, and although they came from all corners of the world, they all spoke English, some more than others. Carrie and Andrew were the two most difficult children in the nursery, and they took to me from day one. Whenever Carrie cried she would run to me for comfort; it would take her less than a few minutes to calm down and stop crying, and I really didn’t see why Jamela was so intent on leaving her to cry for so long when all she needed was a little cuddle. She didn’t cry because she w
anted something, or wanted her own way; she was fragile, and would easily fall over and was always getting shouted at by the other children.
Andrew was a little terror, but I couldn’t help but have a soft spot for him, he was forever getting told off for something, and whenever Jamela or Louise told him off he would come straight to me for confirmation that it was either right, or wrong for them to do so. Although he and Nasser couldn’t communicate well with their language barrier, they played well most of the time, and Andrew would run back and forward asking me to tell him this, or tell him that.
By 1.30 pm all the parents had picked up their children, and I was happy the day was over; I’d been under the impression that I wouldn’t be out of work until late afternoon, but Louise told me this was a normal working day at nursery.
After Jamela left, Louise asked me to join her in the kitchen for a drink and a chat; straight away I thought I’d done something wrong, and she was going to tell me off. I was over the moon when she started to praise me, telling me she thought I’d done extremely well that day. She told me Jamela was an experienced nursery teacher, but she felt that I had better interaction and intuition with the children than she did. Even though Andrew and Carrie were her most difficult children, she felt I’d handled them well, and was happy they felt they could come to me when they needed something, or felt they needed comfort.
I was skipping with joy that day when I left work; things were going well and I headed straight for the phone box to call my sister.
Amar answered the phone and I could hear voices in the background, so I was quick to tell him to let his mother know his Aunty Fothaliya was on the phone. This was Abdul’s sister’s name, so if anyone was at Yas’s house looking for me, they wouldn’t suspect anything. Yas quickly came to the phone and I let her know it was me; she reassured me nobody was at her home, just her children, so I went on to tell her all about what had been happening over the past few days.
She was so happy things were turning out well for me, but told me to be careful, she said Dad was in Sanaa looking for me, he had been to Nebat’s house and Uncle Ahmed’s. She said Nebat called her and was hysterical, thinking something bad had happened to us; she asked me if it was OK to let her know we were safe.
I knew in my heart we could trust Nebat not to tell anyone what we were doing, so I said yes, that she could let her know we were alright. She was our sister; I couldn’t let her worry about us. She had so much to worry about already with her husband still ill from his accident; I knew she would protect our secret at all cost.
Yas also told me she was sending us some food with a friend, so we should expect a knock on the door that evening. I finished my call to Yas and I really wanted to call Anwar, but knew I couldn’t; he was now working in a school for young boys, and he didn’t finish work until later. Also, I knew I had to be very careful for my children; although I loved Anwar and wanted to be with him, we were not in a country that allowed you to be with a man just because you loved him! I knew my children also loved Anwar, and I knew Anwar also loved my children, more than their father loved them, but I didn’t want any of my children to ever think I was disrespecting their father’s honour.
I made my way home to my children, who were anxious as I knocked on the gate; we had made a secret knock to let them know it was me, and no one else, three knocks followed by another three. I was delighted to see they were all fine and nothing bad had happened whilst I was away at work. The older two were proud to let me know the details of the day’s events, and how they had looked after their squabbling siblings. I told them I could never have done it without them, and I told the little ones how proud I was of them for keeping the noise down, even though Tarek and Izzy kept insisting they were not quiet at all, but noisy all day!
To show them how proud I was of them all, I’d stopped off at a little shop on the way home from work, and bought a few sweets. I knew we didn’t have much money left, but I needed them to have a treat to see how well they had done, and how special they all are to me.
I told them I’d spoken to their aunty and that she was sending us some things later, so they shouldn’t panic when they hear a knock on the gates. I left out the details that their grandfather was in Sanaa hunting us; I didn’t want them to worry any more, they were just starting to settle down and it wasn’t something they needed to know.
Later on that afternoon the jeep arrived with the food; the children helped me carry the boxes and sacks inside. Yas had sent us everything she could think of to keep us going for at least a month, until I got my wages. That evening the children played happily until they couldn’t play anymore, before collapsing with exhaustion and falling sleep.
It was weeks before I heard back from Karen. She turned up at the nursery to let me know they had heard back from Uncle Jim, and that he had supplied them with all the information they had requested from him, so my British passport was approved.
The easiest bit was over, now came the part of getting my children out of Yemen.
They needed to find birth certificates so that they could get their passports, but most of all, they needed to find someone willing to sign those passports saying he was their father.
I struggled to find the words to tell Karen how much I needed her help, but I begged her to help us. She took my hands in hers. “I promise you I will do everything I can to make this happen!” she promised. “I need you to trust me, do you trust me?” she asked. I didn’t hesitate in answering, I knew in my heart I could trust her from the first time I met her.
“Yes, I trust you!” I quickly told her. Karen quickly kissed me on both cheeks, and as she left she told me to wait until she contacted me, no matter how long that took! It sounded like we had a long wait, but at least I was working, and the children were happy.
Dad continued to look for us, and by now we had every uncle in Sanaa on the lookout, but I wasn’t going to let that spoil my family’s happiness or freedom!
On payday we all went to the nearby night market, I was covered with my veil, and the girls wore headscarves, we didn’t stand out from any other family. The children had treats and from that first pay cheque we bought our very first TV. It was a tiny black and white portable but the children had never had their own TV, never mind in our own house, and for myself I bought a cassette/radio player.
On our way back from the market I stopped to call my sister; I called her every time I wanted to update her or let her know things were good, I knew she was always worrying about us and I wanted her to know that for once, we were doing OK!
After that call, with the children fussing over their treats, I decided to call Anwar; I’d called him a few times but hadn’t made any arrangement’s to meet up. While I whispered away to him, Tarek shouted over at me, “Can I talk to Anwar?”
“Oh hang on, we just got caught out, Tarek wants to speak to you!” I whispered down the phone.
Trying not to look worried, I casually handed Tarek the phone so he could chat to Anwar, but as soon as I did, all the other children jumped up wanting to talk to him, including Nasser, who usually never wanted to speak to anybody! The struggle ended with a compromise from Tarek, he told everyone he would speak to Anwar now, and they all get to speak to him later, because he wanted to invite Anwar over to our house the next afternoon.
With the children begging their very reluctant mother into saying OK and a very happy Anwar into agreeing, we devised a secret knock for him so we would know it was him!
I barely slept that night knowing that I was going to see Anwar again after all this time, and the next day work couldn’t finish quickly enough. Time felt as though it was going so slowly, but finally, later that afternoon, Anwar came over to the house. The children were all waiting for his knock and as soon as he did they raced to the gate to welcome him in; I couldn’t tell who was more excited to see him, the children or me.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he spent the whole afternoon, and early evening, talking and playing with the children. Nas
ser, who would usually shy away from strangers, joined in with the fun and took an instant liking to Anwar. Once I tucked the children in for bed Izzy asked me a question. “Is Anwar going to stay?”
“No baby, he’s going to stay for a bit so we can have a chat, but then he’s going home,” I told her as I went to get up. She made a sad face, hanging her bottom lip as low as she could.
“Why? Why can’t he stay with us?” she sulked.
“Well…” I tried to think what to say, and a hundred answers went through my mind at that moment, but none that I wanted my daughter to hear, so not knowing what to say I gave her a kiss. “Because he’s got his own house!”
Anwar and I made idle chit chat in the room next door until we were sure the children were fast asleep, and then we put a blanket on the floor and snuggled up in each other’s arms, and in between our kisses and cuddles, we told each other everything we thought the other needed to know that night.
We both knew we had lots to catch up on, but we had lots of time to do that, we would see each other again soon. He told me he was extremely proud of everything I was doing, and would be behind every decision I made. He also made me promise never to let any man get in the way of mine or my children’s happiness, and that included him.
Before we knew it the sun was rising and I was rushing him out the door in a silent hurry! I had to be in work in a few hours, and I’d had no sleep, so I told him I would call him very soon, I promised.
It was month two before Yas felt comfortable to come and visit and she just turned up one afternoon; even I was unaware she was coming. We were all in the garden playing, and the knock on the gate made Izzy quiver in fear as she ran towards me screaming.
“Please don’t open the gate, it’s Granddad; he’s come to get us!”
She was petrified as I picked her up and walked her towards the gate. I could hear Yas calling out to Izzy, letting her know it was only her and her children, telling her children to call out and let my children know they were outside. Once Izzy heard her cousin’s voices she calmed down and helped me open the gates, then enjoyed being fussed over as her aunty took her from me to apologise for upsetting her. Together they came up with a secret knock!
A Father's Betrayal Page 39