by Hamed Amiri
‘What do we need to do?’ he said.
They started to discuss the details, but Ali Reza didn’t seem to really know what the trip would involve. After a bit more discussion he was off, saying he’d see if he could arrange five spaces for us. Dad seemed excited. ‘Let’s go and tell the others,’ he said.
I felt a bit scared, although Dad did promise the attempt wouldn’t be on a raft. Before we got to the others, he took me to one side and made me make a promise: ‘Don’t tell the others about the fourteen other attempts.’
I nodded and Dad said, ‘That’s my boy.’
*
The others were awake now, and Dad explained to them what the escape would involve. He said it wouldn’t be without danger, but he’d known Ali Reza for years and could vouch for his reliability. Besides, we had to try.
Hussein suddenly stood up. ‘Let’s do this,’ he said. He was the one who found everything the most difficult, and yet he was always the first person willing to try.
Dad had another warning. ‘We also mustn’t get our hopes up,’ he said. ‘There might not even be any spaces for us tonight. Ali Reza is doing all he can and is hoping to pull some strings, but we mustn’t be too disappointed if he can’t.’
We waited impatiently for night time. Dad was distracted, and I could tell he was trying to think of a back-up plan in case this didn’t work. Finally, Ali Reza burst through the door with good news.
The handler arranging the attempt was willing to take us tonight – as long as we paid some ‘tax’ for the short notice and extra luggage. It took me a minute to realise that ‘luggage’ meant us. Dad didn’t argue and immediately gave Ali Reza the fee and told us to get ready.
The next few hours went by slowly. We played around a bit to pass the time, but we all got quieter and quieter as the hour for leaving got nearer. I knew by now that these journeys were unpredictable, and that each one seemed to get harder for Hussein. The story of the raft was still going round in my mind.
Eventually it was time to go. Leaving the camp at night was easier than we thought. It was as if the camp controllers knew everyone there was trying to get out, and they didn’t even try to stop us. We just walked to the arranged meeting point, Dad holding Hessam’s hand and Mum holding mine and Hussein’s. Before long we saw Ali Reza waving at us from a group of about ten people, and we knew that these were the people we were going to spend the journey with.
One of the men in the group was pacing around and looking at his watch, and I guessed this must be the handler. He looked stressed and kept looking at the camp exits. Before long he called us all over. He wasn’t Afghan, but he spoke to us in Farsi.
‘You’re going to have to do a lot of walking, so be prepared,’ he said. Everyone in the group nodded in agreement. Except us. We all looked at Hussein. Would he be able to keep up? I saw Mum squeeze his hand.
‘We’ll be okay,’ she said. ‘We’ll stick together and (inshallah) get there safely.’ She looked at Hussein and then at us. ‘Whatever happens, we don’t split up, okay?’ She paused. ‘Hussein? Can you do this?’ She was giving him a chance to pull out, to cancel the whole thing and no one would be cross. But we all knew how Hussein would respond to that.
‘Let’s do this,’ he smiled. It was becoming his catchphrase.
With no time to waste the handler started to make his way towards a tarmac path that led out of the camp. We all followed slowly behind. It was pitch black and I could hardly even see my feet in front of me. I wished we had a torch. No one could see where they were going or what they might be stepping in; I could only follow Dad’s breathing and the sound of his footsteps. Hussein followed behind me, and I heard him breathe in and out, slowly and deeply in the darkness. This was what he did to steady his breathing. I hoped he’d be okay.
Everyone was very quiet as we made our way through the darkness. Who knew where we were going? Mum was right behind Hussein, so I knew she would spot if anything went wrong or he was struggling. We just had to trust that we’d be okay. Mum kept whispering little things to us to take our minds off all the walking – things like ‘You know you’ll always be my babies. Even when you’re older and you get married, you’ll still be babies to me.’ Hussein and I giggled. Typical Mum. But at least it passed the time.
After we’d walked for what felt like hours, something suddenly broke the blackness ahead of us. It was a flashing blue light. Police? This was bad. The one thing we’d learnt over the last few months of travelling around was that the police were not usually on our side.
Dad and a few others in the group quickly looked around for somewhere to hide, but then the handler did something really strange. He told us to carry on walking.
‘Just stay on the path,’ he called to us. I wondered whether we could actually trust this guy, and whether or not Ali Reza was trying to help us after all. The blue lights were getting closer and closer now, and Dad asked the handler whether he was sure we shouldn’t hide. But the handler just said, ‘No. Don’t worry. Trust me.’
I’d heard that before, and it normally meant that we couldn’t. But what choice did we have, in the middle of the night in the pitch black? We had to keep walking. The blue lights were even nearer now, and there wasn’t time to find somewhere to hide anyway. We’d just have to trust what the handler said.
As the lights got closer we could see that they did in fact belong to a police van, and once it was alongside us it pulled up and stopped next to the group. Even in the darkness I could tell that Dad was angry that the handler could be so stupid. ‘I told you so!’ he whispered angrily. ‘Caught, before we’ve even got going.’
The police officer rolled down the window of the van and shone his torch over the group.
‘S’il vous plaît, restez hors de la rue,’ he said. Then he rolled up his window and drove off.
We were confused. Why hadn’t he arrested us? What did he say?
‘Just keep going,’ the handler said, and carried on walking.
Dad caught up with him. ‘What just happened?’ he asked.
‘Those police don’t care about where we’re going,’ the handler said to Dad. ‘They just don’t want us to get hit. He told us to stay off the road.’ He shrugged.
‘Is that it? They don’t care?’ asked Dad. This was new – police who didn’t care about refugees escaping across the border? But sure enough, the blue light was disappearing into the distance and we were still walking. The handler was right.
We walked a bit further, and after a while I could tell that Hessam’s legs were getting tired. There was still no light in sight and we had no idea how much further we’d have to walk. He was getting slower, and every now and then he’d trip over his own feet. Eventually he turned back to Dad and said, ‘I think you need to do a piggyback.’
I heard Dad say, ‘Okay,’ and I could just make out him leaning forward in the darkness to swing Hessam up onto his back. But Hessam pulled away.
‘No, not me,’ he said, and pointed behind us. ‘Hussein.’
Dad laughed in the darkness. ‘Okay, little one, if you say so,’ he said, and without another word he swapped places with me and pulled Hussein up onto his shoulders. Dad must be getting stronger, I thought. It was normally really hard for him to lift Hussein onto his shoulders. But then I realised that it was Hussein who was getting lighter.
With all our reshuffling for the piggyback, the handler was getting impatient. He called to us to keep walking and we set off again in the darkness.
Hessam was right – Hussein had needed a piggyback. I could hear him now, puffing a bit on Dad’s shoulders, trying to get enough air into his lungs. At least he’d get a rest for a bit.
As we walked, we could sense that the handler was getting agitated. ‘We need to get off the road!’ he said suddenly. He’d stopped by a grassy field, and one by one the group caught up. There was still nothing in sight except the pitch black darkness, and I wondered why we suddenly had to change direction. He motioned to us all to get to one
side, then started to direct us towards the grassy slopes at the side of the road. The grass was long, and Mum held on to us tightly as we started to walk.
As we walked further away from the road the grass got even longer, and soon it was as tall as me. It tickled my legs, arms and face, and now even the tallest children in the group were hidden from sight. I started to panic. I didn’t like not being able to see the rest of my family, and all I could hear was the swish, swish of the grass around me. I could feel the grip of Mum’s hand in mine, but I was scared I’d lose hold of her and be lost in the grass forever.
‘Stop,’ shouted the handler suddenly.
We all stopped and the shuffling went quiet. I heard Dad whisper, ‘Hamed, Hessam, keep holding on tight to Mum’s hand.’ I could tell by the direction of his voice that he was quite far away with Hussein. No one could see where anyone was. I held on to Mum’s hand as tight as I could and we followed each other through the grass as we started walking again. The group was like a big snake now, each person holding hands with the person behind them so no one would get lost. We didn’t know these people – we were total strangers – but it didn’t matter. The main thing was that no one lost their way in this maze of grass and that we all got out of it to safety. It reminded me of when we had to walk through the jungle with the other families in Ukraine. We all felt like we were in the same boat.
The field seemed like it went on forever, but the handler seemed to know the route. I wondered how many times he’d led people through this field. Did he do this every night?
Eventually, the handler got something out of his pocket and I realised it was a torch. Why hadn’t he used the torch before? Maybe it was safer now we were in the grass. He turned it on and we followed its light, which made the walking a little bit easier at least.
After we’d walked for a few more minutes through the grass the handler stopped and waited for us all to catch up. ‘We’re getting close,’ he said. ‘Whatever happens now, you must do what I say. If you don’t it will ruin it for everyone.’ We all nodded. I wondered what choice we had but to do what he said in the middle of a field of tall grass in the middle of the night anyway. But again he repeated himself: ‘Just do as I say, okay?’
We’d managed to catch up with Dad and Hussein by now and Dad gathered us together and held on to us tightly. ‘We’ll be okay, just stick together and be as quiet as possible,’ he said. ‘And do as he says.’ Then he gave a quick hug to Hessam, who was the most frightened of the dark, and we set off behind the handler again.
‘It’s time. Let’s go,’ the handler said, and he started to walk faster than he had before. He seemed nervous now, and I wondered what was coming next. Whatever it was, it sounded dangerous, and I just wanted to get out of this field right now.
After about a minute the handler stopped and switched off his torch. Then he whispered to us all, ‘Sit.’ We sat down straight away, exactly where we were stood, and I could feel my heart start to beat faster, heavier. The grass was now so tall it towered over us as we sat. Hussein was still on Dad’s shoulders, but even then it came to his eyes. I was worried that someone would spot him.
We sat in silence for a few minutes in the pitch black, listening to each other breathing heavily. Nothing happened except a breeze rippled through the field. I was scared. Then suddenly Hussein whispered, ‘I can see a light.’
‘Shh,’ whispered Dad, but we could see it too. It wasn’t coming from our group – it was from further away, on the other side of the field. Then suddenly there was another one. Torches. Dad looked at the handler to see how he was reacting. Then Hussein nudged him again. He pointed, and we all raised ourselves up just enough to see that there were lots of lights now, coming from every corner of the field. We were surrounded by torches.
The handler motioned to us all to lie down. So we lay in the grass, pressing our bodies as flat as we could. Dad took Hussein off his shoulders and he lay down flat in the grass, too. My heart was pounding, and I thought about Hussein’s. How could he survive something as scary as this? Then came a horrible noise.
Across the field, over in the opposite corner and away from the torches, people were screaming. What was going on? People in our group began to panic, making scared noises, and the handler started shushing us, desperately.
Then there was more screaming, this time from the other side of the field. ‘Other families,’ whispered Mum. ‘Just like us.’ She looked horrified, and I suddenly felt the panic rising in my chest. They were trying to get across the border in the middle of the night, just like us. But they hadn’t made it. The torches had found them.
The traffic police hadn’t cared where we were going, but these border police obviously did. It was their job to catch as many refugees breaking the law as they could each night, and they didn’t care how they did it. So here they were, chasing men, women, children, through a field in the middle of the night. Their search lights were closer to us now, and more and more families were getting caught. I thought this must be what a horror film was like.
‘Duck, stay down!’ the handler was saying in a loud whisper. ‘Go deep into the grass.’ We lay as flat as we could, nestling into the grass so the search lights wouldn’t pick us up. I could hear the noise of the French police now, shouting to each other at the other end of the field.
Then the police seemed to move nearer. Now the search lights were right on top of us, sweeping from side to side right over where we lay in the grass. We tried to stay as still as dead bodies, waiting for them to pass. Mum and Dad held on to us to keep us from moving, but it felt like the police were closing in.
That was when it all went wrong. The tension was too much for some of the people in the group; they couldn’t take it any more and started to panic. One of the men was so frightened that he started to get up. Was he going to give himself up? I stayed lying down, deep in the grass, burying my face so I couldn’t see the sweep of the search lights.
Then suddenly the man who had stood up broke from the group and started to run. The lights swept round immediately and picked him up, and there were more shouts from the police. They were chasing him now and he was screaming, the light shining right on him as he ran through the grass. Where did he think he was going to run to? He was going to give us all away!
Once one of the group had run, it was like the fear spread further into the group. Others started to panic, too, and try to get away. One by one they stood up and ran, and each time the search lights would seek them out and the police would chase them down. It was just us and the handler now, lying face down in the grass. I sensed Dad gripping onto his friend. Was he panicking too?
‘Let me go,’ Ali Reza was whispering to Dad, almost crying with fear. ‘We’re just sitting ducks.’ But Dad still held on to him, pulling him back to the ground.
I was mad. These scaredy cats were going to show the police exactly where we were. All they had to do was listen to the handler and do as he said. Why couldn’t they just do that? By running away they were sure to get caught. At least by staying quiet and hidden there was a chance the police wouldn’t notice us.
We lay in the grass for what felt like ages, and thought the police lights were never going to stop. But eventually the lights went out, and once again we were lying in complete darkness. There was no noise from the police now. Had they gone? For quite a while no one dared to move, but eventually the handler looked up and nodded. ‘They’ve gone,’ he said. Part of me couldn’t believe it – I was sure we’d get caught and arrested. Dad loosened his grip on Ali Reza’s shoulder now and we pulled ourselves up.
Mum hugged us tightly and said how brave we’d been. We were the only ones who hadn’t been caught. Then the handler told us to start walking, so once again we followed him through the grass, marching towards the other side of the field. I was so terrified that the police were still here somewhere, and I looked around me into the darkness with every step.
But our game of hide-and-seek seemed to be over. The grass got shorter a
nd thinner and we could just about make out the other side of the field, at the bottom of a hill, and some lights in the distance. There were overhead power lines, and I suddenly realised we were near train tracks.
Ali Reza seemed a bit calmer. I didn’t say it out loud, but I thought he should be grateful. Without Dad keeping him down this would have been his fifteenth failed attempt and he’d be back in that camp.
We were at the edge of the field now and alongside the train tracks. There was a fence between us and the tracks, and the handler guided us along it. He was looking all the time at the wire mesh. I realised he was looking for a way through, a gap to get to the other side. I could see the metal of the track on the other side of the fence. Were we going to have to walk along it?
When we found the hole in the fence I realised that it had been made exactly for this purpose. It had obviously been cut with wire cutters and was just big enough for a man to climb through. Our handler had been here before. He turned to us and said, ‘It’s about timing now,’ and I wondered what he meant. There wasn’t a train in sight. It was still the middle of the night, and everywhere was dead quiet.
We climbed through the hole one by one and started to walk along the track. Dad was talking to Ali Reza, asking him some questions. Did he know what was coming next? What was the handler not telling us? Mum held on to us tightly and made sure Hessam didn’t trip over the tracks. He was obviously really tired by now, and the drama in the field had terrified him. Hussein and I tried to be brave.
I was fascinated by the railway tracks, as I’d never seen them this closely before. I walked at the back of the group, wondering how we were ever going to get onto a train. Before I knew it I’d fallen behind a bit, and suddenly I heard a rustling sound. I looked up. It was coming from the other side of the fence but behind me in the field. I looked back, and before I could move or hide I suddenly saw a big dog, coming towards me. It looked like a Rottweiler and its nose was on the ground, sniffing for something. Or someone. Being pulled behind it was a uniformed police officer.