by Hamed Amiri
He twisted and turned, stopping to check the numbers that were written on them. Why was he doing this? I didn’t want to get out of one container and into another! Finally he seemed to find what he was looking for. He stopped at a particular container, but this time he didn’t make funny knocks on it. He just fiddled with the locks, which made a quick snap, and then the doors to the container were open.
He and Dad pulled the rusty doors wide, and I peered anxiously inside. I hoped I wouldn’t see more people. I really didn’t want to be in someone’s armpit again.
But there were no terrified eyes looking back at us. In fact, this container was full of what looked like cardboard boxes, piled high right up to the ceiling. There was just a little gap between the top of the boxes and the roof. Soran said that was where we were supposed to hide.
He didn’t hang around. He got into the container, climbing through the cardboard boxes inside by hooking his hands into their handles. Then he dragged Dad up behind him, and once Dad was at the top he was able to help us and Mum to climb up too.
There was hardly any space. Soran told us to squeeze in between the top of the boxes and the ceiling, and we each found a place the best we could. ‘Try and get comfortable,’ Mum said, which I thought was a funny thing to say in the situation.
I then realised she meant that we might be in this container for a long time. It was a tiny space, and I really didn’t want to be in here any longer than we had to be. I tried to ‘get comfortable’, but it was difficult as there wasn’t even enough space between the boxes and the ceiling to sit. All we could do was lie down on top of the boxes, our faces flat up against the plastic lining of the ceiling.
‘This is it,’ said Soran, and I wondered what ‘it’ was. Were we going to be loaded onto a train? Or a boat? Whatever happened, I knew it could be a long time before we could get out, so I tried to get used to the situation. Mum, as usual, tried to keep us distracted. This time she started to talk about something she knew we all loved: food.
‘What are we going to eat when we get there?’ she asked us.
Without hesitating, I started to list all the meals I could think of. Hessam chose only puddings, and Hussein wanted burgers. He even mentioned pizza at one point.
Dad said he wanted traditional Afghan food, and even Soran joined in, although he said he didn’t care what he ate, as long as it was something.
All this talk of food made me really hungry, and I wondered when we would get any real food to eat. But at least it passed the time. Still, the night went on and on in the cold, rusty container, although I must have fallen asleep, because I don’t remember very much after that.
The next thing I knew Mum was gently nudging me awake. As soon as I opened my eyes I started to ask her where we were, but she immediately shushed me. I listened. Outside the container I could hear the rumbling of heavy engines. It sounded like lorries.
They seemed to be driving around the maze of containers, loading them on for transportation. I could hear the huge clipping-in noise each time a box was loaded, and suddenly I was scared. Then there was the high-pitched noise of a lorry reversing, and Soran signalled to us not to make a noise.
A few more beeps and then we were jolted with a loud clang and a click. I’d seen these lorries before at the pit, and I thought this was when the lorry locked itself on to the container. Sure enough, suddenly our whole box rocked and shuddered. We were being loaded.
Did this mean we were on our way to our safe haven? It was exciting but terrifying at the same time. Would it be safe on the back of a lorry? What if we fell off? How long would it be before we could get out? Dad said he didn’t know the answer to any of those questions. All we could do was hope everything would work out.
The shuddering stopped, and now we could just hear the rumble of the engine. Then we started to move. I was getting quite good at guessing what was happening in moving vehicles by now, and I worked out that we’d driven out of the maze of boxes and onto some tarmac. Everything felt smoother and we were picking up speed.
Dad suddenly seemed to realise something. He looked at Soran. ‘How do you know where this lorry is going?’ he said quickly.
Soran looked a bit guilty. ‘I don’t exactly … I have intel that says it’s heading to the port, but …’
‘What?’ said Dad, suddenly furious. ‘So we could be going in the wrong direction?’ After all that we could be heading back into Europe, or towards the Middle East.
‘It will be fine,’ said Soran, but I could tell by his face that he wasn’t so sure.
Mum tried to calm Dad, saying that we couldn’t do much about it now anyway. We just had to trust and pray that we were heading for the port and across to the UK.
I felt the lorry picking up more speed, and I wondered if that was a bad sign. Surely the port wouldn’t be far from here? But after a while it started to slow down again, and I felt that we might be about to stop. Soran looked relieved too.
I was right. After a few minutes the lorry came to a complete stop, then it juddered forward slowly and we started to hear voices. ‘This must be the port!’ said Hussein.
Mum and Dad looked worried. I knew why. It wasn’t as simple as just sailing right across to the UK from here. If we were at the port then that meant a security checkpoint, and that meant that anyone could open up the container and check what was inside. Here was where it could all go wrong.
At this point Soran wriggled over to Mum and Dad to give them a lot of instructions. They didn’t make a lot of sense to me, but I hoped Mum and Dad got what he meant.
The lorry kept on creeping forward. Then it stopped again, and we could hear the driver talking to someone. We must be at the checkpoint. He was answering questions, and I knew that if they were going to open up the container, now would be the time.
Then Dad told us to do something strange. ‘You’re going to have to hold your breath for a bit,’ he said.
‘What? Why?’ Hussein asked. Having to hold his breath always sent him into a panic.
‘It’s okay,’ said Dad. ‘Soran says the security guards have machines, that’s all. They can measure the amount of carbon dioxide in the container – that’s the gas we make when we breathe out. If there’s lots of carbon dioxide then it shows that there might be stowaways.’
I took a big gulp of air. I held it for as long as I could, my cheeks puffed out like balloons, but I really wanted to let it out and take another breath. I could hear a few more checks going on, some beeps, and then Dad signalled to us that we could breathe again.
The lorry started to move, slowly, and Soran looked relieved. I looked over at Hussein to check he was okay, but he looked pink enough and I couldn’t hear him rasping. So far so good.
We felt some more rumbling and going over what felt like ramps and then we were heading up a slope. After that the engine went off and the lorry driver stopped and turned off the engine. We must be on the ferry.
I’d looked at enough maps to know that there was now just a little bit of sea between us and our safe haven. Probably only a few hours to get across. I wondered what the UK was actually like. And if we’d even get there. And whether that would mean Hussein could get better.
CHAPTER 15
Inside the container
Once we were on the ferry things started to get worse inside the container. We knew we still had a long way to go before we would get fresh air, and it was becoming really stuffy. Hussein didn’t complain, but I knew he must be struggling as the air felt really thin. It was smelly too, and Hessam started to whinge, saying that he couldn’t breathe and that he was hungry. We were all hungry. It was so many hours since we’d had a meal, and it was hard to tell how long we’d been in the container. I started to feel panicky.
Dad wriggled over to Soran again and asked him how much longer he thought it would be. ‘The kids are suffering,’ he said. Then Hessam started to cry. I just wished we could feel the rumble of engines again. That would mean we were on our way.
Suddenly Hessam made a funny noise, and Dad wriggled over to him. But it was too late. I heard him retch, then retch again, and then he threw up all over the boxes we were lying on. The smell was disgusting, and for a minute I thought I was going to throw up as well. My stomach felt so empty.
Mum was trying to get across to Hessam now, but because we were in such a small space she couldn’t reach him. Dad had managed to crawl over to him and comfort him, but he kept on crying.
‘There’s got to be a way to get some more air into this place,’ said Mum, desperately. We all looked around. I just wanted to get away from that smell. I looked at the door of the container. That wouldn’t work. It was too heavy, and if anyone saw it open we’d be found out.
Then Dad said he had an idea. He pointed at the roof of the container. It wasn’t metal, like the sides, but a sort of plastic sheeting, a bit like the roof of the lorry back in the Netherlands. I remembered Dad slashing it with the knife so we could get in. ‘Find something sharp,’ he said.
We looked around, but we didn’t have anything with us that would work. Soran even tried to open some of the huge boxes we were lying on to see if he could find something sharp enough to cut through the plastic. Hessam was gasping for air now – I think being sick had made him panic. Mum looked worried. ‘Hurry,’ she said. ‘He can’t breathe.’
We were all panicking now. I knew people died in these containers, especially little kids. We searched around frantically on top of the boxes. Then suddenly Dad said, ‘Got something!’ He’d made his way over to the corner of the container, and he started to crawl back as quickly as he could. He’d found a long nail, probably from where the plastic was nailed down to the sides. It looked pretty sharp.
Before I knew it he’d started attacking the lining on top of the container above Hessam, pushing the sharp tip of the nail through the thick material until suddenly we could see daylight. A tiny bit of cool breeze came in, then more as he made the hole bigger. As Hessam breathed the oxygen flooding into the container the colour started to come back into his face. I felt better too.
Dad made a few more holes to let as much air into the container as he could without someone noticing it. I breathed in deeply. Not long after we heard the rumble of the engine that we had been waiting for. We were moving.
Now the only problem we had was hunger. There was no way Dad was going to be able to solve that, unless we happened to be lying on boxes of takeaway, so we just had to try to ignore our rumbling tummies. We lay there, waiting for some sound that would show us we were reaching the other side.
After what felt like hours we started to feel the ferry slow down and the louder propellers working. Then we could hear people talking and getting to their cars, and not long after that I could hear the lorry drivers talking on their phones and turning on their radios. We’re here, I thought.
I had a tingling feeling in my tummy, like nerves. Was this it? Finally, were we in the UK? I knew that we just had to get on to British soil and we’d be okay, but I couldn’t help worrying that something else was going to go wrong in the meantime.
Suddenly we heard a louder noise, like grinding metal, and Mum said it was the mechanical gates opening. That meant we’d docked. I heard the lorry driver put the lorry into gear, and before long we were moving off slowly, with a radio blaring. We were definitely somewhere, but were we in the right country? Soran said we had to be patient and wait a bit longer so we were clear of the authorities. But we didn’t feel patient. I needed the toilet so badly, and we were all weak from hunger. It felt like we’d been in that container for days.
Hussein and I kept looking over at Soran for any sign that it was okay to move, but still he shook his head. We can’t get it wrong now, he told us.
Finally, the lorry seemed to be picking up speed, and I knew we must be on a motorway. I asked Soran if we were far enough away from the port by now. He said maybe. Dad said it was time to get out of here. I couldn’t have agreed more.
It turned out that getting out of the container was easier said than done. Somehow, after spending hours staying as quiet as we could, now we had to get the attention of the driver. But we were on a motorway and he was playing loud music, so we were going to have to make a lot of noise to be heard above the racket. Soran was the closest to the driver’s cab, so he started to kick the metal box with his heels. We joined in and started screaming and shouting to make as much noise as we could.
We went on screaming and kicking like this for a while, and it took a lot of our energy. That we’d had no food or water since our last meal in the camp wasn’t helping. After a while Mum said she didn’t think it was any good – the lorry driver still couldn’t hear us.
I wondered what else we could do, and thought back to Knight Rider. What would he have done? Dad had a white handkerchief, and, remembering something else I’d seen on TV in Moscow, I pushed it out of one of the holes in the top of the container, a sign of peace. It didn’t work.
We were all getting tired now, and I didn’t think I could kick and scream for much longer. But what else could we do?
Then Dad remembered the nail he’d used earlier to puncture the hole in the plastic. He shouted to Soran, who was taking a break from his own kicking. Passing the nail to him, Dad made a sign to tell Soran to scrape it on the metal. Soran did it, and the nail started making a high-pitched noise on the side of the container. It was quite loud. Perhaps that would work? All we needed was for the driver to think there was something wrong with the lorry and stop to check it out.
Suddenly something changed. ‘Shhh,’ said Soran. We listened. The music had got quieter. The lorry driver must have turned it down. Now was our chance. We all started screaming and kicking as loudly as we could, banging and banging on the side of the container. He must have heard us this time, because straight away we felt the lorry brake sharply. Then we felt it swing off the motorway and come to a stop. Was this it? The end of being on the run?
Just as this happened, Hussein suddenly started gasping for breath. It must have been all the kicking and shouting, as well as the lack of oxygen in the container. His heart was having to work harder than ever. Mum took hold of him to try to calm him down. She started praying quietly and telling Hussein to take long, slow breaths. Eventually his breathing started to regulate.
Dad told us to stay quiet now and we listened. We heard the driver’s door slam shut and could hear his heavy footsteps towards the back of the lorry. My tummy fluttered. Then there was the clunk of the heavy metal doors, and we all held our breath as we waited for them to open. We’d been in that box of death for over 24 hours and I couldn’t wait to get out, but part of me was terrified of what we’d find on the other side of the door. What if we were in the wrong country? What if they sent us straight back to Calais? It couldn’t go wrong now, it just couldn’t.
As the door creaked open daylight started to come through the gap. We all blinked. We’d been in darkness for so long that it felt like being blinded. Then I could see the driver’s face as he peered in among the boxes. It was a familiar sight, not because I knew him, but because I’d seen those facial expressions before. At first he looked confused, because he’d heard a noise but all he could see in the lorry were the long cardboard boxes he was transporting. Then I sat up. As he locked eyes on me his expression turned from confusion to surprise. There was something else on board.
I couldn’t climb down from where I was, and I was too scared to anyway, so I waited for the driver to spot Dad and Soran before I did anything else. As the lorry driver saw that there were more of us his expression changed again, this time back to confusion. Just like the lorry driver in France, he couldn’t work out how so many people had sneaked onto his lorry without him noticing.
The adults started to make their way towards the door then, but as they did the driver started to get angry. He started shouting at us in a language I didn’t know, and I guessed it must be pretty annoying to think you’re delivering boxes when actually you’re doing somethi
ng illegal. Plus, it stank of sick in there.
Hussein, Hessam and I quickly followed Dad down the cardboard boxes and jumped into his arms. The driver kept shouting at us, and Dad made us all hurry to the side of the motorway. Once we were out, for a minute the driver didn’t seem to know what to do. Then he said something under his breath that was probably a swear word before taking one last check inside the container. Happy that there were no more stowaways, he hurried back to his cab and got in. He didn’t waste any time driving away, and I thought he was a bit of a coward. Why wouldn’t he help us? Mum said he had no choice – if he called the police he’d be arrested.
So that was it. Once again we were stranded at the side of the motorway in a foreign country. We didn’t even know if we were in the UK. How could we find out? We could hardly stop the cars and ask them where we were. We didn’t even speak English. One of the only words we knew was ‘refugees’, along with ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’.
But it was good to be out of that container. I felt my lungs quickly filling with air, and although I was still starving hungry, I felt better straight away. But the fresh air had another effect. Suddenly I remembered how desperately I needed to pee. We hadn’t been to the toilet since being in the container, and getting out into the fresh air made me need it more than ever.
I ran over to Dad, and it turned out he and the others had just had the same feeling. With no toilets and not even any bushes to hide in, we had no choice. Soran told us to make a big circle and stand with our backs to each other. Mum said he looked like he’d done that before. She walked off, saying she didn’t want anything to do with it. But Hussein and Hessam and I found it hilarious, and we started giggling uncontrollably. That made us need to pee even more, and we made a big circle just like Soran had said. As I emptied my bladder the relief was amazing.