Hasina: Through My Eyes

by Michelle Aung Thin

  ‘So Zaw Gyi has Araf.’

  Then Hasina remembers Uncle Rashid’s words. If you need help, call this number. ‘The Rohingya lawyer,’ she says. ‘He is in Sittwe.’

  Ghadiya fetches the hand phone and taps in the number that Rashid told her to write down. The phone rings. Ghadiya puts it on speaker. The three of them lean over the screen.

  ‘Aasso-lamu alaikum?’ a voice answers.

  ‘Hello?’ Hasina responds with utter relief. ‘My Uncle Rashid said to call you if I need help.’

  ‘I am the lawyer Hann Linn. Please go on.’

  Hasina tells the lawyer about Araf, the truck driver, and U Ko Yin’s words. ‘And so, you see,’ she finishes, ‘I think Araf has been taken to work at a teashop. But he is too young to make such decisions. He should not have to go.’

  ‘My dear, I will try to help you, but I am in Sittwe. I cannot come to you and you do not have much time. If you cannot find your brother before he leaves Teknadaung, even though right is on your side, he may well be impossible to trace. He will disappear somewhere. Always moving, always just ahead of you. You must find him now, before he is taken from Teknadaung.’

  As they end the call, Hasina feels that old, familiar stone in the belly. ‘How am I going to find him?’ she asks Isak and Ghadiya.

  ‘The truck!’ Ghadiya exclaims. ‘Zaw Gyi is always hanging around the bazaar or his truck.’

  It makes sense. If Araf isn’t at the bazaar, he will be somewhere in or near Zaw Gyi’s truck.

  ‘Do we know where the truck is?’ Isak asks.

  ‘Yes,’ says Hasina, her voice determined. ‘He parks it in the construction workers’ village. I know where. And that is where I am going now.’

  ‘And I will be right beside you.’

  Chapter 26

  Hasina runs along Third Mile Street like she used to run along the back field waiting for the ball. Her head is clear. She has one thing on her mind. Find Araf. She and Isak turn for the path along the river. In another twenty minutes, they are in the construction village at the bottom of Eight Quarters District.

  The village is once more transformed. The workers have finished laying out the new houses – those string rectangles tied around little wooden stakes indicating rooms and doors. Now, there is a new level of activity as men shift the materials to build the houses. Bales of wire are being rolled from the backs of trucks. Men are pushing wheelbarrows of sand and gravel, sawing planks, hammering nails. There are more men, and there is more equipment and there are more trucks.

  There are so many more trucks now that she cannot see the big red truck with a blue peacock and Sittwe Transport painted on the side. What if Zaw Gyi is not here after all?

  ‘You go that way,’ she tells Isak. ‘Look for a blue peacock and Sittwe Transport.’

  For what feels like ages, she runs along the rows of parked trucks, searching for the Sittwe truck.

  At last she sees it, and she seems to be in luck. There is no sign of Zaw Gyi here at all. She can have a good look at the truck and find Araf.

  First she tries the driver’s side, but it is locked. Then she tries the passenger side, but it too is locked. She peers inside. No sign of Araf. But what if he is down behind the seat? What if he is hidden? She bangs her fist on the window.

  ‘Araf?’ she shouts through the glass. ‘Araf!’

  And then a hand grabs her by the ankle.

  Hasina kicks and kicks. The hand lets go. She jumps off the truck, ready to run, but from under the truck peeks a familiar face.

  ‘Isak?’ she whispers.

  There’s the crunch of a footstep.

  ‘Quick, get under here.’

  Down they roll, she and Isak, until they are below the truck side by side. This is the closest Hasina has ever been to Isak. She can feel his long legs beside hers, his strong arms. She is glad that he is here. It makes her feel braver not to be alone.

  They have hidden just in the nick of time. From underneath the truck, Hasina can see the crumpled hem of a brown longyi.

  Zaw Gyi is whistling a happy tune. He opens the truck cabin, rummages around, then closes it again and walks off.

  Araf, then, is not in the truck cabin.

  Hasina turns her face to Isak, about to ask, ‘Where is Araf?’ when Isak pushes his hand over her mouth. Zaw Gyi hasn’t walked away. He is walking around the truck, to the back. Hasina holds her breath. Is that where Araf is? In the cargo box behind the cab where the goods are carried? She listens intently for sounds of Araf struggling.

  The driver clambers inside and walks through, each step making the chassis bounce right above their heads. Hasina can almost feel his big flat feet on her face.

  Zaw Gyi thumps back along the truck bed and then springs off and lands heavily on the ground. He pushes and pulls at something before shutting the roller door with a clatter.

  But still he doesn’t leave. He paces up and down at the back of the truck, whistling his cheerful tune.

  And then, another pair of feet appear at the rear of the truck. Another longyi, this one neatly pressed.

  ‘Where to with this lot, boss?’ Zaw Gyi asks in Burmese.

  ‘Golden Teashop, Sittwe,’ the voice says.

  Hasina recognises that voice.

  ‘Do you want to inspect the merchandise?’ Zaw Gyi asks.

  ‘No. You do your job, I do mine. Just make sure they get enough water. We don’t want any more deaths, la. Not good for business.’

  Finally, the two men walk off.

  Hasina and Isak exchange a long look. She was right. Araf is in the truck. In fact, he is probably only a few centimetres above them.

  ‘Golden Teashop, Sittwe,’ Izak repeats. ‘That was U Ko Yin, I am sure of it,’ he adds, and Hasina nods.

  Her fears were justified. U Ko Yin and Zaw Gyi work together. They have taken Araf and sold him to the Golden Teashop in Sittwe.

  Sittwe is the capital of Rakhine, a big city. That is a good hour’s drive. If Zaw Gyi succeeds in getting Araf there, Araf will be lost for good.

  They have to get Araf out of the truck. But how?

  Hasina and Isak crawl out and run around to the back of the truck.

  The truck’s cargo box has a long roller door, opened with a chain pulley. Luckily the lock is broken and Zaw Gyi, careless as usual, has left this door a little ajar.

  ‘Araf?’ Hasina calls through the crack.

  Nothing. She looks at Isak. ‘I am going to go inside to take a look. You keep watch.’

  He nods his agreement. She pushes the roller door up as far as she can and slides into the gap.

  Inside, the truck is very dark and very, very hot. Hasina quickly feels her skin prickle with sweat. Even worse, the truck stinks of stale urine.

  ‘Araf ?’ Hasina inches forward in the dark until she sees what looks like a pair of legs. She creeps closer. And then she finds Araf.

  But Araf is not alone. Another little boy is passed out beside him in what looks like a metal cage.

  Hasina slides back the bolt and swings the metal door open. She shakes her brother. ‘Wake up, wake up now. Quick, Araf!’

  Araf moans, but then flops back onto the floor.

  ‘Come on, Araf.’ But it is no good, and Zaw Gyi could be back at any minute. Hasina drags Araf to the roller door. ‘Isak!’ she whispers.

  Isak appears in the gap.

  ‘Take Araf.’ She rolls her half-conscious brother through the gap in the door.

  Isak catches him. ‘I’ve got him. Come out, Hasina. I think I heard something.’

  Hasina crawls out and follows Isak to a pile of wood planks. They set Araf down. His eyelids flutter open.

  Hasina pats his face. ‘Wake up, Araf – please.’

  His eyes open. ‘Hasina?’ His voice is groggy, as if he’s been drugged. ‘I don’t want to work in a teashop anymore.’

  Hasina grins with happiness. ‘Don’t worry. You don’t have to.’ Araf sits up. He is dizzy but okay! She looks at Isak. ‘There’s another boy i
n there.’

  ‘Okay, you keep watch this time. I will get him out,’ Isak whispers.

  ‘Isak, you will not fit under the door.’

  Isak hesitates and then nods. ‘Okay, we go together. If I see Zaw Gyi, I will whistle a warning.’

  ‘Araf, if we are not back in ten minutes, you go straight home.’

  ‘And no trucks.’

  ‘I don’t like trucks anymore either,’ Araf replies.

  They creep back to the truck. Once more, Hasina slides beneath the roller door. She holds her breath against the stench as she moves quickly to the body of the truck and reaches into the cage. This boy is smaller than Araf – maybe four or five years old. She shakes him by the shoulder. ‘Wake up, come on. Wake up!’

  But the boy will not wake up. She will have to drag him out too. Just then, Hasina hears a long, low whistle. Zaw Gyi is on his way back.

  She drags frantically at the boy in the cage. His foot catches on a metal bar and he gives a dull moan. Hasina stops, untangles it, waits in case Zaw Gyi has heard.

  Another whistle, this time louder. And then another.

  Suddenly a shadow slices into the light in the back of the truck. Hasina freezes. There is a rumbling sound, and plastic bottles of water roll through the gap and along the floor past her feet. One smashes into the cage. The others smash against the back wall, well out of reach. Make sure they get water. This is how Zaw Gyi is obeying U Ko Yin’s orders. Hasina can’t believe how cruel the man is.

  Zaw Gyi walks around to the side of the truck. This is her last chance. She tugs desperately at the boy. He is almost free of the cage. She is so close. All she has to do is drag him a few more metres towards the light.

  But then the shadow comes back. Zaw Gyi is at the roller door, pulling it closed, plunging Hasina into total darkness.

  Horror engulfs her. She drops the boy and rushes to the roller door. Can she open it from the inside? She tugs and tugs.

  The engine starts up. Exhaust drifts into the box, adding choking fumes to the stink. Hasina starts to panic. She has to get out, or she will be driven out of Teknadaung. From her home, the home she has fought so hard to keep. She will be taken to Sittwe, a town she does not know, with Zaw Gyi. And forced to do what?

  She bangs at the door. She kicks at it. She heaves at it with her shoulder. The truck rolls forward. She can feel it bumping over the ground.

  Faster and faster it moves. Hasina senses the passage of speed beneath her feet. Still she works frantically at the door. It doesn’t matter how fast they are going, she must get out. Now.

  And then the truck turns, throwing her first to one side and then back towards the cage. It turns again, sharply, throwing her to the other side, and then brakes hard. Hasina shoots to the back of the truck again, the door she desperately tried to open rearing up out of the darkness like a wall. She smashes hard into metal and then everything goes black.

  Chapter 27

  Hasina wakes again only when light hits her face.

  The first thing she feels is incredible thirst. Inside the truck, it must be more than sixty degrees Celsius. Her brain screams for water. She remembers the bottles rolling past her feet. With a free arm she reaches for one.

  The second feeling is incredible pain. As soon as she moves her head, it throbs. Light is hurting her eyes after so long in the dark. She shuffles into the shadows.

  The third is incredible fear. For now, she remembers: the water, the shadow, this is all Zaw Gyi.

  Zaw Gyi stands, staring at her, his mouth wide open. ‘What are you doing here!’

  Crowding in beside him is another man. ‘Keep your voice down. I don’t want the neighbours to know about this.’ The man takes one look at Hasina. ‘I didn’t order a girl.’

  ‘Shh. The neighbours,’ reminds Zaw Gyi.

  ‘All right,’ mutters the man nervously, ‘better bring her inside too.’ Then he disappears to wherever inside is.

  Zaw Gyi reaches for Hasina. She tries to kick at him, but the heat and the injury have made her weak. Bright dots sparkle before her eyes and she passes out again.

  When she comes to, Hasina is in a brightly lit room smelling of fresh paint. She can see a big yellow ribbon through the glass door and a freshly painted sign with the words Just Opening. This must be the Golden Teashop.

  Hasina sits up slowly, cradling her sore head in her hands. She blinks. In front of her is the man she saw at the back of the truck. He must be the owner of the Golden Teashop. He stares at Hasina. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Hasina,’ she answers. ‘They tried to sell my brother to you.’

  Zaw Gyi comes back in. A little bell jingles as he opens the door. This time he is carrying the little boy, who is still unconscious, his skin rosy pink from the heat of the truck. Zaw Gyi dumps him in the teashop owner’s arms.

  ‘I told you I wanted teashop boys,’ the man scowls. ‘Instead, you bring me one boy and a girl?’

  ‘There is your boy. There’s been a misunderstanding. The girl is merely a complication.’

  ‘Humph,’ scowls the owner. ‘So what are we going to do with her?’

  Hasina wonders the same thing.

  Zaw Gyi is shaking his head. He stares hard at Hasina.

  ‘Let me go home. I won’t say anything. Please.’

  ‘It’s too late for that,’ growls Zaw Gyi.

  ‘Please. I promise.’

  ‘We have a contract with your brother. A contract is like a promise. You broke that promise. Now you must pay.’

  ‘Araf is too young to make contracts. A lawyer told me that.’

  ‘Lawyer,’ he snarls. ‘What would you know about lawyers.’ He looms over her. ‘You are like a crow.’ Zaw Gyi spits the words. ‘Always making a noise. Always pushing in where you’re not wanted. Why do you do that, Crow? It is true what they say: a crow may live among peacocks, but a crow may never be a peacock.’

  Hasina awaits her fate as Zaw Gyi and the teashop owner quarrel in low voices. Her head is pounding, her mouth dry. Worst of all, she realises she has lost. Her father told her they should stay together. He had been right. She falls asleep to the sound of the men arguing.

  She is woken a few hours later by the sound of the bell tinkling as the teashop door opens. She blinks her eyes groggily. At the door is an old man in a business shirt and navy blue plaid longyi. Behind him is a tall boy with dark curly hair. The boy looks familiar.

  ‘Excuse me,’ the man asks in the politest of tones. ‘Is this the Golden Teashop of Sittwe?’

  ‘Yes,’ the owner snaps, ‘but we are closed for the moment.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ says the man. He turns as if to leave, then turns back again. ‘I’m so sorry, but is this the only Golden Teashop in Sittwe?’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ snarls the owner.

  ‘But, like he said, we are closed,’ growls Zaw Gyi.

  The well-dressed man smiles. ‘Well,’ he says, ‘if this is the only Golden Teashop in Sittwe, then that young lady must be Hasina. Hello, Hasina. We spoke on the phone.’

  So this is Hann Linn, the lawyer Rashid talked about.

  Zaw Gyi and the teashop owner shoot each other a look.

  ‘Are you the owner of this shop?’ the lawyer asks Zaw Gyi.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then you must be the owner.’

  ‘Who are you to ask?’

  ‘Let me give you my card. I am a lawyer.’ The man hands a card to the astonished teashop owner. ‘Outside, my associates are calling the police. We believe that child trafficking is taking place in the area. And you know the Myanmar government is cracking down …’

  The teashop owner shoots Zaw Gyi a nervous glance. ‘No such thing is taking place here.’

  ‘Are you sure? My associates are just asking your neighbours now …’

  ‘No. No such thing here.’

  Just then, the little boy beside Hasina wakes up. He takes one look around and starts to howl. Zaw Gyi rushes from the shop, the bell clanging as he goes, the teashop owner ri
ght behind him.

  ‘Hasina?’ The lawyer holds out his hand to her. Hasina takes it and gets to her feet. ‘Hann Linn at your service. Thank you for your call, my dear. I made a few calls of my own. I can’t promise much, but I can promise to help you as best I can.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Then the man turns to Isak. ‘And thank you, Isak. It takes a brave man to do what you did. To help those who need it most is true strength.’ He turns again to Hasina. ‘This young man hid in the cab of the truck, hung on all the way from Teknadaung.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Hasina says again, and beams at Isak.

  ‘I had some help.’ Isak holds up the hand phone. ‘But you are welcome.’ He smiles his crinkly smile.

  Then Hasina turns to the little boy, who is crying softly in the corner. ‘Would you like to come home with us?’

  Chapter 28

  By the time Hasina arrives home, Dadi Asmah’s fever has broken. Within a day or two, she is sitting up and talking. Eating, too. Although it will take weeks before Dadi Asmah is better, she is certainly on the mend.

  Hasina too needs time to recover from her ordeal. She sleeps – for two and a half days.

  While she sleeps, her family grows. Hann Linn does his best, but he cannot find the parents of the small boy Zaw Gyi sold to the Golden Teashop. There are so many like him – children separated from their parents and then lost as families walk to the camps in Bangladesh. The boy’s name is Ishin, and it seems only natural that he stay on at the house in Third Mile Street.

  Isak and Daamini have agreed to join the household. Dadi Asmah sends Araf and Ghadiya to fetch them. For the moment, Isak sleeps in the hallway between the bedrooms. But already, Isak has begun to build a room separate from the house with offcuts liberated from the construction camp with the help of Cat Girl and Lama.

  As for U Ko Yin, the kind Arakanese man is able to help here. Somehow, he makes sure that the stallholders at the bazaar know what U Ko Yin is up to. The bazaar leaders have children of their own, and few of them have the stomach for the way their Muslim neighbours have been treated. They wind up U Ko Yin’s sales of AID rice, complaining to the police that he is profiteering. He retreats into his teashop. The few customers he has drift away. Eventually U Ko Yin shuts the Lucky 7 teashop and leaves town.