“You’ll be sleeping in these tents and we’ll build a kitchen and a schoolroom that will double as an eating hall. School will start as soon as we can bring in a teacher or two. You’ll have jobs to do but you can have fun, too. You are in no danger here. You can run in the field and swim in the lake. You may not be where you want to be, but you are in Persia. Welcome!”
Mr. Edwards was kind, and Samira could see that he worked hard, but he often had to be away in Hamadan. The cook stayed but the teachers, nurses and other helpers came for a few weeks and then went off to other more permanent orphanages.
“We should be able to leave and go somewhere else the way these other people do,” Anna grumbled. “But, no, we have to stay here where there’s nothing to do but odd jobs.”
The boys helped the builders and the girls took turns in the kitchen. When there was a teacher they went to school. Otherwise the children found ways to entertain themselves. As long as the summer lasted they went swimming in the lake. The boys played games with sticks out in the fields and the girls kept the young ones busy on the lakeshore.
Then the autumn rains came, and the tents leaked just as they had in Baqubah. One morning the grass sparkled with frost. Samira rooted through the ragbag of worn-out clothes to find a jacket she could mend for Elias. More jackets and quilts arrived, but they never seemed quite warm enough in the sharp mountain air.
Every morning when Samira came out of the tent she looked at the mountains. The Zagros Mountains. Mama and Maryam lay in the earth somewhere in those mountains, and Papa, too. But on the other side was home.
Benyamin came and stood beside her one day.
“I’m off to gather fuel for the kitchen,” he said. “There’s always some job to do. But nothing that matters.” He stared at the mountains, frowning. “The builders say that some people have made the journey, that they are back in their villages.” He looked at Samira and she could see the longing in his eyes.
“Don’t listen,” she said sharply. “It’s only talk.”
“It’s not only talk,” said Benyamin. “Some people have made it.”
He turned and walked away.
Samira’s heart was heavy. She wanted to get over those mountains, too, but she was afraid. For Elias and the other little children, she told herself. But really she knew. She remembered the journey through the mountains too well. It was for herself that she was afraid.
One morning when it was barely light, Samira heard someone calling her name from the doorway of the tent. She crawled out from under her quilt, wrapped it around her and stepped out into the cold air.
Ashur stood there looking at her, not saying anything.
“Why are you here? Where’s Benyamin?”
“He’s gone,” Ashur said at last. “So are Yakob and Simon. I think they’ve gone away to the mountains. They’re going to try to get home.”
Samira didn’t want to make sense out of the words he was saying.
“Benyamin’s gone? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. He sleeps beside me and he’s not there. He’s taken his warm clothes and his knife. Yakob and Simon are gone, too. I woke everyone in the tent. We realize now that each one of them had been talking about getting over the mountains and going home. I guess they just couldn’t wait anymore.”
He stopped talking as Elias came through the tent door and leaned against Samira. He had put on his trousers and his thick shirt, but his feet were bare.
“Why are you out here?” he asked Samira. “It’s cold.”
“I’ll come in and get dressed,” said Samira automatically and followed Elias into the tent.
When Anna saw them she said sharply, “Where have you two been? Something has happened, hasn’t it?”
“Benyamin’s gone. He’s gone, Anna. He went with Yakob and Simon to go through the mountains and get home.”
“Benyamin? He’s run away from the camp? Benyamin? Are you sure?”
“Ashur is sure. Benyamin said nothing to me. And he went without me.”
“He wouldn’t have taken you into the mountains,” said Anna. “And if he had told you, you would have found a way to stop him.”
Elias looked up at Samira. “He told me,” he said solemnly.
“What did he tell you?”
“He told me he had to go away but I would see him again and I should stay near you so you wouldn’t be too lonely.”
Suddenly Samira was angry. “He was afraid to tell me. He did what he wanted and now I have to sit here and worry. Maybe I’ll never see him again.”
She looked down at Elias. He looked ready to cry. She knelt down and hugged him.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said. “It was Benyamin who did a foolish thing.”
She looked around. All the girls in the tent were sitting up and staring at her.
“I have to talk to Mr. Edwards,” she said to Anna. “Right now.”
She found Mr. Edwards in the school building. He came to her and took her hands for a moment.
“I’ve heard about Benyamin,” he said. “I know how worried you must be. I thought Benyamin had more sense. He knows how rough those mountains are. Very cold, too, so early in the spring.”
“Can’t someone go and look for them?”
“I won’t send any of the other boys into the mountains and there is no one else to go. We’ll get messages out so that people in the villages and the men working on the roads will be on the lookout. The boys will have to seek help sometime. All we can do here is pray. I’m sorry, Samira.”
Samira went down to the lake. The morning sun was glinting on the water but the air was still cold. She pulled her jacket tight around her and wondered whether Benyamin was cold. He had his warm jacket. But had he taken a quilt to wrap around him when he slept?
She looked at the mountains beyond the lake. They looked like a solid wall. The very idea of walking into those mountains made her shiver. But that’s what Benyamin was doing.
She heard footsteps and turned to see Elias bringing her a folded piece of lawash. He handed it to her without a word and to please him she ate it. The bread was spread with honey, and its sweetness and familiar taste were comforting.
“Thank you, Elias,” she said. “I don’t want to go to school today. Shall I come and read stories to you and your friends?”
“Yes,” said Elias. “Read us your books.”
As Samira read the stories she had written long ago about Ayna, she thought that the village Benyamin might return to would not be like the village she remembered. No one to welcome him. The gardens in ruins. The houses falling in. That’s what he would find.
At supper Mr. Edwards told them that no word had been heard about the boys.
“But they haven’t been gone for even a day yet,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll get news before long. Remember that Benyamin and Yakob and Simon are strong boys and smart, too. I think they will find that they have made a mistake and be safe with us again.” He looked around the room at the silent children. “I know you want to get home, too, but I’m sure you understand that this is not the way to do it.”
As soon as it was dark Samira went to bed, exhausted from worry and anger and sadness. She fell asleep at once and dreamed that she was crossing a deep chasm on an endless
bridge made of sticks that broke under her feet. She woke and lay staring into the darkness, remembering how Benyamin had held her steady on a bridge long ago.
When the gray light told her that it was very early morning, she quietly got up and dressed.
She stepped out of the tent and saw a white mist rising from the lake. The mountains were hidden, and as she walked along the shore she felt as if she was the only person awake in the whole world. But perhaps Benyamin was awake. Where had he slept?
The mist was blowing off the lake in wisps. It surrounded Samira and she could hardly see where she was going.
“I’d better go back,” she thought. “I don’t want to walk into the lake.”
As she turned, she ran into something very solid.
Not a tree. There were no trees by the lake and this was not hard, like a tree. She looked up and saw a face looking down at her through the mist.
She jumped back. Her voice was a squeak.
“Benyamin? Is it you?”
“What are you doing out here?” Benyamin almost shouted.
Samira found her voice. “I’m here because you ran away! I’ve been so worried and you expect me to just sleep as usual?”
“I decided to come back,” said Benyamin. “I’ve been walking all night.”
“You don’t sound very happy about it,” said Samira. He was damp from the mist and looked as if he was awake by willpower alone. She felt herself shaking with relief. Benyamin was back.
“I’m not happy about it,” he said, “but this is where I must be now. Samira, we walked to the mountains yesterday. Just before it got dark we came to a narrow valley. Papa and I came to a valley like that when we ran from the soldiers. Just before we went in Papa looked back to where you and Mama were far behind us and said, ‘We should have stayed together.’ That’s what came into my mind and I knew I had to come back. No one was chasing me but I couldn’t go on without you. I had to come back. Papa would say that we should stay together.”
“I’m glad you thought of Papa,” said Samira. “But what about Simon and Yakob?”
“They wanted to go on. They said that they were with each other and that was enough for them. They were angry with me but I thought of Papa and I knew he was right.”
Samira said, “If we stay together we’ll get somewhere. Maybe home. But somewhere. Now come and have some tea. It’s nearly breakfast time and the cook will have water boiling. You must be very hungry.”
When Mr. Edwards saw Benyamin, he asked him a few questions and then sent him to the tent to sleep. By suppertime everybody knew he was back. He could hardly eat because they were all asking him questions, mostly about Yakob and Simon.
“They went on,” said Benyamin. “That’s all I know. I gave them all my food and my knife so they’d have a spare. That was all I could do.”
There was no news of the boys that night or the next day. A week passed, and talk died down but the thought of them was in everyone’s mind.
Anna said, “We will never know what happened to those two. I think they will be lost in the mountains forever.”
But Anna was wrong.
When Yakob and Simon had been gone for eleven days, Mr. Edwards called all the children together. Samira came into the building hardly able to breathe. She was sure that she was about to hear terrible news, but when she saw Mr. Edwards’ face she began to hope.
“Our two runaways were very lucky,” he said. “Simon fell into a crevasse and broke his leg. It was impossible for Yakob to get him up the steep wall of rock so he stayed with him. They ran out of food and they wouldn’t have lasted much longer but some Kurdish hunters found them and took them to their village. The Kurds took care of the boys until they could get them to the camp of one of the road crews. So Simon and Yakob are safe. Yakob will come back here. Simon will be in the town of Kermanshah where there’s a doctor who can try to set his leg. After so many days I don’t know how that will go. But they are both alive. We can thank God for that.”
Three days later Yakob returned to the camp. Mr. Edwards told the children not to bother him with questions. The result was that everyone fell strangely silent when Yakob was near. Then they realized that Yakob wanted to talk.
“Benyamin has probably told you how foolish we were,” he said. “We didn’t have enough food or equipment for sleeping and cooking. When Simon fell I thought we were going to die and then the Kurds came. When we saw them we were frightened.” He looked around at his friends. “Remember how afraid we were of the Kurds?”
“Of course,” said Benyamin. “They did many terrible things to our people.”
“I thought they would kill us,” said Yakob. “But they took us to their village and fed us and took care of us. We were lucky that they found us. So that’s our story. Thanks to the Kurds we’re alive, but we didn’t get home.”
“We have to find another way,” said Benyamin.
Summer came. One hot day when the children were all waiting for permission to go into the lake, a lady named Miss Watson came from Baghdad. She was thin and neat. None of the children had seen her before.
Samira and Anna, who were sitting in the shade of the schoolroom, heard her say to Mr. Edwards, “Shouldn’t these children be in school on a Wednesday morning?”
“We have no teachers at the moment, Miss Watson. You people in Baghdad should know this. We’ve been waiting for a new teacher for the girls and then the boys’ teacher got sick two weeks ago and left.”
Miss Watson said, “I wasn’t aware of the situation but it doesn’t matter. I bring very good news. Read this document and call the children in. I’ll tell them about it.”
“What can it be?” Samira whispered to Anna. “Could they possibly be taking us back to our villages?”
Anna looked up at the mountains.
“Of course not,” she said. “You know what they always say. The roads are still bad from the war. Travel is dangerous. There is still fighting. No, that’s not the good news.” Still, she followed Samira into the school building to hear the important announcement.
“Children,” Miss Watson said. “I have come to tell you that this camp will be closing immediately. You are all going to Hamadan to live in a permanent orphanage. The British army has turned over a group of buildings to the Near East Relief. You won’t live in tents anymore.” She paused and looked at the rows of children.
Samira whispered to Anna, “Does she want us to cheer?”
Miss Watson went on quickly, “Your job now is to get everything packed and ready for the trucks when they come in a few days.”
It was easy to see that Miss Watson thought they should all be very happy and grateful, but Samira didn’t know what she felt. She said to Benyamin after the meeting, “Will this be a step in the right direction? Are you happy to go to Hamadan?”
“Hamadan is closer to the places all of us came from,” said Benyamin. “So I guess it’s the right direction. But she said it would be a permanent orphanage. That means it will be there forever. I hope they remember that we don’t want to stay there forever.”
Still, Samira began to look forward to being somewhere that was not a camp.
Days passed and no trucks came. Miss Watson had to agree with the children that they couldn’t pack in advance. The cooking pots and dishes had
to be used at every meal, and each child had only one change of clothes. There was nothing to do but wait.
Then, at last, on a morning at the very end of August, Miss Watson gathered all one hundred and fifty children on the playing field.
“A message has come from the city,” she said. “The trucks will be here by noon. Pack your things now. Girls, you are in charge of the smaller children. Boys, it’s your job to take down the tents.”
Now that they were really leaving, the children were filled with energy. Maybe they would not be left in the Hamadan Orphanage and forgotten. Right now Samira almost believed it.
It took the girls no more than ten minutes to pack their belongings. Samira stuffed her extra dress — too short, of course — her underwear and her books into a cotton bag. She rolled up her sleeping mat and the quilt that had not kept her warm in the winter.
When she looked around, all the other girls were packed, too.
Elias sat on his sleeping mat watching her, and she realized that he wasn’t sure what was happening.
“Where are we going?” he asked. “Will we go on the train again?”
Samira sat down beside him. “Do you remember the train?”
He nodded. “Very loud.”
“Yes, it was,” said Samira. “Well, this time we’ll go in trucks like the ones they bring supplies in. We get to ride in the back. It’ll be fun. Lots of bouncing.” She wasn’t sure it would be fun, but it would be better than walking.
“But where are we going?”
“We are going to a city called Hamadan. We’ll live in real buildings with walls and a roof. Like the schoolroom. No tents. And we’ll eat and go to school and play just the way we do here. But it will be better.” Anna looked at Samira from where she was helping the little girls pack and shook her head a little.
“It will be better,” said Samira again.
Elias nodded and Samira smiled. At least he believed her.
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