Home Is Beyond the Mountains

by Celia Lottridge

  “Not go home! How can you even think of not going home? We’re a family and we’re supposed to stay together. Don’t you remember?”

  Benyamin sat down on a bench and pulled her down beside him. He was quiet for a long time.

  Then he said, “Yes, I remember. I was fifteen when I said that, and I couldn’t imagine living anywhere but Ayna. Now I’m almost eighteen. I see that there are other places to live, other lives to live. I can’t go back. Not to stay.”

  Samira looked down at Benyamin’s hand pressing hard into the wooden bench. His fingers were long and strong. He was not a boy anymore.

  “But what will I do? I thought we would go to Ayna together. I don’t think I could stay in Tabriz. My life couldn’t be here.”

  “No,” said Benyamin. “You really want to go to Ayna. Miss Shedd will find out who is there for you. If there’s no one we’ll make another plan. I won’t leave you alone. I’m your brother.”

  Samira could see that Benyamin had decided. She could only wait to see what would happen to her.

  The winter passed slowly. When the wind felt almost warm and the bushes around the courtyard began to show little green leaves, Miss Sabat set off on her first journey to find homes for the caravan orphans. She was going up into the mountains on this trip so Samira and Anna knew there would be no news for them.

  When Miss Sabat returned, Shula, Avram, Maryam and Malik, who came from mountain villages, were called to a meeting. They would hear news of what she had found.

  Samira, Anna, Benyamin and Ashur were waiting in the hall when children began to crowd out of the room. Maryam hurried over to them.

  “She brought a letter from my father’s cousin welcoming me home. I didn’t believe it could happen but it did.”

  Avram and Shula had good news, too, and they all rushed off full of excitement.

  But Malik did not come out.

  “Let’s go in,” said Benyamin. He pushed the door open and the others followed him into the room. They saw Malik standing in front of Miss Sabat shaking his head.

  “My grandmother? How do you know it was my grandmother? It must be a mistake.”

  Miss Sabat tried to answer him but Malik kept shaking his head and saying, “How do you know?” louder and louder until he was shouting.

  Miss Sabat stepped away from Malik and motioned the other children to come near. Malik stopped shouting and just stood looking dazed.

  “You’re friends of Malik, aren’t you?” Miss Sabat asked. They all nodded.

  “I found Malik’s grandmother. She managed to stay alive in her village these five years. She wants Malik to come home but he can’t believe I really saw her. I think he made up his mind that she had died.”

  Malik suddenly stepped between Samira and Benyamin and said to Miss Sabat, “Did she give you something to show that she’s really my grandmother?”

  “No,” said Miss Sabat. “But she gave me some words to say to you. Do you want to hear them?”

  “Yes,” said Malik.

  “She said, ‘Tell my grandson to wait for the morning star to rise before he sets out on his journey.’”

  Malik looked up and met Miss Sabat’s eyes. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

  “You have seen my grandmother. That is what she always said when I was going out very early in the morning to take the sheep into the hills. I thought she would be dead by now but I was wrong. I will go home.”

  He turned and looked at his friends.

  “Goodbye,” he said. Then he reached out and clasped each one of them by the hand.

  “Goodbye,” he said again. Then he was out the door.

  “Why did he say goodbye?” asked Anna. “Surely he won’t be going right away.”

  “He will,” said Miss Sabat. “I’m leaving tomorrow to visit more villages and a few of the children have permits to cross the lake with me. He’s one of them and it seems that he’s ready to go.”

  “He’s made up his mind,” said Samira, almost to herself. “He’ll go tomorrow.”

  But she could hardly believe she would not see Malik coming around the corner unexpectedly one day with his long legs and uncombed hair. She felt a hole inside her somewhere. And this was just the beginning.

  THE CELEBRATIONS THAT came with the Persian spring were just over when Samira and Anna stood in the parlor of the girls’ orphanage waiting for Miss Sabat. She had just returned from traveling to villages in the hills around the city of Urmieh, and she had sent a message asking the two girls to meet with her.

  They were too nervous to sit down. Whatever Miss Sabat had to tell them was serious. It could not wait for a meeting of all the children from the area she had visited. Samira found herself braiding and unbraiding the fringe at the end of her scarf, and Anna was twisting her fingers into one knot after another.

  It seemed a long time before the young teacher came through the door. She asked them to sit down on a bench, speaking in a gentle voice that made Samira feel worried.

  She looked from one girl to the other.

  “I wanted to talk to you girls together because I have been told that you are very good friends.” Then she looked only at Anna. “Most of the villages I went to this time are somewhat ruined, but people are there and they are rebuilding their lives. But I’m sad to tell you, Anna, that your village was really destroyed. No one could tell me what happened to any of the people from your village. And no one has returned.” She put out both her hands as if she wanted to comfort Anna and then clasped them in front of her.

  Anna was looking past her, out the parlor door and down the long hall.

  “I kept thinking my mother or maybe one of my sisters might be alive,” she said. “I wasn’t there when the soldiers came. I was in another village helping my aunt with her new baby. I couldn’t go home so I ran away with them.”

  “And your aunt?’ asked Miss Sabat.

  “No,” said Anna. And she began to cry, big sobs bursting from her.

  Samira had never seen Anna cry, and she didn’t know what to do. But Miss Sabat took Anna by the hand and led her to a comfortable chair and said, “You cry. We are here with you.”

  After a bit Anna’s sobs changed to gasping breaths. When she could speak she said, “All these years in the camps and the orphanages I’ve had a tiny thought that someone might be alive. I was so foolish.”

  “No,” said Miss Sabat. “Hope is never foolish. It helped you remember the people you love and that is good.” She stopped for a moment and then said, “I could tell you Samira’s news. Would you both like to hear it?”

  Anna said, “Yes. It must be better than mine.”

  Miss Sabat looked at Samira. “I found your Aunt Sahra. She is in Ayna with Ester, your cousin. Your other cousin died in the city during the massacres. I’m very sorry about that. But your aunt and your cousin are overjoyed that you are well and they’re waiting for you to come home.”

  Samira was quiet for a moment while the good news settled in her mind. Aunt Sahra and Ester. Ester would be twelve years old now. Did they live in their old house? Were the almond trees blooming now, in spring?

  She suddenly realized that Miss Sabat was talking to Anna.

  “You’ll need time to think about what you want to do, but Miss Shedd and I have a
n idea. You’ve been training to be a nurse’s aide. You could go to the city of Urmieh and work at the hospital there. There’s a residence for the nurses and nurses’ aides so you could live safely among people who would be your friends.”

  Anna sat hunched in the chair and was silent. Samira went and stood beside her.

  “Think about it,” Miss Sabat said after a moment. “I must go but you girls can stay here in the parlor as long as you want.”

  As soon as she was gone, Anna said in a low, fierce voice, “I won’t live in a city in a residence. It would be like an orphanage again. They can’t make me.”

  “You wouldn’t be so far from Ayna,” said Samira. “Maybe I could come and visit you.”

  “Once you get to your village you won’t have time to go away for visits. You know that.”

  “Yes,” said Samira. Anna was right. She knew how much work there would be.

  “I’m going home,” she thought. “But without Mama and Papa? Without Maryam and Benyamin? How can it be home?”

  She did have Aunt Sahra and Ester. Anna had no one. That could not be right. She had been Samira’s family ever since they had put their sleeping mats side by side in the tent in Baqubah.

  Suddenly Samira was standing in front of Anna.

  “Do you still have that piece of paper? The letter signed by a British officer?”

  Anna stared at her. “Of course I do. It’s in my caravan bag. Why?”

  “I want you to come with me to Ayna. That letter says we must never be separated. Do you want to come to Ayna with me?”

  Anna took a deep breath. “I had such hope that my mother and my sisters would still be alive. In my head they were there in our house waiting for me. But it was only in my head. Not real. You are real. I’ll go to Ayna.”

  Samira felt a wave of relief go through her.

  “Let’s get the letter.”

  Back in the dormitory Anna pulled her caravan bag out from under the bed. She took out a piece of cardboard stitched on three sides to make a pocket.

  “When we were in Kermanshah Mr. Edwards had a notebook with cardboard covers. He was going to throw it away so I asked him for the cover. I used it to make this pocket to keep the letter safe. It’s right here.”

  “You did the right thing,” said Samira. “Now we have to see Miss Shedd. We’ll show her the letter and explain that you must come with me to Ayna.”

  Miss Shedd was in her office sitting behind a desk littered with papers. The photograph of her father was there, propped against a pile of books.

  “He’s still with her, watching what she’s doing,” thought Samira.

  “Girls,” said Miss Shedd. “Sit down. I have better chairs for you than we had in Hamadan.” She looked at Anna. “I’m sorry that your mother and your sisters didn’t live through the troubles. But I hope that you can think about the plan Miss Sabat told you about.”

  Anna stood up.

  “When I first came to the Baqubah camp I found Samira and we decided that we would not be separated, no matter what. If my family were alive now I would go to them. But they are dead and Samira is my family. We want to stay together. And we have this.”

  She slipped the letter out of the cardboard pocket. Samira could see that it was yellowed and nearly worn through where it had been folded, but when Anna carefully smoothed it, there it was, a piece of paper with English words written on it and, at the bottom, a signature.

  She felt a sudden trickle of fear. No one who read English had ever seen this paper. What did it really say? She tried to remember the nurse who said she was an officer in the British army. Was she someone to trust?

  Miss Shedd was reading the paper. She looked up.

  “This says that you two girls and Elias must never be separated. And it seems to be signed by an officer in the medical corps. Is that correct?”

  Samira was speechless. She had forgotten that Elias was part of the document.

  Anna was not speechless.

  “They wanted the two of us to take charge of Elias and we said we would only do it if they promised that we would stay together. So we got this paper. We knew how the British wanted everything written down.”

  She looked hopefully at Miss Shedd who said, “Sit down, Anna. You are not under British protection anymore, of course. But this is an official document and I think you were very smart to get it. It means that you two and Elias have been recognized as a family and that makes it reasonable for us to keep you together. I believe that Samira’s aunt would likely be glad to have both of you but Elias could be a problem. A six-year-old would be a big responsibility and not very much help. And he’s doing so well in the orphanage that I think he should stay here. What do you girls think?”

  Samira could feel thoughts banging around in her head. Would they have to stay here because Elias should stay? How could they leave him if it made him unhappy?

  Before she could say anything, Anna said, “If Elias wants to stay here, of course he should stay. Or he could come to us later. Or maybe Samira’s aunt will want him. But what about me? Do we have to ask Samira’s aunt before I can go?”

  Miss Shedd frowned a little and gave Anna a look that said, “There’s no need to shout.” Then she said, “It would take weeks of sending letters back and forth to ask Samira’s aunt whether she’s willing to have two girls instead of one. I think we have to take a chance and send you to Ayna with Samira. But it’s not easy in the villages now. If she can’t keep you will you come back without fussing?”

  Anna nodded but she closed her eyes as if to shut out the picture of returning to Tabriz.

  Samira was sure that the Aunt Sahra she had known so long ago would welcome Anna. But if things were very bad in Ayna maybe she would have no place for another girl.

  “Aunt Sahra will want Anna,” she said at last. “I’ll help her make it work.”

  “That’s all you can do,” said Miss Shedd. “Can I keep this document in my file? Just in case anyone questions this decision. And will you girls speak to Elias? I don’t quite know what I’ll do if he wants to go with you.”

  As the girls left Miss Shedd’s office they heard the bell that signaled that it was time to go outside for organized games.

  “I can’t play games today,” said Anna. “I’m all up and down. I thought I might have a family. Then I had no family. Now I have a family. I have to get used to it all.”

  “Miss Sabat said we could stay in the parlor as long as we wanted. No one will be there.”

  So Anna and Samira spent the rest of the afternoon curled up in the soft cushioned chairs of the parlor. They talked a little about Ayna and what they would do there, but mostly they just sat. Samira even went to sleep for a while.

  She dreamed of picking almonds and eating them while they were still milky and soft. When she woke up she thought, “Now I’ll see whether the almond tree is still there.”

  On Sunday afternoon Samira and Anna lured Elias out for a walk by slipping some dried apricots from lunch into their pockets.

  “You can eat these while we walk to the gate and back,” Samira said to him. “Then you can play with your friends.”

  “Good,” said Elias. “We have a team and I’m almost the captain. Well, not quite but I’m the fastest runner so they really need me.” He went on chatter
ing about his team that seemed to play every game Samira had ever heard of.

  Finally Anna said, “Listen a minute, Elias. Soon Samira and I will take a boat across Lake Urmieh and go to live in a village with Samira’s aunt.”

  “But we live here,” said Elias.

  “We do now,” said Samira. “But when I was your age I used to live in that village and I want to go back. Anna is coming with me.”

  “Is Benyamin going?”

  “No,” said Samira. “He’s staying here.”

  “I’ll stay here with Benyamin.”

  “But you’ll stay in the orphanage,” said Anna. “Benyamin will live in the city.”

  “Benyamin can visit me,” said Elias. “I’ll grow up and then I’ll leave. Like you. But I won’t go to a village.”

  Samira looked at him. He was a sturdy boy. He was smart. She had known him almost all his life. But he couldn’t remember anything before the camps and the orphanages. Why would he want to go to a village?

  She suddenly grabbed him and gave him such a tight hug that he began to struggle to get away.

  “That’s so you’ll remember me when I’m in the village and you’re here. I’ll send you some almonds. Will you write me a letter?”

  Elias thought for a moment. “I will when I can write better,” he said.

  He gave them each a quick kiss on the cheek and ran off to find his team.

  “I don’t think we have to worry about Elias,” said Anna. “I hope he does write. I want to know what he grows up to be.”

  A few weeks later all the people in the Rooftop Family who were still in Tabriz came to see Samira and Anna off on their journey. Benyamin and Ashur were there with Elias and David. Monna’s grandmother had been discovered living right in Tabriz. Monna and Sheran were living with her now and she had brought the two girls to say goodbye. Shula, Avram, Maryam and Malik had already gone to their mountain villages.

  But someone else was missing.