The Boy from Aleppo Who Painted the War

by Sumia Sukkar

  *

  Ali comes running into the room without knocking and wakes me up. How did he know I was here?

  ‘Wake up quick Adam! Quick!’

  I squint my eyes and look around. The sun is so bright, I don’t usually sleep in this late. I jump up and trip over the cover, I can’t see properly.

  ‘I can’t see properly!’

  ‘Just rub your eyes, it’s the dust from outside. All our eyes hurt.’

  ‘What dust?’

  ‘Come.’

  Liquorice follows us.

  ‘Where did you get the cat from?’

  ‘Her name is Liquorice.’

  ‘That’s a funny name.’

  ‘I like it.’

  Baba, Tariq and Amira are crammed at the door. What are they looking at? I look over Amira’s shoulder, she is shorter than me, and see the street is nothing but rubble. Did all this really happen when I was sleeping? I didn’t feel or hear anything. I see a face and a leg next to each other through some of the rubble and clothes in-between. Our house and Ali’s old house are standing. Blood is mixed with water on the ground and now it doesn’t even make me sick any more. A man is sweeping the ground with a broom.

  Baba walks out and Tariq follows him.

  ‘Where are you going Baba?’

  Tariq looks back and gestures for me to follow him. Amira holds my hand and walks on. Where are we all going? I let go of her hand and walk alone after Baba. We get on the main street and I see my town in a completely different way. It’s like I am in a war story. What would I say if I was one of the characters? I guess I would be describing everything but it’s beyond words. They need to see it with their own eyes. There’s a river under the bridge we are walking towards, the water is brown. I don’t know if it is dust or blood or both. We walk on and I keep staring at the river. I want to jump into it. The water looks so free. I lick my lips and feel my dry skin peeling off. I’m thirsty. When we start going down the other side of the bridge the water looks clear. Even though the water is connected, one side is different from the other.

  ‘Why is the colour of the water different on the other side Tariq?’

  ‘This part belongs to the government, the other side is the part where the free army lives.’

  ‘It looks like two different cities.’

  ‘It is now.’

  A group of men are joining hands and forming a human chain that links into the water. I can’t see what they’re doing from here so I walk faster to the front. There are three men at the front pulling out a body from the river. The body is covered in a black bag with a rope wrapped around it. They pull it up and lie it on the floor and go down and pull another body out. This one looks like a young child, maybe seven years old. Where are they getting these bodies from? Everyone seems calm like they have always been doing this. They all link hands and hold on tight. The third body they pull up is naked and one of his legs is missing. I turn away. I have already seen it though, I can’t erase the image from my head. The image is stuck in my head.

  Now I try not to look back but I do. I see another body being pulled up. I look for the body I saw earlier, I don’t know why. I just need to see it again, there’s something in my mind that’s forcing me to. I look around but can’t see it. I spot the first body with the plastic bag on it, but I can’t see the other one.

  Walking into the government part of the town, the buildings are still up even though they have bullet marks in them, but at least they’re not on the ground with people under them. I wonder if the people living on this side hear and see what we go through every day. Something seems wrong. Nothing comes easy mama used to say, but maybe this did. There are exceptions to every rule I once read. I remember everything I ever read and hear.

  There are rats running around the streets like they have taken over the town. On my right, the pavement is filled with rubbish bags that a young kid is going through. That’s a clever idea to find food. I’m starving. Everyone walks on without stopping; I stop and look to see what she is going to find in the rubbish. She takes out a box of what looks like microwave food and starts licking the insides. The whole place smells really bad, I don’t want to know how bad that box smells. There are kids running around and playing. In our area no one plays around. I wish I lived on this side. There are four kids carrying their friend and playing ‘a funeral’. I don’t see how that’s a game. I don’t understand. I stare at them and one of them sticks his tongue out at me. I catch up to Tariq and look back at them as they walk away and chant a prayer in their little voices.

  ‘Tariq why are we walking here?’

  ‘I don’t know, we are following Baba.’

  ‘Doesn’t Uncle Shady live on this side?’

  ‘Oh yes, I forgot about that. Maybe we are going there. You’re a clever boy.’ Tariq winks at me. I know I am clever. Mama told me that sometimes I can be cleverer than other people and at times I need to be patient with myself. I get frustrated when words don’t come out and I have so much to say. During those moments I want to pull my hair or punch something. It’s like a waking dream you’re trying to escape but you can’t. The only difference is that people don’t know what is going on in my mind and they start to make fun of me. I don’t like it when people laugh at me, so I prefer not to talk to people.

  ‘Yasmine! Yalla!’ I feel my heart stop beating when I hear Yasmine’s name. I knew she’d show up! I turn around following the sound of the voice and see a young girl running to her father. I feel cold but I am sweating. Yasmine’s name took all the energy out of me. I feel like I ran a mile. I didn’t move a centimetre though. I don’t like being disappointed. I see the colour purple when I close my eyes when I get disappointed.

  Baba is knocking on Uncle Shady’s door just like I guessed. He knocks twice and waits. I walk up to the door and knock one more time. We always have to knock three times: it’s a rule. Nobody uses it though, because I made it up.

  ‘Move back Adam,’ Baba hisses like a snake.

  We wait for 73 seconds before Baba knocks again. We are all standing behind each other like we are scared of one another.

  Uncle Shady at last answers the door, but not the way we expected. He is now sitting in a wheelchair with his legs cut off. Baba gasps for a split second before going in and kissing Uncle Shady. I stand on the side trying to avoid the kisses and notice them look at each other in a familiar way. Uncle Shady cries silently still staring at Baba and then wipes his tears and welcomes Baba in.

  ‘I missed you big brother,’ Uncle Shady says.

  ‘I trust you’ve been doing well?’

  ‘As you can see, I’m great.’

  This conversation doesn’t make sense. Baba didn’t reply to Uncle Shady saying he missed him. Uncle Shady says that he is doing great even though he is in a wheelchair with his legs cut off.

  ‘What happened to you Uncle Shady?’ I ask.

  Baba looks at me and hisses again. I can’t make out what he is saying but apparently Uncle Shady can because he tells Baba not to be harsh on me. Was I meant to pretend I don’t see?

  ‘It’s a long story, let’s sit down then speak,’ he says. They go to the sitting room and sit on the sofa. I haven’t been to Uncle Shady’s house in ages. We used to always come before mama died but when she left we never came here again. I don’t think Baba and his brother spoke for a long time. I can see yellow circles coming out of both their mouths when they speak, it means that they are both shy. How can you be shy in front of your brother?

  ‘Adam do you still paint?’ my uncle asks me. I feel my cheeks go red because I don’t like talking about my paintings.

  I look down and play with my elastic band. Baba comes closer to me and ruffles my hair.

  ‘Answer Adam. Don’t be shy in front of your uncle, you remember him right?’ I wasn’t being shy. I want to tell Baba I know he is shy himself but I don’t.

  ‘Yes I still paint. Yes I remember Uncle Shady,’ I say.

  They both laugh and my uncle tells Baba
that I haven’t changed. Of course I haven’t. Why would I change? If I changed I wouldn’t be me.

  ‘So who did you come with?’

  ‘That’s Amira and that’s Ali. It’s a long story but they are both a part of our family now,’ Baba says and smiles. He is actually happy.

  ‘Where’s Yasmine, Khalid and Isa? Are they doing their own thing as usual?’

  Baba looks down. I want to tell Uncle Shady that I don’t like him for bringing them up but I don’t know how to say it without him laughing at me. I mean it, it’s not funny.

  ‘God be with us,’ Baba says and tries to get up.

  ‘It’s time for us to go.’

  Tariq helps Baba up and stands by him. He looks like his bodyguard. Tariq has huge shoulders and chest. His shirt looks bumpy because he is really big and strong. He is the most muscly out of all of them, but I have never seen him use his strength and I don’t want to! It would be like a scene out of the movie with Arnold Schwarzenegger and his little twin brother. The movie made me laugh a lot. That’s how Tariq and I look together. I laugh to myself and Tariq looks at me without anything in his facial expression. I stop laughing in case Tariq really punches me like in the movie. I don’t want to go flying back. The twin brother seemed fine after that, but I am sure I won’t be.

  ‘You just got here, stay for a bit more. Hanan is coming back soon, she just went to her mother’s house down the road.’

  ‘Just tell her we send our regards, we have to go. Adam doesn’t like staying out for too long.’ Does Baba read minds? I hate being out of the house for too long. Is that really why he is going home? I can’t say anything because I can’t wait to walk back home. This house looks familiar but unfamiliar at the same time. I don’t like the feeling. It’s better to just go home.

  ‘I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again big brother, people keep on disappearing nowadays. Look after yourself.’ I don’t know why Uncle Shady calls Baba big brother instead of his real name. Am I meant to call Tariq big brother?

  Baba walks on and I stick to Tariq’s side and whisper to him ‘Are we going home big brother?’ Tariq laughs a little and shakes his head. I like being funny and making people laugh. I like making Yasmine laugh the most. I feel good today. I know mama is looking down at me today. I wish she would look down more often. We all say bye to Uncle Shady and I look back at him, his eyes are black.

  ‘Adam, how are you feeling?’ Baba stops and looks back at me. I forget about Uncle Shady right away and tell Baba I’m okay. I am happy Baba looked back at me. I missed looking at his face. I walk beside Baba with our shoulders brushing against each other. I remember when mama and Baba used to walk in front of us and I used to count how many times their shoulders would brush against each other.

  A man wearing the Islamic dress for men stands on the opposite pavement from us and starts calling for prayer. He puts his hands around his ears and shouts. His voice echoes through my body. I feel his voice shiver my insides. Why isn’t he in the mosque calling for prayer? I ask Baba and he tells me the mosque was bombed. So why is he doing it on the streets?

  ‘When it’s time for prayer, nothing will stop us, not even a war,’ Baba says.

  I don’t reply and start thinking how important prayer is. If not even the war will stop it, what will? I used to like watching people pray in Makkah all together. It was exciting when the whole crowd went up and down at the same time as if it was rehearsed. It’s the only thing that brings all the Muslims together Baba once told me. Mama used to say it was beautiful, so I think it is too.

  We pass by the river and get home without me even realising. I was thinking about prayer and I didn’t even know where I was any more. I love it when that happens, when for a few minutes I leave. If only I knew how to get away for good.

  There’s a carton box outside our door. It looks like a parcel. I love parcels, you never know what’s in them.

  ‘Baba! Look we have a parcel!’

  ‘Don’t touch it Adam!’ Baba grabs my hand.

  ‘Why Baba? It’s a parcel!’

  ‘I don’t have a good feeling!’

  I don’t have any feeling about it, I just want to open it. I love parcels. Baba carries it and takes it in. I follow him to the living room to see what is inside. Everybody else goes to a room and closes the door behind them. It’s like we don’t even live together.

  ‘Baba, are you going to open it?’

  ‘Get me scissors.’

  I run to the kitchen and get Baba the scissors. I hold them down the way Yasmine taught me. Maybe the parcel is from Yasmine! Maybe she is coming back soon. My heart is beating fast. I am so excited. When Yasmine comes back I am going to tell her I love her and to never leave again.

  Baba starts opening the package and my heart beats faster. Is it a card picture from Yasmine? Is it her address so we can pick her up? It is none of those. Baba opens the package and I can feel the air being sucked out of the room. Baba gasps and throws the package out of his hands. I can’t breathe. I can’t say anything. All the air in my body has been punched out. I am moving my mouth but I feel suffocated. My face starts getting hot. The package is Khalid’s hands. His chopped hands in his blood. Khalid doesn’t have hands any more. I know his hands by heart. Their size and colour and the hair on his fingers and… and… the tattoo on his finger that mama kicked him out of the house for. I regain some breath and start panting.

  ‘No, no! Not Khalid! He’s alive! I know he’s alive!’

  Baba is rocking himself forwards and backwards and slapping his hands on his lap.

  ‘Khalid! My son! Khalid!’ Baba is crying and shouting. He starts pulling his hair and crying harder. He repeats those four words until everybody comes out of their room and runs to him. I want to explain what happened but I start imagining Khalid without hands and I can’t look straight any more. Does Yasmine still have hands?

  I fall to the ground and close my eyes. I don’t want to see anything else ever again. Tariq kicks the table in the middle and starts swearing.

  ‘Why are you swearing! You should be praying to God!’ Baba shouts at Tariq. I open my eyes and see his face get so red. I don’t know whether I want to block my ears or eyes. If only I could block both.

  ‘Those bastards! They have no shame! No life! What the fuck is happening to this country?! What is happening to the people?! Where did all these animals come from?!’ Tariq punches the wall and runs out of the front door. ‘I’ll show those bastards what it means to touch my brother!’

  ‘Come back Tariq! We can’t do anything!’ Baba shouts after Tariq. He doesn’t look back though. Amira holds Ali and is covering his eyes.

  I bang my head on the edge of the sofa over and over and over again. Over and over again. Khalid… I remember when blood made me vomit and made my head spin, now blood is like water and body parts are parcels. I don’t even know why there’s a war. Why is there a revolution? Why are they taking my family? What happened while I was painting and going to school? Why is everyone suddenly talking about politics when they used to talk about art, fashion, religion and travelling?

  ‘What happened!’ I shout and scream. ‘What happened!’ I don’t know who I am screaming at. Nobody looks at me. Baba is still crying and repeating the same words. Amira is still rocking Ali in her lap and covering his eyes while he covers his ears. I don’t know who we are any more.

  I run to Isa’s room and start ripping books and kicking his bed. I’ve never felt the colour black take over my body. I see black and white now. Everything is a target with a focus point. Everything is different. I hear a car stop outside our door and stop everything for a split second of hope. I run outside the room and don’t see Baba any more. Amira and Ali haven’t moved. They look frozen.

  I hear the car drive away and run to the door. Why did they stop outside our house? I open the door and see the lights slowly disappear. It was a black car. I look around and don’t see anyone. Did they pick someone up from here? I notice a log on the floor a litt
le down our street. It looks as long and thick as a log but why would they drop a log there? I couldn’t see their faces. I leave the door open and walk up a little. It’s not a log. It’s a person. Did the car dump a person here? I am scared to walk over but I do. I am filled with curiosity.