The Long Way Back

by Fuad al-Takarli

  He sat up in bed, his mouth dry, his throat burning. He looked around him, then got out of bed and walked unsteadily over to the water pitcher by the railing, rubbing his eyes and adjusting his pajamas. Everyone was asleep at this uncertain hour of the night. He reached the pitcher and picked up the earthenware mug covering it. The moon in the east had a chip out of it, like a damaged plate, and shone in a crystal sky. The first light of dawn rose and spread in a fine red veil, while the silent world around him turned silver blue. He stood immobile, holding the mug. The dark mass of her hair tumbled over the white pillow and part of her bare shoulder was visible over the edge of the bedcover. He was only a couple of paces away from her and the cool breeze ruffled the bedding. His mouth was dry again, and he bent to fill the mug with water then gulped down the cold, magic liquid greedily, so that it ran out of the corners of his mouth. He took a long, deep breath. The silence at this time of night was uncanny; even the sleepers held their breaths. A movement from her startled him, then he saw her suddenly sit up in bed and place her hands on the cover, looking at him. Her hair fell over her shoulders and upper arms, and her nightdress, blue or white or gray, revealed her neck and chest. He wasn’t surprised that she was awake, but an incomprehensible sense of wonder took hold of him. As he peered more intently at her, he thought her eyes were shut, but a glimmer of moonlight reflected in them proved him wrong. They went on looking at each other.

  “Water?” he whispered.

  As soon as he said it, she sighed as if she thought he was a ghost. She covered her face with her hands, leaning forward slightly so that her hair hung down around her. He felt suddenly disturbed: in that position, she looked excessively thin to him. He bent and filled the cup with water, then took a step towards her and whispered again, “Would you like some water, Munira?”

  She looked up quickly. Her features were clearly visible in the moonlit dawn. He thought her eves looked blank, her lips slightly slack. Perhaps she would say something, but everything about her suggested she had neither seen not heard him. Her skin looked pale, and her thick hair framed her face and fell on her shoulders and chest. He noticed the opening of her nightdress revealed the meeting place of her breasts. He felt anxious about standing so close to her, but stole another quick look at the beautiful swell of her breasts. She was sitting stock-still, with an air of bewilderment. He held out the pottery mug to her, sincerely hoping that she would take it and that would be the end of it. Her eyes looked larger in the shadows, and the bow shape of her lower lip almost round. She raised her arm slowly and took the mug, and their fingers touched gently A magic touch of infinite tenderness. She raised the mug to her lips. He noticed the fine parting in her hair, partly covered by unruly strands, then she handed the mug back without a word. He paused in front of her for a moment, but she wasn’t looking at him; she seemed to be in another world. He retreated and put the mug back in its place on top of the pitcher. She had Iain back down again and pulled the cover over herself. He walked wearily over towards his bed and turned to look at her again. She was fast asleep, motionless. He sat on his bed. The dirt floor of the terrace was stained silver, and on the western horizon only a few faint stars remained. He had a sense of well-being, tinged with disquiet. She had seemed like a different person. He noticed the rapid beat of his heart subsiding gradually. Such encounters with her were too much for him, especially in this lost time between night and day, moonlight and dawn, when you couldn’t predict what you might do next. Perhaps she had feared the worst, thought he was waking her at dawn to slip into bed with her. Just like that, without an invitation. One man attacking her in the afternoon and another completing the humiliation before the next day had dawned. A weak, defenseless girl whom they could abuse with impunity. He recoiled at the painful images. In the end she might leave them, move out of their house. Who could tell? Then the light footsteps, gentle laughter, whispers, smiles, and glances from those honey-colored, kohl-rimmed eyes would vanish from their daily life. He withdrew further into himself. She had become a part of his life, there was no denying it; although she kept her distance, he felt the invisible effects of her youthful spirit on him.

  He lay on his bed. The sky was on fire in the east, extinguishing the brilliance of the moon and stars. The sparrows, far below in the yard, began singing the day’s first songs. He heard the muezzin switch on the speaker and then the rasp of his fingers and heavy breathing against it. Midhat was not excessively perturbed and, as his eyelids closed, felt that soon he would be able to do something wonderful.

  Chapter

  Six

  Sana broke the white dish with red flowers on it while she was helping her mother wash up after lunch. Her mother veiled at her and clipped her round the head a couple of times. Shocked, Sana put up her hands to protect herself from her mother’s blows.

  “You stupid little girl,” shouted her mother. “Don’t put your hands on your hair when they’re all greasy Anyone would think those plates belonged to your father, the way you smash them all the time!” She clouted her across the shoulders and gave her a push, still shouting. Choking with tears, Sana stood back, holding her hands out in front of her to stop her dress getting wet. That was the first plate she’d broken; it had slipped out of her hands without warning. Her mother threw the pieces in the bin. “Clumsy little wretch,” she shouted. “You should be more careful.”

  The sweat ran down Sana’s face and the back of her neck. This was the first plate she had ever broken, and she said so to her mother.

  “Get out of here, you bad girl,” screamed her mother, coming at her to hit het again. “You’re just like your father: you think I’m stupid. The first plate indeed! There are hardly any left in the house. Get away from me. Go upstairs. You’re not having a siesta in the basement today. I don’t care if you die of heat.”

  The sun burned Sana as she ran across the yard towards the stairs, Her grandmother was heading for the kitchen from the opposite direction. Sana hesitated for a moment. She felt like talking to her, but in the end she kept running, the tears trickling down her face. She hadn’t broken anything before today. This was the first plate, and her mother knew that very well. She tripped and fell on the top step and started to sob again, then blew her nose, wiped her eyes on the edge of her dress, and ran along the gallery towards the room she shared with her mother and sister. Her right knee hurt. She heard her name being called and saw Umm Hasan gesturing to her through the open window of her bedroom, but she shook her head without replying and went into her own room. It was in semi-darkness and there was nobody there. They had all gone down to the basement to sleep on the soft mats in the cool breeze of the fan. She picked her doll up off the chair and lay down on the bed, holding her and stroking her bright yellow hair. Her heart was still pounding and her knee hurting, but she didn’t feel hot. She sat up in bed and wiped her nose, then sat the doll in front of her and began talking to her. “Don’t cry, Fadwa darling. Don’t cry. Why are you crying, sweetheart?” She pulled the doll’s dress down and wiped her nose. “How many times have I told you not to break things?” She waited in silence, as if expecting the doll to reply. “No, no. It was you. Who else could it have been? You bad girl. Don’t cry Why are you crying, Fadwa darling?”

  She picked her up and held her close and began gently rocking her to and fro. “Go to sleep now. Go to sleep. Come along, let’s go to sleep now.” She lay down on the bed and put the doll beside her. It was very hot now. She could hear her mother and grandmother talking in the kitchen and tried to hear what they were saying, but did not understand a word. She wiped her face and smelt the grease on her hands.

  “How many times have I told you to wash your hands?” she whispered. “It’s so hot in here, sweetheart. Never mind. Go to sleep now.” She fanned her face and the doll’s with her hand. “Go to sleep, dear. Never mind about the heat. I’ll tell your Auntie Suha to put the fan on. But where is she? Lying in the basement, eating ice cream, where do you think? Doesn’t she think of her sister a
nd say, ‘Poor Sana. Poor thing up there in the bedroom all by herself in this boiling hot weather’? No she doesn’t. Let’s be like her! We’ll eat ice cream in secret, and biscuits, shall we, dear?”

  Her imaginings upset her and she hugged the doll tight, then began playing with her hair and torn clothes. She closed her eyes. “Tomorrow,” she whispered, “we’ll get ten fils from Uncle or Grandfather and buy ice cream or sweets. Why shouldn’t we? We haven’t got a father and out mother’s always cross and hits us. Go to sleep, you naughty girl. How many plates and glasses have you broken? What can we do, dear? She ended up at the top of her class, but she’s a bit cheeky. She’s broken lots of plates, and she’s scared of the rats that run along the ceiling.”

  Sana looked fearfully up at the dark wooden ceiling. The house was quiet. Then the clatter of wooden shoes across the courtyard reassured her. She kept her eyes pinned to the ceiling for a few minutes. The sweat was damp on her forehead and cheeks and around her mouth, and she felt dreadfully thirsty She began patting the doll’s back lightly.

  “Don’t be afraid, dear. There aren’t any rats now. This isn’t the time they come out. Everyone’s asleep or eating ice cream and it’s only Sana’s head that’s full of rats! Don’t be frightened. Go to sleep. School starts soon and Dad will come to sec us, and you’ll be top of the class and we’ll get ten fils to buy ice cream and chocolate and manna-from-Heaven sweets. Go to sleep, dear.”

  She heard her mother talking, but couldn’t make out what she was saying. Her eyelids closed gently, and the monotonous thud of her fingers on the doll’s back faded away.

  Sana stood hesitantly in front of the little pond, examining her feet in their red leather clogs. Above her head in the luxuriant tangle of the olive branches, the sparrows feverishly sang their sunset song. She wanted to dip her toes in the water, just for a moment, then pull them out again quickly. The still surface reflected the light sky, crisscrossed by the twisted branches. She hadn’t heard or seen her mother for some time now, She must be in the kitchen making supper, Sana looked up and saw her sister Suha standing on the small gallery holding the doll. Suddenly her mother came out of the kitchen, and then Sana heard someone knocking at the outside door.

  “I’m going to take the doll on the roof with me,” Suha called to Sana,

  Sana saw her mother going over to the middle door. “Who’s there?” she called down the passage, then turned to Sana. “Why are you standing there like a stone? Go and see who’s at the door.”

  As Sana started to move, she called up to her sister, “She’s my doll. Leave her alone. You can’t take her on the roof.”

  She ran off along the dark passage. “Who’s there?” she asked, before she opened the door.

  The caller was standing to the left of the door with his back to the light. She thought she recognized him. “Yes, Uncle? Who are you looking for?”

  He was tall and spoke in a fierce, rough voice. “Munira? Is she here?”

  He was wearing a fine white shirt and dark trousers. She couldn’t see his face clearly She hesitated.

  “What are you waiting for?” he shouted. “Go and call her. I’ve got her transfer here.” He waved a piece of paper at her.

  She backed away, then ran off inside, her heart pounding. She didn’t know who he was, and this worried her. Her mother confronted her at the kitchen door: “Who is it?”

  “A man looking for Auntie Munira.”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know him, Mum. He says he’s brought her transfer.”

  “Her transfer? What do you mean?”

  Sana said nothing. She heard her sister calling, ‘Auntie Munira, Auntie Munira.”

  Her mother took a few steps along the passage and shouted, “Who’s there?”

  Then Munira appeared on the gallery, and Sana’s mother looked up at her. “Munira, my dear. I don’t know who’s come to see you, but Sana says he’s got your transfer.”

  “My transfer? The official document? Thank you, Madiha! That’s such good news. It must be the school janitor, Husayn. Poor man, coming all the way from Baquba. Mother! Mother!” Munira turned and went back into her room.

  “It’s the official transfer, you silly girl. You wouldn’t understand,” said Sana’s mother, and walked slowly back into the kitchen.

  Sana stayed where she was, leaning against the wall, suddenly uneasy. This unknown man frightened her for no reason. She heard a movement in the gallery, then saw Munira heading for the stairs with a spring in her step. The sparrows were hopping about on the branches of the olive tree as darkness descended. Sana put her hand to her chest in the place where her heart was. Her grandmother came out of the kitchen.

  “Why are you standing there, Sana dear?” she asked. “Come and give your mother some help.”

  Sana let her arm drop to her side and looked at the floor. She heard her mother from the kitchen: “No, Mum, please. Let me get on with my work in peace.”

  Her grandmother walked off, and Sana’s mother said, “Go away, Sana. Go up and see what your sister’s doing.”

  Munira was crossing the yard. She smiled at Sana and held out her hand. “Come with me, Sana,” she whispered.

  Sana smiled back and took her hand. “Okay, Auntie Munira.”

  Together they went down the gloomy passage. Munira’s fingers were soft and cool, and Sana felt her anxiety diminishing slightly When they reached the front door Munira pulled it open slowly, peering round it. “Yes? What is it?” she asked.

  Sana wanted to see too, then she heard that rough, harsh voice. “It’s me. Don’t you recognize me? Were you expecting someone else?”

  Munira stepped back so abruptly that she bumped into Sana and pushed her against the wall. Sana could feel that she was shaking, even when their bodies weren’t touching. She heard her draw her breath in sharply and whisper a name which Sana couldn’t pick up. She and Munira stood leaning against the door in silence.

  “Where have you gone? Munira?” he called. “Why are you running away from me? Do you want to make me crazy?” He raised his voice. “Huh? Why? Do you want to get rid of me? Is that it? You move to Baghdad and Adnan can go and jump in the river, is that the idea?”

  He pounded on the half-open door and they clung together, terrified. Sana found herself squashed between the door and the wall, her hands and feet ice-cold and her legs trembling, and felt Munira trying to squeeze further into the dark corner beside her. She was seized by a greater terror than she had ever experienced before, and as he began to kick the door repeatedly she was sure she was about to die. His hoarse voice rose disjointedly above the noise of his feet striking the door. “You won’t get rid of me. I promise you. I can tear up a dozen documents like this one. It won’t help you to escape from me. Nobody ...”

  Sana felt Munira steeling herself during this last speech, then she turned and gave the door a sudden hard shove, so it slammed shut, making a noise like an explosion; she pulled the latch across and leaned against it as the dust rose in the air around them. There was silence. Sana looked up at Munira. She was white, like a wax effigy, and was breathing loud, rasping breaths, her chest rising and falling.

  “Open the door,” they heard him say in a surprisingly unsure voice.

  Sana stood pressed against the wall. She could feel the sweat running down beside her left eye. The long passage was in darkness, its walls black.

  “Open it. Please, Munira. Please,” came his voice again, low and despondent.

  These whispered words scared Sana; she put her hand up cautiously to wipe her eyes and forehead, then looked at Munira. With her closed eyes and waxy face, she appeared unconscious. Sana summoned up her courage and took hold of her wrist. It was so cold, and she could feel her quivering at the touch of her fingers. Finally Munira drew her hand away, opened her eyes, and looked up in the air. The sky was spread out above the high walls of the passageway, a luminous pale blue with not a star in sight. They’d be making the beds on the roof by now! A faint, barely a
udible knocking started up on the door behind them. She noticed a piece of paper at their feet. White. Folded over several times. Munira had seen it at the same time. They looked at one another. The knocking stopped for a moment then began again, accompanied by indistinct murmurings. Munira signaled to her to pick up the paper. She bent down to get it and put it in Munira’s outstretched hand. Munira’s fingers closed round it, and she indicated with her eyes that Sana should go on ahead. She slipped reluctantly away from Munira’s side, her shoulders slightly hunched, then felt Munira coming along behind her and turned round. Munira waved her on, putting a finger to her lips. The strangely subdued knocking continued. Once they got half way along the passage, Sana walked faster and was about to run ahead to open the middle door when Munira grabbed hold of her. Her eyes were full of affection. She embraced her silently and kissed her on the hair and forehead. She smelt nice, and her clothes and body were soft. A fresh breeze blew on Sana’s face when they opened the door into the courtyard. She leaned against the wall and wiped the sweat off her face and neck. Munira walked quickly off towards the stairs. Sana was tired and thirsty How that madman had scared her! She went dejectedly into the kitchen and found her grandmother sitting on a stool smoking peacefully.

  “What’s wrong, Sana?” she asked. “Why are you so pale?”