Home Is Not a Country

by Safia Elhillo

  going to be alone

  i mourn her as i’ve come to know her always tired

  unpinning her scarf after a long day at work to sleep alone

  & wake up alone & do all of it over again

  i turn to yasmeen is this why i was sent here?

  to find out he never wanted me? to find out he was never

  going to be there even if he’d lived? & again

  a pang for my mother who i’ve spent my whole life

  thinking of as half of an incomplete whole as my other

  parent instead of my only yasmeen still has not spoken

  so i continue i think i’m supposed to see this

  to know that mama was always going to be all i had

  to know that mama was always enough i feel the depth

  & shape of my love for my mother in a wash of tears

  & i need to see her again even this version

  who is not yet mine

  The Game

  together yasmeen & i return to the house to find aisha

  in the small living room carefully peeling a grapefruit

  its bright smell filling the air she is draped across

  a woven bed arranged with others around the room

  a few mismatched chairs pulled in from other rooms

  of the house for her gathering of friends

  lazy hum of the ceiling fan above flies orbiting

  like little moons the room smells sweetly of incense

  & behind it the sharper scent of new paint a bowl of dates

  is passed around each one wrinkled & leathery

  in its caramel sweetness i take in the carved wooden

  shutters ghostly light almost bursting behind them

  my grandmother bustles about the younger women

  soft flesh of her full upper arms hair oiled & brushed

  to a shining ripple a fat braid coiled around each ear

  henna black on her fingers & toes

  henna a crimson highlight in her hair reddest

  at the neat parting & two long scars burned ceremonially

  down each of her cheeks an adornment from

  a forgotten time

  as we approach i hear my mother musing to khaltu hala

  i love the idea of naming her nima but ahmed loves

  the name yasmeen & you know it’s my favorite flower

  it’ll remind me of mama’s garden mama likes it too

  says a daughter is an apple in her father’s eye

  & a flower in her mother’s hair she laughs

  & shakes her head & i go warm at the thought

  of my name as mama’s first choice

  yasmeen is my father’s daughter the father

  i never needed

  khaltu amal though not the one being spoken to

  pipes up yasmeen is the prettier name, aisha, no question

  & khaltu hala rolls her eyes her dislike for amal flavoring

  the air around them & if only to be contrary

  she shoots back there’s a guava tree in the garden too

  & i don’t hear you trying to name the baby jawaafa

  or after the doum tree or the lemon tree i think nima

  has more character she stares at amal

  as she pronounces this last word

  someone produces a deck of cards why don’t we make

  a game of it? & with a smirk amal takes the cards

  & starts to shuffle if i win a round, that’s one point for yasmeen

  you win a round & it’s a point for nima my mother is quiet

  at first wary then her face clears & she claps her hands

  it’ll be fun! best three out of five? but just for fun, okay?

  i turn to catch yasmeen’s eye but her face is stricken

  i reach to touch her shoulder & she shrugs my hand away

  & i am stung by her small rejection as the game begins

  they’re playing concan with speed & concentration

  i’ve never seen not the clumsy & laughing way haitham & i

  play it with mama fatheya who cheats shamelessly

  gets up in the middle of the game to make tea

  & loses half her cards in the couch cushions

  amal’s jaw is set hala’s brow is furrowed

  they play entirely in silence & with a grin amal sets down

  a winning hand & hala makes a frustrated noise

  from the back of her throat as amal caws

  one point for yasmeen! & i feel that old hum in my body

  yasmeen gasps & i follow her pointing hand

  down to my feet except my feet are not there

  & fear slices through me but before i can do anything

  hala is shuffling the cards again

  & the hum leaves my body my feet flicker back into place

  as they begin the next round which hala wins

  in just a few brutal moves slaps down her cards

  & calls out nima! & yasmeen’s arm is instantly gone

  dread settles onto her face until the cards are shuffled again

  & her arm blurs back into sight

  the next round is longer tense & finally

  with a grunt hala wins again yasmeen’s body

  dissolving from the waist down fearful tears pooling

  in her eyes & remaining there even as the cards

  are once again shuffled & her legs are restored

  when amal wins the fourth round & i feel the ominous hum

  in my body again i cast about in panic for a way

  to stop the game i reach for the cards but have

  no hands to grab them with & in a final surge

  of desperation i aim my foot at the tea set

  arranged beside the group mint leaves steeping

  in a beautiful ornate ceramic pot & kick the entire tray over

  onto the cards boiling tea splashing into khaltu amal’s lap

  her howl of pain the game forgotten

  as the women scramble to their feet

  what have you done? yasmeen hisses jogging

  to catch up as i stride toward the gate

  i feel unsettled & afraid something nagging at me

  that i can’t name & i need somewhere quiet to think

  Quiet

  yasmeen pulls me by the hand before the sob escapes

  my throat & leads me outside into the blazing day

  & for a moment the noise washes over me

  muffling the feeling

  cars clatter by in a honking of horns & cough of exhaust

  sharing the street with bleating animals pedestrians

  crossing without looking to either side escaping narrowly

  with their lives children crowd the car windows hawking

  bags of peanuts sweet ropes of creamy white jasmine

  & an old man whizzes past on a bicycle

  barely missing yasmeen

  who once again tugs at my hand if we don’t move out

  of the way we’re going to get flattened

  & it’s true that everything feels too loud too bright

  i just need a quiet place to think

  i call to yasmeen over the commotion i need a quiet place

  to think & yasmeen walks us in the direction of the river

  to the skeleton of an unfinished building

  a monster of gray concrete

  its windows without glass like sockets missing their eyes

  on a raised bit of land flush against the river its brilliant blue wait i hesitate i didn’t mean
, like,

  abandoned-building quiet

  don’t be stupid she replies & she’s pulling me along again

  into the building up one crumbling set of stairs yasmeen,

  where are we going? i should probably tell you now that i don’t

  love heights as we climb another set of stairs hold on,

  would you stop for a second? shouldn’t we talk about what

  just happened? without turning she calls back

  here’s this whole country we never got to see don’t you want to see everything? i feel the sweat prickling in my armpits

  i can already see everything through this window

  why don’t we just stop here?

  & she shakes her head the roof i want to see everything

  A Country

  i stumble coughing behind her onto the roof & before

  i can slow my breath i feel it catch again in my throat

  as i look out & see it the whole city the desert just beyond it

  our whole country panoramic before us all the noise

  softened by distance

  i can just make out the sounds coming from a nearby minaret

  a full-throated call to prayer below us the world is rendered

  in every variation of brown sudden shocks of other

  colors bougainvillea planted everywhere glossy green

  of palm leaves & as the sun begins to set the colors seem

  almost painted almost liquid true pink true orange

  gold its magentas & oranges like fruit

  i long to touch it to my lips

  yasmeen & i are silent surrounded by what could

  have been ours the street below wafting its perfumes

  of car exhaust of corn & peanuts roasting

  that ever-shifting smell of smoke

  & for a moment i can forget my fear the memory

  of my vanishing body how easily my name

  could have been taken

  instead i take in the colors the smells blue & gold

  & unnamed sepia tones around us streets bustling

  with my people with my family yasmeen beside me

  squeezing my hand

  Yasmeen

  as the panic from the game leaves my body

  i remember with a jolt why we’d gone back to the house

  yasmeen, we have to tell mama that baba is leaving her

  you don’t understand what it’s like her whole life

  is like a shrine to him she has to know what he

  was really like i turn to her wait, but in your life

  they’re together, right? what’s he like? what changed?

  her face takes on a hunted look & she will not meet my eyes

  i feel desperate why aren’t you answering me? yes or no?

  are they together? we need a plan

  maybe i could write her a letter

  or whisper to her in her sleep or & yasmeen shakes

  her head we’re not really here, remember? i already

  told you, they can’t see us they can’t hear us either

  & i do remember yasmeen telling me at the party

  we’re only visitors, you understand? we’re not part

  of this part of time & i want to know why she knows

  all this & i don’t yasmeen, what are you not telling me?

  how do you know all this? & how come i don’t?

  & the hunted look returns to her face i’ve caught her

  in some kind of lie & i feel betrayed by everyone

  my father making plans to make a life without me & now

  this girl i’ve grown secretly to think of as my sister this girl

  who brought me here i remember her leading me

  through that day that already feels so far away

  to the diner to the airport into the scene

  of the photograph into this world

  yasmeen, what are we doing here?

  Half Possible

  yasmeen sets her mouth in a hard line & just as i think

  she isn’t going to tell me she begins there is only meant

  to be one of us & something tightens in my stomach

  what do you mean? she takes a step closer

  you just saw it for yourself there is no stupid parallel universe

  our mother has one daughter & that daughter has one name

  my stomach begins to twist itself into a knot as i think

  back on her flimsy answers to every question

  about her life now so obviously a lie always obviously

  a lie that i was too hungry for her sisterhood to notice

  distracted by the ways she’d turn the questioning on me

  & make me feel interesting intoxicating me

  with her unflinching attention but now

  her words come flooding fueled by a new anger

  rippling beneath the surface twisting our features

  in her face we’re here because she’s going to decide

  what to name the child it could have been any name

  but the way the history worked out the choices come down

  to nima & yasmeen you or me if she chooses yours

  you go back to everything & if she chooses mine

  your life becomes mine & you become like me

  & she takes another step toward me i start to step back

  & the wind circles us carrying with it the smell of the river

  the water just below just behind me

  yasmeen, what do you mean like you? what are you?

  & something warps in her face

  the ghost trapped between worlds the other fading

  possibility that’s why you’d go transparent every time

  you wished yourself away you were making me more real

  here i feel a prickle of fear crawl up my neck

  right now you’re only half possible & so am i

  whoever’s name she chooses gets to be her daughter

  & she’s too close to me now i look back nervous

  yasmeen, this is really high can we talk about this downstairs?

  & she looks like she is deciding something

  a determined look settles onto her face our face

  & she’s lunging toward me

  pushing me off the roof’s concrete & into open air & as i fall

  i scramble to grab her shirt pulling her behind me

  A Single Possibility

  we land with a hard smack into the sharp cold

  of the river surrounded by floating trash submerged

  in dirty water i struggle to keep my head

  above the surface i kick my legs & pull my arms

  my body heavy with soaked fabric yasmeen’s grip tight

  on a handful of my hair

  the waves which looked so gentle from the shore

  splash up into my face fill my mouth & sting

  my burning eyes they pull me to the surface

  as yasmeen submerges me again desperation

  & panic mingling in her face as she forces me back

  under the water

  & i am so afraid i am almost calm the thoughts

  unspooling slowly before me i understand her plan

  to make herself the only option eliminate the other

  & even when she saved me from that man at the hotel

  it wasn’t to save me it was to bring me here

  she brought me here to leave me here

  to return to my life as herself

  she isn’t my sister we are opposite ends of a single


  possibility an only child forming in

  our mother’s belly waiting to be shaped by a name

  once & for all whoever is chosen lives & whoever

  is not is gone forever resolved by history

  & so yasmeen of course yasmeen is trying to kill me

  i scrabble at her hands now clamped around

  my neck a knot gnarled & thick & i feel panic

  fluttering the blood away from my fumbling fingers

  i claw at her treading water until i can no longer feel

  my legs i cannot sink i cannot die & leave my life to her

  i cannot leave my loves to her my mother haitham

  my country frozen in photographs my tin box of longing

  the songs i love the dance my cassettes all mine

  not hers mine

  & in a final surge i kick my legs & as i pull myself free

  from her grasp her foot catches on something under

  the surface & she is pulled backward into the depths

  Yasmeen

  i watch her face disappear under the water & it is my face

  etched with the same panic i feel coursing through me

  & it feels like i am watching myself drown & i know

  i should just let her go let myself become the only possibility eliminate the other

  but i can’t just leave her there leave the body

  that is my body to die

  & everything feels slowed down the moment broken

  into a string of smaller moments a tire floats past

  & i lunge for it with one hand my other hand

  feeling around then reaching under the water

  for her long braid of hair

  i pull hard & her head breaches the surface

  coughing arms flailing grabbing first at me

  & then understanding that i am trying to help

  reaching desperately for the tire my foot

  she yells hoarsely it’s caught & through

  the murk of water i can just make out the net

  snarled around her ankle

  & of course the only way to free her is to suck in a breath

  & go underwater try to keep my eyes open

  against the sting & fumble at the net worked into

  a knot with no give & through it all trust that she will not