Oranges in No Man's Land

by Elizabeth Laird

  Meanwhile, Dr Leila was busy on the phone.

  ‘Abu Bashir, please, I’m asking you – yes, and we’ll need an ambulance – no, it has to be a United Nations one – Well yes, I’m afraid so – to the other side – Why? Because I have a child here with urgent medicine for her grandmother, and only an ambulance will get through – yes, literally, a matter of life and death – Of course I’m going with you. Would I ask you otherwise?’

  I could hear a man’s voice, talking on and on, making excuses. At last he stopped. Dr Leila cleared her throat and looked uncomfortable.

  ‘How is your little girl now, Abu Bashir? Did the treatment I gave her work? Good. That’s excellent.’ There was silence. Then the man said something softly. Dr Leila’s face broke into a smile. ‘Thank you. So much. I knew I could rely on you. I won’t forget this. If it wasn’t a very special case I wouldn’t have asked you, believe me.’

  She put the phone down and turned to me.

  ‘You’re going home in style, Ayesha, in a UN ambulance, under the blue flag. Now let’s go to the kitchen and see what Auntie’s been cooking. It’ll be at least an hour before Abu Bashir gets here.’

  Not even the sour looks of Dr Leila’s aunt could spoil that lovely meal for me. There was lamb stewed with okra, and fresh bread, and thick creamy yoghurt, and rice with pine kernels. I’d never eaten anything so good in my life. I put all my worries aside and – I admit it – ate till I was bursting.

  In the middle of the meal, Dr Leila went away to answer the telephone. Her aunt leaned across the table and hissed at me, ‘Go on, stuff yourself, you little Shia beggar. Go back and tell all your murderous cousins over there how kind and nice we are to scum like you.’

  And I hate you too, I wanted to say, but I didn’t, of course. I just went on eating. A moment later, Dr Leila was back, and five minutes after that there was a loud knock on the door. Abu Bashir and the ambulance had arrived.

  I got up to leave.

  ‘Wash your hands before you touch anything,’ Dr Leila’s aunt scolded. ‘Think I want to spend all day cleaning up after you?’

  I quickly washed my hands at the sink in the corner of the kitchen, and I was glad I had because the soap was lovely, soft and scented, not at all like the hard, rough stuff that was all we could ever afford. Secretly, I rubbed it on the front of my dress so that Samar could smell it when I got home.

  Abu Bashir was quite big and solid-looking. Little grey curls grew out round the sides of his bald head. He was arguing with Dr Leila.

  ‘Out of the question, doctor. You’re not coming with me. I can’t let you put yourself in danger. Not after what you did for my little Lamis. Anyway, you told me last week your UN pass has run out. They’d take you off at the first checkpoint, and I wouldn’t be able to do a thing about it.’

  He saw me sidling round from behind Dr Leila with the huge bag of medicines in my hand.

  ‘So this little lady is what all the fuss is about? Come on then, ya qalbi. If we’re going to do this, we’d better do it now. There’s a storm brewing up this afternoon and I don’t mean the kind that brings rain.’

  The ambulance stood just opposite the door. It was a sparkly white, with big black letters painted on the side. They weren’t Arabic letters but I’d seen them often enough to know what they meant. UN. United Nations. Protection. The blue UN flag was pinned to a little flagpole on the roof.

  I turned round and threw my arms round Dr Leila’s waist. I didn’t want to leave her. I wanted to stay forever and ever, bask in her kindness, listen to her soft voice and feel her arm round my shoulders. And, to be quite truthful, I wanted to go on eating her lovely food and using her lovely soap. In spite of her nasty aunt, at that moment I’d quite forgotten that she was on one side in the war that had killed my mother, and I was on the other.

  ‘Go on, habibti,’ she said, lifting me up to kiss me as if I’d been a small child. You’re the bravest girl I’ve ever met, and that’s saying something, I can tell you.’

  As I ran to the ambulance, she called something after me, then went back inside her house.

  ‘Did you get that?’ Abu Bashir asked me.

  ‘No.’

  ‘She said, “Don’t grow up to hate anybody.” Remember that.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  I had expected to ride in the front seat of the ambulance beside Abu Bashir, but instead he opened the back and told me to hop in. Then he took a bandage out of a box and tied it round my head.

  ‘Lie down on the bed,’ he said. ‘When we get to a checkpoint you’ll have to pretend you’re wounded. I’m taking you to see a specialist who lives on the other side, OK? And don’t open your mouth. That accent of yours would give you away to anyone.’

  I nodded and eased the bandage a bit, where it was too tight over my ears. This was going to be dangerous, I knew. My skin was prickling with fright again.

  We set off. The ambulance windows were darkened so I knew no one could see me unless they leaned right inside Abu Bashir’s window. I sat up and looked out through the black glass.

  Something was different. For a moment, I couldn’t work out what it was. Then I realized that everything was strangely quiet. There wasn’t a soul anywhere.

  Abu Bashir was cursing under his breath.

  ‘This is bad. Bad,’ I heard him say.

  I felt shy of Abu Bashir, but I plucked up courage and said, ‘What’s bad, Uncle?’

  ‘The battle. It’s going to start.’ He was hunched over the steering wheel. ‘The shooting’s going to begin any minute now. Hang on, habibti. We’ll have to make a dash for it.’

  The ambulance leaped forward with a sudden thrust of speed. I was thrown back, but I clung on to the straps hanging over the bed. We were racing furiously down the street now.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. A couple of hours earlier the street had been crowded with people. Now there was nobody. No one at all. The market stalls were still there, left just as they had been, the goods displayed, open and unguarded. The stallholders must have sensed what was about to happen, and had fled.

  Their stuff was safe from thieves, though. No one would dare creep out to rescue it now that the snipers were in position on the upper floors of the buildings.

  And it had all happened only minutes ago, I could tell, because in their hurry to get away, someone had knocked over a fruit stall. It was the very one whose owner’s son had shown me the way to Dr Leila’s house. His oranges were still rolling down the street, making a bright stripe of moving colour on the black tarmac.

  I was used to danger. I’d heard countless bombs exploding, and I’d often gone to sleep to the sound of gunfire. But nothing had ever frightened me as much as that wild dash along the empty street. The world seemed to stand still, holding its breath, waiting for the men of death to open fire.

  And they did. Just as we reached the end of the street and plunged through one of the narrow openings into a ruined side alley, the first rattle of machine-gun fire burst out behind us, and the hateful crump of an exploding mortar bomb echoed from building to building.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I’ll never forget that mad ride across the Green Line. As the UN ambulance bounced over ruts and rubble, I had to cling on to whatever I could reach, like a monkey in a storm-tossed tree.

  The shooting and explosions seemed to go on forever, but in fact we left the battle behind us very quickly and plunged back into no man’s land that morning. The ruined streets were as eerily deserted as they had been that morning but. Then the distance I’d run had seemed endless, but in the ambulance we covered it in a few minutes. We reached the hostile checkpoint, the place I’d been dreading most, all too soon. My heart was pounding as Abu Bashir slammed on the brakes and let down his window.

  I’d already lain down on the bed, covered myself with the blanket that had been folded on the end of it and turned my face to the side, hoping that if the militiamen looked in they wouldn’t recognize me.

  I couldn’t hear
their questions, only Abu Bashir’s replies.

  ‘Little girl – head injuries. Yes, I know. Crazy to take her across, but there’s some expert over that side – only person – Who? Dr Leila. Yes, that’s right. You know her? She’s a true saint, that woman.’ I sensed him leaning further out of the window. ‘Wait a minute. Aren’t you Ramzi’s little brother? Hey! Nice to see you! – The fighting? It’s north of the Burj. We only just got through – Thanks, boys. Look out for me. I’ll drop the patient off and be back as quick as I can.’

  The window hissed up again. The ambulance moved off. We were through.

  I looked at the back of Abu Bashir’s head.

  He knows those bad men, I thought. They’re his friends. I was worried now. What if Abu Bashir wasn’t kind after all?

  But he’s got a daughter, I thought. He can’t be all bad.

  I took a deep breath.

  ‘Please, Uncle, how old’s your little girl?’

  ‘Lamis? She’s ten. Must be around the same age as you, habibti. One day, God willing, you might be friends, when all this is over.’

  So he is nice after all?

  It was too confusing. I didn’t know what to think any more.

  We turned a corner. In the distance I could see the next checkpoint, but this was the one I knew well, where the kind militiamen, the ones on our side, had played with Ahmed.

  ‘We’ve made it!’ I burst out happily. ‘Look! They’ll let us through all right. I know them. I’m nearly home. We’re safe now.’

  But the ambulance had slowed right down to a halt.

  ‘You may be safe,’ Abu Bashir said, running a hand across his bald head. ‘I’m not so sure about me. Did you say you knew those guys?’

  ‘Yes! They’re nice. They offered to get some milk for my little brother.’

  ‘Did they now? And your home, it’s not far from here?’

  ‘Only a little way. You have to turn right at the traffic lights (only they’re not working now), and on past the shoe shop on the corner. I’ll show you.’

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t, habibti. As a matter of fact, I’d rather not go any further. If I let you out here, will you be all right on your own? You’re sure you know the way?’

  He sounded worried.

  ‘You don’t need to be scared of them, Uncle,’ I said. ‘Honestly. They’re really kind.’

  But he was already turning the ambulance round.

  ‘Kind to you, maybe. Look, I’ll wait here and watch to see that you get through all right. Can you manage that door alone? Good. Got the medicines?’ He was leaning out of the driver’s window. He put out a hand and pinched my cheek.

  ‘You’re a good girl, Ayesha. A great little girl. I’ll tell Lamis all about you. And say hello to your granny for me. I hope she gets better soon.’

  ‘Don’t drive back there,’ I said. ‘What about the fighting? You’ll run straight into it. You might get shot.’

  ‘I’ll be all right. I’ll wait for a lull. Those boys back there will look after me. Off you go now. Wait! Take the bandage off your head. If your granny sees you wearing that, the shock will be too much for her.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  I unwound the bandage and gave it back to Abu Bashir. I tried to thank him, but the words wouldn’t come properly. I could think of only one person now. Granny. I realized that I’d hardly given her a thought during these last packed hours, but now all my worries came surging back.

  She might have died already! I might be too late!

  I was almost at the checkpoint before the men guarding it saw me. They shouted to each other and swivelled their guns in my direction. With a shock I saw that they now looked just as frightening as the men at the enemy checkpoint. They were glaring at me with the same expression in their eyes.

  ‘Stop! Who are you! Where are you going?’

  They hadn’t recognized me.

  ‘It’s me,’ I said. ‘The little tiger’s sister.’

  They lowered their guns.

  ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ one of them said sternly. ‘You know you mustn’t pass the checkpoint without telling us. It’s dangerous in there. What’s in that bag?’

  I thought quickly. I didn’t want to tell them I’d been right into enemy territory.

  I hung my head and pretended to look foolish and ashamed.

  ‘I – Granny sent me to look for something to light the fire. Our paraffin’s run out. I thought – I was looking for pieces of wood. I only found some old cardboard boxes.’

  For a moment, I thought they were going to search my bag, but a car coming from the other direction distracted them.

  ‘Don’t sneak past us again, you silly kid. Go on. Get lost.’

  I darted away from them, racing for home, the bag of medicines bouncing against my leg.

  When I reached the familiar entrance to the old stairwell, I nearly fell over Samar, who was sitting on the bottom step, her arms round her knees. Tears had made dark tracks down the dust on her cheeks.

  My heart almost stopped when I saw the woeful look on her face.

  ‘Granny!’ I shouted. ‘She’s not . . .’

  Samar shook her head. She stood up. She was trying to tell me something urgently, her strange noises louder than usual, and her hands flying about too fast for me to follow.

  She stopped trying at last and signed a question.

  Where have you been?

  I pointed east.

  ‘To the other side. To Granny’s doctor. See?’

  She looked inside the bag, grinned with delight and nodded furiously.

  I knew. I knew where you’d gone. I told them you were out looking for food, to stop them worrying.

  It was only afterwards that I learned what she’d been trying to tell me. I was too impatient just then to stop and work it out. I pulled her towards the stairs, but she shook me off. I flew up them to our floor, and then I was once more in the flat, crossing the marble-floored hallway, running to our corner and lifting up our curtain.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Granny’s eyes were shut and her face was a horrible grey colour. For one dreadful moment, I thought I’d come too late. There was a woman sitting on the floor beside her, fanning her gently with a corner of the cloth, but it wasn’t Mrs Zainab. It was someone from another room in the flat.

  ‘Granny!’ I called out, too loudly.

  The woman frowned and put a finger to her lips.

  ‘Shh. She’s sleeping.’

  I didn’t take any notice. I dropped to my knees beside Granny’s dusty old mattress.

  ‘Granny, I’ve got your medicines. I’ve got them here. I went to see Dr Leila. Look.’

  I upended the bag and tipped the cartons of medicines out on to the mat.

  Granny opened her eyes and looked at me, but I couldn’t tell if she’d understood me or not. Her gaze held mine for a moment, then wandered, and her eyes closed again.

  The woman put out one hand from under the black chador that covered her from head to toe, and picked up one of the medicine cartoons.

  ‘You’ve seen a doctor? Is this stuff good for coughs? Can I have some for my daughter?’

  I hardly heard her. I’d opened Dr Leila’s letter and was trying to read it, but I couldn’t make anything of her scrawly writing.

  ‘I don’t know what to do!’ I wailed, suddenly feeling helpless. ‘I don’t know what to give her!’

  The curtain moved and Mrs Zainab came in with Ahmed balanced on her hip. He saw me and squealed with joy, putting out his arms.

  ‘Ayesha! Wherever have you been?’ She looked annoyed. ‘Fancy disappearing like that, today of all days, with your granny so sick. Especially with this news that’s come through. I’ve got so much to do, I . . .’

  I wasn’t listening. I held up Dr Leila’s letter.

  ‘Please, Mrs Zainab, what does it say? Dr Leila’s written down what to give her, but I can’t read it.’

  ‘Dr Leila? What are you talking about?’

 
; She was looking at me, not at the letter. I was so impatient I wanted to scream.

  ‘I went to see her,’ I said, all in a rush. ‘I ran. Across the Green Line. I found her. She gave me all this stuff for Granny. A UN ambulance brought me back.’

  Her mouth was open. She was staring at me.

  ‘You? But Samar said you’d gone off to look for food. You mean you went all the way across no man’s land? Alone?’

  ‘Yes, but quick, Mrs Zainab, please read the letter. I want to give Granny her medicine now.’

  While we’d been speaking, the other woman had got up and slipped away. I could hear her high, cracked voice behind the curtain, telling anyone in the flat who would listen what that little wonder Ayesha had done.

  I hardly heard. My eyes were fixed on Mrs Zainab’s face. She was reading the letter slowly, her lips moving. Then she bent down, picked up one of the boxes and opened it.

  ‘Get some water, Ayesha,’ she said crisply.

  By the time I was back with a glass of water, she was kneeling on the mat, her arm under Granny’s head, which she was carefully lifting.

  ‘Come on, auntie,’ she said. ‘Swallow it down. And a sip of water.’

  Granny’s hand, waxy pale, feebly held the glass, then fell back on to the blanket again. But her eyes were wide open. She was looking at me, and I saw that she’d understood everything.

  Her lips moved.

  ‘What did she say?’ I’d leaned forward too late.

  ‘Allah u akbar,’ Mrs Zainab said. ‘God is great.’

  Granny didn’t say any more, but her hands reached up towards me. I bent over her, ready to listen in case she tried to speak again. Instead she took my face between her two hard palms, drew my head down and kissed me on the forehead with trembling lips.