by S A Tameez
As he approached the football ground, he collapsed onto his knees and gasped for air. He felt like someone had stamped on his chest and kicked him in the ribs. Through blurred vision, he looked around frantically for Malik. He was wearing a red T-shirt - look for red T-shirt, he said to himself. Or maybe it was green... or maybe it was a shirt and not a T-shirt? No, I am sure he was wearing his red T-shirt.
The football ground was full of children and there were enough red T-shirts to make his head spin. He forced himself to his feet and stumbled to where the children were playing.
“Malik!” he shouted, “Malik!”
Some of the boys stopped playing football, and turned to Ahmed.
“What’s wrong?” one of the boys asked, approaching him.
“My...” he tried getting his breath back, “I... I’m looking for my son, his name is Malik and he... he is ten-years-old.”
The boys began shouting, “Malik!” as loud as they could. “Your father his here, looking for you!”
Minutes felt like hours as Ahmed moved through the grounds, searching, crying out Malik’s name and putting his hands on his head as if it would burst, but Malik was nowhere to be seen.
Maybe he went home? He thought to himself, desperately trying to resuscitate hope.
“He isn’t here sir...” one of the boy’s that was helping look for him said.
Ahmed didn’t respond, he didn’t even thank them, every second was valuable. He ran towards his house, puffing all the way.
As he got closer, he saw the back of a boy wearing a red T-shirt, holding the hand of a woman. Ahmed began to think his mind was playing tricks on him. That was Malik, and maybe, the lady was Maryam. He knew this was impossible, Maryam was dead.
“Malik!” He shouted and then began coughing and gasping for air. When the boy turned around, Ahmed’s drowning eyes lit up. It was Malik and the lady that was holding his hand was Jane.
“Dad!” Malik shouted, “Dad, are you OK?”
Ahmed hugged onto Malik with tears pouring out of his eyes, “son... where were you? I... I’m sorry I was late...”
“I’m sorry dad... I left the school... I was going to the house because I thought you weren’t coming...”
“I would never leave you! Why would you think that?” Ahmed said, still not letting go of him.
“Because mum left me, I know she didn’t want to, but she did… and I thought you did the same... I’m sorry.”
Ahmed felt awful. He couldn’t believe that he had been so wrapped up in how he was feeling, that he had neglected Malik and his feelings. This was something new for Ahmed as he’d always relied on Maryam to deal with and support Malik, in fact, this made him realise that he had neglected them both for a long time. There was always something important that Ahmed had to do; a new book; his work at university; helping to change the world… yet, he failed to realise that his world at home needed him more. And now he was neglecting his son because he wanted to make a difference in the camp.
“I am so sorry son, I let you down.” Ahmed pulled back, releasing his grip, but keeping his hands on Malik’s arms. “Listen to me Malik, your mother loved you very much. There was nothing in this world that was more important to her than you. She will always be with us, in the time that she gave us and the things that she taught us. She will always be in our memories and she will always be here.” Ahmed pointed to where his heart was. “And I am not going to leave you...”
“You promise?” Malik said, wiping the tears from his eyes.
“I promise!” Ahmed held on to him again, making a silent pledge to himself to be a better father; to be an active part of Malik’s life. It wasn’t fair for a boy to have spent an entire year living in fear, then having to embark on a perilous journey in which they all nearly died, and then be taken to a camp like this, only to lose his mother. And worst of all, having a father like me.
After a few seconds, Ahmed noticed Jane. He saw that she was crying, too.
“I’m really sorry about Maryam... I can’t believe it. I can’t imagine what you are going through,” she sniffed.
“And sorry… I found Malik looking lost so I told him that I would help him look for you.”
“Thank you, God only knows what could have happened if you hadn’t.”
“How are you guys doing for food?” Jane asked.
“We’re OK... Khaleel arranged for us to have some supplies.” Not that Ahmed had much of an appetite these days. And his jaw was still in pain from when the guard had struck him; even just the thought of chewing was unbearable.
“That’s great, but I did ask Antonio to bring some goodies for you guys. He should be here any minute, now.”
“Thank you, Jane, you and Antonio are very kind.”
“So, shall we go to where you are staying?” Jane said, taking Malik’s hand.
Antonio was already waiting outside their house with two plastic bags filled with food, toiletries and a few books for both Malik and Ahmed.
“So, how did the paperwork submission go?” Antonio asked as he put the bags inside and sat on the floor.
“I... I haven’t got around to submitting the paperwork.” In his heart, he couldn’t bear to go to that office again where they’d been treated like criminals. Every time he thought about that evil man, he had to stop himself from exploding with rage.
“Ok, we can go there today if you want, together. They should still be open. If it gets delayed any further, then it will become more difficult.”
Ahmed nodded. “I would really appreciate it if you would come with us.”
Antonio smiled. “Of course.”
“So, we hear that you’ve been helping in the sewage development project,” Jane said, handing Ahmed a bottle of water, “how’s that coming along?”
“Yes... it’s getting there. I think with the new modifications and if everyone pulls together, it will be good for the camp.” Ahmed responded.
Later that day, they all went to the office and to their delight, the horrible man wasn’t guarding the office. Instead, this man was far more pleasant. Shockingly, he even smiled at Malik, and welcomed them both in a friendly manner.
“Hi, sorry but I am going to have to ask you to empty any bags that you have before you can enter. My apologies, it’s just protocol and we do it with everyone.”
Ahmed couldn’t believe his eyes or his ears. He really wasn’t expecting the man to be so polite and the fact that he was apologetic was astonishing. It was as though it were a completely different place. Ahmed noticed that he had a name tag on his top, it had Alec printed on it, which was strange as none of the guards had worn name tags before.
It all seemed unusual. The aggression had disappeared and they weren’t made to feel like they were criminals. But this didn’t make Ahmed feel much better, had they done this in the first place, treated us like humans, then maybe Maryam wouldn’t be lying six-foot-under, Ahmed thought as he removed the contents of his bag. It didn’t matter how nice or polite this person was, he couldn’t change what his comrade had done.
“Can we speak with John please?” Jane enquired.
“I am afraid only applicants can go in right now… so if you are not an applicant then you must wait outside,” the man responded in an authoritative, yet polite, manner.
“It’s ok, “Ahmed said, his hands trembling as he held Malik tightly, “we’ll be fine thanks.”
“Go in and ask for John,” Jane whispered.
Inside, there were quite a few desks, and two armed men stood guard. The room was warm and there was a strong aroma of coffee in the air. The sound of rustling paper, keyboards being bashed and telephones ringing filled the room.
At the closest desk to them there was a man with grey hair. Ahmed recognised him from when they first arrived, he was the one arguing with the guards. He must be John, Ahmed thought.
The grey-haired man stood up and put out his hand as he saw them approaching.
“Hi, my name is John, John Bridges. Speak Engli
sh?” He smiled as Ahmed nodded. “Are you here to submit an application?” His tone was jolly and his smile, inviting.
“Hi, yes we were told by a lady called Jane that you may be able to help us with the application process.”
“Well of course, that’s why we’re here,” he said and then gestured them to a seat, “Ah Jane, she is lovely girl. I hope she is keeping out of trouble.”
Ahmed smiled and handed over the paperwork. John glanced through and began filling out a form and within a few minutes, he thumped two stamps on each page of the form and put it on a huge pile sitting on his desk. He handed Ahmed his paperwork back and removed his glasses. “Well, all your paperwork is in order, much better than most that we have seen lately. I can’t imagine the process will take long… the only thing is… the application is for three people and you are… erm… two, where is Mary… Maryam?”
Ahmed’s face dropped, he didn’t want to talk about his dead wife and especially not to a stranger.
“Maryam is… she died, here, about a week ago.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that.”
Ahmed didn’t look at John’s face, he couldn’t bear to see another look of sympathy or pity. John rummaged through some paper and removed another form, it was a declaration form that he had to sign that Maryam no longer existed and was not part of the application process anymore.
This paperwork made her seem like a formality as opposed to a real person. A real person that had feelings, had a family that loved her, a boy and a husband that needed her. She was now simply a tick in a box – doesn’t exist.
It was horrible, even though they were being treated more politely, Ahmed still felt like a number and without his paperwork, he would be even less than that.
“Well, that’s all done then. You should receive a response within a week or so. It’s best to come to the office and check next week to see if your application for asylum was successful.”
The next few days were long and difficult. Ahmed didn’t visit the site of the new sewage system, instead he decided to work on the promises he’d made to be a better father. He tried by reading to Malik every night, like he used to in what felt like another life. Thankfully, Antonio and Jane had a brought a great selection of books, ranging from Charles Dickens all the way to Stephen King.
He started helping Malik with his homework and even made a feeble attempt to play football with him. And although he couldn’t play very well, he could tell that Malik loved the time they spent together. Ahmed managed to get hold of a few bits of wood and some tools from Khaleel, so they could build a desk for Malik to study on. This was the first time that Ahmed realised how good Malik was at building things. He was a natural carpenter and he really enjoyed it, so much so that when it was finished he was a little disappointed. And would have loved to disassemble it and start all over again.
They saw Jane and Antonio almost every day, either at the food bank or visiting the house. Malik loved it when they came over, Jane would always come with a bag of treats and Antonio was always happy to play football with Malik.
Ahmed began to write in his journal again:
We are in a strange place… I feel like we are living, but are not alive; we are looked at yet not seen; listened to, yet not heard. We are found, yet are still lost; we are people, yet we are not. We are what our papers say, or we are nothing at all.
There are many people in this camp that have accepted that they are never going to get asylum and yet they can never go back – what will become of these people? Is the world too small for them to have a place in it? Or is it that they are refugees and not people? For, from what I have observed, people come into a world that was already made for them. They have no ownership of it, not even a part of it. And when they leave, however long they have lived, however much land they have claimed, or wealth they had accumulated, they leave with no share of it.
I know now that in the eyes of the world, I am not a real person, I am a refugee. A being that doesn’t really qualify as an actual person; doesn’t belong in place or a time – an inconvenience.
6
There was a knock at the door, Ahmed looked at his watch and wondered who it could be. It was quite late in the afternoon, Jane and Antonio usually came in the morning when visiting and no one else normally came to see them. An array of thoughts rattled in Ahmed’s head, Maybe the application was successful and John had come personally to deliver it… or maybe it went the other way and he had come to give us the bad news. It could be that the application went so badly that guards were sent to kick us out to sea immediately.
The person didn’t wait long before knocking again, this time louder.
Ahmed looked at Malik and gave him a reassuring smile before opening the door. A look to remind him that this was not Aleppo and that they were safe. This didn’t really work, however, as Malik still looked petrified. It was difficult to shake off years of fear.
“Ahmed!” Khaleel said. He was almost hysterical as he burst through the door, flustered, and sounding out of breath, as if he had run there. “It worked! Your plans… they were genius!”
Ahmed smiled in excitement. “That’s good news.”
“Good news?” Khaleel screwed up his face. “Good news? No, Ahmed, this is amazing news! Don’t you see it? To the outside world, it is nothing, they could never understand. But to us…” Khaleel put his hands on Ahmed’s arms and squeezed gently, “to us, this is revolutionary!” He looked like he wanted to jump up and down. “Good news,” he chuckled.
Ahmed was, secretly, almost as equally excited, but didn’t want to show it. However, the new sewage system was going to change the horrific hygiene issues that had blighted the camp, forever.
“Do you not want to see it? Are you not even a little curious?” Khaleel asked, eyebrows raised and a smile that exposed one dimple.
Of course, Ahmed was so excited that he wanted nothing more than to dash over there and see it all in action; celebrate the success. But he remembered the promise he’d made, that he would never again let anything become so important that he neglected Malik.
Playing down his excitement, Ahmed said,” Yes, Khaleel, but I can’t just right now, I am with my son. Perhaps we’ll pop by tomorrow morning on the way to school and take a look.”
“Really?” Khaleel said looking perplexed, “I thought you would have come right away.”
“Can we go Dad, please?” Malik called from the other side of the room, “I really want to see it.”
Ahmed saw that his son was looking at him with his old, bored expression. They had done little recently, apart from read the books Jane had given him. Ahmed knew that Malik was probably itching to get out of the house where Ahmed had thought it nice and safe for both of them. Malik’s asking to go was like a Godsend, for in truth, Ahmed was, by now, dying to see the new sewage works that he’d had a hand in. Trying not to allow his excitement to escape, Ahmed gave a faint smile and nodded his head. But just like every time he got excited about anything recently, the gloomy thought of his dead wife shadowed it. He thought about how Maryam would have been so proud of him, and it reminded him that she was not with them. It was times like these he found the hardest. There were a few occasions when Ahmed thought it might be an idea to talk to someone about how he was feeling, but talked himself out of it, convincing himself that the look, that dreaded look of sympathy and pity would eventually kill him.
As they walked towards the site, to Ahmed’s dread, Malik noticed some of the boys from his school dash past, heading towards the football grounds. His son’s eyes lit up, and Ahmed feared the thought of Malik asking if he could go. It would be difficult to say ‘no’.
“Dad, those are the boys from my school, they are going to play football,” he paused, then added, “they go every day after school. Do you think it would be ok for me to go, just while you’re at the site?”
Ahmed thought for a moment, the site was right next to the football grounds, but he was concerned that he wouldn’t be able
to see him.
“Erm... I’m not sure... what about if we go the site first, then go to the football grounds together afterwards?” Ahmed suggested, but then instantly began to feel bad when he saw the disappointment in Malik’s face. He knew that they would probably be at the site for a while, Malik would just be bored. He would have much more fun playing football.
“Ok, on second thought, you can go, but I will walk you there.” He turned his head to Khaleel, “is that ok?”
“Of course, it is,” Khaleel replied.
The football grounds were packed full of children. They had cleverly organised the area so they could break into small groups and have separate games. There were lots of footballs that had been donated, so everyone was getting a chance to play. It brought back fond memories of Syria, before the awful war broke out. The streets of Syria had been safe and full of life. Children would spend hours outside playing football and cricket, and although Ahmed believed that young minds should not waste too much time, it was a wonderful way for them to stay active and stay away from what he would call ‘the devil of our times’: the television.
As he watched Malik run and join the children, he recalled how he and Maryam used to sit on the balcony of their second-floor window, drinking tea and watching Malik playing football on the street with his friends. It seemed so distant a time, now, that he even wondered whether it had really happened.
“Shall we go?” Khaleel asked, snapping Ahmed out of his daydream. Ahmed really didn’t want to leave Malik but was keen to see the sewage system and decided that he would quickly go have a look, then come straight back and watch Malik play football until he was ready to go back to the house.
The golden ground had been dug in such a way that made it resemble World-War-One trenches, except in these trenches, large pipes were connected to large septic tanks buried under ground. Ahmed carefully examined the large pipes and all the joins.
