by Rose Fox
“Sheep? There’s no chance of that. Nothing grows there, nor is there any water. I don’t believe that someone would come there with herds.”
“So what was the bird clutching in his claws? Wasn’t something bleating like a lamb?”
Abigail remained pensive, then asked,
“How are we to reach the house where we are awaited?”
“Don’t worry, as I have told you, it is not far away, and they also prepared a vehicle for us.”
“Did you say something about an automobile?”
“Yes, a special four-wheel drive SUV.”
“Especially for us?” she inquired and all her instincts were aroused by her sense of imminent danger and when she stared at him, he added:
“Don‘t worry, trust me.”
Abigail drew in her breath to calm herself, but felt she could no longer continue playing her role of following him and she stopped.
“Listen here, Karma, it’s enough and I won’t move another step from here,” she said and sat down on the sand.
“What are you doing?” he asked, and an angry tone entered his remarks. “I don’t think we should stay here in the sand and I also feel rather stupid now with all these arguments.”
“Fine, I am not prepared to continue with you to where you’re going. It doesn’t suit me to get in the car that has been prepared for the two of us and I also feel stupid now.”
“What is this all about!? I don’t believe this is happening now!” then blurted out.
“Listen, I’m going ahead and if you wish – you can join me.”
Abigail stared at his back as he moved ahead and almost decided to disappear, but then he returned to her and said:
“Come, that’s enough nonsense.”
She got up and shook the sand from her clothes and joined him hesitantly.
“Karma, I ask you again. Who left the vehicle for us?”
“The people, who took Abu-Rain away after he was injured; believe me, they are fine and they are also with us.”
“Sure they’re fine, but it’s not certain they are with us,” she said and stopped walking again.
“Karma, I’ll make a deal with you and if I’m wrong – I’ll keep my mouth shut forever.”
“Wow, now that would be worth making an effort for,” he chuckled, “Yes, what deal are we talking about now?”
“It’s like this. If we find a flock of sheep behind this hill, or if the car is harmless and has nothing wrong with it – I’ll know that it’s all in my imagination. Then I will try and rely on you in future.”
“It’s a deal!” he replied at once, extending his hand and when Abigail shook it, he pulled her close to him, embraced her and kissed her forehead that was moist with perspiration.
They carried on and reached the hill when they suddenly heard a horse neighing joined by dogs barking. Abigail thought she heard chickens clucking and looked at Karma and screwed up her eyes in amazement. Around the bend, they saw tall ears of corn that were planted in a crowded row that surrounded a field of golden wheat. When they finished going round the hill, she saw a sheep corral fenced with wooden pickets.
Karma threw her a victorious glance.
Bales of hay were dispersed around and brown chickens roamed among them, picking in the sand. Abigail heard the clanking of iron chains and began looking for the dog that was apparently attached to them when suddenly a fearsome Alsatian tied to a long rope appeared. The dog bared its fangs, growled threateningly and its barking made her shudder. Abigail glanced up at Karma and noticed that he was also surprised as he looked around at it all.
Abigail noted the clean corral and the amazingly tidy yard. She was looking for the neighing horses when all at once her attention was drawn to a man in a wide-brimmed hat, who stood up inside the sheep corral and came out of the wooded gate.
A young fellow followed him and it was clear from the resemblance between them that he was his son. A mangy puppy followed them and wagged its tail at Abigail’s heels. She crouched down to stroke the animal and Karma went to speak to them, extending his hand in greeting. He turned to Abigail and called out to tell her they had been invited to tea, ignoring the tentative expression of doubt that spread on her face.
The wooden hut they entered was meager and simple though it was clear that an effort had been made to keep it clean. The aroma of stew filled the room and a heavily-built woman peered inside, bowed slightly and immediately went out.
Abigail stared at the family photographs hanging on the wall, all taken against the background of the Al-Aqsa Mosque and she wondered at the order and cleanliness of the place. Even the wooden floor looked almost new. A few minutes later, the woman came to the entrance and the man, who was still wearing his hat, took a round tray with a steaming kettle and empty glasses from her.
“Aha’lan, I’m Abu Bachar,” he said and poured the tea with neat and experienced movements. Abigail watched the thin stream of liquid being poured into the glasses and smiled when the man raised and lowered the teapot, without spilling even one tiny drop. The bleating of sheep and the neighing of horses were heard from the outside in the yard together with clucking chickens and barking dogs and she heard Karma describing how the eagle had carried away the lamb.
“Yes, it couldn’t be helped, the lamb escaped from the corral to the fields. It happens sometimes.” Abu Bachar said and sucked his tea noisily.
“What does the farm produce?” Abigail asked gently, trying not to sound investigative or pressuring.
“It’s all still uncertain. To tell the truth no one here is keen on agriculture. I’m experimenting with cultivating wheat because the soil is fertile, but the conditions are hard.”
“For experimenting?”
“Yes, the plan is that if I succeed, investors will be willing to sow fields of wheat between the hills.”
Abigail made polite sounds of admiration and when the men continued talking, she got up and went out into the yard. She looked around, trying to shake off the feeling that the whole scene was a temporary set-up that had been planted there. She shaded her eyes, searching for a well or some source of water and noticed that not one single tree was growing on the whole farm. In the distance, fields of seasonal crops were visible and she walked over to them. She walked past the wooden fence of the sheep corral and looked in the stable, in which two horses waved their tails to chase away flies.
On a whim, she entered the back door of the kitchen and was surprised to find two women inside. When they saw her, the heavy-set woman was standing by the sink with no faucet, holding a bucket of water. Abigail hurried to help her pour the water into a giant saucepan and with a combined effort they put it down on the floor.
“Can I help you put it on the gas burner?”
“No thanks, ma’am, Fatima will help me.”
“Where do you get the water?” she asked and pointed to the almost empty bucket. “I’d be happy to help you pump water and carry the bucket.”
“Ah, it’s fine, Abu Bachar takes care of the water every morning, doesn’t he? The young woman asked Fatima and the latter nodded in confirmation. Now, it was clear to Abigail that everything happening around her was a temporary arrangement.
”Does anyone drive the car?” she asked, not expecting a positive response. To her amazement, the young woman answered proudly that she had a license and was a good driver.
“Great, so I understand that you’re the one who drives to purchase food and run errands.”
“Yes, of course, they left the car behind the stable and I have no difficulty driving it.”
“Wow, that’s unbelievable!” Abigail exclaimed as she immediately thought that this was the car that had been left for them and decided to check that the vehicle was in order.
“Wonderful, good for you! Can you take me for a ride?”
The young woman was thrilled and started out of the kitchen, twirling the keys of the car on her finger like an expert and proudly invited Abigail to join her outside.
&nb
sp; Before they left, Fatima hissed in the young woman’s direction:
“Salima, does Abu Bachar know?”
Instead of answering, Salima called out loud:
“Join us, Fatima, come let’s take a ride around the area.”
Fatima laughed joylessly, straightened her hijab on her head and joined them. It was clear that she was under duress. The three of them went down the wooden steps to the sand.
Square bales of straw were arranged in piles like the squares on a chessboard and the bedraggled dog came along and joined them. He wagged his tail, as he accompanied them to the car that was parked in the field. It’s “Land-Rover” logo sparkled and reflected the sunlight. Abigail was not surprised that the car was clean and polished. She wondered if it had only just arrived.
Salima clicked the key to open the door and got into the driver’s seat, waving her hand to invite the two women to get in, too. Abigail motioned to Fatima to get into the passenger seat beside Salima and she got into the back seat.
When Salima, inserted the key in the ignition, Abigail decided to challenge her to extricate more information from her.
“I understand this is your first time driving such a car.”
“Of course not, who do you think brought it here?” she replied proudly.
“Is that so? Where did you bring it from?”
“From Oman, near the Persian Gulf, and, believe me, they trust me. I drove it all the way here.”
She turned around to Abigail in the back,
“Say, are you frightened?!”
“Yes, a little,” Abigail said, “Salima, take Fatima for a run and then come back for me. I’ll feel calmer about riding with you, what do you think, eh?”!
“No problem, you can get out here, but stay right here.”
Abigail got out of the car and stepped back and waved to say she was fine.
The car accelerated with an exaggerated roar, the wheels burrowed into the dry sand and sprayed clumps of dust behind as it jerked forward. Salima waved out of the window and yelled loudly:
“We’ll be right back!” With a mighty roar of the engine, the car drove into the open field, raising white smoke behind it.
Salima took control of the vehicle and drove well. Abigail watched them raptly. After a hundred meters or more, the car swerved to the left to turn back. Before it completed the turn, it rose up in the air, overturned and rolled in the sand, its metal parts flying around. A thunderous explosion tore the air and Abigail covered her ears and screamed.
She ran back to the house at once, entered through the back to the kitchen and leaned over the bucket of water. She wet her hands and washed her face, shaking all over. Just then, Abu Bachar burst into the kitchen followed by his son and Karma.
“What happened?! Where’s Fatima, where’s Salima?!” He roared, and Abigail pointed to the entrance to the kitchen and screamed that they went out there.
“Went out? Where did they go?”
Abigail shrugged. “They came out to the car, that’s what they said.”
“Why?!” he snarled and Abigail recoiled, frightened by his anger and shrugged her shoulders again. Abu Bachar struck the back of his son’s neck and bellowed uncontrollably:
Y’allah, go there instead of standing here like an idiot?!”
The youngster ran out, followed by his father and Karma stared at Abigail. She nodded and explained quietly:
“That’s life. I had to decide, the two of them or both of us. I was just checking.”
She saw how the muscles in his jaw quivered nervously and added softly:
“Nothing here is real.”
“I’ve already caught on, come let’s get away.” She heard him say: “As we agreed – don’t ever shut up. Carry on being yourself.”
“Karma, we’re in danger. We have to get out of here really quickly.” She insisted. “Is someone pursuing you, perhaps?”
He pulled her by the hand and led her outside and Abigail slowed down.
“Karma, I am leaving this country. If you wish – come with me.” Karma frowned. “We’ve been lucky so far but, in the end, there’s a chance they’ll succeed. How long can we outwit them all?”
He sighed and she could barely hear his response:
“Yes, I’ll leave the country with you, but where will we go?”
She paused momentarily, then continued as they walked.
“I’m going to my house.”
Karma grabbed her arm,
“Your house? Where do you have a house?”
“In Azerbaijan. In Shemakha, I don’t remember the exact address.”
“Oh. How many more surprises have you got in store for me?” He wondered and gestured to her to take the lead.
“After you, my translucent Lucy.”
At almost five in the morning, after a long and exhausting walk, followed by a bus ride, the light rail and a taxi, they reached the northern district of Iran, which was the border that separated it from Azerbaijan.
Even at this early hour, the heat was already unbearable and Abigail wiped her sweaty brow with her sleeve. For the past two hours, she had been able to doze on the back seat of the taxi they were traveling in. Now her eyes burned and her whole body was begging for sleep.
Are your documents in order?” Karma whispered. He sounded tense and Abigail touched his arm.
“Of course, what about yours?”
“Yes, hush, be quiet. We’ve reached the border check post.”
A line of people that stretched for dozens of yards stood below a giant asbestos canopy, in silence and waited patiently for their papers to be inspected. Abigail adjusted the hijab on her head, pulling the veil across her face. She stayed close to Karma’s back and moved ahead slowly behind him.
An infant cried in the arms of a woman beside her and a toddler shuffled at her feet, grabbed at her clothes and looked around with frightened eyes. Abigail bent down and picked him up in her arms. After glancing at the mother, she received confirmation from her that appeared to be a soundless “Thank you”. She gestured with her hands and it turned out later that the woman was dumb. In the minutes that followed, she helped with the small children and won the appreciation of the woman’s husband, Bassam. He stared at her askance and the short beard that covered his face made him appear threatening.
“Where are you from?” he asked, “and where are you going?”
“We’re both tour guides and we are returning to Azerbaijan,” Karma replied and threw Abigail a quick glance.
“Really? How nice, we’re also from there. Where, exactly, do you live?” Abigail rushed to reply immediately. She suddenly remembered that they had forgotten to coordinate the small details like the region and the address where they were going to live.
“We got married two days ago in Gachin in Iran and we’re on our way home, to our town – Shemakha, in the Caucuses, of course.”
“Is that so? So you’re newlyweds?” The man exclaimed and Karma groaned and looked at Abigail, hinting in the direction of a young man, who stood a short distance from them in the line and stared at them curiously. The man was particularly well-built, wore civilian clothes and the butt of a rifle was pointed upward. He scanned the people with a deadly serious expression and Abigail’s heart skipped a beat. She drew Karma’s attention to two more people, who stood a little distance from them, who weren’t armed, but Abigail had no doubt that their weapons were within easy reach.
The infant had fallen asleep in her arms and the sight of him aroused buried feelings in Abigail. Arlene, her daughter, whom she had left in the Ka’abiah encampment in the Israeli Negev and who was now already six or seven years old. Tears welled up in her eyes and she quickly wiped them away.
“What’s the matter?” asked Karma when he saw her sniffing and dabbing her eyes.
“Nothing, everything is fine.” She hurriedly answered and forced herself to spread her lips in a smile.
“Are you certain?”
“Aha,” she replied.
&nb
sp; The line in front of her split into separate lines of men and women and she remembered that Karma did not know the details of the address of her house. She signaled him and waved her papers, containing the address they were going to and saw him frown as he attempted to understand her message. When it was her turn, she faced a woman, sitting behind a thick glass partition whose voice was made audible by a loudspeaker.
“Your visa, please.” The woman demanded and Abigail pushed her papers through a gap under the partition and heard the clerk ask:
“Is that your child?”
“Oh, no, he belongs to her,” she pointed to the woman standing behind the line marked on the floor, waiting her turn.
“He fell asleep in my arms while she…”
“Your address,” she heard the question.
“22 Azar Street, Shemakha,” she replied.
“Where have you been?”
Here, Abigail stretched her ability to think quickly because it was important to consider the possibility of Karma giving the same answer and she replied at once:
“Stary Smokovec in Iran.”
The woman behind the glass looked at the tiny photograph and then at Abigail. In spite of knowing that this was the way everyone was treated, she felt pressured. When she heard the sound of the stamping of her visa, she almost burst out laughing with relief but her hand trembled as she grasped the stamped visa.
An hour later they were sitting in the coach of the train to Shemakha. They knew they had at least another four and a half hours travel ahead of them and as the rocking of the carriage began, Abigail eyes closed and her head dropped forward. Karma eased her seat back and she smiled in appreciation as she settled back. He also closed his eyes, to take advantage of the long journey and rest. When the train stopped with a drawn-out screech of brakes, Abigail woke up and looked at the doors opening and the rowdy throngs of passengers alighting and disembarking.
A mother and daughter entered their coach and sat on a seat facing them that had been vacated and Abigail dozed off again. She closed her eyes peacefully and didn’t notice them staring at her.
“Mother, see her ring,” the girl whispered and her mother nodded and put a finger to her lips to hush her.
