The Dove's Necklace

by Raja Alem

  He sat there, glassy-eyed, replaying the shredded dinosaur film in his mind just like he’d done night after night on the rooftop when he lived in the building. He used to watch as the tears in the reel showed larger and larger on the dinosaur’s body with every viewing, waiting for the one showing when the dinosaur’s entire body would disappear and he would finally be stripped bare of his beastliness, forced to face the neighborhood as mere skin and bone. Khalil had never managed to beat his addiction to watching the dinosaur on the walls of the rooftop, its tail swooping in the air, falling down on the Lane of Many Heads.

  Finally when his tears were dry and his heart exhausted, Khalil fell into a deep sleep and dreamed of doing a remake of the dinosaur movie. He’d turn the dinosaur into the huge reptile that would emerge from Ajyad Mountain on the heels of the Antichrist and slap its tail against the surface of the earth, flipping everything upside down and heralding the apocalypse.

  The sun rising over the roof woke Khalil. He stuffed the reel back into his hiding spot. “No projector will ever play this reel again,” he reassured himself. No more decay, no more patching it up. The dinosaur is finally somewhere where it can never be wiped out.”

  Garbage Red

  “MOON-SHAPED AMULET … PARKING LOT, JAWHARA TOWER.” A SINGLE EMAIL of seven words had brought Yusuf to a parking lot outside one of the towers that overlooked the Haram Mosque. Living in the Lababidi building all by himself had affected his ability to see the world around him for what it was. Reality was no longer a simple tissue to him: his dreams, his memories, pictures, and every word from every book he’d ever read combined to form a new reality. Yusuf himself had turned into an apparition on a thin strip of film, liable to disappear if exposed to any light source. In al-Lababidi’s house, as he moved from room to room, he made sure to shut every door he passed through, keeping up the habit of al-Lababidi’s wife, Marie, and her servants: “Don’t let the outside touch the pictures.”

  He gradually lost the ability to make sense of the world around him and the only reason he’d answered the message was because he was desperate to break out of the cycle of delirium he found himself in.

  In plain view of the parking attendant, Yusuf walked past the gate, convinced that he was a ghost, and climbed up the exit ramp to the first floor of the parking garage. The attendant made no attempt to move toward him, he didn’t even look at him, which only added to Yusuf’s worry that he’d become invisible. When he got to the first floor, he saw that it was packed full of cars and stiflingly hot, like the inside of a boiling pot. The smell of electrical fires and fresh paint mixed with the sweat on the back of his neck. Yusuf wasn’t sure which of the four floors he was meant to wait on, he wasn’t even sure what he was waiting for.

  He walked forward under the bright neon lights, cursing himself for coming to a place like this without even asking Mushabbab for advice. He felt the forest of concrete columns watching him and the glare of all the yellow signs and zone numbers blinded him. Some outside brain showed him the outlines of the car that came barreling toward him like a crimson lightning bolt. It emerged as if from some bloody patch beneath his eyelids. Even the hubcaps were painted dark red. The dream car grew larger as it headed for him. The moment lasted an eternity. Yusuf felt sluggish, his whole body froze as if to stay rooted to the spot. His body surrendered. His mind surrendered. His every muscle relaxed to receive the blow, his body went numb and indulged in the pleasurable sensation of being smashed before they’d even made contact. He tasted delicious death in that red second and savored it without knowing.

  The deafening blow that followed brought him out of his reverie. Yusuf jumped, a delayed reaction, into any random direction falling onto the front of a blue garbage truck. The narrow band of red was squeezed under the truck’s front bumper but Yusuf didn’t have a chance to look at the thin red rivulets spreading out beneath the blue truck. He felt a hand yanking him, stuffing him into the front seat. Deep down he was certain that the red car would’ve crushed him to bits if the blue truck that had appeared from out of nowhere hadn’t wiped it out first.

  He knew he was inside the blue truck because of the faint smell of rot that enveloped it. It made him feel woozy. He spread out, as if decomposing, peaceably and discreetly, within the grave. Nothing bad could happen to him any more.

  He realized he was squeezed in between two men: a short man who was driving the truck and a tall man who’d rescued him. The tall guy, his face covered by a red-checked scarf, was as reedy as a scarecrow. As the garbage truck roared through the gate of the parking garage onto the road, Yusuf’s hand felt for the door handle, but was soon seized by an iron fist. The scarecrow turned to look at him. They were both panting. Sweat pooled between their shoulder blades and beneath their arms. Yusuf caught a whiff of something from the intimate past and noticed that the eyes staring back at him were gray. The man pulled the scarf away, slowly. Yusuf gasped.

  “The Eunuchs’ Goat?” The harsh look on his face didn’t soften in the slightest. “I thought they deported you. Or left you to rot in some prison somewhere.”

  “Yes, though are we not all destined to rot in this earthly hell?”

  “What are you talking about? Are you j—” He wanted to say “joking” but something in the Eunuchs’ Goat’s gray eyes stopped him short.

  “Go ahead, say it. I was always the clown.”

  “What are you doing riding around in a garbage truck? And what happened before? Was that all real?”

  “Only as real as you.” The Eunuchs’ Goat gave him a withering look, sweeping his gray gaze from top to toe, but Yusuf ignored the affront and carried on talking.

  “Did you go back to the Lane of Many Heads? It isn’t safe there any more. Things aren’t the way they were back before you got arrested. Did you hear? Azza was probably murdered.”

  “When was she ever alive? When were any of us? Women are insects. At least for us men, death is a victory. It liberates our souls … What is all this crap?” Yusuf sensed danger in the bizarre words.

  “I’ll get out here, please.”

  “No. You’re coming with me.”

  “With you? Where?”

  “You’ll see. You have to see.”

  The hot wind whipped at their faces, yellowing them. Yusuf wanted to shut the window but he didn’t dare move. For the first time in his life, he was frightened of one of his childhood friends.

  “I have to at least know where you’re taking me.” His voice betrayed his terror.

  “Don’t forget I just saved your life.” Every word that came out of his mouth sounded strange. There was no trace left of the simple Eunuchs’ Goat he’d known since childhood.

  “What happened to you?”

  The Eunuchs’ Goat looked back and forth between Yusuf and the driver, who hadn’t said a word the entire time, as if expecting one of them to rescue him. Yusuf’s eyes fell on the Eunuchs’ Goat’s hands, the dirt under his fingernails. Not even his hands resembled the old Eunuchs’ Goat’s polished marble hands, whose elegance had defied the hardships of life in the Lane of Many Heads. Yusuf’s searching look made the Eunuchs’ Goat uncomfortable so he quickly tried to distract him.

  “Get ready. We’re about to go through a checkpoint.” Yusuf didn’t have time to respond or even comprehend. “Get down now.” Without any warning, he shoved Yusuf’s head into a black sack and Yusuf felt hands and feet like steel on his body, holding him down beneath the seat.

  The truck seemed like it would keep going forever. Every time they stopped, Yusuf could feel the steel limbs crushing him down further beneath the seat. It was more to punish him than to keep him out of sight. Finally when they parked, they yanked him out of the truck roughly and pushed him forward. The ground felt soft and moist beneath his feet and the stench of rotting garbage blinded him. He knew he was walking on a trash heap. Just then, the black sack was pulled off his head to reveal the Eunuchs’ Goat smirking at him:

  “Welcome to my kingdom! Now, follow me.”
He led him through a network of tunnels and chambers so tortuous that Yusuf couldn’t tell whether they were penetrating deeper down into the earth or up into the sky. He would’ve lost his way if it weren’t for the deep earthy smell that guided them like a compass. Yusuf recognized the muggy smell that used to hang over the kitchen scraps dumped outside in the Lane of Many Heads. He realized that the tunnels below weren’t deep like a cave, but ran beneath the thinnest layer of dirt, as shallow as the city’s pride.

  The Eunuchs’ Goat finally pushed through a reed mat and cleared their way to the surface. They passed layers of rags, rotting vegetables, food, plastic tubs, soda cans, electronics, massive piles of broken mobile phones. There were mounds and mounds of garbage as far as the eye could see and the dump was surrounded by developments of what looked like doll’s houses. It didn’t matter if they were in Mecca any more or somewhere else. The garbage dump might as well have been the whole world, Yusuf felt.

  All around them faces appeared from behind stacks of boxes, curtains strung up haphazardly between piles of trash, and sheet-metal doors stuck into the ground, guarding the void behind. With a single glance, the Eunuchs’ Goat informed him that he’d found refuge; his breath gave off the stench of decay.

  Yusuf’s lungs seized up when the Eunuchs’ Goat led him to the massive trenches that were used as ovens. The African dump kings lit fires there to burn plastic and aluminum, sending massive plumes of smoke into the air. Yusuf’s eyes began to make out the flocks of grimy children swooping like birds of ash through the smoke, laughing and coughing, feeding the flames. Women the same color as garbage heaps were scattered around the edge of the trenches, picking containers and food out of the piles and scurrying back to their hovels tucked away in the stinking mounds.

  The Eunuchs’ Goat led him straight toward the volcanic ditch, which was surrounded by a ring of trash piles. It looked like a conference room. They were met by a group of five men. Their decrepit smell was nothing compared to their skin: ashy, dry, cracked; he could see it peeling and flaking from where he stood. When they got nearer the odor was unbearable. “Finally. There he is.” Two of the men grabbed him, pulling his arms back behind him, pushing his head forward, constraining his movements. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t break free.

  “What’s going on?” Yusuf shouted at the Eunuchs’ Goat. A short man with a thick beard came forward and blocked Yusuf’s vision.

  “No questions allowed. This is a trial.” Yusuf cast his eyes stupidly over the dirt-smeared faces. “So where’s the key?” It took him some time to decipher those words in broken Arabic. It became apparent that the Ethiopian man with the unkempt beard was the one in charge. A surprise kick broke one of Yusuf’s ribs. When he cried out in pain, the Eunuchs’ Goat jumped up to intervene.

  “You promised me you would leave that task to me. I’m the one who succeeded in bringing him here and I’m the one who’ll rip the answer out of his disgusting body,” he said as he pushed the Ethiopian man away from Yusuf.

  “Yusuf, give me the key.” A caravan of garbage trucks arrived at the dump and deposited their fresh cargo. They attracted flocks of children dressed in tatters who appeared from out of nowhere, from behind every mound and pile, running and diving into the new harvest, collecting the treasures and treats, fighting with starving women and women who looked like they’d just arrived. To Yusuf, the scene appeared a nightmare.

  “What key?” he murmured.

  “We know it was you who fought the thief in the Haram Mosque. You don’t deserve to keep the key or even to live in the vicinity of the Haram.”

  “What do you mean ‘I don’t deserve to’?”

  “You’re unclean,” the Ethiopian answered. “You’re an idol-worshipping journalist. You want to revive pagan Mecca, not the Mecca of Islam. You direct your prayers toward stone walls.” The Eunuchs’ Goat got between them.

  “Are you going to let me take care of this or should I just go? This man is mine. I’m the one who brought him here.”

  “You can have him, just shut him up and spare us this little girl’s whining,” he said turning to Yusuf with a spiteful look. “You know full well who you are. You know who your father was. You infidels are forbidden from living within the vicinity of our Sanctuary.”

  Yusuf seemed completely taken aback by it all, but the Eunuchs’ Goat didn’t spare a moment:

  “Just give us the key to the Kaaba already. It’s the Lord’s House, our Holy Mosque.”

  “Your mosque?” Yusuf’s head was pounding.

  “We are his servants, earth-renouncing,” said the third man who’d been silent the entire time. “You’re dirty, boy, and you’re defiling the Lord’s House. Your hand defiles the key.”

  “Yusuf, the key …” The Eunuchs’ Goat repeated himself like a broken record. “If you don’t cooperate, my brothers will kill you. If you continue being stubborn, it will be out of my hands.”

  “You’ve got brothers now?” Yusuf’s question embarrassed the Eunuchs’ Goat.

  “Give me the key, and I’ll drop you off at the nearest highway.”

  “Believe me, there’s no way I could I even get my hands on it. I don’t have it.”

  “You lying infidel!” the Ethiopian shouted. “We read all your articles. How dare you say that God is in our hearts and in every morsel we eat, when everyone knows He is in heaven exalted?” The man seemed totally convinced of the idiotic things he was saying and he strode past the Eunuchs’ Goat to deliver a kick to Yusuf’s torso. The Eunuchs’ Goat answered this by shoving the man back and then the two men squared up, ready to fight. Just then, a cacophony of pots and pans broke out and people began to disappear; they melted back into the piles of garbage and the sky swallowed up the hordes of children. The Eunuchs’ Goat grabbed Yusuf and ran off into the volcanic mountains surrounding the garbage dump. He dragged Yusuf’s limp body over the trash mounds with superhuman strength. Yusuf was scratched and bruised, numbed by the putrid smell; his body was unreal. The time he’d spent in isolation in al-Lababidi’s house had made it more transparent, and the odor that permeated everything was enough to tear his limbs apart. All he wanted was to be left there to die. He pulled at the Eunuchs’ Goat’s hand to stop him, to ask what was going on, but he was so worn out all he could do was gasp, “Leave me here. I’ll find my way.” The Eunuchs’ Goat just dragged him on further, not breaking his stride.

  “You don’t even know where you are. You’re not in Mecca any more and you’re not allowed to go back. This is Jeddah.”

  “What?”

  The Eunuchs’ Goat had no choice but to stop. “Yusuf, you know who your ancestors were. Mecca has no choice but to exile people like you.”

  “Like me?”

  “Come on, we both know it. I was with you when you went up to Bull Cave to prove the Yemeni man was your father.”

  “But I don’t understand. Why would who my father was mean that I was evil?”

  “I’m not the naive Turkish boy made of marble any more. I’m a soldier in the Mahdi’s army and he’s commanded that you be killed.”

  Yusuf began laughing hysterically, but a slap from the Eunuchs’ Goat shut him up.

  “I just can’t believe you’ve become so violent.” Yusuf pleaded, ladylike, with the Eunuchs’ Goat’s hardened marble exterior.

  “You’ll never believe how far I’m willing to go to win the coming battle.”

  “What battle?”

  The Eunuchs’ Goat dragged him forward and began running again. “The police are raiding the dump. If they catch you here, you’ll end up rotting in jail. This isn’t a joke, it’s a warning. Now move as fast as you can!”

  Yusuf ran on, fueled by every last drop of fear inside him. He ran on and on, he didn’t know how long for or where to, but by the time the Eunuchs’ Goat finally stopped him they were at the top of one of the volcanoes and the police cars that had raided the dump looked about as big as matchboxes below. They were roving all over the place, rounding up
the undocumented workers who used the dump as a hideout.

  At the top, all around Yusuf, the residents of the dump were celebrating their escape from the raid down below and feasting on half-squashed fruit they’d rolled up in the folds of their clothes. Biting down, nearer and nearer to the rotten bits and then even those. Yusuf thought back on the rotten charity his own body had been raised on. As an orphan, he had attracted all manner of unwanted “gifts” of food and clothes. Only then, did the Eunuchs’ Goat turn to answer him.

  “So you asked me why I’m here? As you can see, our world is sinking under all your garbage. If we don’t put a stop to this, you’re going to swallow up the entire world.” Yusuf found the emptiness in his eyes chilling.

  “Our garbage? Are you serious? Do you even hear yourself? You’ve got the same name as my childhood friend the Eunuchs’ Goat but other than that, everything about you has changed. Who are you?” The Eunuchs’ Goat couldn’t bear to look at him. They were standing face to face among a hellish-looking crowd. No one there paid any attention to Yusuf; the other leaders had each escaped to the nearest mountaintop.

  “I have orders to get rid of you. Your life isn’t worth so much as a trash bag if you can’t lead us to the key.”

  “But I don’t have it.”

  “There are some people, some very powerful people coming after you. They hacked into your email to lay this trap for you. You saw the red car. They want you gone. You’re fair game, either to me or to them. The only difference is they won’t give you a second to breathe.”

  “And you? Are you going to give me a second?” The Eunuchs’ Goat looked unsure. “Are these your brothers now?” Yusuf asked, gesturing at the haggard faces surrounding them.

  “This is the army of the Mahdi, which will soon conquer the world.”

  Yusuf didn’t dare argue with his boilerplate answer. From where they were standing, the policemen and police cars down below were nothing more than toys amidst a cloud of shrieking crows.