I do not know what it says
your Mama wrote Private
and Important
on the envelope.
Now,
Ha Jia demands
and not in front of Zahura.
You have to honor
your mother’s request.
Why?
Because that is the law
of the land.
Ha!
what law
what land
when you are invisible?
Jubair,
You must not tell Ha Jia.
You must not tell anyone.
Talking may mean
risking the lives of the ones
you love.
You cannot say good-bye
not to anyone.
This is dangerous
what you are about to do.
In three days
on Friday
you are to go
to the woods a mile behind Ha Jia’s house
where you fetch the water
at dawn.
A woman
will be waiting for you.
She is a Mama
like me,
so no one will suspect her;
she knows where to take you
what boat you are to go on,
where you will travel
to Thailand,
where we will meet you
with open arms
when you get
here.
PS No one.
Not even
the monkeys in the forest
do you understand?
You risk the lives
of anyone you tell,
I have already registered you
for a school
they have set up
at the camps.
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I wail,
knowing
I am so far away,
no one
can hear me
curse these wet and wild woods
curse they day I was born
curse my mother
for tempting me
to leave the one
I love.
I cannot.
I will not.
I cannot.
I will not.
I will stay here
with Zahura,
until I die.
Until we both die
together
since there is no food
no job
no place for us
to continue
to survive.
May-may
how could you do this to me?
I cry to the Gods
I cry to the pagoda
on my arm.
I cry to my dead Pay-pay
I cry to Ha Jia
for not taking us into
his home.
If I take Zahura
we will both die.
If I go
only she dies.
But I love her
yet I know
I have to go.
Three days
and I cannot say
good-bye.
I will live and get smarter with books,
but inside I will be a dead tree.
What’s wrong?
Nothing.
Liar.
last night
you tossed and turned
and cried out in your sleep
for the gods to forgive you.
The gods
will never forgive me.
I will never
forgive myself.
Stop being crazy!
I was so inhuman to you.
That was in the past.
No
I want to say
it is only beginning
and I have to have faith.
Ha Jia, who is more of a man than I am,
will figure things out
and take care of her,
maybe figure out a way
of sending her
to me.
Are you turning lazy on me
Jubair?
No. Sorry, Ha Jia.
I am just tired
so, so tired.
Take a day off.
Oh no,
I can’t.
Because I am leaving
the day after tomorrow.
Please take care of her.
Please bring her
into your home,
please read my mind,
if I do not get educated
there is nothing I can do
to save anyone.
You know I love you
I tell him.
No matter where you go
or what you do
I know you love me
so do not worry yourself.
I cry
and for the last time
forever
I am cradled
in his arms.
You are acting
like a mae thu person *
tell me what is wrong.
It is just
I love you
so much,
I am afraid.
Will you love me
no matter
what?
Of course
you crazy, crazy boy,
no matter what.
If only you know
tomorrow when you wake up
I will not be here.
I am with you
forever,
no matter what.
*Crazy
The drums
of the night
are going crazy:
the yelping of dogs
the hissing of snakes
the rage of mosquitoes
and dying dogs,
and I am being dragged
through all of this
by this woman
no more than ninety pounds-
my mother’s friend.
You are too slow
do you want to
get caught?
she hisses,
yes
I want to be dragged through
the sewers of Bangkok.
Can’t you smell my stench?
No.
Though my heart feels
different.
Zahura
I know you hate me.
You will hate me forever
the way I hated my May-may
for a long, long time.
I wanted to say bhine.
I really did,
but that would have hurt you
even more.
Truly
Cha-ma-chine-go-chit-the.
Forever.
For real?
I am not going
in that boat.
It is not much longer
than my leg
and look, dozens of people
are lined up.
Doesn’t the trip take hours?
You are going.
Are you kidding me?
You know how much your Mama paid
to take you?
Do you know what I risked
to take you here?
Risk.
That is what Zahura did
not you
lady.
In a week’s time
you must give these letters
to Ha Jia.
Are you kidding me?
she asks.
If I ever see
land again
he will be safe
and I will be safe
on land
and he must know to take care
of my girl.
She laughs,
but the way she rubs my hand
and gazes into my eyes
I feel she will do
the right thing.
Ha Jia,
I had to leave,
but I can share nothing with you
other than
my urgent plea:
please care for my Zahura
like she is one of yours
tell her that I love her
tell her that I had no choice
tell her I am not
a slimy snake,
but a boy with
too many tears
inside.
After you read this letter
burn it,
but the other one
please hide
until it is safe
to hand it over
to Zahura.
Many people weep
the man
who is sending his older children
alone,
and they are crying
for May-may,
but there is no May-may;
there are mothers
holding their children, too many,
bony and bawling babies,
and a few old people, too
who look like they have
no skin on them.
We are all traveling
on this desperate boat
to nowhere,
and this is what I left
Zahura for.
All I have brought
on this journey
is one book,
The Good Earth,
the clothes on my back
the letters you wrote
the sorrow that sits in me
that fills me up
from head to toe.
What is Ha Jia
thinking now?
So many people
carry nothing
but their bodies.
The sea is vile;
it is violent
it rocks the dozens of us
trapped
in this casket of cargo
back and forth
like we are the dead dogs
in the water,
so many people throw up
and scream,
but I don’t do anything like that;
I gaze
at the sickly sky,
wondering
if there is a god
how could he possibly
leave us to the mercy
of a random ocean
and smugglers,
who pass around bread,
as if that is enough
for all this hunger.
I have lost track
of the waves
of time
and water,
so much water,
yet still I sweat,
heat is a shroud
that hangs over us
taunting us
to stay alive
with no
compelling reason.
I decide to read
May-may’s first letter.
Why I Did not Say Bhine
By now
you must hate me.
You are hearing this
in Ha Jia’s voice
since you can not
read or write yet,
but you will
I assure you,
I know
because you are the child
I could leave behind.
How could any mother
leave any child behind?
I really don’t know,
but I am certain
the months ahead
will be torture.
Jubair,
God gave me no choice.
I know you do not believe in God,
but I would like to believe
there is someone out there
who will make things better
one day.
Our lives in Myanmar
were dreadful
I think you know this,
and this is what I knew
I had to get the family
out of there
anywhere;
I heard Thailand would be better.
We shall see.
I saved for this ocean journey
for years.
I never thought
ever
I could not take my whole family
with me,
but the smugglers
they increase the price per body.
Can you imagine,
they make you pay
per body?
Your sister,
still on my breast,
was the same price
as your big brother.
So why
were you
the child left behind?
my smack-in-the-middle child
between two boys,
one big and boastful,
but filled with fluff,
the other small and scared
of his own shadow,
and then there was you,
Jubair
brave
brilliant
strong
resilient;
you
my special son
who I had faith
would learn
to read and write
would survive
the storms
and sleeping in the woods,
the one who could make it.
And I never said good-bye
because I knew
I would see you once again.
There
in the middle of a monsoon
the boat tossing and turning
like a crazy person,
but straight ahead
there is a dock
and I can see
my sister,
my brothers
bigger
better
smiling,
oblivious to the rain,
and behind them
my mother
my father
(who I knew had never died)
and a whole
new
world
waiting
to say hello.
Dear Zahura,
I had to leave,
but this is what I know
I did not need
to say bhine
because I will find a way
to come back to you.
I hand my note
to the captain of the ship
(that is what he calls himself)
the one I read to
through days and nights
of storms
and smelly bodies.
He likes me.
I know he will get this letter to you.
I will return.
Sooner
not later.
The Illustrator
Dr. Bashar Ericsoossi is originally from Syria. He is board-certified in Nephrology and Internal Medicine. In 2007, he received his medical degree from Damascus University School of Medicine in Syria. When not practicing medicine in New York City, Dr Ericsoossi sees the world through the eyes of art. Since childhood, he has been expressing himself through art that echoes both his thoughts and his emotions.
The Author
Pamela L. Laskin is a lecturer in the English Department at City College, where she directs the Poetry Outreach Center. Her book Ronit and Jamil, A Palestinian/Israeli Romeo and Juliet in verse, published by Harper Collins in 2017, was one of School Library Journal’s 17 2017 YA Books To Have On Your Radar, one of Entertainment Weekly’s 34 Most Anticipated Novels of 2017, and was a 2018 Sydney Taylor notable book. BEA, a picture book, was a finalist for the Katherine Paterson Prize for Children’s Fiction. Pamela is the winner of the 2018 Leapfrog Fiction contest for YA fiction. She teaches graduate and undergraduate children’s writing. Follow her on twitter at twitter@RonitandJamil, and follow her blog at http://PamelaLaskin.blogspot.com/.
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Why No Goodbye? Page 5
