by Anna Russo
*
One day, however, the wind decided that time had come to start and play football again so it began throwing a few kicks at the ball made of rags.
At first the ball didn’t even move.
The wind blew and blew and the ball started to roll when it finally stopped near Ibrahim who was sitting on his throne with his eyes closed enjoying the sun that was soaking his face.
Since Ibrahim had not noticed anything, the wind blew stronger and stronger. The ball hit Ibrahim, whose eyes shot open, but a rag flew off up towards the sky.
Flapping in the air the rag continued to climb until it reached the top of the barricade, where it stopped for a moment, just enough time to slap one of the black flags ( at least that’s how Ibrahim saw it), and then it flew off and landed on the other side.
Ibrahim remained immobile. Through the barbed wire he gazed the torn rag, which had flown over everything.
Suddenly he too thought of doing the same thing the wind had done.
Filled with joy, almost like the day he had stood up in the fields for the first time, he got up from his throne and gave the ball a mighty kick.
The ball flew over the barricade and knocked off one of the flags and after stopping a second to look at the sun, it landed on the other side.
There was a boy on the other side that Ibrahim didn’t know, who saw the ball fly through the air. He ran into his part of the field and before the ball touched the ground he gave it another mighty kick and sent it across to the other side, and so the game went on…
*
From that day, the barrier became a net and the children, who were divided into two teams, had invented the most entertaining game in the world.
Obviously, the players couldn’t meet or even see each other, so they felt free to insult and shout at one another as, by the end of the game, one lost track on whose team he was on.
Those games went on forever and since the ball was made of rags, there was no danger of seeing it burst on the barbed wire.
However, this small detail had its importance: balls made of rags don’t burst but do get caught in the wire and remain suspended.
The children started raiding material everywhere and when the rags finished, it was their mother’s and sister’s clothes that began to disappear.
*
On the first day five balls got stuck and the second, two. A year later there were so many balls stuck that the barricade became invisible. Two months later and the barbed wire became a huge wall of multi-coloured rags, a beautiful sight. It stood out clearly and was the joy and triumph of the children who after a year and two months decided to climb up this hill. No sooner had they decided, they did it.
The first who had thought of changing the game was Ibrahim – as usual, he had hit the ball so hard that it got stuck on one of the flags with the skulls making it fall.
All in a split second.
Ibrahim imagined a mountain and cried out : ”the mountain will be ours!”
With the force and the enthusiasm that only children have, the game changed and everyone took part.
Maybe it took an eternity or maybe only a short while, who knows? This was a long waited moment. Since the barricade had been covered in rags they could recognise their voices but could not remember what they looked like.
And at the top of the hill, they had found themselves grown.
They were taller and more handsome.
From that position it seemed that they had the world at their feet and the people were all so tiny.
The cloud looked down from above and the wind started blowing out joy, so strongly that the rags flew and were scattered all over the planet… as if everything around were singing victory.
*
From that day, this terrible skein of rags turned into the best imaginable game. Depending on the day, the hill became a ship ready to set sail, an unknown island or a space-ship…
But for whatever the mountain was used for: to climb, to set sail, to take off… once the peak had been reached Ibrahim and his friends were given to great celebrations that culminated in fantastic tumbles and slips without bothering to worry what part they fell over, because it was just fun doing it.
This would happen when the wind was soft, but when it decided to blow strongly, the wonder happened: the mountain began to sing.
Every rag, every strip gave out sounds, some only noise, but it was music to the ears of Ibrahim and the others.
When it rained Ibrahim would be seated by the little bathroom window, the only one giving out to the back. He gazed at his work while it turned into a river, a stream, a waterfall of rags that were being washed and were waiting for the sun.
*
The children of the mountain grew together, but like all things that are destined to come to an end, that morning the wind decided to blow away.
Ibrahim had just went out. He was in a hurry as he had to bring home some milk for a baby brother born after him. He passed the field without noticing the change that had occurred.
It was at the second crossroad that he finally noticed.
He stopped motionless in the middle of the road standing in the path of a bus that had just pulled out.
Ibrahim did not notice the bus, just like the bus-driver hadn’t noticed Ibrahim.
A young boy, who happened to be passing by at that moment, threw himself on Ibrahim one second before the bus would have hit him. Besides the boy no one had noticed anything. The bus driver saw both boys on the ground and recalled on how he liked to tussle at that age.
Ibrahim was not as happy, though. He thought the boy must have been of an age where one behaves strangely and promised himself to remember this behaviour and not act in this way when he reached that age.
Then he remembered the field.
An image more vivid and magnificent yet more alarming than before. Forgetting everything and everyone, Ibrahim fled away from the boy and started running like never before. He just managed to avoid a few collisions before finally arriving at the field. He then saw again what he had glimpsed earlier: the ship made of mountain, the island… in other words… the barricade, the net they used to play ball was gone!
There was nothing in its place: only a field.
*
Ibrahim didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
Yes… maybe he was happy although he couldn’t tell why: they spent a lot of time to build that mountain and yet they had taken only one night to destroy it.
What an incredible, wonderful yet terrible thing!
“So was this the power of being an adult?” he thought “In a second they are able to change things and instead they are never able to change themselves?”.
He was happy to be a child, and swore that he would have conserved the power to transform himself when he would turn adult.
Anyway, the barricade was no longer there and the boy decided to go to the middle of the field to see if the stone on which he became a king on was still there.
And so he walked on the field again.
*
He roamed around without any goal, playing a little bit with the sand, a bit with the stones, and he was so happy and did not see the signs that surrounded the field.
Instead the boy that had saved Ibrahim earlier from the bus saw him and started to yell while running towards his direction
Ibrahim did not hear him.
This time, the only thing that changed was that the boy did not catch up to him, but was stopped where the sand began.
He went to put a foot on the field, that was usually soft and yellow, but pulled it out quickly, and while crying, collapsed on the sand right under one of those signs that Ibrahim had not noticed and on which was written in black and white: danger and do not trespass.
Behind the sign laid the sun and between the sun and the sign there was Ibrahim who had found his throne and was now, once again, a king.
Only then Ibrahim turned and saw the boy: he had knelt down at the edge of the field and was c
rying.
Even if the scene seemed rather dramatic, Ibrahim laughed and thought these juvenile crises are one bad thing.
Then he began to call the boy, because he had an immense desire to tell someone what was happening, but the more he called, the more the boy wouldn’t move.
“Strange” he thought. He still tried calling and still nothing happened. At the end, even if he would have preferred not to, he decided to go to him. So he got off his throne and went on his way.
But it was not that easy.
With great wonder, every time that his foot touched the sand, the boy from the other side would scream and pull backwards.
Ibrahim would stop and so would the boy.
Ibrahim retook walking and the other retook with cries, screams and backward steps.
At that point he was sure that the boy was not normal at all!.
In the meantime, the awkward dance and cry performance continued in a rather slow course and only when they were more or less five meters from each other, the boy did not move anymore, neither screamed anymore, remaining with a glassy stare and without any expression on his face, as if he had just seen a ghost.
To be looked at in that way was not very pleasant, but at least the boy did not scream anymore! thought Ibrahim.
But the relief did not last long since it was cancelled by one single cry that summarized all the others not emitted when Ibrahim made it out the field and touched the boy’s shoulder. The boy, terrified, ran away as quickly as he could.
Ibrahim watched him, while the boy ran and fell, fell and ran, then turned the corner and disappeared.
Maybe he is crazy! thought Ibrahim, then he remember the milk, his mother and his little brother, and so he decided it was better to go.
So he spent the whole morning in the village, paying much attention in avoiding his father’s friends, his mother’s friend’s, his brothers and sister’s friends, all his relatives, and all his relative’s friends, because the village was small and everyone knew everyone. There were so many people to avoid, that Ibrahim decided to hide himself in the donkey stables and to tell everything to Aibì.
*
Aibì was an old mule that had decided not to walk anymore. Its owner loved the old mule a lot (they had spent their life together) and left him in the stable to rest. When the children wouldn’t go to school, they would go hide themselves in the stable and keep him company.
Aibì, as usual, listened without saying anything: it was never understood if the mule was happy or sad, so every child would go away with his own personal opinion.
That day Ibrahim decided that Aibì was very happy.
Talking and talking about fields, clouds, winds and new possible games, it didn’t take long to make afternoon.
*
Ibrahim was hungry; after greeting Aibì, on his way back home, he came up with a colossal and complicated lie which Ibrahim hoped to use to either convince his father or at least tire him out with. Finished the difficult task, he imagined which good things he would have found for lunch.
But beyond any forecast, once at home…there was nothing to eat!
And not only…
*
There wasn’t mummy, the sisters, the brothers and not even the father… although their voices could be heard and they all came from the small bathroom on the first floor.
This was an event: all his family closed in the small bathroom on the first floor.
It’s incredible! His entire serious family closed in the small bathroom on the first floor. He couldn’t believe this.
On his way to reach them he couldn’t help but to laugh scornfully, and happy to be getting away with it.
But he stopped laughing as soon as he saw them: his family was all crowded together leaning over the small window; they had sad and worry faces. at times his sisters shouted, at times they whispered; his brothers stammered; his parents looked only at the field. In any case, the very few words spoken were sad and not at all pleasing; they were like the crazy boy’s words!
Then Ibrahim decided to go to the window and he saw what he already knew: the barricade that was no longer there anymore and the field that had returned to be only a field. Strange… why did such a thing worry his family?
Then he decided to ask the meaning of the word that he kept hearing: “What does mined mean?”
… it was then that a mine exploded.
His brothers and sisters hissed and they looked at him as if he were a stranger. They were worried because Ibrahim didn't know the meaning of such a simple word, but above all they didn't know how to explain it to him.
Contrary to everybody else, his older brother, who usually never had doubts in life, decided that it be better to simply explain everything to Ibrahim.
He said: “they have buried some mines in your field, and a mine is a bomb!” and concluded :”… your field is now mined!”
His brothers and sisters listened petrified. They could have hissed the elderly brother, but did not in respect of his older age.
Only Ibrahim remained speechless.
No word came out of his mouth, not even a tiny breath.
The child remained motionless while with his head gave a nod of approval, because it was always right to respond to an older brother.
Unaware of all, the older brother continued to talk and more or less pronounced these words: “bombs…hidden under the sand…sure death to those who step on them…impossible to see…impossible to find…no one may longer go on the field!”
“Very strange speech!”, thought Ibrahim who, rather than to listen preferred to gaze at the words that came out of his brother’s mouth and that floated for a moment in complete silence to then fly out the window and glide over everyone’s head.
One “bomb” slightly skimmed over his prettiest sister’s hair, but did not explode; actually, it seemed more like a caress, that disappeared out the window like all the others.
*
When all the words had finally gone away Ibrahim thought that maybe his brother had fooled him.
He came to this conclusion by the way he had spoken. Too harsh, too much self-confidence and – we all know – certain things should not be explained in that way and then…who could ever do something so cruel and so horrid like that? To ponder on one’s future harm, the most wicked and vile form of all. Without any excuse for its anger, insensibility and hallucination.
An interpretation of evil at its pure state; practically unimaginable in its obscure immensity.
*
Ibrahim was about to lose himself within the labyrinth of such incoherence, when his younger sister, the one who loved him the most, pointed the way out. This was quite suspicious, though. A heroic gesture of an unheard-of audacity that nobody would have ever expected from such a fine and delicate person. And it wasn’t such a difficult action, either. The little sister, and not just in terms of age, simply lifted up her eyes; she stared directly into those of her bigger brother, and with an inappropriate tranquillity, pronounced a phrase that exploded harder than a bomb.
She said: “...it’s not true”.
Actually, she whispered it, but the load of rebellion contained within the phrase was so powerful that it resembled a cry and its cry hushed everyone.
All eyes were pointed towards her, who, instead of feeling tinier than she already was, did all she could to stand up straight and appear taller. It was this action that held back her brothers hand, who was ready to strike her.
*
It was called pride and you cannot strike who proudly holds her head high, and his sister was absolutely certain of what she was saying. She had spent the entire night by the little bathroom window because she had fallen in love, but she kept this for herself…it was her secret.
She was waiting for her loved one to walk by. She waited all night long for the young boy to go by; he just had to go by there.
But she did not see anyone; neither the young boy, nor the soldiers who had put up the signs. On the
field, though, she only saw the signs, according to her, put there to frighten the foolish.
It was at this point that a violent slap struck her so hard that she could barely keep herself up. And yet she did not cry while her cheek started to inflame. No tears were shed. She did not lower her eyes nor did she touch her cheek. Not even a sign of anger was perceptible. She was aware of the truth and even if they would have put her to death, things could not have changed. The bigger brother, and not only in terms of age, understood this and felt like a fool; but by this time, as in the role of big brother, he couldn’t go back on his position. The field had been mined and it was to remain that way; for him, for his family and for everybody in town.
On behalf of Ibrahim, who had always been told that heroes were men, it was time to add among these heroes the first woman. He was able to escape from the labyrinth of fear thanks to the directions his little sister had given him and who no longer seemed so small and therefore decided that…the field was not mined.
In fact, ten minutes earlier, it was there that he had ran and danced and there that he had jumped from the rocks and had not been pulverized like his brother had said.
And in order not to be pulverized by the members of his family, he decided it would be better not to tell anybody besides some of his friends with whom he would have secretly continued to play with on the field.
*
As a result of this matter, for a while Ibrahim and his friends were not able to go play ball on the field since all eyes were constantly pointed towards the yellow dust.
In the meantime, the town citizens were divided in half; the older members, stirred up by Ibrahim’s older brother, thought that the field was mined. They would walk by it fearfully; actually, they tried to keep away from it and it was all they talked about.
Then came the clandestine section, headed by Ibrahim and the town children, who were convinced of the opposite, but considering their condition of minors, they could only remain silent.
And so the field kept on dividing, and it was not its fault, but for the ideas that the people had made of it.
Against its will, it had divided two regions, two cities, two people who had always lived peacefully together and now, even fathers from their sons.
But it was all a matter of time….
Considering the facts, Ibrahim explained what had happened to the other children.
He talked about his brother, his sister, the heroic gesture, and the act of pride.
