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Boat People
The hostile guard gains a demanding tone; “I dont want your
belongings…” he pauses, pondering his next move. “I want your
service!” I meet his eyes, fearful of what this service might be. He
picks up on my curiosity. “You say you’re desperate for your son. Are
you desperate enough that you’ll work for it?”
I remember seeing poor Firas on the boat; his innocent eyes
filled with tears, his head gushing. I will do anything to see him
again. “If you have somewhere for me to work and be with Firas, get
me a place on the boat please.”
“Aha! We have a deal.” He announces ecstatically. “You’ll take the
next boat out and begin work once you reach land.” He extends his
hand, gesturing for a shake. It all seems too good to be true but a
spot on the boat is all I wanted and now I have it. So I take his hand
and give it a firm shake before he gently herds me towards the
newly arrived boat, bobbing at the shoreline just metres away
from me.
It has been hours since I willingly bade the Syrian border
goodbye, so many hours that the gate to darkness that hangs in the
sky is beginning to hide itself as night falls. Looking out across the
ocean at the fiery sun, I remember the time Firas and I went to
Eilat beach to watch the sunset. It reminds me of the sweet scent of
happiness; the indescribable scent that I cannot come close to
smelling without my son by my side. I see shy clouds, barely visible
in the dusk-filled air and remember the rain that destroyed our
house last year. The rain that brought my son and I together as we
huddled in the corner of our tiny kitchen. Night is finally here and
the stars gracefully remove their dark cloaks, reminding me of the
nights in our line to freedom that we spent gazing into space
together. I inhale the smooth ocean air and remember the first time
Firas caught a fish. A long lost tear of happiness breaks free, followed
by an unbroken stream; I will find my son again.
But just as I reach a feeling of complete satisfaction. I overhear a
fellow traveller discussing post-arrival plans. I wish I misheard him.
I feel as though I might die. The world around me slows. Dizziness
fills my head as the tears of joy turn to tears of terror. I pause,
struggling to string words into a sentence… “This boat isn’t heading
for Australia?”
‘
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