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waves that showed the tide, pushing towards them. Pushing their
boat towards the jagged, shark-tooth shaped mounds of solidarity
that stared ominously at them from only a few metres away. She
inhaled sharply, and smelt something metallic. It reminded Azar of
blood. She shuddered once more, and, as she took a step to make her
way back to Omid, with only the thought, “Keep hope safe” in her
head, she heard a sickening crunch.
That was days ago. Azar did not remember much once the boat
lurched over. She remembered the water. She remembered thinking
shehaddrowned. She rememberedseeingArashdisappearunderwater,
and not seeing him come back up. Maybe she remembered more than
she thought. Maybe she just wanted to forget. Azar later found herself
surrounded by men and women in white coats. She triedmoving from
the bunk she was in, and finding someone she knew. She didn’t
recognize anyone. She shouted for her sister. She was not answered.
One afternoon, as she lay in her bunk, Azar heard the others
talking. They said they had reached Christmas Island. They said that
the refugee boat had hit the rocks. They said 44 people were taken
to hospitals. They said 28 people died. Azar stopped listening then.
A week later, Azar was put on a bus. She recognized others from
the boat, but not Omid or even Arash. They were told by an
Australian man,
“Welcome to Australia. You will now be taken to a centre where
you will be detained, until your papers…”
Azar could not understand more. She sat still, thinking about
Omid. She would be waiting for her at the centre. She knew that
there was an alternative, but she didn’t consider it. She couldn’t
consider it. She remembered what her mother had told her the day
they left.
“Australia is better than here. It is a
firdaus
, a paradise. We will all
be together there soon.”
Azar thought to herself, maybe, when I see Omid again, Mother
will be right. The bus drove into the compound, but Azar didn’t
notice, too lost in her own thoughts.
Maybe we are in paradise.
‘
Firdaus
12