2008 - The Consequences of Love. (29 page)

“It is not
Allah’?
, wish,” Mossa said sternly. “Forgive me for saying this, Hajj, but it is the people in this country who have the power who are responsible.” He paused before adding, “Two boys I knew were caught last month without papers and are now in the Jeddah detention centre waiting to be deported. They are still kids,
ya
Hajj, who came to this country fleeing war. Who would send people back to a war zone, especially when they are so young?”

“No, they are not going to send them to Eritrea, they will send them to Sudan, most probably,” contested Hajj Yusef.

Mossa shook his head. “That’s if you have a United Nations passport issued from Sudan. If not, like these two boys, who smuggled themselves from Eritrea to Jizan in the south, then the government will send you back to Eritrea in exactly the same way you came in: on a fishing boat.”

I tensed my jaws. I wasn’t going anywhere on a fishing boat.

Then Mossa turned to me and said, “Go to Europe, son. I sent my children to Sweden. They treat them with dignity there, and they understand the suffering of people like us, so they support us until things get better in our own countries. In Jeddah, they tell us that education is for Saudis only, but in Sweden my children are encouraged to study. Oh
ya Allah
, just look at the difference. I know it is a cold and lonely place for them out there, but at least they will not see their father being humiliated day after day by his
kafeel
, beaten up, spat at, with the threat of deportation hanging over him day and night.”

“You can trust us, son,” Hajj Yusef said. “I am an old man and I know a lot of things. I want to help my people. That’s what gives me joy. I can give them advice and put them in contact with people who will find them a better place.”

Every wrinkle of his face seemed to carry a story hidden in its fold, and his kind face made me feel comfortable around him. So I said, “There are two of us.” Without going into detail about Fiore, I told them that we both wanted to leave the country as soon as we could.

“I presume both of you have UN passports,” Hajj Yusef said.

“I have, but she doesn’t have any passport,” I replied.

He raised an eyebrow when he realised that I was going with a woman. He smiled and asked, “How come?”

“She was born here,” I responded.

“Even better and cheaper,” Hajj Yusef said. “She will have no problem going with a Saudi passport.”

I explained that she had never travelled and that even though her father was born here, he had been denied citizenship. Mossa yelled, “How can they forget that in the past they needed other people’s help? How can they forget the first
hijra
when Prophet Muhammad ordered his companions to immigrate to our land to escape persecution by his tribe? Didn’t our King of Abyssinia ofier them sanctuary, give them land to build their houses, and provide them with everything they needed? They even married our daughters, and yet they treat us like this.”

“Calm down,” Hajj Yusef ordered Mossa. “Don’t carry so much hatred. Hate is like fire and will burn your heart.” He turned his head to me and said, “OK, Naser, let’s talk business.”

“How much will it cost to get to Europe?” I asked him once again.

“It all depends on luck,” he replied. “If the way ahead is smooth, that is, if the businessman is good, the fake passport he gives is good, the visa he fakes won’t raise suspicions, and his business partners on the destination side are not too greedy, then it will cost around two to four thousand dollars. But if he, as sometimes happens, forgets to include a small detail in the visa stamp then you might be caught, jailed or told to go back and check with the embassy. The business of smuggling is unpredictable and can be dangerous, so you should be prepared to pay seven thousand dollars each.”

“Fourteen thousand, oh
ya Allah
,” I said, burying my head in my hands. “How about Egypt? Can we go there instead? It must be cheaper to get us there, no?”

Mossa intervened once again. “Son, Egypt is a beautiful country. But the country doesn’t have the capacity to look after its own, let alone take any more. Egypt receives aid from America. Plus, I am not sure they will grant you asylum.”

“If I get the money, are you sure the businessman can help me?” I asked Hajj Yusef, holding his hand.

“We are not sure of life itself, son,” he said. “But if you get the money I will arrange everything with the businessman. But prepare yourself for the way ahead. Europe is not as easy as before.”

“Thank you,” I said, as I kissed the back of his hand.

After I left the Eritrean café, I walked around the neighbourhood in despair. I had thought it was going to be a lot cheaper—hundreds rather than thousands. Where was I going to get such a huge sum of money? All I had left since I gave up my job was four hundred riyals.

There was no one who could help us. Hilal had spent all his savings to bring his wife over from Sudan and to furnish his new house in preparation for her arrival. Fiore couldn’t get any money from her mother because it was her father who earned and kept all the money.

I must have walked for a long time, because eventually I found myself outside the shopping mall, a long way from the Eritrean café. I went inside and sat by the fountain, silently gazing at the tinkling water.

I looked around. It was so quiet that I could hear the hum of the air conditioning. I saw the reflection of the chandelier on the tiles and my gaze alighted on the jewellery shop and stayed there. I stood up. I slowly moved towards the shop, one step at a time. I slipped my hands into my pockets. This will be easy, I thought. I’m a quick runner. I know all the little alleyways around here. I will have disappeared before the police even get into their cars.

I had promised Fiore I would succeed. This is the only chance to flee with her and be with her for ever. It will be easy. Very easy.

Please help me
ya Allah
.

The sales assistant was standing behind the glass counter and was speaking on the phone. Everything glowed a sparkling yellow. I walked over to the section where there were watches. I picked one up. Twenty thousand riyals. Two of these would be enough.

“Can I help you?”

I didn’t move. I bit my lip. I looked ahead. Maybe three just to be sure, in case the businessman gets greedy.

“
Ya
boy, can I help you?”

Slowly I turned around. Our eyes met. The assistant was clutching the phone receiver to his shoulder like a baby.

“Don’t worry, brother,” I said, “I am still browsing. Please finish your call.”

He fixed his head-dress and said, “Sure, go ahead.”

As he sat down, I got a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind him.

“Mirror?” I exclaimed. I remembered my first friend in Jeddah. Of course. How could I forget him? I turned to the man and said, smiling, “Thank you, brother, for allowing me to look around. Thank you.”

And with that I ran to catch the bus to Jasim’s café.

Jasim was my first, last and only option. If he didn’t give me the money, there was going to be no escape from Jeddah. I swore to myself that I would do whatever was necessary to get the money from him.

Jasim was sitting at a table near the kitchen counting the day’s takings. I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the small room in the back.

“Hey, what’s the hurry, my dear?”

I shut the door behind us.

“I need your help,” I said, looking him straight in the eye. His face almost disappeared behind the smoke from his cigarette.

“Are you all right?” he asked, scratching his chin with the back of his hand.

“Jasim, you are the only person who can help me.”

“In the name
of Allah
, Naser, what is wrong?” he asked, throwing the glowing cigarette butt on the carpet.

“One day you’ll burn this café down,” I said, stamping it out with my foot.

“Oh, so you do care about me then,” he said playfully.

I ignored his comment. I took his hand in mine and said, “Jasim, I hope that you will be kind and will remember that I never complained about the things you did to me. In return, I hope you will help me.”

“Anything, my dear,” he said, kissing the back of my hand.

“I need fourteen thousand dollars,” I blurted out.

“
Ya Allah
, that’s a lot of money. You’re not thinking of opening a rival café, I hope, are you?”

“No,” I replied and without further hesitation I added, “I am going to Europe.”

“You are joking, right?”

“I swear I am serious,” I replied. I could feel my eyes widen as I said this.

“
Ya Allah
, I can see that,” he said, as he went to sit on his bed. He looked at me and wanted to say something, but signalled with his hand that I should come and sit next to him.

“Jasim?”

“Shush,” he said.

He leaned his back against the wall, and closed his eyes.

“Where do you want to go?” he said.

“I told you, to Europe.”

“Yes, but where in Europe? It’s not one big country, you know.”

I shrugged my shoulders and after a pause, I replied, “That will be up to the smugglers. They will know which country is best.”

He sighed and asked, “They asked for fourteen thousand dollars just to smuggle you out of here?”

“I am not going alone.”

He jumped up and said, “What? Did you find your brother?” He hugged me, exclaiming, “Oh, I am so happy for you. So he’s had enough of your uncle, has he?”

“Jasim,” I whispered, “I am not going with my brother.”

“Who are you going with then?”

I looked at him and for a second I wondered whether I was doing the right thing to trust him with the truth. Then I said, “I am going with someone I love.”

He spat in my direction and turned to sit on his bed. He looked up at me and asked, “Who is it?”

I rubbed at the trace of his spittle on my shirt.

“Who is it?” he screamed.

“Shut up for
Allah’s
sake,” I yelled, “just listen to me, Jasim. Why don’t you give me time to explain things to you? Just listen.”

I was breathing heavily. He stood up, bringing his face close to mine and asked, “Then tell me quickly, who is he?”

“I am in love with a woman, Jasim. And I want to take her to Europe.”

He laughed loudly. Then suddenly the laughter caught in his throat. He shook his head and looked at me, curled his lip and looked away.

After a while I took his hand and said, “Please, Jasim, help us.”

He pushed me away, shouting, “What about your brother? Are you going to leave him behind? You can’t really be that selfish?”

“My brother chose to live with my uncle years ago and as far as I know the two are happy together. I don’t know where they are, they never told me. I can’t go to Riyadh and search from door to door. My uncle admires him. I know he will look after him.”

He sat on his bed and looked at me, slowly shaking his head. “Who is this girl?
Ya Allah
, where on earth did you find her?” he asked, crossing his legs and pushing aside the pillow next to him.

“I’m sorry but I can’t tell you.”

“And why not?” he shouted, kicking the box next to the bed.

I watched as he stepped up to the TV and swiped all the videotapes off the top. Breathing like a horse, he turned around. “Oh, my dear, how much I have loved you, but you never wanted to see it. And now you are hurting me.” He caressed my face, but I pushed his hand away. “Where did you find her?” he asked.

“I can’t tell you.”

“So forget the money. Go and wash your cars and spend fifty years saving. Get out of here. Go on, leave and don’t ever come here again.”

He shoved me towards the door. “Don’t push, I will leave by myself,” I said.

As I turned to walk out, I got a peek of one of Jasim’s men magazines from Germany on top of the box by the bed. I looked up at the mirrored ceiling. I closed my eyes and saw my past racing towards me, my past in this room which I had been trying to forget for a long time.
Ya Allah
, I thought as I stopped.

“What?” he screamed.

“No,” I insisted. “I will not leave without the money or…”

“Or what, my dear? Ah?”

“I will go to the religious police and I will tell them everything about your smuggling business, I swear to
Allah
, and I will tell them about what you made me do. Everything that happens in this room.”

“What? You dare do that and I—”

“I will,” I replied firmly. “But I know you are sensible, Jasim. I don’t want to give you any problems. I just need the money. Plus…”

“Plus what?”

“You always go to Europe, so you can come and see us.”

He laughed wryly. But then he turned his back to me and seemed to bow his head in thought.

After a few moments, he turned to face me, his eyes red at the rims.

“OK,” he said.

“OK, what?” I asked him.

“I will give you the money,” he answered. “Now leave me, please. I will have to think how to get hold of such a big amount. I will give you a call when I have found it. OK?”

I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to run to Fiore’s house to tell her the good news, but I would have to wait for the following day to find the Pink Shoes in Al-Nuzla Street. So instead I went to Hilal. I knew exactly where to find him at this time of the evening.

I
FOUND HILAL, as I expected, sitting outside his house. He was talking to his friend who was selling fried dough balls. Hilal was helping by putting small pieces of dough into the massive frying pan. When he saw me approaching, he stood up and limped towards me waving his walking stick. He hugged me and extended his hand, wet with flour. I declined with a smile.

“I need a big favour from you,” I said.

“If you want a new job, I have nothing at the moment,” he said, shaking his head.

“Hilal, I need your help with something else.”

“What? Another drive to the Corniche with your beauty? I always want to come and ask you about her, but love is private and belongs to the heart deep inside.” He poked my chest with his finger as he said that.

“Can we go somewhere private? I know a place.”