The Cat at the Wall (10 page)

Twenty-four

—

“Get away
from the door or we will shoot!”

The order from the military loudspeaker boomed through the air.

“Death to Israel!” the rioters chanted. “Smash the occupation!”

I was afraid to move. I was covered in window glass. If I got a piece of glass stuck in my paw, I would not be able to get it out, and even if I did, the wound could get infected. But I had to move because the rioters were excited by the danger and the sound of things breaking. They could burst into the house and crush me.

“We have to get out of here,” Simcha said. “Put the boy in front. If they see him first, they might not attack us.”

“We’re not using a child as a shield,” said Aaron. “That’s not who we are. We’ll put him between us. They’re crazy out there. We have to protect him.”

“Either we go out or they’re coming in. Out there, at least we’ve got the army to back us.”

Aaron tried to grab Omar. Omar pulled away and ran over to me. He quickly brushed the glass from my fur, cutting his fingers but not stopping. I stood still and let him do it. When he had the biggest pieces gone he picked me up and held me against his chest, tight in his arms. He carried me to the door.

“Goplacidlyamidthenoiseandthehaste …”
he said as Simcha opened the door. I said the words with him.

Aaron moved the boy and me behind him and in front of Simcha. We stood in the open doorway for a moment and let everyone get a good look at us.

The Israeli army moved forward. The rioters moved forward.

“Back off!” warned the army over the loudspeaker.

“You back off!” the crowd yelled back.

A weird silence fell on the area like a fog. I saw soldiers aim their rifles. I saw teenaged boys pick up rocks.

It looked like all hell was going to break out right over us.

And that’s when I made my move.

I did it without thinking. I just did it.

I leapt down from the boy’s arms and out into the little space between the enemies.

I started to dance.

I danced for all of them, up on my hind legs.

I jumped. I twisted in the air. I pretended to catch a bird and I batted around an invisible mouse. I flopped on my back and waved my paws. I strutted and boogied and made myself look like a complete and utter idiot.

And everybody shut up and stopped to watch.

Soldiers lowered their rifles and rioters dropped their rocks.

“What’s with the cat?” I heard someone say.

That was just enough.

Everyone took a breath. Ms. Fahima came over and took Omar into her arms. The soldiers grabbed Aaron and Simcha and took them out of the way of the rioters. Everyone went back to their corners.

My performance knocked the wind right out of their sails, as my grandmother would say.

Everyone drifted away from the little house. The soldiers went back to their base. The villagers went home. Omar went with Ms. Fahima.

And I was left all alone.

Twenty-five

—

After everyone
had left and I was alone, it turned into an ordinary day. I had to sniff around the garbage bags for food. I had to avoid the other cats. I had to be careful not to get run over when I crossed the road.

No one thanked me. No one even remembered that I was there.

I was alone again, and no one cared.

It’s the sort of thing that should make me feel very sorry for myself. And I’ve tried. I’ve tried to go back to my old thoughts, my blaming-Ms.-Zero-for-everything thoughts, but it’s not working.

I did something useful, even though it was a very small thing. It wasn’t like I brought peace to the world or anything. I just kept some people from killing each other for a little while. I was useful. It felt good.

Nothing I did will last. Omar will live the rest of his life without his parents. The killing will keep on going.

But in that little place, for those little moments, I actually did something good.

Context is everything, Ms. Sealand said. Without understanding context, we are going to keep getting things wrong.

I think I got something wrong about her.

She may not have hated me. She may not have had it in for me from the beginning.

She may not have been waving to get me to cross the street.

She may have been waving to tell me to stay where I was.

I don’t know what the point is of this new understanding. I can’t do anything with it. I can’t repeat the eighth grade and do it the way I should have done it the first time. I can’t go back and tell Polly I’m sorry for calling her Fishface. I’ll never play Monopoly again on a Family Game Night. That’s all passed for me.

Unless this
is
all a coma, and I’m going to wake up and get my life back. Or unless God decides I’ve done my detention as a cat, moves me up to heaven and lets me see my grandma again.

I don’t know what’s going to happen. Nobody ever tells me anything.

I can’t keep wandering around eating garbage and running from other cats. All this thinking has messed with my head and I’m really missing my family.

I need to have a plan.

I think I’ll go look for Omar. He can’t be that hard to find. Maybe he’ll remember me. Maybe he’ll let me be his new family.

Maybe the world is not completely rotten.

Maybe I’ll strive to be happy.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Deborah Ellis is the celebrated author of more than twenty books for young people. She is best known for her Breadwinner series, which has been published in twenty-five languages and has earned more than $1 million in royalties to benefit Canadian Women for Women in Afghanistan and Street Kids International. She has won the Jane Addams Children’s Book Award, the University of California’s Middle East Book Award, the Governor General’s Award, the Ruth Schwartz Award, Sweden’s Peter Pan Prize and the Vicky Metcalf Award for a Body of Work. She recently received the Ontario Library Association’s President’s Award for Exceptional Achievement, and she has been named to the Order of Ontario. She lives in Simcoe, Ontario.

A CONVERSATION WITH DEBORAH ELLIS

by Jennifer Abel Kovitz

Photo credit: Heidy van Dyk

Q: You’ve said that you wrote
The Cat at the Wall
after returning from your second trip to Israel-Palestine and feeling more confused than before you left, and that the novel is your “attempt to sort it all out.” Can you elaborate on what you mean by this?

A: The first time I went to Israel and Palestine, late in 2002, I came home thinking the conflict was primarily due to the two sides not knowing one another. The children had very few, if any, opportunities to interact with each other. Consequently, their knowledge of the other side was limited to news reports and violent encounters. This made it difficult for them to see the humanity of the other side.

Ten years later, the two groups are even more divided. I have learned — through countless conversations with many people who have very different perspectives — that the situation is hugely complicated. Instead of just Israelis and Palestinians, there are many groups and many complex points of view. It often can feel as though the power of the individual to make a difference can get lost in the complexity of the world.
The Cat at the Wall
tries to figure out a place for individual choice in the face of big events.

Q: Fans of your Breadwinner series and your novel
No Ordinary Day
will find
The Cat at the Wall
an innovative departure from your past methods of weaving a memorable tale. In this new story, the narrator, Clare, once a thirteen-year-old girl, finds herself reincarnated as a stray cat in the West Bank. Did you always imagine the novel from this creative perspective, or did Clare’s unique situation develop over several drafts?

A: The prompt for this novel was learning from former Israeli soldiers about the “Straw Widow” operations, wherein Israeli soldiers take over the home of a Palestinian family and use it to spy on the neighborhood. The family is usually in the home at the time, made to remain quietly in one room, sometimes for days. Israeli soldiers tell of families who have been through this a few times. They offer the soldiers coffee and discuss football matches. The whole thing is fascinating — how everyone relates to each other in a very enclosed, very loaded situation. It got me wondering how it all might play out. I wanted to be a fly on the wall in one of these situations, but thought that a cat would be just as good as an interloper. But I didn’t want to write in the voice of a cat. That’s how Clare came into the picture.

Q: In 2004, you released
Three Wishes: Palestinian and Israeli Children Speak
, a collection of interviews. Are there threads of themes or voices from this collection that readers will recognize in
The Cat at the Wal
l
?

A: In
Three Wishes
, over and over we meet good, kind-hearted people who do not know the other side. It is easy enough for us to get things wrong when we are communicating with people who share our own culture, history, language and situation. So it is easier still to get things wrong when we speak through a fog of differences. By trying to clear away that fog and find out what we have in common, we can have a better chance of not misunderstanding each other.

Q: Tell us a bit about the two Israeli soldiers in the novel. Simcha is a somewhat over-zealous American Jewish transplant, while Aaron seems to resist seeing the world as “good versus bad.” Both soldiers are rather young themselves, barely out of their teenage years. What kind of research did you do to bring these two characters to life? What is their role in the story?

A: One of the lessons I have had to learn over and over in my life is that every group is made up of individuals, and those individuals each have their own motives and ways of interpreting the world. I was reminded of that when I was writing my books on Afghanistan and also when I wrote
Off to War
, a book of interviews with North American military families.

When I was writing
The Cat at the Wall
, I thought about what it might be like to be a soldier in this situation — young, away from home, stationed in a place that has always seemed like foreign or enemy territory, trying to make good while still in the midst of forming themselves into the people they want to be. The two soldiers in the book, Simcha and Aaron, act quite naturally out of fear on occasion, but they also make deliberate choices that affect the outcome of the story.

Q: Where do you find hope for reconciliation and peace in the West Bank?

A: It is so easy to look at the Middle East and see only a colossal mess with people firmly entrenched in their versions of the story and with powerful forces benefiting from keeping the conflict alive. Look a bit closer, and we find a host of smart, kind, strong, forward-thinking women and men who are reaching beyond old hatreds and habits to create a new destiny for themselves and those around them.

Q: You speak to young people in middle schools across North America. Did these school visits influence how you wrote about the conflicts in Israel and Palestine? What have you learned during these visits that helps you better write conflict in language that middle-grade readers can understand?

A: I’ve been doing school visits since 1999, when my first book,
Looking for X
, was published. It is a huge privilege to be invited into schools and meet with kids who are learning how to figure out the world around them. When I’m writing, my main goal is to try to understand a situation better myself. I generally don’t think about the audience. If kids read and like my books, I think it is because they — like all of us — are attracted to courage. I get to write about incredibly brave people from all around the world.

Q: You first engaged with political activism as a teenager. What were the early causes that inspired you to action? How might educators and parents encourage young people today to take a stand and change the world for the better?

A: I first got engaged in political activism in the late 1970s, when I was a teenager campaigning against atomic weapons. That led me into women’s rights and work for social justice. And we learn so much through the examples of others. My parents were not involved in politics but they were always volunteering in the community, stocking shelves at the food bank, planning activities in old-age homes, taking Alzheimer’s patients on outings, or gardening for a sick neighbor. They taught me that we can contribute to one another and that these small actions build a better community.

Q: Your commitment to issues of social justice and disenfranchisement permeates many facets of your work, including the money you earn for the twenty-plus books you have written (you donate most of your royalty income). To which organizations do you donate, and what about their missions inspires you?

A: I’m a terrible fundraiser and a lousy organizer, so I’m grateful to be able to contribute to some terrific organizations through the sale of my books. The International Board on Books for Young People (IBBY) has a Children in Crisis fund that sends books to kids in war zones. Canadian Women for Women in Afghanistan works with grassroots women’s groups in Afghanistan to build schools, train female teachers, put libraries into communities, assist women to start income-generating projects and more. The Leprosy Mission Canada works with people affected by leprosy around the world, getting drugs to those still infected with the disease and working with them afterwards to ensure they have lives of dignity and productivity. Money from my books about AIDS goes to UNICEF, to further girls’ education globally.

Visit Deborah Ellis’s website, deborahellis.com, and find her on Twitter @DebEllisAuthor.

Interview questions copyright © 2014 by Jennifer Abel Kovitz