One of Us: The Story of Anders Breivik and the Massacre in Norway by Åsne Seierstad Page B
Authors: Åsne Seierstad
Ads: Link
overflowed onto the plain, where it lay unprotected from desert storms and militia feuds alike.
Bayan was already regretting it all. There was no way it could end well. This was where they belonged. This was where they ought to live and die.
Mustafa gave her handa squeeze. ‘Everything will be all right in the end,’ he said.
Though they had an exit permit from Iraq, they took a smuggling route as they approached the border because they had no Syrian entry permit. Half the money had already been handed over and a relation would pay the rest once Mustafa rang to say they were there. They had no idea where ‘there’ was. Nor did the smugglers, yet.
The familyof five was crammed into a little boat with many other refugees. The boat set off to cross the Khabur River, a tributary of the Tigris. The banks were patrolled by Iraqi and Syrian troops on their respective sides.
Bayan cried throughout the crossing. ‘Imagine, I’m leaving my country! How can I leave my country?’
Lara, now five, regarded her parents in bafflement. It was strange to see themunhappy. They were the ones who looked after her, Bano and Ali. Now she had her turn to comfort them . Why did they have to go on this journey if it made everyone so sad?
Bano was uneasy too. Mustafa tried to hold her attention with a story about a girl who fell out of a boat into the water. That little girl fell over the side because she couldn’t sit still, and was eaten up by a big fish, a hugefish. Mustafa was groping for words, an enormous fish, and then she lived there, in the belly of the fish, with all the other children the fish gradually gobbled up. Mustafa was just talking away because he was afraid the soldiers on the bank would notice the boat and start firing. ‘And then the fish spat out all the children onto the shore,’ he improvised.
Bano suddenly interrupted his story.‘Daddy, we’re going to die now,’ she said.
Her mother flinched.
‘I feel so close to God,’ Bano said to no one in particular. ‘It’s as if I’m in the clouds, looking down on you. The clouds are under me. I can see you in the boat, down below. I can see you all together.’
Mustafa started to pray.
God, There is no god but He, Living and Everlasting. Neither slumber overtakes Him nor sleep. To Him belongs what is in the heavens and what is on earth.
The others sat motionless in the boat while Mustafa quoted from the prayer Ayat al-Kursi . This was the prayer he always turned to when he was lying awake at nights feeling frightened.
He knows their present affairs and their past. And they do not grasp of His knowledge except what He wills. His throne encompasses the heavens and the earth; Preserving them is no burden to him. He is the Exalted, the Majestic.
After this prayer he asked God to protect Bayan and the children, and, as is the Muslim way, he put his hands in front of his face, then held them out and blew, as if to blow the prayer up to God. Finally he turned his face out to the waves and blew for as long as his breath would allow him.
The engine stopped. They slid intowards a sandbank and the boat made gentle contact with the Syrian shore. A waiting car took them to the Kurdish town of Qamishli, where they spent the night before travelling on to Damascus. In the Syrian capital, with its carved façades, beautiful palaces and spies on every corner, they stayed in a small room.
Nobody bothered them, and they bothered nobody. Bayan felt as if the heat and dustwere settling on her in a layer. She missed her kitchen, her cool living room, her sisters.
After a month in Damascus, they were issued with Iraqi passports and plane tickets to Moscow.
In the Russian capital, they were accommodated in an Aeroflot hotel at Sheremetyevo airport. A man came up to their hotel room and gave them an envelope with some new tickets in it.
The destination was writtenin Cyrillic script – it had four letters.
Asking for Protection
‘They’ve all got fair hair,’
Bayan was already regretting it all. There was no way it could end well. This was where they belonged. This was where they ought to live and die.
Mustafa gave her handa squeeze. ‘Everything will be all right in the end,’ he said.
Though they had an exit permit from Iraq, they took a smuggling route as they approached the border because they had no Syrian entry permit. Half the money had already been handed over and a relation would pay the rest once Mustafa rang to say they were there. They had no idea where ‘there’ was. Nor did the smugglers, yet.
The familyof five was crammed into a little boat with many other refugees. The boat set off to cross the Khabur River, a tributary of the Tigris. The banks were patrolled by Iraqi and Syrian troops on their respective sides.
Bayan cried throughout the crossing. ‘Imagine, I’m leaving my country! How can I leave my country?’
Lara, now five, regarded her parents in bafflement. It was strange to see themunhappy. They were the ones who looked after her, Bano and Ali. Now she had her turn to comfort them . Why did they have to go on this journey if it made everyone so sad?
Bano was uneasy too. Mustafa tried to hold her attention with a story about a girl who fell out of a boat into the water. That little girl fell over the side because she couldn’t sit still, and was eaten up by a big fish, a hugefish. Mustafa was groping for words, an enormous fish, and then she lived there, in the belly of the fish, with all the other children the fish gradually gobbled up. Mustafa was just talking away because he was afraid the soldiers on the bank would notice the boat and start firing. ‘And then the fish spat out all the children onto the shore,’ he improvised.
Bano suddenly interrupted his story.‘Daddy, we’re going to die now,’ she said.
Her mother flinched.
‘I feel so close to God,’ Bano said to no one in particular. ‘It’s as if I’m in the clouds, looking down on you. The clouds are under me. I can see you in the boat, down below. I can see you all together.’
Mustafa started to pray.
God, There is no god but He, Living and Everlasting. Neither slumber overtakes Him nor sleep. To Him belongs what is in the heavens and what is on earth.
The others sat motionless in the boat while Mustafa quoted from the prayer Ayat al-Kursi . This was the prayer he always turned to when he was lying awake at nights feeling frightened.
He knows their present affairs and their past. And they do not grasp of His knowledge except what He wills. His throne encompasses the heavens and the earth; Preserving them is no burden to him. He is the Exalted, the Majestic.
After this prayer he asked God to protect Bayan and the children, and, as is the Muslim way, he put his hands in front of his face, then held them out and blew, as if to blow the prayer up to God. Finally he turned his face out to the waves and blew for as long as his breath would allow him.
The engine stopped. They slid intowards a sandbank and the boat made gentle contact with the Syrian shore. A waiting car took them to the Kurdish town of Qamishli, where they spent the night before travelling on to Damascus. In the Syrian capital, with its carved façades, beautiful palaces and spies on every corner, they stayed in a small room.
Nobody bothered them, and they bothered nobody. Bayan felt as if the heat and dustwere settling on her in a layer. She missed her kitchen, her cool living room, her sisters.
After a month in Damascus, they were issued with Iraqi passports and plane tickets to Moscow.
In the Russian capital, they were accommodated in an Aeroflot hotel at Sheremetyevo airport. A man came up to their hotel room and gave them an envelope with some new tickets in it.
The destination was writtenin Cyrillic script – it had four letters.
Asking for Protection
‘They’ve all got fair hair,’
Similar Books
