The Box
"Aaliyah! Come quick, I found something!"
She turned wide-eyed, with a cement slab still in hand, to see Fayaz smoothing the dirt at his feet. He was always doing something with dirt. Drawing in it, throwing it in her face, making mountains with it. A wave of frustration mixed with exhaustion passed over her. How could he be playing games right now?
For all latest news, follow The Daily Star's Google News channel. She frantically whisper-screamed at him, "Stop yelling! And this is serious Fayaz, we need to find that box." It's the only reason they were anywhere near their old neighbourhood. It only brought back painful memories of lost family and friends. She looked at the rubble of the Husseins' house and felt sick. The memory was still fresh in her mind; everyone in the Hussein family had rushed inside the house for cover from the shells and never came out.
She faced Fayaz again, to check if he was alright, and started moving the bricks and stones with more urgency. They needed to get back to their tent before anyone realised they were missing.
Their family was currently camped out in Rafah and had to leave almost everything behind when the bombing got too intense. Fayaz still didn't really know or understand what was happening, just that there were bad men, who might possibly be monsters, and for some reason, they wanted to hurt him. Aaliyah knew he was afraid, but in some incredible Fayaaz way, he didn't let this hell of a life take away his hope, humour, or kindness.
But while her brother was still somewhat naive to the world they were living in, Aaliyah's mind was a constant thunderous storm of fear, anxiety and dread. But most of all, desperation to ensure her family's survival. She was the one to fight for the Egypt plan. Her parents had always been considering it, but it had never seemed to be a viable option because the cost to cross the border was too great, and they were absolutely penniless. So she had taken things into her own hands. She had always undergone great risks to take care of things that mattered to her; scouring for food and water at night, while everyone else was fast asleep, or stealing from others' tents.
But this was different. This could be catastrophic. She had snuck out late at night to venture into their old neighbourhood in search of the box. The box held Aaliyah's idea of a treasure trove. Passports, money, and pictures of her and her family when she was little. It could only be opened by a key, which was currently hanging around her grandmother's neck. As a child, it would always be a wonder to her, and seemed as if her grandmother was guarding secrets. Her grandmother always caught her staring and laughed, squeezing her cheeks, but she hadn't smiled since they had to leave their home.
During their frantic escape from the flaming neighbourhood, her family had left the box behind, and it had been on her mind ever since. Only one thing worried and irked her – Fayaz. He wasn't supposed to be here with her, and it was only halfway to the area that she realised that he had followed her. She nearly strangled him when she realised he was there. How could he put himself in danger like this? But there was nothing she could do but take him along with her. She couldn't let him go back alone. Alternatively, going back with him and then coming back again was also too risky and time-consuming. So to keep him safe, Aaliyah let him come along, but on the condition that he remained by her side and in her sights no matter what.
Fayaz's insistent calls penetrated her anxious thoughts.
"I'm not joking though, look at this!" She looked around to check no one was there and swiftly crawled over to him.
"What is it?" She hissed.
He was still taking the object out of the rubble. He blew the dirt and dust out of it and placed the grime on his sister's knee. Finally, he managed to uncover the whole thing.
Aaliyah nearly cried. She would recognise the floral outward design anywhere. The rusty old lock was still hanging on the latch, almost as though it was beckoning her to learn its secrets to protect her family.
"What does this mean?" Fayaz asked. She turned to him to see a curious and awed look on his face.
"It means we have a chance to get out, and it is all thanks to you," she replied with a bittersweet smile. A wide smile grew on his face, and she laughed seeing his missing front tooth. She looked into his eyes, and it was almost as if they were the stars themselves with the way they were shining.
They walked back to the camp with a spring in their steps. Aaliyah held the box in her arms and felt a hundred times lighter. She felt almost giddy with this newfound hope of a substantial, genuine chance to escape. She turned to Fayaz, about to crack a joke, when she saw him frozen in his place, looking up at the dark sky. She was too slow, too encapsulated in her joy to recognise the drone when she saw it high above his head.
And then everything turned white.
The atmosphere in the campsite at Rafah was buzzing with anxiety and fear. A group of men were planning to go out to look for the two missing children. Some of the women were guarding their own children zealously while others were trying to speak to the mother of the lost kids. She had a stone-cold poker face, and you would've never guessed the torment inside of her. She had to stay strong and maintain her composure, she couldn't lose hope just like that. But it wasn't easy to forget the screams of mothers with their hands red from martyred children. She felt as though she was haunted by them, almost as if she had been running from death and had been dragging her children along with her; with fumbling hands and hasty glances over their shoulders. Now at last it has caught up with her, and her palms were too sweaty to hold on to her babies.
Her husband was pacing outside their tent, muttering words to himself and frequently looking toward the entrance of the campsite. Her own mother, who was nearing her 80s, sat on the floor reciting prayers and holding her tasbih. They locked eyes and she saw no hope in her mother's tired, wrinkled face, as if she had accepted their deaths the day their land was taken.
She opened her eyes to see thick grey smoke everywhere, and long streaks in the dirt where the explosion had gone off. She ran to the centre point, uncaring of the dangers she could face. She was engulfing fumes of smoke with every shallow breath. Tears were streaming down her face as she was screaming Fayaz's name. The smoke dissipated and she sank to her knees. There was blood on the floor and she didn't know if it was hers or Fayaz's. But wasn't it the same either way?
She put her head in her hands and broke down. All was quiet, and she couldn't even hear her own ragged screams. Time had slowed down and everything was gone, he was gone just as they were in reach of safety. Her sweet little brother, who had been her light in the dark, who had played hopscotch with her after school, who would share his toys and food with her, and who would throw dirt in her face. Her kind boy, who found the box and had only ever looked up to her. He was only seven, he didn't do anything to hurt anyone, he only ever tried to help, to make others smile. It was as though sharp knives were cutting her open from the inside, leaving only a shaking, bleeding mess.
It was so ironic but so intense she would have laughed. For someone so intent on protecting her loved ones, she had failed at the first chance. She may have been on the ground for hours or years; she didn't feel anything and she couldn't find it in herself to care. How could she, when the best part of her was gone? The box was still in her arms and maybe for a little while she could pretend it was him, still safe and protected under her wing.
She felt a tentative and soft touch on her shoulder and a weak mumble, "Aaliyah?". Her eyes snapped open to the voice. She was terrified that it wasn't real, as if the monsters had planted a fake of her brother to hurt her, to get her hopes up.
Tentatively, she looked up, and standing before her was a bloody, dirty and dust-covered Fayaz. A relieved sob broke out of Aaliyah as she lunged forward to hug him. She could feel him stumble back a bit but he said nothing. He was so small. His head was nearly covered by her clasped hand. She always forgot just how small he was. They held onto each other so tightly they could have been one being. She felt wet splashes on her back and realised he was crying too. She hoped she could convey everything she felt into the hug. She hoped he knew he was her favourite person, her best friend, her light.
At the first rays of the morning light, the men were getting ready to leave when her husband jumped up and pointed to the camp entrance, "Look!"
She quickly turned around to see two bloody, dirty messes of children with their arms around each other, stumbling towards the tents. The woman and her husband ran to their children, engulfing them in their arms. "Are you ok? What happened? Why did you leave?" She frantically asked as he checked their faces and arms for injuries.
"Baba," Aaliyah said with a grin, she looked down towards her arms to draw their attention to the precious object she was carrying. At first glance, the woman thought it was a bomb, but then she noticed the designs; flowers and leaves twisting and turning around each other's stems. Her husband gasped at seeing the box, and she breathed out a shaky laugh, her eyes darting from Aaliyah to Fayaz in amazement. She pulled her children into a hug and wondered what she had done to deserve such beautiful gifts. Her husband circled his arms around them and kissed the tops of their heads.
The old woman had named her daughter Khalidah for a reason. The name meant immortal, undying. Of course, it wasn't natural to keep someone alive for eternity, but the old woman had always been a bit selfish, and she had wanted to keep her daughter with her for as long as she could. She had always believed that she could never love someone as much as she did Khalidah, but then came her grandchildren. And oh how she loved them. She loved them so much she wished they had never been born here, in a place torn by bloodshed and loss, because there was nothing here for them but pain.
So it shouldn't have been a shock to her when she woke up to her son-in-law telling Khalidah that they were missing, but the blow still hit her hard. Hours flew by after hearing the news and she was frozen in place, barely processing what was going on around her. She faintly heard other women in the camp moving about the tent, trying to talk to Khalidah, but the old woman only sat there, as still as a stone, waiting to hear the unavoidable truth "They're gone".
Absent-mindedly, she heard the zipper of the tent flap start to open. It would be her daughter or her son-in-law, and she paid no heed. The old woman prepared to block out the noises once more but then-
"Sitti?"
She turned her head to see her grandchildren standing timidly in front of the tent's entrance, both of them looking dusty and grimy. For a moment she truly thought her old eyes had tricked her, and that the children in front of her were nothing but a mirage. But no, they were here and they were smiling with sheepish looks on their faces. The old woman was at a loss for words, but she beckoned for them to sit in front of her. As they came down to kneel in front of her she held out her hands for them to hold. When she finally grasped their bloody and scratched hands in her wrinkly ones she was able to fully accept that they were real.
"I'm glad you're safe," she said to the two children.
"What have you got there?" she asked, pointing to something Aaliyah had held wrapped in a red and orange scarf. Aaliyah nudged Fayaaz to show her and handed it over to him. He carefully unwrapped the scarf and presented what was inside to his grandmother.
His eyes were closed, in case she got mad for meddling with her things and kept his head bent low. He felt a wrinkled hand gently touch his cheek and looked up to see his grandmother smiling wide at him. He turned to look at his parents at the entrance of the tent with proud looks on their faces, and then to his sister. She squeezed his hand and looked back at their still-smiling grandmother. They were going to be alright.
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