The Boy from Aleppo Who Painted the War (8 page)

‘Take some food to the neighbours Habibi.'

‘Why Yasmine?'

‘Don't be greedy Adam, we have to look out for our neighbours, it's good manners.'

‘What are we having for lunch Yasmine?'

‘Rice.'

‘Rice with what?'

‘Just rice.'

I want to shout and tell her to keep the food at home for us because we have no food but I just listen to her in case she gets upset. Yasmine used to always change colours depending on her mood but now she is a constant grey. I don't know if it's because I have no energy to pay attention or because she really is very dull now. I think it's because she can't see the man she loves. I wish I knew the truth rather than always trying to understand everything like it's a mystery. I love mystery but I am tired of being Sherlock Holmes.

I smell the plate Yasmine gives me. I am so tempted to move the foil and take some food. I look back and no one is looking so I open the foil but as soon as I see the rice I close it again and ask God for forgiveness. Maybe the neighbours need it more than me. I knock on the door three times and wait then knock another three times and call out for the mother.

‘Auntie I'm here with food.'

There's no reply.

‘Mohammed? Uncle Jamal?'

I push the door a little and find it open. The house smells like nails scratching on metal. The graphic image pierces my mind and I have to close my eyes and cover my ears from the impact. The thought is sickening. I walk into the sitting room with my plate of rice and out of pure silence I hear the movement of what sounds like a mouse. The sitting room has a bend that doesn't allow me to see the end of the room so I turn to the right, the smell gets stronger. I don't hear my heartbeat any more and I drop the plate of rice on the ground. I see the whole family curled towards the wall with dry blood on them and a pool around their bodies. They are all dressed well and the women have headscarves on their heads. That means that they were getting ready to go somewhere. The smell reaches deeper into my mind and I can almost smell their fear before all of this happened. I walk a little towards them to see their faces and they all have their eyes closed apart from the mother whose eyes are still open. I run out. Her eyes poured the colour pink. I pass by the spilled rice and for a split second see a shadow come from the other room. I freeze. What if someone is waiting to kill me too? I don't want to die. I scream so loud but my legs aren't carrying me away. I always wake up in tears when I can't move in my dreams. But now this is reality and tears won't do anything. I breathe in and out silently and tiptoe out of the house. As soon as I see the daylight from the door I run through it and without realising I look down to a shirt full of vomit.

‘Adam.'I hear a whisper behind me. I run to Yasmine in the kitchen.

‘What's wrong Adam, what's wrong?' Yasmine shakes me. I can't catch my breath or find the words. I can't even move.

I vomit again.

*

I wake up to the neighbours' youngest son's face. Everything comes back to me and I don't understand how he is here. Maybe I imagined everything. I really hope I did.

‘You passed out again.'

I get up and look at Yasmine in the corner of the sofa, her face so pale.

‘Yasmine, what happened?'

Yasmine looks over at Ali, our neighbour.

‘I'm sorry you had to see that,' she says. Yasmine used to call me Habibi and always explain things to me simply, but now she doesn't even look at me when she has something to say.

‘What happened to them?'

Ali starts telling me everything like it didn't even happen to his family. Ali is two years older than me, which means he is 16.

Apparently the army came into the house and started swearing at them and calling them names and they lined them all up and shot them. Ali was hiding under the bed. Even though he is 16, he looks ten and he can fit under anything. This happened yesterday and Ali did not move or run out till I went into the house. It was him that I heard move and whose shadow I saw. After I passed out, Tariq and Yasmine went to the neighbours' house and saw everything. They found him and brought him back here.

‘Is he going to live with us as well Yasmine?'

‘Adam! Don't be rude!'

‘I'm asking, I'm not being rude.'

‘Yes he is.'

Everyone is moving in with us. Our family is falling apart. I didn't know how disgusting a war could be till now.

‘Are we going to bury them?' I ask Yasmine. I won't be able to sleep knowing there are dead bodies in the next house.

‘We can't move them out, we don't have enough money for four coffins.'

‘Are you going to leave them there?'

‘Yes for now.'

I don't want to have dead people as neighbours.

‘We want freedom, we want the regime down! We want freedom, we want the regime down!'

Yasmine gets up and slaps Khalid on the face as soon as he walks in and starts chanting.

‘What the hell?'

I run behind Yasmine.

‘If you want to chant you do that outside, don't bring your opinions into this house, understood? I don't want a revolution here as well. It's bad enough as it is. We are all losing our minds and people are dying for no reason and you're asking for more!'

I have never seen Yasmine speak that much or get that angry.

Khalid storms out and Yasmine swears after him.

‘Calm down Yasmine, you can't control everything that happens in this house,' Baba tells her.

‘WELL THEN LET ME LIVE MY OWN LIFE INSTEAD OF LIVING YOURS!' Yasmine shouts and runs to her room. Both of our guests look away as if they can't hear what's going on. I can't take my eyes off Yasmine's door.

*

‘Let's go get some food Adam.' Baba gently shoves me to wake me up.

‘We are buying food?'

‘Yes, let's go, just you and I.' I jump up and before I count to 50 I am ready in front of Baba. I've been hungry for days. I've been craving stuffed vegetables and rice and apple pie. I think I even dreamed of it.

Baba and I walk out into a dead town. There isn't a single person around. There are spiderwebs on the neighbours' door. Baba tells me stories about the Prophet Muhammad as we walk down the street. These stories always inspire me to be the best I can be. When we get to the market we only find two stalls open in a whole street.

There are two men sitting behind each stall praising God with their prayer beads. One of them is cleaning his teeth with a brown stick called the Miswak, which the Prophet PBUH used to use. Baba used to have one and I tried it but it has a funny smell that I can't get used to. It looks cool to watch people do it though. The stalls aren't as colourful as usual but everything looks tasty to me right now. There are mostly dates on the side.

‘Why are there so many dates Baba and nothing else?'

The man hears me asking Baba and pats me on the head.

‘Young man, a house without dates is a starving house said the Prophet PBUH. Three dates every time you feel the pangs of hunger and you'll forget your hunger.'

I smile and look at Baba.

‘That's true Adam, come on, let's pick the dates you want.'

I like my dates quite soft and shiny brown. They're the sweetest kind. Baba buys a huge bag of dates and a few bananas and gives me one.

‘Thank you Baba.'

‘Do you want to know something interesting?'

‘Yes Baba…'

‘I once read in a book that many fruits and vegetables resemble certain body parts and are in fact good for those body parts. Like walnuts, they look like a brain and are proven to be good for the brain. Grapes hang in a cluster that looks like the shape of the heart and are good for the heart. Isn't that strange?'

‘Are you sure that's true Baba? It sounds like a story.'

Baba laughs and assures me it's true. I love hearing Baba tell me facts and stories. He knows everything. One day I want to know everything like him. But I don't want to be a teacher like him though because I'm not good with people. We walk home holding the two bags full of dates and bananas. I can see my school building from here. The lights are off and it looks like no one has entered it for a long time. I hear heavy footsteps behind me. I look back and see four men walking two by two behind each other. They walk fast and start walking in front of us. From here I notice the two at the back holding guns pointed at the front two.

‘Baba, they have guns!'

Baba puts his hand on my mouth and pulls me back to the corner of a house.

‘Adam, don't say anything, we could get killed.'

I freeze in my spot. How can everybody talk about death so easily now? We never used to talk about dying at all before. I hold onto Baba's shirt and stand behind him. He doesn't say anything. I can hear the voice of somebody shouting from afar.

‘Have faith in God, never lose faith in God!'

‘Shut up you…' I am guessing the guys with the guns replied to them. I can't repeat the word they said but it was very bad. Baba covered my ears. But I had already heard it. Baba says it's okay to walk out and we walk slowly behind them. They are 14 feet in front of us I count quickly. Baba puts a finger on his lips and I just follow him slowly. I don't take my eyes off the men. I can hear the men with the guns talking loudly but I can't understand what they're saying. It sounds like Arabic but it's a very weird dialect that doesn't belong to any Arab region. They sound like foreigners speaking Arabic. I didn't know foreigners could join the army. I need to ask Baba about that. Before I can finish the sentence in my head, the two men at the front duck down and run faster than I have ever seen. They chant ‘God is the greatest' as they make an escape. One of them falls to the ground and the soldier behind him grabs him and shoots him. I have never heard a gun shot that close or seen anyone being shot. I can't describe it. The world stopped for a second when the bang came out. The man on the floor jumped up when the bullet hit him and I could see blood jumping out. Then he lay still. The second soldier catches up with the other guy and as I am expecting a bullet and cover my ears, he twists his neck and spits at him. I can still hear the bones cracking now. Baba pushes me behind another building and looks at me. He mimes the word ‘sorry' and lets me hold his shirt till we can't hear footsteps any more. I cry because I don't like war. I feel my body shaking but I can't control it. Baba is blurry. His voice is clear though; he is reading a prayer over me. I close my eyes really tight and think of how upset mama would be if I wasn't strong enough. I open my eyes and tell Baba I am ready to go. We walk past the two bodies on the ground. The first guy shot looks like he is dreaming and is only asleep. I wish he was. But the second guy has dark blood on his neck, but it's internal. His face looks horrified. It reminds me of a horror movie I once watched with Khalid. I couldn't sleep all night. The other man doesn't have much hair but this one has long hair down to his shoulders. His hair is the only thing that looks alive about him. I follow Baba quickly into our house three doors down and keep in mind the idea I got for a painting.

As soon as we get in through the door Yasmine jumps up and asks us if we're okay. Baba doesn't say anything and walks on. Yasmine keeps asking me what happened. This is the most she has spoken to me in a long time.

‘Two men got killed Yasmine.'

‘Did you see them?'

‘Yes, it was very scary!'

‘My poor Adam, are you okay?'

‘Yes Yasmine I'm okay, can I tell you a secret?'

‘Of course.'

‘I have a new painting idea.'

‘What is it?'

‘Every martyr I see, I will take some of his hair and make a portrait out of it.' Yasmine jumps back.

‘Are you crazy Adam? Don't touch anyone!'

‘I'm just touching their hair.'

‘No! Understood?'

Yasmine is shouting at me for no reason. I don't like it when she turns purple on me but I just say okay and go to the kitchen. I still want to use my idea. The dates have already been put on a plate and the bananas in a bowl. I pour less than a quarter of a cup of milk and have three dates. Baba was right, I don't feel hungry any more. I open the tap for some water but orange liquid comes out. I don't know why it's orange but I wait for it to fade away but it doesn't. I can't drink this water.

‘Yasmminneee!'

Yasmine comes into the kitchen and doesn't say a word. I lower my voice and tell her there's no water to drink.

‘I'll show you the only thing we can do.' Yasmine fills a saucepan with tap water and puts it on the stove to boil. The electricity now comes every day for an hour. That's when we do everything.

‘Are we going to drink hot water Yasmine?'

‘We don't have a choice. Go and try to put the boiler on in the bathroom to see if it works. The rest of us need to shower today.'

‘The rest of us?'

‘Ali, Amira, Khalid and Tariq showered yesterday when the water came.'

I run to the bathroom in four steps, I am getting really fast. The boiler is on but the light isn't red and the water is still cold. I really need to shower. I can smell myself and feel the grease on my hair. It makes my head feel heavier.

‘Yasmine there's no hot water!' I say out of breath.

‘Okay I'll warm some water for you to drink and bathe with, but you have to wash quickly so the rest of us can.'

‘But how can I wash my body with the same water I'm going to drink?'

‘Just do as I say, we don't have much choice.'

I leave the kitchen and wait outside for the hot water to boil. I thought war brought families closer together, now everyone is on their own. I never thought Yasmine would let me be alone.

*

I feel free for the first time in ages. Being in water makes me forget about all the things that make me sad. I lie back in the bathtub and think about my idea for my painting. I could do a series of paintings that unite the frozen blood of our country. I got that sentence from the news. It sounded good. I will have a lot of fun trying to work with hair and paint for the first time. I can already envision the eyes I am going to draw then line with hair. I don't know what ‘a raw piece' means but I was watching a show once and the TV presenter said an amazing painting was a ‘raw piece'. I want my painting to be a ‘raw piece' too.