Refugee

Refugee

All along the stony mountain path they trudged on to hopeful safety. What unplanned possessions they brought were still unknown to each other. “Hurry, Nejelah”, came the quiet voice of her mother, Majd. “We want to sleep in those trees in the distance”.  Would there be any food, did anyone bring water worried eight year old Nejelah.

The path was made by the fifty or so who were ahead of her.  Nejelah noticed that for some reason she couldn’t hear any of the others’ voices that were quietly muttering all around her except her mother’s. It was as if she was in a stone cocoon but one made of glass. She could see her grandmother in her long embroidered dress with its long sleeves. Both sleeves were tattered and torn at the ends from all the washing and gardening work. Her grandmother wore her long scarf tied tightly around her head. She knew her father and brothers were walking with them but the men and boys were in the front and the women and girls were walking in the back. She was becoming more and more tired and the cocoon she was viewing life from was becoming more and more of a cushion her mind used as a place to escape.  Only her mother was of comfort to her. Her brother, Ibrahim, had hit her earlier because she was crying. When she had looked at her father before they left he had tears in his eyes and he didn’t speak to her. There was so much shouting and yelling, gunfire and explosions that she didn’t want to hear or think or remember anymore.

The uphill climb was not easy for her grandmother. Nejelah slept by her mother, resting her head on her mother’s veil. She had one date to eat and a small sip of water. The men smoked with their hands cupped over the smoldering ends of their cigarettes to hide the light. The shock of the events kept everyone quiet, especially the children. Where was Grandmother? Why had she gone away from the group? Nejelah saw from her cocoon men gathering large stones and placing them tenderly to make the grave. Tears blinded her eyes. They sent stabbing pains through her head. Her mother held her so tight she couldn’t breathe. “She has gone home now,” her mother whispered quietly. “All her toils and tribulations on this earth are finished. We will see her again as a young woman in our eternal family.” Nejelah never looked back as they trudged forward to what life would bring them next. She looked only at the one possession she had brought with her, a photograph taken of her grandmother on her wedding day.