I was sitting across from my mother. She has been dead for quite some time, yet she was always present when I needed her the most. Of course, no one else can see or hear her, but that would not matter anyway. She had little interest in anyone else. Her presence is soothing. A calming anchor in an all too real sea of uncertainty and danger.
I was at the back of a boat gazing into the wake that it created. I don’t know much about boats, but as far as I can tell, it has seen some wear and tear. As it idles through the water, I looked back over our journey. White waves were created as we pushed through the ocean. The Sun had long abandoned us. Only silver streaks of moonlight on the peaks of the waves broke up the endless black. A wake usually means there is going to be a funeral, I thought to myself.
I turned and faced towards the front of the boat and took in my immediate surroundings. A small veteran boat with oars, a tired petrol engine, and some basic supplies. The captain held an unfriendly demeanor. I counted people, but after 20 my anxiety increased. The opposite of counting sheep. At least 20 people. 20 lives present.
Who were these strangers?
What is their life before this?
What is their life going to be?
Every question I could think of was equally important. The boat shook as we collided into a small wall composed of ocean. It spat at us as if we had interrupted it from its slumber.
An old lady cried, “اللَهُمَّ ساعِدْني”
Tears streamed down her face as she collapsed into the nearest person beside her; a thin man with a tight moustache and a furrowed brow. The thin man was just as frightened and clutched onto her as cold air whistled around their faces. The air cut into our cheeks like tiny paper cuts. I picked out faces. The old lady. The thin man. A kindly faced woman in front of me. Her shawl was protecting at least three under it. Their three sets of eyes. Like little kitten’s peering out from the warmth of the shawl. Their faces were obscured. She was humming something. A soothing little note designed to create a forcefield against the harsh reality of our situation. My Mother began to hum a tune that I knew well. The little kittens braced as each wave unsettled the boat.
I continued to look around. A well-built man was barking orders. He was ranting about life jackets. My mother nudged my arm. She pointed to some lifejackets strewn underneath my seat. I shouted out. The well-built man scrambled to them. “Here, here, here”. He threw them into the group. The most vulnerable were seen to first, but even then, I could see numerous people with no life jackets. I know that they could not swim; either too old or not old enough. They wouldn’t be able for the mercilessness of the ocean.
The thin man who had just consoled the elderly women sat himself down beside me. He turned to me and smiled. I smiled back. He laughed. It isn’t a particularly happy laugh, but something has caught his eye. He passed over a small photograph. It was composed of a large family with him proudly centred. Libyan or Algerian was my best guess, but then again, he could truly be from anywhere. My mother leaned over his back and pointed at a young woman sitting off to the left. I get it now. I resemble this woman. I glanced around. He is alone. I have a feeling his family only exists as memories or through haunting lookalikes. I felt a mixture of emotion. Perhaps they are also here, I thought to myself. Like my mother.
He doesn’t speak, as I returned the photograph like it was a delicate flower. He picked himself up and squeezed to the back of the boat. Even though we didn’t talk, we knew a lot about each other. I remember my mother whispering to me.
“.إذا كان الكلام من فضة فالسكوت من ذه”
People were moaning in pain around me. An injured woman had been passed out for most of the journey. Her leg looked infected, and her partner, a beautiful woman, clutched her tightly. I helped put a lifejacket on the injured woman. Her partner’s eyes appreciated me. I sat back down at the end of the boat. We continued into the darkness of the night. To busy myself and to keep warm, from my pocket, I took a small photo out. It was wrapped in a plastic I found on the beach.
My grandparents. The ones who raised me and cared for me. I closed my eyes and saw it vividly. In fact, I always saw it when I closed my eyes. The smoke choking their frail bodies. The heat of burning rubber, wood, and flesh. My own blood drenching the dust in the sitting room as my ears rang from the impact blast. My throat still winces when I remember the caked dust that nearly suffocated me. They appear sometimes as well. Charred and tearful. Sometimes they scream, but mostly they just smoulder. My Mother was oblivious to this, of course. I didn’t have the heart to tell her. From what I gathered; they don’t interact. I drifted back into my past. Stumbling out of the apartment just in time to see the foundations begin to crumble. Another jet closing in on our little town.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
The noise was getting louder. I blinked my eyes and returned to reality. I was cold and alone. Everyone in this boat was. Cold and alone together. My story wasn’t new. In fact, most know it. Thinking of my grandmother, I squeezed past the worried faces. I took my torn jacket and placed it around the old lady. She smiled. I smiled. I returned to my tiny area. The waves were now pelting the underneath of the boat as if some evil creature was trying to tear it apart.
A large splash destroys the shallow peace. I looked down and quickly realised someone has gone overboard. Among the trashing and screaming, people reached out in a vain effort to rescue him. The Thin man was sinking into the black. His eyes widened with fear as he came to the realisation of his situation. That is when I saw it. That is when I saw him. Pale arms wrapped silently around his body. Gently, but firmly, they pulled him towards the depths of the ocean.
His struggle lessened and lessened. The panic of the thin man’s eyes slowly turn into acceptance.
I think he has chosen his new life underneath the chaos above the waters. Eventually, his body disappeared into the black. The screams on the boat became less and less. People were just gazing into the water. Perhaps they were wondering if the reasons he chose were convincing. Perhaps, they wanted to be next. He has a new family now.
The creatures had been following us since the first day. While I wouldn’t say they are friendly, they seemed to keep a healthy distance from us, only interacting when we breach the sanctity of their waters. From what I gathered; the creatures were not Sirens. Sirens lure you into a false reality with their music. These creatures are different. They don’t leap onto your boat. They don’t pull you into their depths. The thin man wasn’t forced into his fate. He merely fell overboard.
How? I don’t know, but he knew the consequences of his actions. He chose out. The overwhelming reality of our human world simply became too much. Death was a viable acceptance, and it had it hands out to welcome him. The creatures embraced him. Were these creatures human at one point? I do not know. Their eyes are human like. As we drifted for hours aimlessly into the darkness, I thought about them a lot. I also saw them. Little yellow dots bouncing up and down in the water, patiently waiting for the next.
I dropped my hand overboard and allowed it to glide over the surface of the water. Very briefly my fingers interlock with another. I loosened my grip on the boat and allowed myself to sway side to side. The touch was kind and gentle. A small part of me knew the danger, but another, far more desperate part just needed to feel something. Suddenly, I felt a grip around my back. My Mother ushered me away from the water. I hugged myself for warmth and closed my eyes. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I overheard some of the conversations around me.
“How much did you pay?”
“Can’t we go back? Maybe he is still alive”
“Stop talking nonsense. He is gone”
“Move over, I am almost falling out here.”
“No, my family had couldn’t come, they didn’t make it.”
“When do we get there? He said only three days”
“Three days? He said a few hours to me.”
“A few hours! You must be foolish? Two days at least.”
“The water is beautiful, let’s us embrace the calm”
“I am cold”
Wait, I thought, “the water is beautiful?”
I looked around to see who would say such a strange thing. The voice didn’t seem to come from anyone on board. The cold was getting to me. I closed my eyes again.
“We won’t make the journey”
“Keep yourself quiet and don’t be foolish”
“Leave her be, she’s just nervous!”
“Nervous, look around, we are all nervous! Don’t start lecturing me about nervous”
“I said stop it!”
I opened my eyes. Where’s the mother of three?, I thought.
I perched up on the back of the boat and looked across the faces. Ah! There she was. She was cupping water and cleaning their faces. The injured woman looked very poorly. I wondered if there was a medical professional here. The injured lady had a partner. Another woman. She was beautiful.
In an instant, the boat violently shook. Rain tore into us so badly that we crawled as far into the boat as humanly possible. 20 or more voices were helplessly crying into the ocean’s indifference. I tried to reassure the people around me that it was okay. When it calmed, I lifted my head and assessed my surroundings. I had cuts from the razor rain, but I was more or less intact. Then I heard the howling. A banshee cries. I could not figure out the dilemma. Who was screaming? It was the woman of three. She was howling.
The well-built man grabbed a torch from the box where the life jackets were and pointed it to the ocean of waves. It took me a few minutes to discern the ugly truth. Tears fell down the well built man’s face. The woman of three. Now the woman of two. Yellow eyes were dotted around us. Another offering to their insatiable appetite.
Our mental and physical strength was drained. Food had been scarce for some time and as the old rhyme goes, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink. The injured woman looked terrible. Apart from small gulps of freshwater and a makeshift bandage, we had nothing to give her. I began scouring the boat for something, anything that might relieve her pain. Her injuries looked deep. Her partner, the beautiful woman was stoic. She knew that nothing could be done, although the closer to the shoreline the better.
I rested my head against the yellowed, damaged side of the boat. Before I could get comfortable, it hit. A wave smashed against us. The boat lifted upwards into the sky. I fell backwards into the wake as the boat pounded back down into the water. Although, I didn’t know at the time. The boat had ruptured its hull. The cold stinging pain of the water jolted my lungs. For a brief moment, I was paralysed. As I bobbed up and down in the water, my face dipped below the waterline. I couldn’t make out much, but those yellow eyes.
They were still there. I saw faces, hundreds of them, surrounding my body. Grabbing and pulling me towards the deep. Many of the faces were those already dead, and I was being pulled towards them. In that moment of paralysis, there was almost serenity. The physical world full of its pain and anguish seemed to melt away in the midst of this calm inevitability.
A part of me was ready to give in. Join the chorus of distraught yellow eyes. I knew I couldn’t. I froze as we made brief eye contact, but it was my mother’s voice snapped me back to the moment. I pulled and swam upwards in a feeble attempt to break away. I rose above the water and tried to grasp my surroundings. The boat was sinking. People were thrashing about in the water. It was panic. I knew I couldn’t. I pulled and swam upwards in a feeble attempt to break away.
I saw the old lady.
“Jump”, I cried to the old lady.
“It’s sinking, it’s sinking!”
The boat was decompressing rapidly.
“Jump”, I shouted.
Just as the moon hit her face, I saw it. I saw many emotions, but I also saw what she couldn’t bear to say. She couldn’t swim. Before I could swim back to try and get her a lifejacket a wave from behind lifted me forward and I crashed into the side of the boat. In a daze, I grasped onto the thick rope that surrounded the boat. Mouthfuls after mouthfuls of salted air and water began to take their toll.
People were thrashing in the water. The cold was intense. The boat was almost fully sunk, and my upper body strength was gone. Then I saw it. A beam of light over the water. The sound of an incoming ship. A sigh of relief. Men threw out water doughnuts and rope. People clambered onto the boat. Those who were left anyway. By the time everyone was on board the sun was just peering out on the horizon. I was wrapped in a dry blanket and then I went dark.
When I woke up, I was in a tent. New clothes set out before me. I assessed my wounds. Cuts reddened the skin, but I was more or less okay. I sat up in the makeshift tent and grabbed a cup of coffee to warm my hands. I was exhausted, but I had to know where I was. I wandered out of the tent. The searing heat reminded me of home. People were shouting, vehicles were ferrying food and supplies back and forth. This must be one of the biggest camps there is.
In front of me was a new war with its own special injured. I walked throughout the camp looking for anyone I could recognise. The well-built man was looking pale and shell-shocked. His eyes were red and two doctors spoke in rapid-fire to one another. He didn’t understand a word they were saying.
I moved through the camp for the rest of the day. I saw many faces, and harrowingly, I didn’t see many others. When I came across the woman of two, my heart ached. She was inconsolable. The woman of two. My emotions knew nothing of her plight. I pushed my mind forward as much as I could.
The woman of none.
I walked on to find an empty bench. I collapsed into it and looked out over the horizon. I had survived.
A small whisper of encouragement filled my ears. My Mother. She soothed over the anxiety I was feeling. My anger, pain, and the hatred I had for myself to feel relief when so many others only feel pain. She whipped herself around the branches of a tree causing leaves to lightly dance in front of me. I thought back to the days of the olive trees that we used to have in our back garden. She continued to flit in a frenzy of happiness.
I understood.
Perhaps the afterlife is a lot simpler. I shrugged my shoulders as to say, “What do I do now?”
She cracked a wry smile. And whispered, “whatever you set your heart to.”
With that, she began to move away from me. She extended her arms, and that is when I realised. She wasn’t alone. Hiding behind the tree were three small individuals. Three that I recognised. The three little kittens looked at my mother and rushed towards her. She smiled at me and back at them.
She had saved me on my journey, and now it was her time to guide three little lives into a new one. A mixture of sadness and happiness crept over me. My Mother faded out. I shut my eyes and thought about dry land.