The sun rays coming through the black slit in the body of the VW 2005 we entered touches my face making me open my eyes in an instant. The car's radio shouting ‘Allahu ci ne girma…' along with strumming of an instrument I couldn't place mixed with the desert wind made me tired. I rested on ummi's right hand, she looked at me and smiled. Faiz had been asleep since we left that border. I couldn't get in my own head. I couldn't jump out onto the road. I know I have inner pains. I know my brain is broken but I don't know why.
***
When we got to Agadez we stopped. The man in the brown shirt who looked brown who sat behind us in the car sat closer to a pole with a sign: Barki, Agadez. The city smelt of dust, broken roads and ancient wars. I didn't see any caravan though Abi told us there are many here. I'll disregard that now because I'd known most of the traffickers started from here and Zinder. As we are entering the city it smelt of departed people. People who are lost. The man squinted and held out a paperback book titled Lawrence of Arabia. Perhaps I came across the book when I was at the store. I couldn't recall but something tells me I did. Ummi isn't talking, she holds on to our bags and Faiz plays within her reach. The man turned to a woman holding a duffel bag. She frowned.
"Come over here." He said.
"For what?"
"We aren't done with the discussion. Something is still vague."
"Vague! What are you saying? You've been pulling threads since I got here but I know what I'm saying."
The closer I listened to them the more vague and lost I got. Ummu wasn't talking to me and because of that my head aches and it seems I'm drowning. We've been there for only 20 minutes but it seems we've been there far more. The movement of people is slow. Those bringing in salt from Bilma, Bombino guitar music playing at a store, remnants of the war for peace, humans walking like they're suffocating and hot desert climate made me want to die but by Allah I wanted to live for Ummi. I wanted her to see how much I care.
"We'll get a bus soon insha'Allah." She said but continued staring into the street.
"Faiz come here." I said.
"Ah ah. I will not!" He ran towards ummi and she held him closer.
***
When we finally got on a bus I started crying internally. I'll miss Maryam. I thought we'd see her on the road. I was hoping that the end of every tunnel would come with light but at the end of our journey I didn't see any light. I suspected some people but it turned out they knew nothing about her whereabouts. Even though we barely talk about many other things, we talked about books we want to read, people we wanted to meet, places beyond our reach and music we want to listen to. We talked about Turegi culture. Abi made us read some of their history. We read about the protest of Kaocen Ag Mohammed who was later defeated by the French. We read about famine, cries of children, and how the Songai kingdom ruled over Agadez in late 1500. At some point I thought the history of the world is a chronicle of sadness. I said that to Maryam, she agreed with me. Now she's gone and Abi is dead and we're going to Diffa.
"We'll return to Libya in a few days." Ummi said. I glanced at her then, not knowing what to say. That return caused me the loss of my mother.
***
The discussion between the brown man and the woman intensified and I found myself listening to them more even though my mind separated from me. I supplicated silently for glory and a tranquil mind. I don't even know how to tell ummi what has been happening to me but I intended to when we get to Diffa.
YOU ARE READING
The Migration (A Boy Story)
Non-FictionJust like rainbow comes after storms, everything change like the rising and setting of the sun, slow and quick at the same time, hurting and burning with every mile I kept hopping and wishing it was a dream. As a child all I wanted was for my dream...
