The Migration (A Boy Story)

Part 8

I wondered how I got accepted here, how these people agreed to take me in. We have different religions, backgrounds, and colours only that we are all humans. Had it been I had drowned in the sea too, it would have been different for me. I won't be here thinking about all these. I won't have time to even think about it.

Before we left the desert about ten people died. I don't know how I managed to survive the heat. I don't know how. At some point Faiz managed to steal water from another person about to die, we drank it and watched her die. Another person, a man, ran mad and started shouting. He named himself and ran about clapping his hands, shouting in language we barely understood. He was shot dead before he could cause another problem among us. The Arab gangs had enough water and they ate well but offered us nothing. Before we got to the sea, they raped lots of the women. I heard them shout each night. We saw some dying under them. I couldn't think of anything. I couldn't even talk to Faiz but he was good. He helped the others a lot.

Two days later, we're on a boat. I don't know where we were going. I don't even care. Faiz sat in a corner looking at the vast endless sea. I was looking too but seeing nothing. A man beside me shouted.

"God! Finally we are on the Mediterranean sea. Finally we are going to Italy. " He chuckled so hard that the veins in his neck and head stood out. Then the boat commander counted us by giving us numbers. He spoke in Arabic. I was number ten and Faiz was seventh. After his counting I knew we were 111 migrants and he said we'll be going to Sicily. I've only read that in books and I've only seen the sea on TV. It seems we are going to die here. At some point people started vomiting. People started saying nonsense. People started chanting inaudible songs. But all I could see on most faces was fear. A pregnant woman had miscarriage. Blood flew out of her and she cried but no one was there to help. I couldn't even stand up because we're bunched together like fish in cans.

It was at night that one Ghanaian woman started shouting. She was shouting and her voice seemed like it's coming from wild dogs. I was afraid. I looked around for Faiz, he grabbed my hands.

"I am here. Don't worry.."

The women continued shouting and I remembered the petite girl who was dragged into the boat with us when we entered in Bin Walid to Tripoli. She shouted in pain but was shot dead at Tripoli before we entered this boat.

Someone tried holding her down but she overpowered him. The next thing I heard was the splash of water. She jumped in.

In the morning another person had died. The women next to him shouted.

"God of mercy allows us to get to Europe safely. I don't want to go back to Libya. Torturing every time. You have nowhere to run too."

"Hmm. E better make me die here than go back to that hell. Na jeje I want to come look for work ooo. I don suffer." He started crying. I looked at Faiz. I wanted to think about Ummi, Abi and Maryam but I couldn't. I sat down there looking into the empty sky.