The Migration (A Boy Story)

Part 13

Before Ummi took us back to Libya Faiz fell sick at Agadez. So we started with some of her friends and I worked at Agadez camel market. I worked for money to feed and buy some of his medicines. Ummi really tried. One of those few days, sometimes I didn't come home at night. I slept under broken lorries with my friends from the market. Can't recall their names now because we barely talked. Their world was totally different from where I came from. Some of them don't even know what it takes to have a family.

Though I barely sleep. Most of the night I went through the city smelling the buildings hoping to know where it all began. I hope I'll meet Abi's family then. I wished to ask them why the magic was used on him. I wanted to go to the family house but Ummi said she doesn't want another son to die.

On those few days, each night felt like I'm the only one in the world with my feelings. I wanted to talk to people about it but I stopped myself each time. I stopped myself because I don't know. Because I think I don't want civilization to fall. I know that might not make sense but I just have to say it.

On some nights the Grand Mosque was my abode. I read the books then recline to think about everything. I saw a child dying then another woman dying then a close friend of the Imam died and the whole world continued dying. This mosque is full of that story. I read it was built in 1515. Where was I then?

May Allah forgive us. I want to be forgiven if what is going on in my head is a sin. May Allah see me through.
***
A week later a riot broke out among some Turegs and some Chadian men who bought camels from the formal, killed them but didn't want to pay. I was with Abul when it started but later caught up in it. We were jailed for two weeks, my health swindled and I was thrown out later when the riot parties told them I wasn't among them. Ummi and her friends came everyday but they didn't allow them to bail me. I crawled into the street, begged for money to treat myself, got to the hospital and was thrown out later for not wanting to pay for a complete treatment. The chief doctor said, boy you have to go. We don't have enough here.

He was right, I said to myself. If I should stay, a lot of other people needing my bed will die. I don't even have money. I just wanted to get back to Ummi and I did and we went back to Libya.

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Graz

After checking in with the receptionist I was directed to a waiting room I have once visited with Gegly  in order to talk to the new doctor. He waited  in the outer reception knowing he had nothing much to worry about. When I left him I could see he was worried.  They have grown to love me so much.

"Son, I hope it goes well." He held my shoulder again. "Take care there."

When I was going to the Johnson Control  it had been for entire weekends, Friday to Monday, my condition was severe then. I had been diagnosed with bipolar II and then a mild form of multiple personality disorder. Alhamdulillah, I'm getting better now. Some form of awareness is great. Now I only have to see my therapist once a week. On Tuesday for an hour.

The colour of the office reminds me of how whiteness brings meaning to everything. With sage green and dusty blue hanging on fringes giving the office away as another serene place. You don't have to escape, the walls say to me.

"Come in", the doctor walks over to shake my hand. "Don't worry we'll be fine."

He walked back to his chair, his lanky body bent over. He must have been reading a lot too. His back looked like that of Abi only that he's whitish pink.

"My name is Dr Fawaz Abdullah. How are you doing today?"

"I'm good."

He looked up at me with a smile and I replied with a grin. I wished he was cold, arrogant, and perhaps grumpy too, then I would have a better excuse for why I don’t want to come, I didn’t want to be shallow. I don't even know if I want to come.

"Let's get to it," he said, holding my files. "I have read your files and I think we should start here. Tell me about yourself."