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Scars of Memory

“There are forces you don’t see. They rule the darkness. They start wars. They ruin lives. CALL for more information”. Spam littered the Daily Telegram, a local joke of a newspaper that was extremely popular with the alternative, hippy, and preteen groups of Shaked, a remote town located around a 2 hours drive from Jerusalem. Sighing with the realization that objective journalism was, in fact, dead, Joseph put down the paper and stared into the distance. It had been a month since his brother had been killed in the crossfire near the Gaza Strip and he was still coming to terms with the fact that he’d never see him again. A strong wave of anger passed through Joseph. Such anger that he had never felt before. An image of his brother’s face, dead in his coffin, flickered through his mind. Those deep black eyes, fearless, patient…loving….

A strong itching feeling interrupted his train of thought. Opening his eyes, Joseph now saw a bright red bump on his forearm. It was nothing new. The mosquitoes around Shaked were notorious for leaving frightening, but harmless marks on people. Especially tourists. “Their blood must be sweet” Joseph remembered his mother saying on multiple occasions. She was right. The mosquitoes did seem desperate for foreign blood, but gang wars and frequent bombings ensured that the gourmet kept away.

Joseph tried to remember a time where the war wasn’t on his mind. He couldn’t. For the past six years, a constant stalemate had been played between the local rebel groups, the “X1” as they called themselves, and the Israeli government. The X1 weren’t what you would call typical revolutionaries – no one knew who they were. They were a thorn in the side of politicians, constantly making headlines, defacing property, and uncovering propaganda. Occasionally, you would hear stories around town about a new X1 poster near the back of the shopping mall, or someone claiming to know who ran the syndicate. Joseph tended to keep away.

A foreboding sense of urgency washed over Joseph as he realized that his university exam was the next day. He had been slacking off the whole semester, hopelessly trying to decipher long transcripts of outdated cases and committal hearings, but was determined to score well. After his brother died, the responsibility had fallen to him to get his sister married at a suitable age. She was 17 now, the legal age to get married. He didn’t find law particularly enjoyable, but the salary was high, and work was easily available. In any case, no one would marry his sister without a dowry, and he would not for the world let her go heartbroken.

“You’ve been studying the whole day! Get up!” a rough, masculine voice called out.  Joseph smirked. The voice belonged to his friend Samir. Samir was an electrical engineer, but he spent most of him time watching T.V, and fantasizing over the local beauty Mira. Joseph and Samir had been friends since they studied high school together, two of a triangle they had formed. The third they had never seen after graduation. He had always been the quiet one. Looking back, Joseph realized how little he had actually known about him. He would always, it seemed, remain a secret.

“Well, it’s not like YOU have any exams tomorrow!” Joseph retaliated.

“Pfft, what are exams? Mere pieces of paper in the face of love…”

“You really will not get over her, will you?” Joseph snickered. Samir had been after Mira as long as Joseph could recall. She wanted nothing to do with him, but of course that didn’t deter Samir in the slightest. He spent his waking, and indeed his sleeping moments, in a constant daydream. However, he was a born genius - there was some magic in that brain of his. Joseph recalled elementary mathematics class in Grade 2. While he struggled to complete basic arithmetic problems, Samir had raced ahead of the class, and this continued up till high school, where he, till now, had a fearful reputation as the most brilliant brain to ever graduate from the college.

“Just because you’re too chicken to ask her out yourself!” Samir said indignantly.

Joseph sighed. Their debates were never going to end. Nonetheless, he knew deep down that Samir was probably his only true friend left. Honesty was a trait tough to find, and Samir possessed it in bucket loads. Perhaps, even, a bit too much.

“So, are you going to get up or not?”

“Whatever. Just let me read this last passage.” Joseph finished reading and offered Samir a hand to pull him up with. Every bone, joint, and tendon in his body seemed to creak as he got himself off the ground. He had been studying; sitting stationary for three hours, and his body was keen to remind him of that fact every time he moved.

“I say we go to the Rift tonight.” Samir said.

“Are you crazy? Do you want to get yourself killed?” Joseph was shocked. Never had Samir made such a stupid comment before. “The Rift”, as it was known locally, was a narrow strip of farmland that was frequented by rebel groups. Rumour had it that it was the X1’s base itself. Anyone in his or her right mind would go nowhere near the place.

“No, I was just thinking. Maybe we should just, you know, check it out or something. I mean, we used to hang there so often before all this fighting happened.”

“That was SIX years ago Samir. Six years ago, we were kids. We were the biggest idiots. Remember that time where you thought a mine was a metal ball and started playing with it? Grow up Samir.” Joseph was exhausted. Even though it was only 4 o’clock, he felt a wave of tiredness ripple through his body. He would have to sleep early tonight – he didn’t want to fail the big test the next day.

“I don’t think you’re in the mood today. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Goodbye” Samir had picked up on Joseph’s change of mood.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m kinda tired. It’s best if we talk tomorrow.”

As Samir walked off down the street, Joseph felt a pang of regret for his old friend. Samir had always wanted to become a nanotechnologist. Out of desperation and a lack of income, however, he had finally waved his dream adieu and taken a course in engineering. It was a relatively stable career – and the salary was just enough to get him food and water everyday. Samir lived alone; his parents had died in a tragic accident when he was 5, and he had been taken in by a kindly Lebanese immigrant till he was 20. Joseph wondered if Samir would ever fulfill his true potential. He often criticized Samir for his carefree attitude; it could get him in serious trouble someday.

But today Joseph was too tired to think about Samir, or dowries, or war. He just needed sleep. He took off his shirt and stared into the mirror. Black crescents were forming under his eyes. He looked ragged; he hadn’t washed his hair in days. He remembered the time when he used to have long, flowing, locks of hair. Now it was just a short crew cut; looks had no importance anymore in his society. A scar ran across his shoulder and back – relics of a midnight brawl he had found himself in after flirting with a married woman, when he was drunk. And as he locked eyes with the reflection of himself he realized that he was no longer the vigilant teen he thought himself to be – he had become a cynic, no longer trusting those around him, bar Samir. He peered deeper into his own consciousness and found within himself the voice of his elder brother, comforting him, guiding him.

“Why did you leave?” Joseph whispered into the nothingness around him. But he knew it was useless. He gave up resisting his eyelids, and as he fell into bed, drifted into the muddled serenity of dream.