The Boy from Aleppo Who Painted the War (4 page)

‘Baba! Baba!' I shout. ‘It's not mama!'

Tears start falling down my face and I start to feel hot and sticky. I feel the exact same way I did at mama's funeral. My mind is filled with the number three jumping from one corner to the other like a Microsoft screen saver.

*

I calm down after the boys come in and try to speak to me. Yasmine is lying still on the bed and Baba is telling me what happened. He says she had her stomach pumped because she took too many pills. I wonder why Yasmine did that? Was she in pain? I don't want Yasmine to feel pain and leave me as well.

*

Yasmine got up a couple of hours later but she hasn't spoken since. She usually talks a lot and is ruby red, but now she is green. Tariq drove us home and made her food. The boiler in the house isn't working so it's really cold. I feel the air touch my bones, I can imagine my bones moving in on each other to keep warm. The more I imagine that, the warmer I get. The electricity and water keep on cutting out and there's nothing we can do. We can't shower as often or as long as we would like any more. I don't know who keeps cutting it. Don't they feel cold and dirty?

I put Yasmine's favourite romance movies on for her to watch and sit by her bed. I don't like these movies very much but I don't want to leave her alone. Sometimes the electricity comes back on, and the movies work. All the movies she likes have two people kissing each other in the end and tasting each other's spit. Why do people kiss and hug each other? It's uncomfortable and it gets hot. What is so special about exchanging saliva that makes people fall in love? It's a disturbing quality. I will never fall in love and do that. Yasmine says that if you loved someone you would want to kiss and hug him or her all the time. I don't believe that.

Yasmine keeps going to sleep and waking up again. It's like she travels to another place when she sleeps. She wakes up with a completely different look. I wish I could see where she goes. I want to travel like she does. I have never travelled before but I always watch travel documentaries and feel like I have been to the place they show after the programme finishes. If I travelled I wouldn't go to tourist attractions. Why would anybody want to go to London and just stare at Big Ben? It's just a clock. You can see clocks everywhere. Travelling is not about staring at a brick wall or statue and pretending to be interested!

I can hear Isa reciting Nizar Qabbani's poetry from his room. He recites every night. I know all the poems by heart now. My favourite is ‘A Damascene Moon'. When Isa reads my favourite line from it, ‘a stream flows and poetry is a sparrow spreading its wings over Sham', I see sparrows flying around the room and rivers with orchids and Yasmine floating. It makes me feel like I am travelling on the river but today crows fly over the Damascene landscape and the sparkling water turns into a green gooey liquid.

I wake up to the sunrise as usual and straightaway get up and peek into Yasmine's bedroom to see if she is okay. She looks better today; she has spring in her cheeks. I decide to skip to the bathroom, which takes fewer steps than walking, so in four steps I reach the bathroom and go into the shower. The water is really cold today, the boiler light is on but it is not warming up. Why would the light be on if it isn't giving the right message?

‘Adam! We all need to shower, quick,' Tariq shouts through the door. I quickly rush my shower in the cold. Goosebumps climb up my body and I shiver. It feels like insects are crawling all over me. I hate cold showers. I rush out and run to my room before anyone sees me. Thank God no one saw me or I would have to run to the bathroom from my room 17 times. I get dressed and brush my hair and put perfume on. I spray it on my right shoulder, then my left shoulder and then the centre of my chest. I can hear Yasmine's voice. I quickly put my school bag on my shoulder and run to the kitchen where I can hear her voice. Her face is a canvas of spring and winter. Each one is fighting to take over. I hope spring wins.

‘Yasmine, are you going to work today?'

‘Yes.'

‘Why did you take a lot of tablets Yasmine?'

Yasmine suddenly looks up and it looks like concrete bricks are veiling her eyes. Her face sinks down. In this moment she looks like the dead rabbit I once saw at gran's farm.

‘It was for my stomach Habibi, don't worry about what happened,' she quickly says and turns around to fry the omelette.

‘Yasmine I don't want to eat, I am going to be late for school. I'm leaving now.'

‘You have to eat Adam, you know the rules.'

‘But I am going to be late for school.'

‘At least take this labna sandwich to eat on the way with tea in a flask.'

‘Thank you,' I say taking them and leaving in a hurry.

‘Wait for me Adam, I'll walk you to school.'

‘Why Yasmine? I always walk alone.'

‘It's not safe out there any more darling, I want to come with you to make sure you get to school okay.'

‘It is safe, I always walk to school.'

‘Just wait for me please Adam, I'll just get my coat.'

I open the front door and see rain pouring down. I run back in for my umbrella and before I count to ten I run out again. The rain is pouring down very hard but there is still a bit of sun shining down on me, which makes me smile. I don't like the rain; it is so hard to walk in without my shoes getting wet or my umbrella slipping down and my body getting wet. I just like the sun. There aren't as many people on the streets today. The street lamps aren't working and it looks like a dark morning with nobody and no lights. Thank God the sun is shining, even if it is behind many layers of clouds. I start to imagine what it would be like with no sun on such a rainy day with no street lamps. It would be too dark to walk the streets and insects would crawl onto us without us seeing them, but I would still have to because I have school. The cry of a child upset about going to school disturbs my dark thoughts and I notice many banners on the ground ripped up with red paint on them. The streets still haven't been cleaned. There is usually somebody who cleans the streets every morning. Nothing is normal today, I can't wait to go to school and see everything normal. We take the turn onto the high street and it looks like we have entered a different city. The market stalls are on the ground with wooden splinters all around. It looks like Godzilla attacked it. Is this why there isn't anybody on the streets? There is a guy lying on the ground on his back and he looks like he has been sleeping for ages. His face looks like tree bark: aged, wrinkly and cold.

‘Don't look at him Adam!' Yasmine takes my hand and starts running.

‘Do you think we should wake him up? It's raining on him.'

‘Just move Adam!' Yasmine shouts. I don't know why she has been so bad-tempered lately. I wanted to put my umbrella on the man but Yasmine pulled me too hard to start running.

We run to school and there isn't any assembly going on in the courtyard. I look at the time, and it is usually the time for assembly. Maybe because of the rain we should just go to class. I go into school and up two flights of stairs and walk to my classroom, which is the third on the left. I look through the window and there are only five people and the teacher. Yasmine knocks on the door for me and tells me to go in while she talks to the teacher. Inside the classroom everybody is sitting apart and no one looks up when I enter the room. There isn't a single sound in here apart from the wind from outside hitting the windows. Someone is sitting in my seat today. I don't want to speak to them but I can't sit anywhere else. I have been sitting there all year. I stand by my desk and the girl looks up. She has skin that looks so fragile and thin it could fall off her face. The veins are painted in the shape of chicken's feet. Even though her cheeks look sick and unhealthy, her eyes are the darkest brown I have ever seen. You can see yourself through them without even meaning to. She gets up without saying a word to me and gives me my seat. Usually my classmates make fun of me before getting off my seat, but she didn't. I like her. Yasmine calls me from outside the classroom before I even get to sit down.

‘Yes?'

‘Your teacher says it will be better to go home, everybody is waiting for their parents to pick them up,' she whispers to me.

‘But it's not home time yet.'

‘Yes Habibi but there isn't school today.'

‘Of course I have school.'

‘Let's make a deal. If you come back with me and listen to what your teacher says, I'll take you to the market with me to choose the fruits you want to eat.'

‘Really Yasmine?'

‘Yes, come on, let's go.'

Yasmine says bye to the teacher and I look back at the girl in my class. She is still looking down reading. We walk out of the classroom and Yasmine looks at me in a funny way. Her eyes look huge and her smile feels like it is mocking me.

‘What is it?'

‘Who is that girl?' Yasmine smiles for the first time since she got sick.

‘I don't know her name.'

‘Ooo, you like her,' she laughs.

‘No Yasmine! I like her eyes.'

‘Why her eyes?'

‘They look like a tub of Nutella.' I start to think about her eyes. I looked right into them. It was like jumping into a chocolate factory.

‘Snap out of it Adam.' Yasmine snaps her fingers in front of me and I'm dragged away from my chocolate factory heaven. We walk back on the empty streets we came on and nothing has changed, everything looks just as empty. We turn into the market road and at last I can hear some voices from afar. Yasmine suddenly pulls me towards her and tells me not to look to my right. I quickly look and see a man lying on the ground with his face towards the wall and his arms wide open. A bird is walking around his body and pecking at his fingers. It doesn't wake him up. I look again and notice blood in-between his legs.

‘Yasmine! The man is hurt, he's not sleeping. He's bleeding!'

‘Walk on quickly Adam, I told you not to look!'

‘But Yasmine if we leave him he will die!'

‘Adam!' Yasmine shouts at me and I look away and behind me at the guy who still doesn't move. The bird is pecking his eyes. This is the second man we have seen today lying on the ground.

We can hear more noises now and people shouting fruit prices out loud. As we take a right turn the market comes into sight and the busy atmosphere hits me after the lonely walk here. The fruits and vegetables on display paint the marketplace with a vibrant look. I walk towards the brightest stand with dragon fruits, passion fruits, mangos, kiwis and starfruits on display in the shape of a huge smile. My mind plays around with the colours and I sketch an image in my head of the man on the side of the road made of fruit juices bursting out of him.

‘Adam, I was looking all around for you, where did you wander off to?'

‘Sorry, I was looking at these fruits.'

‘Okay Habibi, just stay by me. I picked strawberries, a pineapple and some grapes for you here.' She points at her basket filled with all my favourites.

‘Thank you Yasmine!' I smile at her.

‘Come on, let's look for some vegetables to cook for today.'

I walk behind Yasmine to the vegetable stand on the far corner of the market. Sitting on the corner of the pavement a father is recording a video of his daughter singing the national anthem in a loud voice. They both look orange. Before I get to look back at Yasmine I hear a deafening sound and in a second all the fruits jump at me and the stalls break to the ground. I turn frantically looking for Yasmine and see the video camera by my feet and the father and daughter nowhere in sight. I feel Yasmine grab me and we run. She drops the basket and the fruits tumble down to the ground and burst into a rainbow. Yasmine runs faster and I try to keep up with her. Another bomb goes off but it sounds further away. Screams surround us like a suffocating bubble and my mind zones out to one of my paintings on my wall with a family running away from a bomb. Something suddenly falls out from under Yasmine's shirt and she stops to pick it up.

A loud siren goes off in my mind when I see the gun. Yasmine doesn't pause to look up at me. She picks up the gun and continues running. My heart sings the dreary national anthem of our country, and every beat gets heavier. There's a war, there's a war, there's a war. I didn't believe Yasmine, I didn't believe the news, now I am in the middle of the war and I want to run away.

‘5-3-2-1, 5-3-2-1, 5-3-2-1, 5-3-2-1, 5-3-2-1, 5-3-2-1, 5-3-2-1, 5-3-2-1, 5-3-2-1, 5-3-2-1, 5-3-2-1.'

‘Adam! Keep running!'

‘5-3-2-1, 5-3-2-1, 5-3-2-1, 5-3-2-1, 5-3-2-1, 5-3-2-1.' Yasmine pulls me harder and every nerve in my body freezes. I stop in my spot and she tries pulling me harder but she can't.

‘Adam? Adam look at me! What's wrong? We have to run, we could get hurt!'

Yasmine's voice soothes my nerves and I run really fast to show her that I can run as fast as a cheetah. I can hear Yasmine's breath behind me and I run even faster.

*

We run into the house and lock the door tight behind us. Yasmine turns around to me and looks me up and down to see if I am okay. She has a scratch from her lips up to her ear. I can't see myself so I don't know how I look.

‘Yasmine, you're hurt.'

‘As long as you're okay then I am.'

She walks into the sitting room and tries to put the light on but the electricity is out again. Everything is getting so bad. Nothing is working and the war has started. I start to fidget. I hate this, why is there a war? What did my country do to have a war?

I go to my room and look at the painting on my wall that I remembered when the bomb went off. The picture has a woman running while holding a young boy's hand.

The colours are like a fruit cart has exploded all over it and blood has come out of the fruits. The painting resembles what happened in a strange way. I look at the other paintings on my wall and pray to God that none of those happen as well. My room is filled with war paintings that now scare me. I bring out my painting kit and start to sketch the girl and her father right away. I remember their faces clearly like I have known them my whole life. The father's eyes looked like they were about to close before the bomb went off, like he knew what was going to happen. The girl was happy singing our country's national anthem; the anthem that was supposed to protect us under its wings. But she fell to the ground in the middle of it all. Now our country is turning against us, we are not one any more. I finish sketching the father with a video camera in his hand and the girl facing him with her long hair flowing free. I then open up my paint palette and change the innocent scene into a painting with the premonition of death. Death was lurking above them, ready to pounce, to gulp their fresh flesh. Tears fall down from my eyes.