SEVEN

AS THE CHIEF HAD ANNOUNCED ON THE BEACH, the ship is heading to a new place, one of the Hawaiian islands. No one from Bikini knows much about Hawaii. All they know is that they are now safely going away and they will have new lives there. Everyone is uncomfortable. These are cargo ships. There are no seats or any other facilities around. They are just sitting on cold steel plates in a hollow, empty space. Everyone is complaining about what they have to bear.

“Can you just move a little bit? My child can’t even barely sit here.”

“Can’t you see me? I am not even sitting down properly.”

“That is nothing. I am standing. Can you look at me?”

“I am standing up right in front of a window, and the wind blows like crazy in my face. Don’t even start.”

“My baby just peed his pants and my pants, too. Let’s just be patient. Okay?”

“Oh, that is what it was. It stinks bad.”

“I can’t feel my leg. Someone has been sitting on my leg ever since I got here.”

“It must be someone’s bags. It is not me.”

“I can’t even find my own child. Everyone, just stop! Okay?”

With much rambling on about their complaints, it seems to get quieter. But the usual yapping never quite stops.

On this ship, there are only two soldiers to keep the islanders under control and five more crew up in the cabin, where the control room is. But there are hundreds of islanders packed very tightly together. The two soldiers and five crew have their own seats and beds, of course. These are only for cargo keepers, and there are no other seats for islanders. Correction. Refugees.

The islanders become mute. They just look at one another. Now, nothing seems to bother them more than the uncertainty of the destination and their future. They want to ask the soldiers where they are going. But no one speaks English. They are just imagining what the conversations would be like. That is all they can do for now.

For a very long time, no one has been talking at all. Just a few coughs here and there. The kids are already sleeping. It must be way after midnight.

Anij is frustrated that he could not find his parents anywhere. He knows that his parents are on a different ship. But he wants to see them now when he needs them the most. The horror of all this creeps up and consumes his mind. He is curled up in a corner. His teeth are chattering. There is no “easy rider” pass for kids. He is on his own. No one to hug and keep him safe overnight.

As the time drags itself heavily and slowly, their breaths become visible from their mouths and noses. It is quite cold inside the cargo ship: obviously no insulation or any kind of heating device. Even with lots of people tucked together as in a poultry farm, body heat does not make it any warmer at all. It is literally a gigantic fridge with human meat inside.

But Anij perspires like a pig in a slaughterhouse. Strangely enough, he is also shivering. It is no wonder what is happening to Anij’s mind. He has already lost his ability to control his mood; all mangled, tangled, jumbled up, and tossed out on a desert like prey waiting to be sliced up by predators. A ticking time bomb . . .

The two soldiers are shivering, too. “Hey, let’s go up to the cabin; it’s freezing cold.”

“About time. My balls are already frozen. They need to be taken care of, you know.”

“Hahaha. All right. Let’s go.”

At the end of the cargo area, there are two seats. The soldiers have been sitting and watching the islanders until now.

The islanders are watching them going up to their cabin with full degree of envy. They would probably do anything to go up with them and sleep anywhere else but here. But no one says anything. The soldiers don’t even give them a second look. Suddenly a conversation breaks out.

“I can’t believe this is happening. Shit . . . They don’t even give us anything. No blanket. No . . . Nothing . . .”

“Well . . . What did you expect? A three-course meal?”

“Shut up. I was not asking for your opinion. Okay?”

“Whatever . . . Listen. I can’t even do jack shit about this situation. Let’s wait till we get to the new place. It should not take that long to get there, I hope.”

“How do you know? It might take a really long time.”

“Well, I don’t know much about where we are going now. But I heard before that it would take about one full day to get to another big island from here. So tomorrow we will see.”

“Oh, yeah? You are just like the chief. How do you know this isn’t another plan to just get rid of us?”

“Don’t say that. We already feel bad about this. Don’t make it worse. We are all in the same boat.”

“Guys! Just stop. We should not be like this. Okay? Let’s just wait. Don’t talk about some conspiracy to kill us all. It is already bad enough to be here. I can’t take this kind of fighting anymore . . .”

Lots of other people tell them to stop fighting, as well. This should be a time for caring for one another, not fighting over something they can’t do anything about. Chatter and laughter from the cabin merge with noisy piston cycles. It sounds just perfect for such a harsh day.