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We had been waiting for almost a month doing nothing more than sitting in our small quarters going out only to eat or to take the occasional walks in the airport. We loved certain areas of the airport, especially a part of a runway that was still open to us. It kind of felt like waiting at the terminal for a delayed flight only the weather had been bad for a while, but we could not complain. It was our only hope; we had nowhere to go back to, not without papers, we had no options.
Then one day Greta summoned us to her office. We were going there with our hearts thumping like an old diesel engine, for what if they found out something from the fingerprints they took when we filled in the application forms upon our arrival? We didn't know how deep our crime back home had rooted; it was almost eight months since that fateful day, but we had no clue what was happening. All that time, we did not have access to anything but the news from TV, and since most of the news came from a Greek source far from home, we couldn't count on learning much. They promised us we could buy a German phone number when our papers came through.
The look on Greta's face disarmed my tension. It worked! The first part of our great escape plan was done. The very next day, we went on with the second part and applied for asylum using our newly issued identification documents. We learned from the rare occasions we talked to people that everybody in Tempelhof had applied for asylum, but it was getting more difficult to obtain approvals. I heard some even got deported back to other countries, especially to Turkey, which we claimed we came from, so if they were to send us back to any place, Turkey would be the destination, but I wasn't sure we were ready to take on the road again. I believed in the self-fulfilling prophecy thing, but at that moment, I didn't want to believe in or think about anything so much.
We learned that we had to stay in Tempelhof for anywhere between six months and a year. Then they would move us to apartments or collective accommodations until they decide about our asylum application, but Greta made it clear they were no guarantees as the policies were changing from day to day. When we asked if we could do anything to help or use our skills in any way that may be of service in the camp, she was strict about advising us not to do any kind of work for it was against the law and she neglected the part that had to do with our skills. I didn't blame her for if we indeed lied to her, how many others did the same? It was like lying on a resume; you cannot expect employers to have the time to investigate in everybody's background, and I didn't think Germany was short of software engineers. The funny thing was that they believed every lie we told except for the one truth we mentioned about ourselves.
The honeymoon of the camp was over after a couple of weeks of doing nothing but staring at the high ceiling of the airport for hours. I started to take my own walks when Pam was not too bored to walk. I met some guys from the camp and my walks without Pam became daily. They did not allow us to go out, so it was like one big prison, and a prison it was by all international standards. I learned from my new friends there was that guy, Samer, who oversaw supplying our hangar with the not-very-essential stuff the Germans would otherwise provide for free. I came back home one day with a pack of cigarettes, which cost me fifteen euros, and I had never heard of Blue Hill cigarettes before, but Pam and I rejoiced that night; we hadn't smoked for a long time, so we thought we wouldn't spare the first pack for anything, not with the most expensive two bottles of beer I bought from Samer that night, too.
After a week, the old Pam came back when she told me to cut down on smoking and drinking because it was draining out the money we had left. I could not argue anymore after a week or two, so I had to hide my pack with my friends and smoke only in our card games that would last all night. When I returned almost every day at dawn, Pam would be asleep, and I would slide into bed quietly to avoid the hi-baby kiss which would give me away.
I woke up late the next day and found my breakfast portion on the table as it usually happened when I missed the daily breakfast time, and it was happening quite too often. Pam was not in the palace, she was visiting another princess she met the other day. A doctor with her Ph.D. husband she forced me to meet the other day. The problem was that they came into my life too late. I remember dying back home to have a meaningful conversation about something that mattered, and I couldn't find anybody to have that conversation with, not even Susan, but it was not a problem. I got used to having to bear with other people's silly conversations and not expecting anyone to bear with mine. I would have loved to talk to this couple a year ago, but not anymore. What did all that crap ever do to me, except for keeping me here with those self-centered Germans who believed nobody knew anything about technology but them? The conversation act with the couple had barely started when I excused myself and went to see my friends to play cards all night.
I had the fruits from my portion and left the other healthy stuff for those vigorous academics in case they showed up and bore us with one of those life-goes-on speeches. I had my coffee with extra sugar and took a cigarette from the pack Pam told me she'd always keep in the drawer so we could smoke from any time we wanted except she set the limit to only one pack per week. I had taken a drag or two on the cigarette when Pam came in with some books in her hand.
"Look, honey. Dr. Halabi has lent me these books. I'm thinking we will have so much fun reading them for a week or two."
I looked at Pam who was like a child seeing a book for the first time without knowing it would be the most useless thing he could ever do in his life. What good did it do to me?
"Yeah, sure. How are they doing?"
"They keep asking about you, but you're never around, so I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything. Just remind them they are fucking refugees held in a camp and they shouldn't give a shit about who can make it or not as if we were in a fucking community."
"What's with all this language. Fine, go see your friends."
"Honey, it's too early to see them. I'm the first to wake up in the morning in the whole gang."
"I'm so proud of you, baby."
"You don't have to be so mean. What am I supposed to do? What are we supposed to do, but wait? And here I am, I am waiting with a bunch of retarded bastards who could never dream of enjoying my company if not in a place like this, but you know what the difference between you and me is? I know as soon as I get out of this shit-hole, they will not mean anything to me. What happens here, stays here. Nobody here is worth your time, honey."
"Not even me?"
"I didn't mean that."
"Well. I don't always find you there when I need you."
"Here we go again. Aren't you tired of the same shit every day? Grow up. Life sucks, honey."
"Yeah, I wonder why life did not suck on the way here, but it seems you can't remember anything. It's just like you woke up one day and found yourself here."
"Don't judge me after all I've been through."
"I'm not. I need you. I just need you." Pam was about to cry
I came close to her, took my jacket which was hanging on the wall behind her.
"Not again, please," I said as I walked out of the room.
I went to see the guys, as usual, but the card table was not ready as usual. They were talking, and I saw newer faces with Samer, the supplier who didn't usually join our card game sessions.
"What's the matter, guys?" I said as I made quite an entrance. I was like the boss of this bunch of losers.
Samer told us about the raid in Hangar D in the morning. I wasn't following the camp news, and I had no reason I should because of Samer who would come with news of the inside and the outside world. There was bombing the week before in Berlin, and the authorities thought someone in hangar D was involved, so they made a raid and made arrests. Samer did not sell in Hangars D and E because he was the ABC supplier. He told us once they had their own suppliers, and they were dangerous folks. One time, he told us he suspected some ISIS recruiters might be disguised as refugees in there, but he didn't know who these were, or he didn't want to tell us.
Samer mentioned things happening in those hangars and that in Hangar D, they had their own territory and the security overlooked the things they did there, whether they were afraid of them or if they were on their payroll, he did not know.
"Well, what are these restricted member-only things you said they do in there," I asked Samer.
"I don't know man. I'm obviously not a member, so I have seen nothing, but I've heard they have their own MMA club and fights. They gather after midnight, members-only, and bet on fighters."
I remember seeing some guys around with cuts and bruises, but I figured fighting would be for other reasons in this hell hole.
"Are we going to play cards or what?" I said.
Samer and some of his folks left, and the regular gang stayed and played till dawn as usual.