Wait

The next day I watch impatiently as everyone leaves for work or to shop for food. Almaz’s father told me that my ankle must be completely better before I can risk the journey north, so I have to take it easy. I look around for something useful to do. Folding the blankets and clothes takes me five minutes.

The woman in the corner of the room, Genet, opens her eyes and looks at me. “You’re busy. Why not rest while you have the chance?”

“I can’t just sit still and wait,” I say; then I realize that sounds as if I think she is lazy. “What did you do to your arm and leg?”

“A land mine exploded when we were crossing the border,” she says. “Two people we were crossing with were killed. I was hit with some pieces of shrapnel. We managed to get the pieces out, but the cuts were deep and I wasn’t able to clean them properly so they became infected. Now that we’re here I’m able to bathe them and dress them, but they aren’t healed yet.”

I feel shocked at what happened to Genet, but she seems very calm. “Did you know the people who were killed?” I ask.

“We had met the day before. The smugglers put some of us together in a truck that took us closer to the border. So they weren’t my friends, but we had planned to travel together once we had crossed the border. It was a woman and her husband. They were both young, but at least they didn’t have any kids.”

Genet looks young, too, but the way she talks makes her seem more like Shewit’s age.

“How long have you been here?” I ask.

“I met Shewit two weeks ago. She found us in the market, just like she found you. What about your foot?”

“I sprained my ankle running from some guards, but it’s nearly better.”

“You’re lucky. I told my husband he must leave with Shewit and her family even if I can’t go, but I know he won’t leave me.”

Although talking to strangers is becoming easier, there is a little piece of me that cannot shake the feeling that I am putting myself in danger every time I share my plans for the future.

A little while later, Almaz and Shewit return. Money is so tight that they cannot afford large amounts of anything; instead they shop every day for whatever is about to run out.

We will have scrambled egg sandwiches for lunch. I go outside to help Almaz prepare them.

“Did you talk to Genet?” she asks.

“She told me how she hurt her arm and leg, and that if they don’t heal, she won’t be able to go with you.”

“I don’t think I could bear to stay for much longer. The only place we ever go to is the market—the rest of the time we’re stuck in here.”

I think about playing chess with Bini, then push that away to remember how Lemlem and I used to fill our time at home; we normally played gebeta, her favorite game.

“Why don’t we make a gebeta board?” I suggest.

“Yes! What can we use to make it, though? All we have are plastic bags from the market.”

“Do you have any cardboard?” I ask.

Almaz disappears inside for a minute.

“How about this?” she says, holding up an empty tissue box.

“That would be perfect. Do you think you can break the eggs in half, so we can use the shells?”

She smiles. “Of course I can.”

After lunch we nestle the half eggshells in rows in the tissue box, then take some chickpeas and play our first game of gebeta together. As dinnertime approaches, we are still playing. We stow our board on the folded clothes in the corner of the room and start chopping. It feels so good to be busy.

When Almaz’s father returns in the evening, he eats in silence, then wipes his hands and beckons me over.

“We’ll go to meet Ato Medhanie now. He’s the man arranging our transport to Europe.”

My heart flutters and I calm myself by running through the phone numbers that my mother taught me. Mesfin smooths down the front of his T-shirt. It occurs to me that he is nervous, too.

We step through the door into the cool dusk air, and for a second I allow myself to enjoy the feeling that I can walk out whenever I please. Even though I know it’s not safe.

We walk along several twisting alleyways, then cross a wide, busy road. On the other side of town are some large compounds sheltering big houses within. We knock on the door to one of these compounds. A man opens a grate to look at us, then unlocks the gate, and we pass through into a large walled space. There is a big tree in the corner heavy with grapefruit. Pots and flowers are scattered all around.

In another corner is a table with two men drinking tea. We walk over. Mesfin greets them in their language and then pushes me forward. One of the men wears a white shirt. He has gray hair and a short beard and smells of aftershave. He greets me in my language. I can see that he is assessing me. I can tell he has done it many times before. He points to two empty chairs at the table, then sits back down. His friend wanders into the house.

“I’m Medhanie,” says the man in the white shirt. “So you want to travel north?”

“Yes, as far as the coast, and then get a boat to Europe. To England.”

He smiles a quick smile. “You have money?”

“My mother has saved money.”

“Do you want to go on foot or by truck?”

“I want to go by truck.”

“Okay. Call her and tell her that you need five thousand dollars. Then give her the numbers she needs to transfer the money.” He leans to one side and reaches his hand into his pants pocket, pulling out a large flat phone. He types something in. “There’s the country code. Now enter your mother’s number.”

My finger wavers slightly over the keys as I type. I cannot imagine how my mother could possibly have saved this much money.

After a pause, the phone rings. I am about to hear my mother’s voice again—the voice I have longed to hear for three weeks.

But a man answers.

“Who is this?” he asks abruptly.

I don’t recognize his voice. I look up at Medhanie in confusion.

He takes the phone and cancels the call.

“I’m sorry for you,” he says. “It sounds like the military has your mother’s phone. It would be better for her if you never call her number again.”

I want to shout at Medhanie and tell him he’s wrong, or snatch the phone back and type the number again. Instead I sit very still. Now I don’t know when I will hear Mom’s voice again. Perhaps I will have to wait until I get to England. There I will be able to call my uncle to find out what is happening. He will be able to tell me whether I can speak to Mom without putting her in danger. It feels like such a long time to wait.

“Do you have another number you can call?” Medhanie looks impatient.

I sift through all the names and numbers stored in my head, trying to stay calm and not to think about the military grabbing my mother’s phone from her hand. I sense that this man will give me only one more chance. I choose Uncle Batha.

“Yes, I have another number.”

Medhanie types in the country code and hands me back the phone. The phone rings four times, then a man answers. I do not recognize his voice, either, but I haven’t seen my uncle for a couple of years.

“It’s Shif,” I say.

There is silence, then the man asks, “What do you need?”

“I called Mom and she wasn’t there. I need some money.”

There is another pause. “Your mother isn’t at home. Lemlem is okay. How much do you need?”

“Five thousand dollars,” I say.

There is another pause. “And what about Bini?”

“Bini didn’t make it across the border.”

“Will he meet you later?”

“Bini is—” My throat seems to seize up. “I don’t think Bini will be able to meet me later.”

“Call me back in one hour.” He hangs up.

Medhanie is looking at me with renewed interest. “You came with a friend?”

“Yes, he was hurt near the border.”

“So you’re on your own?”

“He’s not on his own,” says Mesfin firmly. “He will travel with us.”

“Maybe,” says Medhanie. “Does your uncle have the money?”

“He asked me to call him back in one hour.”

I sit with Mesfin while Medhanie talks to his friend, who has wandered back out. They talk loudly, laughing a lot, as if Mesfin and I aren’t there.

An hour passes quickly. Medhanie gives me his phone again.

“Hello?” my uncle says. “Your mother hasn’t saved as much as you need, but I’ve spoken to Bini’s family. They want you to have the money Saba has saved for him. With that you’ll have enough.”

“Please say thank you to Saba.” But “thank you” sounds as if I am grateful for a cake she gave me. Not the money she had saved for her own son.

I read out the numbers for the bank transfer.

“Is Mom okay?” I ask.

“Your mother is okay,” says Uncle Batha.

But before he can say more, Medhanie takes the phone from me.

“That’s enough. It’s not cheap to make international calls. When the money arrives in my account, then we can discuss dates.” He nods and then he and his friend go inside, leaving me and Mesfin to let ourselves out of the gate and back onto the street, into the cold night air.

When we get back, Shewit and Almaz are laying down blankets to prepare the room for sleep.

Almaz comes over immediately, still clutching a folded blanket. She stares at me, trying to work out if it’s good news. Perhaps I don’t look as happy as she’d hoped. “Did you get the money? Are you coming with us?” she asks.

“My uncle has the money. If he manages to transfer it, then I’ll be coming with you.”

A smile spreads across Almaz’s face.

I try to smile back.

“What’s the matter?” she asks. “This is what you’ve been waiting for.”

“I tried to call my mother but she didn’t answer—a man did, someone I don’t know.”

Almaz’s smile fades.

Shewit has been listening. “It was probably someone from the military. It’s unlikely they’ll do anything but watch your mother and sister,” she says. “Your mother has been through this before, hasn’t she? She knows what to do.”

“My uncle said she wasn’t at home.”

“Maybe she’s with your uncle. It’s good for your mother and sister to be near family right now.”

What Shewit says makes sense. I like the idea of my mother and Lemlem staying with my uncle. I hope Saba isn’t alone, either. I’m sure my mother wouldn’t leave her on her own.

Before Shewit finishes, Almaz disappears inside. She returns a second later, clutching the tissue box.

“Shif, I need your help,” she says.

“What?” I ask, happy to think about something else.

“I need you to eat eggs for lunch tomorrow,” says Almaz.

I look at her, confused.

She holds up the gebeta box—half the eggshells have broken.

“I dropped it,” she confesses, “when I was tidying up.”

She looks so concerned that I find myself smiling.

“Okay, eggs tomorrow. Perhaps we should buy extra—just in case someone drops a few.”

She makes a face at me.