We sat waiting by the road until the bus came, a special military bus made to transport people from the boats to The Camps. It was big and painted black, grids in front of the windows. A few guards yelled at everyone to stand in line, and then almost literally pushed them in through the doors. It looked more like a jail on wheels than a bus, and then they were gone.
I got into my car and we all drove to the headquarters to have some tea. We sat in silence around the big, round table, sipping the warm beverage, everyone just staring down into their cups, as if it might hold some kind of answer. An answer to what? I don’t know.
My cup is empty now, and I stare down at the bottom, where some leftover leaves lie in a dark, mushy mass.
“You were all great today,” Arien says, in a low voice.
Nobody answers, but some of us look up at him and smile weakly.
“We were lucky the boat didn’t turn over,” he continues.
There is a little nodding. It’s still too early to be grateful.
We sit in silence as time passes, like time always does, waiting for something, like people always do, but nobody knows what.
At some point Arien stands up and walks over to the kitchen.
“Anybody want to help make some late breakfast?”
No answer.
“You have to eat.”
I get up slowly, following him. Mary does too. We gather in the small kitchen, toasting white bread, placing butter, cheese, and big jars of Nutella and jam on the table. When I ask if we should eat something healthier, Arien says that we need the sugar.
As we sit down eating, people start talking again, a little, careful, as if speaking too much or too loud can break something, break us. I eat a whole piece of bread before I realize how desperately hungry I am, and eat four more slices before I’m full.
“I have received reports that many of the tents in The Camps has blown over. Some have been destroyed. The wind was pretty strong tonight. We have some extra emergency tents in the storage, that we can bring to them and help them put up. But I think we’ll wait until tomorrow morning with that. For now I suggest we all go back home and get some sleep, then we’ll meet at the warehouse tomorrow at eight. How about that?”
Everyone gives a nod. I feel relieved. I need to be alone, just sit alone and not think for a while. Driving home, I try to do just that, keep my mind a blank. Sometimes, pictures of the Landing glimpse by, like the flash of a photograph, and then it is gone again. Walking through the gate, I try to be as silent as possible, not wanting to meet anybody, not wanting to have to put up a conversation, I do not think my voice is working anymore. And I am rewarded, reaching my bedroom without meeting a soul, lying down in my bed, numb. I close my eyes, the last thing I think about before sleep takes me away, are those words Hasin spoke, color me blue. Back home we are colorless.