3 May 2011

Waiting and worse

This must be what it feels like waiting for the end.

At least that was what I was thinking the other night. My mother and the rest of the family and staff are gone. After the mukhabarat came, they left for Beirut. They’re hardly the only ones who’ve disappeared the last few days. Many of those who can afford to have slipped away and are in Lebanon or further afield. Many who can’t afford to have left as well … and from what I’ve heard, it’s worse in some other cities. Maybe Dera’a is the last, maybe it is the first, maybe a revolution comes soon, maybe a civil war.

I can’t blame anyone for leaving. I probably would leave too if it were just me. But my dad is staying. So I’ll stay and be the dutiful daughter.

So, now, our house is empty, emptier than I’ve ever known it to be. It is him, me, and our doorman; and Abu Ali is nearly as old as my father. He’s worked for us for forever; so did his father and his father before him … he’s staying.

I sit thinking this must be how the last Byzantines must have felt in 1453 or the last Romans or the last Moors in Granada. The end is coming, you’ve sent everyone who can away and now just to wait out things until the inevitable conclusion. Maybe we win, maybe we don’t. Maybe someday soon we’ll wake up to learn that the government is overthrown; maybe we’ll wake up to find that this time we won’t get out of it.

I’m thinking that and my father asks me if I want to play tawli – a game a lot like backgammon – and I agree; it will pass the time. I set up the gameboard while he goes digging around a dusty cabinet. When he sits down opposite me, I notice that what I thought was a tea service is not.
We begin playing; I’m white, I roll dice first. He has an ancient bottle. He opens it and begins to pour.

“Do you want?” he asks.

I nod.

It is arak – lion’s milk – and he adds a cube of ice and a little water to each glass and it turns white. He hands me a cup and takes one himself.

“Cheers!” he says.

Now, this is odd … I barely drink; neither does he. We drink though tonight as we play and we brood. What happens next?

We run over the possibilities, argue over what sort of scenario is going on.

In the regime are two factions; one, mostly older, heavily Alawi, is a hold over from Hafez’s time. They look to Iran, they believe in repression, they control the security services … the other is the one we have better links to; that around the President himself, more Sunni, more liberal, almost perhaps reformist. They look to Turkey, they are the velvet glove …

Once, we had had hopes for them; was it only a few weeks ago?

They have lost the struggle inside, we are certain. And repression is coming and will be brutal. Tanks roll south. Dera’a soon will be destroyed.

We have a second round.

My father says that, if they come, they will not take him.

I agree. We will go down as shahid or escape into the sewers.

We speak of his father and what he would have done. He shows me for the thousandth time the picture of his father with Faisal when he was King, then shows me the picture of his grandfather with the Kaiser.

That was a real man, he says, and if we’d won the Great War, we would have had it better …
Or if the British and the French hadn’t stabbed us in the back afterwards.

We have a third round. I’m not positive we are still playing the game.

Now he begins detailing the long history of the crimes of this regime. Again. How Assad the Father betrayed us in 1967 and sent lying orders for a retreat from Jaulan. His older brother died then; the bullets might have been sent from Israeli guns, but Hafez killed him, killed him through his betrayal. And went on to betray the nation in Jordan and made himself king here; stabbed the nation again in 1976 …

I remind him did he not serve the regime then?

By making sure that the people lived? He laughs. I was an engineer, not a killer.

And on and on; the sins of Asad the father, Asad the son, and even Asad the Holy ghost, the Alawis’ new trinity … how the Son’s goons nearly raped me, how they destroyed us and on and on …

A fourth round. Now, I know we have forgotten the game completely.

Did you know, he asks me, that when they were doing the rounds of finding him a wife, you were on the list?

No I didn’t. But it makes sense. Asma and I are of an age. So why didn’t you send me?

Do you think I hate you? He laughs. I would not wish to be related to them; let Akhras have that glory. Besides, wouldn’t you have said no if I had asked?

Yes probably. How did you know that?

Silly girl, he grins, we, your mother and me, were fairly certain you were gay. So when Hisham came and asked for you and you said yes, we were shocked. We thought that you never would to anyone.

Huh, I grunt. But you let me?

I thought maybe I was wrong. It can happen you know.

Really? I never noticed.

And to say to you, Amina, are you sure you want to marry him? Aren’t you a homosexual? Do you see me saying that to you?

No, I laugh. I cannot! What if you had said yes to them, what if I had?

He is silent and thinking. Pours another glass, drinks it very fast. We’re both drunk.

Then, probably I would call up my stupid son in law and tell him what an ass he is.

You wouldn’t do that, I say.

Why not?

Because that isn’t you.

Really? See, I will call him now …

He pulls his mobile out and starts scrolling through the numbers.

Ah there’s his number …

Ha! Ha! I say. Very funny.

Look, I will call him now …

He starts to dial. Suddenly, I am momentarily sober … I grab the phone from his hand, cancel the call. He reaches for it.

No, I tell him, no. Don’t.

Why not, I need to tell the lion’s cub what sort of fool he is, tell him what his people are doing …

No I say. I remove his battery, no

I pour another round. We drink it and forget that phone call. We start singing, singing old songs together, some in English, some in Arabic … like when I was a child …

And I wake up a bit later. He’s curled up on the floor and I’m on a cushion.

Now, I remember why we do not drink.

9 comments:

Tlachtga said...

It's probably no comfort for a stranger half a world away to say "Good luck", but I mean it--I hope Syria sees a new day, and that you and your family are safe in it.

Philip said...

My friends and I will raise a glass to you and your father; let us in Germany do the drinking. Someday maybe our roles will be reversed, and on that day I hope to be as fearless and eloquent as you.

Damn I can't think of anything but weak jokes and ineffectual and meaningless expressions of solidarity; as if I could leave a comment so cunning that it would quell the desire in mankind to place boots on the throats of others.

Whatever. Stay safe, for what it's worth.

hjjuhj said...

israeli gay guy here

be strong and inshaalaa you will have freedom

know that alot of people in israel want this freedom for you! and maybe one day you can even come to visit - gay people are so free here thank god!!!

Rupert Neil Bumfrey said...

Very best wishes to you both, as you look after each other.

Out of evil comes good!

yanti said...

Through this blog you and your dad have hundreds of people with you - stay strong,

From an atheist and human being.

Greg A said...

We've been very depressed in Minnesota by a slow, chilly spring (bad even for us). Reading your blog makes me realize how fortunate I am to be able to complain about the weather.

Someday soon you will be able to complain about the weather, too. Until then, be safe and good luck.

hannah said...

Your posts fill me with hope and dread. I'm sending all the best wishes I can to you from Istanbul. The world is watching you with bated breath.

Lady of the Ozarks said...

Stay safe and stay strong. My thoughts are with you. I wish there were more I could do half a world away.

nasim said...

Amina, a fellow Syrian American here.. (I posted a comment earlier)..
I am praying for Syria.. and for my family.. and for everyone there! I was planning on coming, but was adviced by many not to! They are arresting people right at the airport.. they open their facebook account at gun point.. and if they see anything they don't like.. poof.. they're gone!
Anyways, I don't want to sound rude or mean..ok.. I want to ask you a question but don't want it to be in public.. don't want anyone to hate me here especially that you have fans all over the world.. can't find your email.. could you post it pleeeeeeeeeease..
thanks.. God bless

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