Well, I was almost
in bed. I was supposed to be. It was just that I was suddenly overcome with a strong
feeling of Saharan thirst that would often strangely coincide with an ever too
early command to go to bed. I had always felt that I would miss something while
I was sleeping. So as I was tiptoeing barefoot through the corridor on my way to
the kitchen, with the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of something that momentarily
rooted me to the spot, blinking in disbelief. Two
people were pushing the heavy freezer in the direction of the front door. For a
moment I thought that somebody wanted to rob us off our food supplies. However,
that was only until I realised that the door was closed and that the reckless robbers
forgot to pull stockings over their heads so that
I could clearly see their faces. They were my parents. Before I had even had time
to ask for an explanation, I was sent back to bed in a tone of voice that I
knew very well meant “No more information available, only more trouble. Retreat
and ask no more.” When I got up for school the next morning, the freezer was sitting
back in its corner, mysteriously silent as if nothing had ever happened.
A couple of months
later I was alone in another bedroom, far away from home, wide awake late in
the night. I was preparing myself for an important conversation. It had to be
done properly as much depended on it, actually my whole life. Normally I would
have found comfort in a gentle stroke of Mum’s hand or sitting on my Dad’s
knees, yet that was not an option any more. Not after days of seeing them nervous
and distracted, wandering around aimlessly, only occasionally exchanging
glances instead of words, as if they expected that one of them would come up
with some miraculous solution to a situation that got completely out of control.
It was them who needed comfort. The whole world was upside down obviously. How
was I to fix it?
Was I supposed to
get on my knees? Introduce myself? Apologise for my stubborn denial, scorn and
mockery of anybody who had ever attempted anything similar before? I recalled
all the endless arguments with other kids on the subject and thought that I had
little chance of success in this conversation considering everything I had
previously said. Yet, that was my last hope so I cleared my throat and did my
best.
I sprang up in bed
on the sound of an explosion roaring like a thunder through the canyon whose steep
walls surrounded the miniature town in which I lived with my aunt and her
family a year later. (Obviously my conversation didn’t go all too well). I
could see a myriad of stars dancing before my eyes as I jerked my head a little
bit too hard and hit the side of the bed. My cousin sleeping next to me seemed
to be more alarmed by my moaning than the explosion and a few moments later was
back in horizontal position. I stayed up with my ears pricked expecting to hear
some commotion coming from the outside but there was nothing much going on. A few
quiet voices and a couple of steps perhaps. The town slept undisturbed. An
explosion here or there, who cared? Even the kids played with dynamite on the New
Year’s Eve competing whose bundle would shake the town better. I expected to see
some parts of the canyon missing on January the first. So after a while the
pain in my head subsided, the stars dissolved and I retreated to my side of the
bed thinking that I would rather miss whatever was going on and sleep it all
over.
