Cyrill Delvin - The Gaza Project

»I shall take the house for getting you the place at the school,« he announced. In reality, he had already rented the place to a brother of his sister-in-law. A small but necessary contribution to his budget.

»But the house is ours,« Abdoul remarked quietly.

»Shut up, you! You can count yourself lucky that anyone looks after you at all!« He knew that the boy was right, but who cared? They were still children and completely at his mercy.

»Get lost and be grateful that Allah provides for you!« With that, he turned his back to the boys and ran away from the truck. Abdoul took Qadim by the hand and was about to climb onto the loading platform when the driver stormed at them: »Back off! I don’t carry lowlifes like you!«

Without knowing where he found the courage, Abdoul shouted back: »Go to hell, you mangy mongrel – first you take the money and then…« That was as far as he got. Hit by a brutal slap in the face, he stumbled to the ground. Another man said in a deep voice: »It’s okay, Farouk. They’ve paid and they’re coming with us.«

The driver cursed and got into his cabin. Abdoul picked himself up and climbed onto the platform with Qadim.

»Thank you,« he said to the man who steadily averted his gaze. All through the rough and dusty journey, Abdoul held on tight to his seashell.

Rashid and Kaden were holding Abdoul in a tight grip. Without any emotion, Barek punched him with full tilt in the stomach. Abdoul gasped for air, tears welling up in his eyes. It wasn’t the first time the older pupils gave him a thrashing. He was generally able to defend himself, was of sturdy build and no coward. But faced by three attackers, he didn’t stand a chance. The bigger boy looked at him with a blank expression and hit Abdoul again. This time right in the face.

Abdoul could taste the iron in the blood running into his mouth from the wound on his cheek. He didn’t let on that it was hurting.

»Where did you hide the damn shell?« Barek hissed. »You are a disgrace to the whole school! We should blow you up together with the infidels. We’re not going to leave you alone until we’ve found your precious idol and destroyed it!«

They had known each other long enough to realise that it was no use. Abdoul would rather let himself be beaten to a pulp than give them his seashell. The teachers usually separated the fighters, but this time nobody interfered and Barek kept on hitting the defenceless boy. The city noises after Maghrib, the prayer just after sunset, dully penetrated the Madrasa’s inner courtyard. The Palestinian gritted his teeth so he wouldn’t cry out.

Someone approached them across the stone-paved yard. In the twilight he didn’t recognise Qadim soon enough. Qadim himself only noticed the three adolescents and his brother lying on the ground when he had nearly slipped through the archway to the living quarters. Attempting to help his older brother would be fruitless. Qadim wouldn’t be able to do a thing.

And anyway, he didn’t understand why his brother hadn’t handed the shell over to the teachers long ago. Then they would leave him in peace. Instead he hid it as if it were his most prized possession. And yet it was so simple: Allah and the prophet Mohammed were the only ones to be obeyed by following the laws set out in the Koran. That way everything was fine, or at least better. Nowhere in the Koran did it mention a shell one should let oneself be punished for. Especially when the teachers demanded to throw it away.

A thought flashed through Abdoul’s mind: Maybe they’re having me beaten to death? Maybe the others are right. Maybe I’ll never find the right path. This is it then.

But it wasn’t time yet. Barek grabbed Qadim and Abdoul instinctively jumped up and lunged at the older pupil. Rashid and Kaden were not able to push him back to the ground. Abdoul, suddenly endowed with superhuman strength, thrashed around him like a fury. Only later did he notice the stone he was holding in his hand. Qadim screamed and fought back with everything he had. In the midst of the wild scuffle, they suddenly heard a muffled bang. It sounded like an earthenware jug being smashed inside a bag. The four boys stared at Qadim who was lying motionless on the ground.

Before Abdoul could do anything, Barek grabbed his throat and sneered: »See what you have done, Abdoul ibn Ṣadafah. Bastard son of a seashell! You’re going to pay for this, you can bet your life on it.« The older boys let him be and disappeared through the archway. Abdoul knelt beside Qadim and turned the lifeless body towards him. Something warm spread over his hands. His little brother’s blood. Dazed, he crouched down and pressed Qadim’s head to his chest. His tears merged with the blood in a smudgy trickle.

What self-respecting fish lets itself get caught voluntarily? It can as easily swim away from the net as into it after all…

He didn’t want to hear the voice. Why hadn’t granddad simply told him the truth? Why had he talked about mermaids if all there was were Allah and the Prophets? Nobody had come to save Qadim. No prophet, no Allah, no mermaid, no granddad, nobody!

He felt his whole being fill with rage. Everything started to immerse in it. This Madrasa where only hatred towards all others was taught. He cursed Amir, who had told him nothing but fairy tales and instilled him with false hope. His classmates and the Jews who brought only destruction and misery. He hated himself for being so powerless. He hadn’t even been able to protect his own brother.

Rage was followed by despair. Despair that Qadim would never be able to save his father’s honour. It was now up to him alone. A thought which made him sad. Not because he was scared, but because he felt powerless in the face of the duty now imposed on him.

Why did granddad not tell me that there are no mermaids? That the fish either get caught in the net through their own stupidity or because Mohammed chased them into it?

How much he missed him! Granddad would explain everything and give him courage. But he was dead. Now Abdoul had to revenge his family. Justice supported by faith, which he had been taught, was the path to paradise. But where was the justice for Qadim? Abdoul wanted to act, wanted to seek revenge, and yet remained impotent.

Approaching steps made him come to his senses. When Barek got back with his mob he would be in for it. Panicking, he jumped up and ran through the front gate to the outside of the school. Only two elderly men strolled leisurely down the narrow lane. By now, it was dark. The men’s steps were fading away.

The boy had already run up the alleyway and around the corner when he suddenly froze. The shell! All his gloomy thoughts instantly vanished to be replaced by his concern about the shell. He’d left it behind. I’ve got to get the shell. But how? They would by now be cooking in the kitchen, then eat; later they would drink tea and chat until late into the night. How could he get into the storeroom without being noticed? Impossible! Perhaps it would be better to run away without the shell. In the two years he had been here it had brought him nothing but misery. First lectures, then punishments, beatings and in the end Qadim…

Thinking about his brother made him feel dizzy again. He crouched down. His grandfather hadn’t told him that a seashell could cause so much harm. The mermaids had always been kind. Maybe they’re angry because I have my doubts about the whole story?

Everything was swirling around in his head and he had to lie down. A short while later he was alarmed when he thought he heard steps and voices. But he had been mistaken. Nobody came around the corner. The lane was still deserted. It’s weird. Why aren’t they coming after me? His stomach hurt. But he didn’t have time for that now. Again, he picked himself up and took another back alley. Somehow he didn’t want to believe that his grandfather or the shell were responsible for his plight.