Caryl Phillips - A Distant Shore

“I don’t want to hear another word, right?” The night warder does not blink. He repeats himself. “Right?”

Gabriel hears a short grunt, and then the creak of a bed as his neighbour sits back down.

Now that he is satisfied, the man turns towards Gabriel. He speaks as he walks. “He’s not getting any better then?”

Gabriel steps to one side so that the night warder can look in and see for himself.

“What’s the matter with him?”

“Please, I have seen this type of illness before. It is like malaria, but it is something more than this. I think Said is dying if we do not find a doctor.”

The night warder peers into the cell, but he seems reluctant to get too close. The pools of vomit are beginning to congeal, and the smell is ripe. The man pulls a crumpled handkerchief from his pocket, and clasps it to his face with one hand, and he points with the other.

“It would help if you cleaned up that shit.”

“Please, Mr. Collins. Said needs help, that is what I am telling you.”

The night warder looks from Gabriel to Said, and then back to Gabriel. His brow furrows, and he understands that a decision is being forced upon him.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Gabriel is quick to react. “Thank you, Mr. Collins. And perhaps some water for Said while we wait for the doctor?”

The night warder says nothing. He turns on his heels and begins to amble his way back towards his desk, all the while keeping the handkerchief pressed closely to his face.

Gabriel is once again enveloped by a silence that is disturbed only by the night warder’s television set. There are no windows to this cell, but Gabriel knows that it is night time. Beyond this prison there is England. Three days ago, when they first locked him in this cell with Said, Gabriel began to doubt that he would ever again see England. As his cellmate began to speak, Gabriel could see that the man was ailing, for his hands were shaking and his eyes were damp with fear.

“They say I robbed an Englishman and his wife on a train.”

Gabriel waited for Said to tell him what had actually occurred, but Said simply shrugged his shoulders.

“It is not exactly how it happened.” He thought for a few moments and then continued. “Yes, I was on a train and I was talking to some English people. My English is good. In my country I am a teacher. I practise hard with my English. I was talking to some English people, for I am not afraid. I know that when the train gets to the town I will ask for asylum at the police station. That is the way. I am a human being who has paid over United States dollars three thousand, everything that I have, to come from my country in a small space under a truck. From Iraq I travel like this like an animal, but maybe worse than an animal, but I do not care for I know that in England they will give me money and some kind of voucher and let me work. Everybody wants to keep out the Muslim, but in England freedom is everything. They can change the law, but you cannot change the culture of the people and so I am not afraid. British people are good. I have friends who tell me the truth. I do not hate Americans, but they are not gentlemen. Why should I be afraid?”

He looked at Gabriel as though expecting an answer, but Gabriel said nothing.

“And then an Englishman and his wife they asked me if I would watch their bags while they go to the restaurant car, and I say yes, of course, yes. And then they come back and look at their bags, and the woman says that I have taken their money and she runs to get the man in the red jacket, the train manager. But why would I come all the way from my country to make a new life here and then take their money? I cannot go back. I sold my land and animals to pay for my journey. I have nothing to go back to. My wife and family are with my brother and waiting for me to send money so they can come to England. I have two hands, I can work. One day I can buy a television and a radio. A fridge. A carpet. Maybe, one day, a car. I have two hands.”

Said showed Gabriel his hands, but his hands continued to tremble and Gabriel noticed the beads of sweat on Said’s brow.

“The police,” he said. “When the train stopped, the police, they come for me. I told them, I have lost everything. My family, I have left my family behind. Despite my education I cannot feed my family. I am no longer a teacher. I am here to begin my life again and I have the appetite to do this so they must help me, yes? I told them I have a case to present, but they do not listen to me. I tell them, please do not send me back to my country. Not there. The policemen they ask me, what happened to you in your country? I told them that I cannot talk of this or I will lose what little appetite I have left. The policemen looked at me, so I ask them, is it true? Is it true that in England you can smell freedom in the air? That it is a different air? But they will not answer me. I say, I have smelled a little of the air and it is good, but why are you putting me in this prison? I do not want these filthy trousers, or this grey T-shirt that another man has worn. I will not wear your slippers. England is not my country. I have done nothing. I am not a criminal man. I have never been a criminal man. I have two hands, I can work.”

Gabriel asked his new cellmate if he was all right, but Said shrugged his shoulders.

“I am cold, but I have no money to see a doctor. And now maybe I will never see England again. But have you noticed? The light in England is very weak. It depresses me. They have taken the sun out of the sky.”

Said looked forlorn, and so Gabriel suggested that he try to sleep. Gabriel squeezed his friend’s shoulder, and then he climbed onto the top bunk and stretched out. He listened as beneath him Said continued to cough and splutter. Sadly, for the past three days, his cellmate’s condition has only deteriorated.

And now the night warder arrives back at the cell, and he javelins a wet mop and then tosses a roll of paper towel through the bars.

“Here, clean up this shit, Gabriel. It will make everybody feel happier.”

Gabriel looks down from his bunk, but the night warder is already walking back to his television set. Gabriel climbs from his perch, and he picks up the mop and the roll of paper towel and he begins to clean up the floor around Said’s prostrate body. His friend continues to breathe in a rasping whisper, and although his eyes are still open he appears now to be incapable of focusing on anything. Gabriel bends down and he places the roll of paper towel underneath Said’s head so that it becomes a squashed tubular pillow. During the past three days, the story of Said’s life in Iraq has become increasingly improbable and riddled with contradictions, but Gabriel has been a patient audience. He readjusts the roll of paper towel under his friend’s head, and listens once more as Said struggles to make himself heard.

“Please,” whispers Said. “My brother and my children. You must tell them.”

Gabriel takes his friend’s hand and squeezes hard.

“Said, you must continue to allow hope to grow.”

“Please, you must tell them.”

And then Said’s eyes fall shut. Gabriel leaps to his feet, scattering the mop to the far side of the cell.

“Mr. Collins, it is Said. Please, we need a doctor.”

The night warder abandons his precious television set, and he moves quickly to the cell. For the first time Gabriel can see concern on the face of the man. The night warder speaks to Gabriel, but without taking his eyes from Said.

“I’ll call the doctor, but they do everything in their own sweet time.”

The night warder leaves Gabriel marooned with his friend. According to Said, his brother is still in Iraq, but at other times he is in America. And sometimes Said has a wife, and at other times he is a bachelor. But he always has children, a boy and a girl. Gabriel looks at Said until he cannot bear to look any more, and then he slumps down to the floor and rests his back against the bars of the cell.