Caryl Phillips - A Distant Shore

Gabriel opens his eyes. There is a putrid smell in the air. He tries to move his hands, but both his hands and his feet are strapped down and he cannot move. Above him there is another bed that acts like an artificial ceiling. His head feels light on his shoulders and Gabriel wonders how long he has been asleep. And then he remembers the tall, thin doctor and the needle, and being lifted onto this bed, and Said lying on the floor and nobody coming to help him. Gabriel looks out of the corner of his eye and he can see that they have removed the body of his friend, but the smell remains. Gabriel coughs, but immediately he feels a rasping dryness in his throat and he calls out.

“Please, I need some water.” His voice is surprisingly weak. The man in the next cell shouts back at him.

“Shut your mouth, scum.”

Gabriel waits a while, but after a few moments his thirst gets the better of him.

“Please, I need water.”

Gabriel can hear the television set in the distance, and he knows that the night warder will have his feet up on the desk. He also knows that the difficult man will only stir himself when the noise of Gabriel’s demands becomes too loud for him to concentrate properly. Gabriel closes his eyes and tries to ignore his thirst, but after a few minutes he hears the door to his cell being opened and he turns his head and sees the night warder holding a metal tray of food. The man puts the tray down, and as he does so he spills some of the weak tea out of the plastic cup. He leans over and begins to untie Gabriel.

“Bit bloody ripe in here, isn’t it?” The night warder stands back and watches as Gabriel rubs his wrists and ankles to make sure that the blood is flowing properly through them.

“I’ll come back for the tray when you’re done with it.”

Gabriel sits on the edge of the bed, but he waits until the man has left the cell before leaning over and picking up the tray and placing it on his knees.

“You fucking animal. I don’t know why they bother to feed you.”

Gabriel ignores the man and he begins to stuff the white bread and jam into his mouth as quickly as he can. Soon all of the food is gone and Gabriel is no longer hungry, but a raging thirst still causes his throat to burn. Gabriel finishes the tea and then slowly stands and crosses to the door of the cell. Once there, he looks down the corridor and sees the back of the television set and the man’s feet up on the desk.

“Please, Mr. Collins, some water.”

“Drink your own piss. Isn’t that what you lot do in the jungle?” The man next door begins to laugh at his own humour.

Gabriel says nothing and he simply focuses on the night warder’s feet, but they do not move. He watches the reflected light from the television set flickering against the wall, and then Gabriel turns from this strange cinema and climbs up onto the top bunk. He lies flat on his back, but then he realises that having been tied up like this he would prefer to adopt a different position. Gabriel rolls over onto his side, which somehow makes him feel less tense, and he faces the door to his cell so that if anybody tries to enter he will see them. However, having eaten, he once again feels tired, and so he closes his eyes, and soon his mind and body begin to feel heavy.

The heat of the day gives way to the noises of the night, but Gabriel is in pain, for his bladder is full and he is stiff with cold. When the truck finally stops, the dozen men are able to escape from beneath the tarpaulin. They climb to the ground, and as they relieve themselves they look around, but nobody seems to know exactly where they are. Once he has emptied himself, Gabriel sits with his uncle at the side of the dark road and stares at the star-speckled sky. Joshua asks his nephew if he has heard any voices of disquiet among the group, but Gabriel lets him know that despite the difficult conditions he has heard none of the men complain. The night-time stop lasts a little over an hour, and then as light begins to appear on the horizon, the men are once more shepherded onto the truck and the tarpaulin is pulled tightly into place. As the temperature begins to rise, and the blazing heat of the second day bears down upon them with full force, Gabriel cuts two holes in the tarpaulin so that air might pass through with greater ease. Having done so, he once more submits to the dull, uncomfortable rhythm of the journey.

Again day gives way to night, and just when Gabriel fears that the men will no longer be able to endure their confinement, the truck comes to an abrupt stop. Gabriel listens closely, and he can hear his uncle talking with men whose voices are charged with anger. After what seems an age, the tarpaulin is finally peeled back and the cargo is encouraged to step from the truck. Gabriel immediately realises that this stop marks the end of the first stage of their journey, for he can see that they are on the perimeter of an airfield. In the distance stands a large plane. Momentarily forgetting his hunger and his thirst, Gabriel stares blankly at the aircraft, for this is the first real evidence that he will be abandoning his country. He stretches his cramped limbs and looks across at his uncle, who is conversing with two men in military garb. Joshua says something to both men and then, as though late for an appointment, the men sprint to their jeep and begin to roar across the tarmac in the direction of the one-storey terminal building. Dust rises in their wake, and as they pass out of sight Joshua moves around to the back of the truck and prepares to address the men. Gabriel positions himself so that he is standing next to his uncle, and together with the rest of the men he waits to hear what their fate might be.

“The plane over there will take you to Europe.” Joshua lifts a weary arm and points. “However, we have to hurry for the aircraft must leave within one hour.”

Gabriel is surprised to hear himself speaking up.

“And what will happen to us when we reach Europe?”

Joshua turns to Gabriel, aware that his nephew has asked the question that most of them wish to have answered.

“I will tell you in Europe, for I am coming with you.”

Gabriel is helpless to prevent his mouth from falling open in astonishment. However, before he can ask any further questions, his uncle continues.

“When we reach Europe I will tell you of the next stage, and if you wish to follow me, then you must do so. But if you choose to go on your own, then I will respect your decision.”

For some moments Gabriel stares at his grey-haired uncle, and then the older man breaks the silence. He turns to the driver of the truck.

“Do we have more water?” The man nods, and Joshua continues. “Pass out the water, and after everybody has drunk their fill you must all return to the truck and we will leave.”

As the driver begins to pass round the gourd of water, Gabriel touches his uncle’s arm.

“Is everything all right?”

Joshua looks all about himself before answering.

“Gabriel, there has been another massacre. I cannot go back.”

“And your family?” asks Gabriel.

Joshua shakes his head and the two men stare at each other.

When the truck reaches the shadow of the plane, the dozen men climb down and wait eagerly on the tarmac. They huddle together, while all around them men with powerful guns shout instructions to each other in a language that Gabriel cannot understand. Joshua raises his voice in order to be heard.

“This way. We must hurry now.”

A flight of steps has been pushed up against the plane, and Joshua leads the way. At the top of the steps, Gabriel turns and looks down at the one-storey terminal building, and the dimly lit runway, and the dark bush that spreads out flat in every direction as far as the eye can see. And then a man pushes past him, and then another, and Gabriel realises that he should not linger. Once he is inside, Gabriel is surprised to see that there are already perhaps one hundred men and women who are seated on the floor with their backs to the wall of the plane. There are no seats, and to Gabriel’s eyes the interior looks like a large tubular warehouse. Those who have not been lucky enough to find wall space squat awkwardly.