Sara Alexi - The Illegal Gardener

Aaman begins to clear the ashes from the fireplace. A daily job, but one which has not been done for weeks. He looks over to see Juliet flicking through some papers, her feet crossed up on the arm of the sofa. A Western pose.

The villagers find that they can afford one if they divide the price by the amount of land each has. The larger families can find the money without much struggle. They work out how much time each would take at harvesting. This lets them know there is much time left when the machine will sit idle. They invite a nearby village where there are many cousins to become part owners. Now the divided price becomes possible for all but the poorest families. Aaman’s is one of the poorest families.

The fireplace is clean and re-laid. He begins on the windows. Juliet jumps when she hears the first squeaking of newspaper against clean pane. She gathers her papers, disappears into another room and shuts the door. Aaman continues with the room to himself.

Saabira had suggested that Aaman get a better job in Sialkot to raise his share of the machine. But Aaman knew, as he was unskilled, he would find it hard to secure a position that was any better than the one he had previously. With the pay he could expect, raising his share would take a lifetime. They had thought through of all the cousins they could borrow from, but the cousins have one by one left and lost themselves in cities. He asked himself, ‘What would my brother have done?’ His chest swells, even after all this time, at the thought of his brother. Tears prick his eyes.

“Do you want water?”

Aaman hadn’t seen her come back in the room. She looks out onto the grey weather, the gravel drive saturated to the point of puddles. The bright orange-red flowers of the pomegranate trees against the whitewashed wall a sharp contrast to the charcoal sky.

“Yes.”

Aaman sweeps the sitting room floor. He lifts the rugs, takes them onto the covered porch and bangs them against the garden wall. The dust settles quickly in the damp air.

When he returns, there is a glass of water on the table and the room is empty.

Aaman drinks the water down in one and refills the glass from the bottle in the kitchen. He surveys the room; the bathroom door is open. Aaman arms himself with a cloth and enters.

It was Saabira who suggested Aaman go abroad to earn their share. She had such belief. His mother had not approved. His father had remained silent. His grandfather and grandmother gave him their blessing, whatever he decided. Aaman worked all day for many days with nothing else on his mind. Saabira so confident, so sure of him, Aaman began to believe he could do it.

Normally the fee for such a journey was six hundred thousand rupees. But they wanted to raise money, not spend it. Saabira had thought of a way.

The bathroom now clean, Aaman looks out at the weather. The skies have lifted, the rain stopped.

The air smells full of energy and freshness in the garden. The ground is muddy, but Aaman begins his outdoor task once again.

Saabira had done much research and she could see a way for Aaman to use each country’s authorities to aid his journey down to the rich countries of the West. There was a man in the next village who was travelling to visit relatives near the Iranian border. He already had two passengers, her distant cousins, who would travel with Aaman.

The three of them would cross the border at night and then begin a very long walk to Kerman. If they could make it beyond Kerman, it would be a victory because when they were picked up by the authorities, they would be taken to the capital, Tehran. They needed to get past Kerman before being picked up, or they would be taken back to the Pakistani border. The Iranian authorities, although not particularly friendly, would hold them in very unsavoury places for some days before they could confirm that they were illegal and assist them out of the country. The nearest country was Iraq but the authorities knew taking them there would only result in their return, so they would willingly take them to the Turkish border.

It is raining again. Aaman returns inside. Juliet is on the sofa.

“It’s raining.”

Juliet is prepared. She gives him a brush and a tin of paint and points to the kitchen wall. There is a sheet covering the surfaces and newspaper on the floor. She leaves the room.

Aaman brings the stepladder in from where he had noticed it outside. The newspaper grows soggy where he plants the feet of the ladder. He opens the paint and begins.

Once in Turkey, they would head for Ankara. The authorities would probably give them a lift to the capital. They too knew the direction of travel. If they took them back to Iran they would simply be brought by Iranian authorities back to the Turkish border. So the Turkish authorities would take them to Ankara. There they would be held in warehouses with many other illegals. They could be held here for up to two years before being deported, but not to worry, Saabira had said, because they would be used by the government as underpaid labour in tourism and local industry. At this point, it would be good to bribe to get to work sooner and to get a job of choice. When out labouring, it would be easy to make contacts and escape the authorities to make their way to the border crossing to Greece. From there, they would need to bribe again or they could go into Bulgaria and then down to Greece where the border was, in some places, even unmarked. In Greece, it would be possible to make money and go to Italy. In Italy, it would be possible to make even more money and go to Spain. In Spain, it would be easy to get papers to work legally before maybe even flying home. She was told all this by a man who came to the village offering to escort people for pay. But Aaman was clever. He did not need an escort.

Saabira made it sound so heroic, Αaman grew in stature with every word she spoke, every plan they made. He would return tall and wealthy.

The paint splats on Aaman’s trousers, and he looks around the room to ensure he is alone before using the tap and cloth to wipe it off.

Saabira estimated the journey to the first country where he could make money would take maybe four months if he was lucky. He would then need another ten months, travelling and earning, to make the money they needed. He would be back within two years, just in time for when the village planned to buy the machine. She would be so proud of him.

The painting is a very satisfactory job. The grey walls cover well in the white. The progress is quick. At the end of the first wall, he wonders if he should continue on to the next. He turns to ask Juliet, but the room is still empty.

He made the journey to Greece in five months. He had been very lucky. The longest part of the journey was the walk through the hills in Iran. When he arrived in Greece, he made arrangements and finally rung Saabira on her neighbour’s mobile phone. She acted as if she had expected his great achievement. He didn’t talk of the horrors he had seen and the hardship he had suffered. He didn’t mention that the way into Greece had been patrolled very tightly, his skirmish with patrol dogs, or that he had been beaten and robbed in Bulgaria. He felt so grateful for his life as he talked to Saabira that day that he didn’t want to talk of hardships.

Aaman starts on the next wall. The rain had stopped again but the progress he is making is very satisfactory, and he is not a man to leave jobs unfinished. The cat is curled at the bottom of the ladder on the newspaper.

Juliet comes into the kitchen. Aaman carries on his work. Her tongue clicks off the roof of her mouth, and she takes a breath as if she is about to speak, but then the softest of exhalations tells him she has decided not to.

She clatters about the kitchen before announcing food.