Nadia Hashimi - When the Moon Is Low

IT WAS HARDER TO SAY GOOD-BYE TO HAKAN AND HAYAL THIS time. While Saleem had money and heart on his side, he also had no documents to facilitate his travel across borders.

His kind hosts were surprised by his sudden decision but did not try to dissuade him from leaving. Hayal busied herself getting together food, two pairs of wool socks, three shirts, and a windbreaker for Saleem. He rolled the clothing up and stuffed it into a small backpack that he slung over his shoulder. A brisk wind heralded the arrival of a colder season, and the extra layers could save him.

The wad of bills stayed close in his pocket where he could feel its reassuring bulk press against his hip. If he were caught, the money would be found, but he could not bring himself to hide it anywhere else.

Saleem retraced his steps and took the bus back to the coast. His skin prickled as the bus drew closer to the police station in Izmir where he’d been sent off with a rough farewell.

Saleem’s palms grew sweaty. In his solitude there was not much he could do to steel himself. He fell back to the words he’d heard his parents whisper in unsteady moments, in moments of hope and moments when they wanted to feel comfort.

Bismillah al Rahman al Raheem. .

In the name of Allah, the most Gracious, most Compassionate. .

Saleem had considered the two ways he knew of to get to Greece. He knew he could look for a smuggler to get him across the waters. That would cost a lot of money, especially if he smelled the desperation on Saleem. If it used up all his funds, he would have nothing left to get him from Greece to Italy.

The boys in Attiki had talked about people crossing over on cargo ferries leaving from Turkey and going to Athens. Trucks were loaded onto ships for transport. Jamal had filled him in on what some people had done. He hadn’t painted a pretty picture.

First, you sneak onto the undercarriage of a truck when no one is looking. The ports are busy so you have to do it when the truck driver and the guards are distracted. Then you have to stay there, not moving, until the truck is loaded onto the ship. When it is on the ship, you have to be completely still and quiet, however long the ride is. The tricky part is then at the final port where you have to get off the boat without anyone noticing.

Somewhere between Intikal and the port city, Saleem had decided he would try to make his own way across. Smugglers were too risky, and he couldn’t afford to lose all his money when he still had so much farther to go.

Saleem got off the bus and quickly ducked into a small side street to get his bearings. He discreetly scanned his surroundings for any signs of uniforms. He needed to get to the port. It was already afternoon and unlikely that he could sneak onto a truck today, but it would be best if he could find a secure place nearby to spend the night.

He asked a shop owner for directions to the port, and he was directed to yet another bus. The local bus, much smaller, took him to where the town met the ocean. He saw the same massive ships docked and smaller ones floating by piers with groups of people walking on and off. With guards, crews, and passengers milling about, making a mad dash for the ramp was not a feasible plan.

Be smart. Be very careful.

The port was bustling. Saleem stood opposite a major road that ran like a divider between the town and the docks. Beyond the gates, he could see a huge lot of containers, large rectangular freight boxes of different colors with writing on the sides. He watched a couple being loaded onto a ship.

But how would you know when the container was set to be shipped or where it was going?

He spent the evening watching the ships, studying their procedures and their patterns, and making note of the piers. He needed to find the gaps, the places where he had a good chance of getting by without being noticed.

Farther along, there was a dock where people moved in and out of passenger ferries. The Waziri family had boarded here to get to Athens. How different that boat ride was! They’d been petrified of being caught but they’d been together. They’d rejoiced in the sight and sound of the sea.

We had no idea how easy we had it then. If only it could be that simple again.

Saleem kept walking until he reached a secluded grassy area on the port side of the highway. It was just behind a construction site, and he could see the workers were packing up their tools and heading toward the road. He had a good view of the docks. He used his backpack as a pillow, leaned it against a tree and studied the scene. It was later now and harder to make out what was happening in the distance but he paid close attention anyway, straining to see what he could. Within an hour, a magnificent sunset glazed the sky in oranges and purples. Moments later, it was dark and Saleem was completely alone.

He picked up his backpack and walked cautiously to the small building nearby. It was still under construction. He peered into its dusty windows and saw no one within. There were exposed pipes, bricks, and tools everywhere. The doors were locked. He snuck around to the back of the building and tried the windows. He was lucky. He crawled through an unlocked window and landed, with a thump, inside a skeleton of a room with only its framework and no walls. Every creak and howl made his skin jump. He put on an extra shirt and zipped his jacket up and stretched his legs on a folded gray tarp.

SALEEM WOKE TO THE SOUND OF MEN’S VOICES IN THE DISTANCE. His eyes opened slowly.

The construction workers! It was morning and they’d returned to start a new day. Saleem grabbed his bag and climbed back out of the window before they could make it into the back room. He heard voices shouting behind him but did not stop or turn around. He ran, darting between cars to cross the highway, and dodged behind an apartment building. He was panting, his tongue thick and dry as if it were coated with the white dust he’d brushed off his clothes and hair. Confident no one was chasing after him, he walked toward a corner store to buy a bottle of juice and then got back to work.

Cargo vessels were loaded onto trucks and, from there, onto ships. Saleem got a bit closer to the shipping yard, but the containers were all locked and impenetrable as far as he could tell. They would not be easy to break into. There were freight trucks, eighteen-wheelers backing into the ship slowly while passengers walked single file up the ramp and onto the deck level. Saleem’s plan was beginning to take shape.

Saleem went to the ticket booth and asked for a ferry schedule. The woman at the desk gave him a pamphlet, which he took back to the outer limits of the dock to read.

By midmorning, Saleem had watched three ships dock and take off again with fresh loads of passengers and freight. He was starting to get hungry when something caught his eye. A dark-skinned man, who looked to be a few years older than Saleem, strolled casually by the fence surrounding the cargo container lot. As inconspicuous as he was trying to be, he was nearly six feet tall and his head turned left and right every few moments. Saleem recognized the nervous walk right away.

Saleem watched the man make a quick, agile climb over the metal fence and into the yard. Saleem craned his neck for a better look. The African man wound his way past the cargo vessels and stood at the edge of the lot where trucks backed onto the ships. Crouched behind a red container, he waited a few moments before making a break for a truck waiting to be loaded onto the ship. He dashed toward the gap between the cab and the trailer, trying to find a space to crawl under. Saleem held his breath.

Two men ran over in his direction. He had been spotted.