A STEP IN LIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

Ridhwan couldn’t help wondering at the scorching noon sun. How could it be so cold at night and killing hot during the day? He closely followed Basam from car to car selling towels, chewing gums and balloons he had bought earlier. It was so difficult to do this. Out of every ten cars they would go to, only one would be willing to buy something from them.

What amazed him the most was the number of street children as well as adults who were doing the same exact thing they were doing. There were women and young girls selling stuff too. There were others who were handicapped and just moved from place to place begging for money.

He lost concentration every time he passed others like them. They would wait at the side of the roads until cars stopped then Basam shouted at him to follow him behind. 

“What time is it Basam?”

“It’s almost two o’clock.”

“We need to go buy food for Salah and Salma, they haven’t eaten anything.”

“Oh…I forgot. I’m dealing with a family guy today! It’s different,” Basam mocked Ridhwan once again. “Don’t look so worried, I won’t let you go by yourself. I could use a break any way… let’s go.”

Ridhwan had left his siblings sleeping that morning. He knew Salma would cause a scene if she saw him leaving but if she woke up to find him gone, she would wait till he was back to cry her eyes out.  The restaurant wasn’t so busy at that time. They got their order quickly and left. As expected, Salma ran towards Ridhwan as soon as she spotted him coming. She held him and cried like never before.  Ridhwan had to take a whole half hour calming her down and begging her to eat.

Salma had never been much of an eater since she was young. Her mother had to struggle with her every meal to get her to eat her food.  They finished their meal, rested a bit and got back to the streets. Of course, Ridhwan had to take another fifteen minutes to convince Salma to stay with Salah.

He loved them both. He wasn’t worried that much about Salma as he was about Salah. Salah carefully concealed all his emotions and Ridhwan knew it was killing him inside. Ridhwan knew he had to get him to talk what he felt but every time he tried, Salah backed off and became distant from him.

Basam was a very friendly and talkative person just like Ridhwan had once been.  It was only a week since they met each other and Ridhwan knew almost everything about his new friend. He questioned why such a friendly person didn’t have any friends at all.

“Well, I had many friends before but I left them and decided to start on my own. Let’s just say, they were a bad influence,” Basam had told him.

Ridhwan was getting familiar with the streets and with his new business. To budget the money they had, Basam adviced him not to buy three meals daily.

“You only eat once my friend or else you’ll run out of money.”

He was right. They never made that much profit from their small businesses. Sometimes they washed cars but that too didn’t cover the cost of having three meals a day. It was nicer to wash cars parked by restaurants because the owners sometimes brought them food on top of the money they gave them. They considered themselves lucky when this happened.

Ridhwan had found a dot of happiness in him again. He would forget all that happened in his life as he spent most of his time with Basam. Even Salma had gotten used to the situation they were in. she usually played with the other kids who lived with them in their shelter. Salah remained quiet and distant from Ridhwan, he would play with Salma and laugh with her but whenever he saw Ridhwan, he automatically pulled away.  He never laughed with him, never allowed his jokes to get to him, never played any games with him and barely talked to him. He only answered what was asked of him; nothing more, nothing less.

Deep down, he hated Ridhwan for ruining their lives. He hated him for what had happened to his mum. He didn’t care that much about his father, he barely knew him. He missed his mum so much and wanted to see her. He remembered her smell, her laugh, her hugs and kisses. Once he turned six, he felt shy when his mum kissed him in front of other people.

“Mum! I’m too old now. You can’t kiss me in front of people,” he told his mum several times but she never left her habit. She thought it was cute of him to do that.

He wanted to shout his lungs out and let go of the strangling feeling that was chocking his heart. He preferred keeping his thoughts and feelings to himself but it was killing him. Three months since all this happened and it never felt easy for him.  The only person he could ever talk to was Ridhwan; but how could he talk to him when he couldn’t stand looking at his face? How could Ridhwan laugh again? How could he talk and sleep at night? How could Ridhwan continue to live when he had stopped living since the day he left his mum? He felt like a prisoner in his own skin.

The high-pitched sounds of insects could be heard from a distance as Salah laid down in his ‘bed’. It was their eighth birthday but Salma didn’t seem to recall that. His mother never forgot either of their birthdays.  She always told them their baby stories on their birthdays which he loved to hear.

“You never used to cry Salah but Salma did the crying for both of you,” Aziza used to tell them.

He wished he could see himself as a baby; the calm, beautiful Salah. They didn’t have a camera so they had no pictures except one.  He remembered the day they took a picture back in the village and how big of a deal it was. There was a man who had come to the village with his huge camera which had a flash that almost blinded people. He used to go from house to house during festivals and big celebrations to take pictures of children and men. Women weren’t allowed to take photos because it was a shame since they covered themselves head to toe and could not let the camera man see their faces.

On one Eid, he came by to Aziza’s house and asked if there were any children he could take pictures of. She could see how happy her kids were so she accepted to let them take a picture. Ahmed wasn’t at home at that time and he probably never knew about it. He remembered that cute picture of him, Salma and Ridhwan all dressed up in their best clothes with their hairs, smelling of coconut oil, well combed.

The only picture they had was somewhere in their house in the village. He turned side to side without getting any sleep. He looked at the angelic face of his twin sister sound asleep. Had she forgotten their mum? He wondered to himself. She seemed happy now and didn’t cry that much anymore. She made friends with one of the girls who lived on the other end of the bridge with her mother. Her name was Rania and Salma liked her; she was the first friend in her life.

The night was long for Salah. He had mastered the sounds of the insects. He heard cars passing by one at a time and wondered where they were heading to that late at night. Soon it was dawn. The calls of dawn prayer dominated the whole city; first it was from one mosque then another and soon, there were almost a hundred mosques rhythmically calling for prayers.  Back in the village there was only one mosque to call for prayers.   He woke up his brother, Salma and Basam and they set for their dawn prayers at the nearby mosque.

The Imam in the mosque was a very friendly and warm person. He had noticed the regular attendance of the three boys and the wonderful girl. He once asked them where they lived but neither of them said anything. Basam wasn’t fond of strangers and feared being taken back to the orphanage. Ridhwan feared being known as a murderer while Salah never talked to people he didn’t know. Many times, he would give them bread for breakfast.