The Rebel

Amina-4

“Don’t you want to join, dear?”

I look at her incredulously and gulp. She can’t be serious. But the naughty grin on her face tells me that she would be game.

“Thanks, but…” I start, but the man interrupts, laughing.

“Get the hell out of here, son. You think I can stand here erect forever?”

I take it as a final prompt, and run down the hall so fast that I even kick into a broom. I hear laughter from behind, but don’t turn. I see the toilet, that’s already familiar. The next side door is my cabin. I open it, enter and slam it behind me. Quickly, I turn the key, walk over to the tiny cabin window and pressing my nose against the glass, watch the infinite water. It’s dark outside, I only see the white foam on the waves and hear the whistle of the wind from outside. The weather is turning for the worse now, I can feel that the water is tossing the ship a lot more now than it did last night. My stomach can also feel the change, and it’s not a good sign at all. So far, I thought I could get away with sea sickness, but it seems to still find me. Or are only my nerves playing a game with me? Very possible.

I try to take deep breaths, but it’s not helping, my stomach is more and more upset. I need fresh air. I simply can’t go on otherwise. I must go above board, whatever it takes, or I will do what the captain has warned me against: I will fill this cabin with puke. I stand up and stagger to the door. I check the shemagh on my head, check outside, but there is no trace of humans. I don’t even care if I run into the previous shagging couple, if only I can breathe some fresh air. The ship is tossing me quite badly, holding onto the wall, I stumble up the steps, but this time I meet no one. I go in the direction from where cool air is filling the corridor. This time there are no shouts, I guess, the crew has either gone to sleep or, due to the bad weather, took their place on the bridge. I see a door that says stern. That’s what I need. At last!

As I step on board, I take a deep breath and hold my face up against the sky. I stagger to some container-looking thing, and I sit on it. I’m too scared to go to the rail as the ship is tossing me too hard and it’s really windy. The fresh air is doing me good, and strangely, the rage of elements is having a great effect on me. I put my elbows on my knees and drop my head into my palms. The cold sensation of sadness and loneliness embraces me like a snake, tight around me throat. Oh God, what have I undertaken! I’m so alone, and miss my family so much. A tear rolls down my cheek as I know they must have found out about my escape by now.

＊

I can already see the shore, yes, this can only be Pakistan. I can hardly believe that despite last night’s storm, we are arriving intact. I spent half the night on deck, I simply couldn’t go back to the cabin. I felt like the walls were suffocating me, the ceiling was pressing me down. I had to be out in the open, no matter how cold it was. At about dawn I went back with numb limbs, but with the strong understanding, I had made the right decision and there was no turning back for me.

According to my estimations, we will land in about half an hour. I go to the toilet once again, but to my luck, in the corridor I run into the young man who was sitting at the dining area last night with his mobile phone. I walk past him looking down, but I can still feel he takes a good look at me. He looks at me more thoroughly than last night, and that gives me the shivers. It’s high time I finally left this ship. Getting back to the cabin, I check my clothes once more, for the twentieth time I feel for my money and the jack-knife in my belt. I take up the rucksack and stand at the door fully ready, clutching the door handle. I’m nervous as hell, hoping everything will go smoothly at take off. I haven’t been caught this far, can’t blow it now, being so close to the shores of Karachi. It crosses my mind what if my father has informed the harbour and before landing, they might search every ship arriving at the docks. I shiver at the thought, but have no choice. It sounds a bit too much, I know, since he could have no inkling where I started going from Ras al-Khaimah, and there are so many docks in the bay. They can’t search all of them! Or can they? No way! If Selina kept her mouth shut, they have no idea where I went. I decide not to talk to anybody, I won’t even say goodbye, but as soon as they put out the bridge, I will leave the ship in a rush. I have paid the fare in advance anyway, so I owe the captain nothing.

The moment I feel the engine has stopped and see from the window they are letting down the planks, I start to go up on deck. There is quite a big buzz, people running up and down, shouting, orders being yelled everywhere. I wait behind a small container and wait for the right moment. It must work! It must work! – I keep telling myself, but I’m so nervous, I’m about to faint. I have been crouched here for about five minutes in the shade, yet, I am lathered with sweat. It’s so hot here as in hell. Obviously, the thick sweater and the trousers I am wearing under my thobe are not helping, but I can’t get rid of them for a while yet.

They are beginning to start the carts, and I can also see a car stopping in the harbour, directly beside our ship.

“Customs,” a voice says right behind my back, and I jump so high that the shemagh almost falls off me.

I turn to look and recognize the cook.

“Oh right,” I groan out, and quickly turn away, because I don’t want him to stare into my face with the sun shining so bright. My disguise has worked so far, but the truth is, I only ever left the cabin in dim light. I am watching the customs officers, and honestly hope they don’t intend to check each and every one on the ship. Unless it’s absolutely necessary, I don’t want to whip out my stolen passport, so it would be best to avoid them.

“Well, did my magic potion work?” the man winks at me, and I nod enthusiastically, although my eyes are watching the officers as two of them walk up the bridge.

I see the captain approaching them with a grin, and somehow have the feeling this is not the first time they see each other. I’m almost certain that I wasn’t wrong thinking this ship transports smuggled goods, and the three gentlemen are joined by business. With relief, I see that the captain leads them to the right, towards the bridge. As they walk past and I see their backs, I straighten myself, and say a quick goodbye to the cook.

“Bye, and thanks for… that thing,” I stutter, and without waiting for his response, I aim for the bridge.

“Hey, boy! Hey! Wait!” he shouts after me, but I won’t stop for him, just wave as I go, indicating I’m in a rush.

With my eyes glued to the ground I step onto the plank and walk like a robot. No matter how much I want to run, I can’t, it would draw people’s attention on me. Another ten yards, another five, a footstep, and I’m on the shore. I’m in Pakistan, and I can hardly believe it. Although I’m getting far from the ship, I still don’t have the courage to look back. My heart beats at double speed, I’m panting so hard, I’m getting dizzy. There are a lot of containers, loader cranes stand one after the other, and I aim for the place where I see the most people. I want to melt into the crowd, become one with it, and disappear.

I’ve been running for minutes until I finally get myself to slow down a bit and look behind me. I stand under a tarp and gasp like someone who has just climbed the Everest. I watch the ships, the cars, the people, and somehow everything seems so unreal around me. I’m not being followed; nobody cares in the world who I am and what I am up to. They don’t give a s**t, and that confuses me. I know this has only been the first part of my journey, and I still have to make it to Islamabad, and from there to London, but still. I don’t think my brain can process the information that I have got here intact, on a ship, all by myself, with my own strength. A mixture of euphoria and hysteria is coming over me, and I’m close to bursting into tears in the middle of the street. I don’t do it, of course, but try to hold back my tears by blinking hard.

I compose myself and walk on at a somewhat calmer pace to find a taxi. A street seller calls to me, probably in the local Urdu language, because I don’t understand a word of it. He is offering me some strange food unknown to me, as I shrug my shoulders, he gives it another try in some broken English. I know I should eat something, but at the moment I don’t have the courage to try something that looks neither meat, vegetable or a sweet. to me. Diarrhoea is the last thing I need right now, so I keep the safety rule, and will buy something pre-packed in a shop. I quickly rush on, and as the crowd gets bigger around me, I’m beginning to feel uneasy. Just to be safe, I put my rucksack to my front, and hug it like a baby. There is a fortune in it, and I would be in deep trouble if a sneaky thief took it from me. I spot a taxi station on a corner, and a huge sigh of relief breaks from my chest. I walk up to the driver who looks the oldest, and ask for how much he would take me to the bus station. We agree on a price, and I get into the back seat. Back home I did detailed research so I know the station is about 12 km from here, which, depending on traffic, might take 25-35 minutes. As we slowly start and I look around, I note that the expression traffic jam probably originates from this place. Traffic is chaos itself, I don’t detect any kind of rules, even though we’ve been on the road for minutes. That 25-35 minutes will easily be an hour, so I lay back in the seat and stare out of the windshield. I look at the multitude of people and feel that sadness is about to burst from me again, in the form of tears, but I can’t let myself go. I close my eyes and try to relax a little.

By the time I get out at the bus station, I feel so exhausted, I’m hardly standing on my feet. I wasn’t far from falling asleep at one point in the car, which terrified me. I can’t sleep in a public place; it would be too dangerous. As I approach informations at the bus station, I feel tempted to stay for a night. I could go to a hotel and have a good sleep – I sigh at the thought of a clean, soft bed with white sheets. But no, I shake my head with determination. The sooner I can leave Karachi, the better. I’m not far enough from the Emirates yet, they can find me. If all goes well, I can have a night’s rest in Islamabad.