Angels Favorite Dream

14

Berk quickly returned to the bus and sat next to Osman. Handing him the sandwich, he said, "I found something decent. At least we won't starve."

Berk then noticed a snack package in the seat pocket. Curiously, he turned to Osman. "What's this?"

Osman laughed. "The attendant handed out snack packs. The buses aren't very comfortable, but at least the company is generous."

Berk opened the package and was surprised to find plenty of food and drinks. "They really are generous. This should last us the whole trip."

After the attendant's final call, the bus doors closed, and they began their long journey, which would take about twenty-four hours. Exhausted and sleep-deprived, they fell asleep as soon as the bus left the terminal.

When they arrived at the first rest stop, the attendant woke Berk and Osman, telling them to get off the bus. At first, they didn't understand why, but when they saw all the other passengers getting off, they reluctantly followed. Once everyone was off, the driver locked the bus doors. That's when they learned that staying on the bus during breaks was prohibited in Iran. Unsure of what to do, they wandered around. After smoking a cigarette, they went looking for a restroom, since the last time they'd used one was at the airport.

The restrooms they encountered in Iran were so dirty that they couldn't use them. They had first tried to use the restroom at the train station, but the smell was unbearable, and they immediately left. They faced the same issue at the bus terminal, and it was no different at this rest stop. Berk sighed as he looked at Osman. "Finding a restroom in Iran is easy, but it takes real courage to actually use one," he said.

Osman nodded. "Exactly. I don't understand how anyone can breathe in there," he replied.

One of the reasons Berk struggled to understand Muslim countries was this lack of cleanliness. The irony was that, despite their religion emphasizing cleanliness, people lived in such filth. When he worked for EgyptAir, he had encountered a similar situation during training in Cairo. He couldn't use any bathroom outside the hotel because the smell was unbearable; he had to leave immediately upon entering. The stench clung to his clothes for weeks.

Frustrated by not being able to use the restroom, they got back on the bus. As soon as they boarded, they fell asleep again. But in the middle of the night, at the second rest stop, the attendant woke them up once more. Deep in their sleep, they had to get off the bus again, but still couldn't use the restroom. With no other options, Berk and Osman found the most suitable open spot and relieved themselves outside.

While waiting for the bus doors to open, they lit cigarettes. As they smoked, Berk noticed an old man staring at him intently. The man's persistent gaze made Berk increasingly uneasy. He tried to avoid eye contact, but the man's eyes remained fixed on him. Berk wanted to move away to escape the uncomfortable stare, but the old man continued to watch him. The situation was no longer just uncomfortable; it was unsettling.

The thought crossed Berk's mind that he might be facing a radical Islamist. He feared that, due to his unconventional appearance, the man might view him as something evil. Berk's Mohawk hairstyle and earrings stood out in a conservative country like Iran. Fortunately, because of the cold weather, he was wearing long sleeves, so his tattoos weren't visible. Since arriving in Tehran, he had tried to get used to people's stares, but in this remote part of Iran, his unease only grew. Thankfully, the doors opened, and Berk quickly boarded the bus.

They fell back asleep once the bus started moving. When they opened their eyes in the morning, a vast desert landscape stretched out before them.

They had finally arrived in Zahedan. The 24-hour journey had passed rather quickly since they had slept most of the time, aside from the few breaks.

There were no hot beverages served on the bus. However, the attendant, who had ignored Berk and Osman from the very beginning, surprised them in the morning by offering tea. This gesture put them in a good mood.

Upon arriving in Zahedan, they found the scene outside the bus to be no different from Tehran. As they were grabbing their bags, people approached them, speaking in Farsi. This time, though, they were most likely begging.

Berk, who hadn’t had his morning coffee yet, was more irritable than usual and snapped at everyone who approached them.

Osman gently touched Berk’s shoulder. "Berk, just calm down a bit, okay?" he said in a nervous tone.

Berk took a deep breath, nodded, but still looked tense.

Osman, in a calming voice, said, "I know it’s annoying. But if you keep this up, they might become hostile," and steered him toward the terminal.

Berk entered the terminal without causing any further trouble. Once inside, all Berk could think about was getting out of Iran as soon as possible.

After they entered the terminal building, Osman said, "According to what I read online, there's a bus from here to Pakistan. Let’s check with the ticket offices."

Berk headed to one of the counters. "Is there a bus from here to Pakistan?" he asked.

Once again, he was faced with an employee who didn’t speak English. The employee kept saying, "No, no." Berk couldn't understand what the man was trying to convey—was it because he didn’t speak English, or was there really no service?

At that moment, a man who spoke decent English approached them. "Where do you want to go?" he asked.

Berk, surprised, replied, "We want to go to the Pakistan border."

After a brief moment of thought, the man said, "There are no bus services to Pakistan. You can only get to the border by taxi. Follow me, and I’ll take you to a taxi."

With no other option, they followed the man. He led them to the taxi stand in front of the terminal and spoke to the drivers there. One of the drivers put down his tea and signaled for Osman and Berk to get in the car. However, Osman didn’t want to get in without negotiating first.

Osman had noticed that some Farsi words sounded similar to Kurdish, so he had begun to understand a bit of what was being said. Hoping the taxi driver would understand some Kurdish, Osman asked, "How much to take us to the border?"

The driver thought for a moment before quoting a rather low price. Gasoline was cheap in Iran, so taxis operated at reasonable rates. Osman immediately accepted the price.

Just as they were about to put their bags in the trunk and get in the taxi, the man who had acted as their guide demanded payment. Osman, irritated, turned to him.

"How much do we owe you?" he asked. The man named such a high price that Osman became even more annoyed. "You want more than what we’re paying the taxi driver for an hour's ride?" he said sharply. Then, reluctantly, he took out some money and gave the man half of what he had asked for, making it clear with a hand gesture that he didn’t want to argue any further.

The man tried to get more money, but the taxi driver stepped in and said something to him. The man grumbled and walked away.

Berk sat in the front seat to get a better view of the surroundings. Since it had been a while since they last smoked, he turned to the driver and asked, "Can we smoke?" The driver, not understanding English, looked confused. Berk used hand gestures to indicate that he wanted to smoke. The driver seemed to understand, smiled, and said, "Okay." Then he took out a chewing tobacco-like substance, wrapped it in paper, and placed it under his upper lip.

Berk curiously asked the taxi driver what the substance he had put under his lip was. The driver gestured toward his head, implying it was something that gave him a buzz, and said, "Naswar." He then offered the packet to Berk to try.

Berk smiled slightly and shook his head. He didn’t want to be under the influence of an unknown substance while crossing the border. "No, thank you," he said politely.

The driver then looked at Osman, offering the packet again. Osman also shook his head. "No, I’ll pass, thank you."

The driver laughed at their cautious reactions. Then he pulled out a handful of candies from his pocket and offered them. Berk and Osman didn’t refuse this offer; they took the candies, smiling and thanking him.

The journey continued smoothly and enjoyably until they came across a military checkpoint. The soldiers stopped the vehicle and took Osman and Berk's passports. One of the soldiers took the passports into a building next to the checkpoint.

Osman turned to the driver anxiously. "Why were we stopped? Why did they take our passports into the building?" he asked.

The driver, in a relaxed manner, replied, "It's a routine security check, don't worry." However, this reassurance didn’t completely ease Osman and Berk’s unease. As they waited, they grew more impatient.

After a while, one of the soldiers approached the car and took the driver out, leading him to the building.

As the process dragged on, Osman and Berk grew increasingly tense. When their eyes met, neither could hide the growing worry inside them.

Berk leaned toward Osman and whispered, "This shouldn’t be taking so long, right?" He frowned.

Osman took a deep breath and shrugged. "I don’t know, but this is Iran... Everything moves slowly here," he said, trying to stay calm.

After some time, the driver returned with a soldier by his side. The soldier got into the car, sitting next to Osman. The driver turned to Berk and Osman. "The soldier will come with us to the border. You’ll need to pay him there," he said.

Berk gave Osman a quick glance. They both remained silent but nodded in acceptance.

Osman hadn’t gathered enough information about the security conditions and procedures in the region while planning the trip, so they were caught off guard by this situation.

Osman, curious as to why the soldier was coming with them, tried to start a conversation. "Why are you coming with us?" he asked.

The soldier, though not fluent in English, seemed used to this question and gave a rehearsed answer. "If you’re traveling by road in countries like Iran and Pakistan, strict security checks and lengthy procedures are inevitable. Especially in border regions, where terrorism is common and people are killed every day," he said.

Osman and Berk looked at each other in fear as the soldier added, "I’m coming with you for your safety."

Osman, having grown up in Diyarbakir, knew all too well what terrorism was. In his city, under the control of Kurdish guerillas, many people faced pressure to join terrorist organizations. But for Berk, it was different; he hadn’t done his military service yet, and terrorism was just a danger he heard about on the news.

When they reached the border, they paid the driver and thanked him for his kindness. After saying goodbye, they proceeded toward passport control with the soldier.

Before entering the border station, the soldier looked at Berk’s unusual appearance and said something mocking in Farsi.

Berk frowned and turned to Osman. "What did he say this time?" he asked.

Osman swallowed nervously, looking at Berk, and whispered quietly, "He said they’d definitely kill you in Pakistan because of the way you look."

Berk didn’t pay much attention to the soldier’s words. He shrugged and turned to Osman. "If nothing happened to me in Iran, then nothing will happen in Pakistan," he said, trying to reassure him. However, the worry on Osman’s face hadn’t completely disappeared.

Once inside the building, the soldier gestured for them to sit while he went to an office to handle their exit paperwork. Luckily, having a soldier with them made the process easier. Berk and Osman didn’t even see the passport officer’s face. They took their passports and left Iran, feeling both a sense of relief and the excitement of a new adventure. They had finally stepped into Pakistan.