In the Sea There Are Crocodiles - Fabio Geda [40]
Wild dogs, cried Hussein Ali. This country is full of wild things.
The dogs jumped down from the rock, with steam coming out of their mouths and their tails up in the air, and we started running again, as fast as an avalanche, and once again we dived into a ditch, which this time was much deeper than we had thought, and we rolled down until we ended up on the bank of a dried-up stream.
The dinghy, I cried. Don’t make a hole in the dinghy.
We moved all the stones and debris out of the way, and when we finally managed to get up, none of us were seriously hurt. Scratches and bruises, yes, but nothing permanent. And we still had the dinghy and the pump and everything. That was when I noticed Liaqat’s life jacket.
Liaqat, I said, your jacket is torn.
Liaqat took it off and turned it over and over, but there was nothing to be done. It was unusable. He looked at me in desperation, then gave a twisted smile. So’s yours, he said. He approached Hussein Ali. So’s Hussein Ali’s.
Not a single jacket was still intact.
But we’re on the beach, said Rahmat.
Yes, we’re on the beach, echoed Hussein Ali.
Is there a school where they teach you to state the obvious? said Liaqat.
Quick, let’s inflate the dinghy, suggested Rahmat.
It’s too late.
What?
It’s too late, I repeated. We have to wait till tomorrow.
It isn’t true, we can make it.
The trafficker had told us it took about three hours to cross the strip of sea separating us from Lesbos. But it must have been about two or three in the morning by now and the risk was that we would arrive in the first light of dawn, when we might well be seen. We needed darkness and invisibility. We needed to do things properly. We had to wait for the following night.
I’m the oldest, I said. I’m the captain. Let’s put it to the vote. Who’s in favor of leaving tomorrow night?
Hussein Ali was the first to raise his hand, followed immediately by Soltan and Rahmat.
Liaqat sighed. Then let’s get some rest, he said. Not too close to the sea, if possible. He threw a pointed glance at Hussein Ali. We don’t want a wild wave to attack us while we sleep, do we?
Hussein Ali didn’t get the joke. He nodded and said, Or a crocodile. And he said it seriously, with his eyes wide open.
There aren’t any crocodiles in the sea, Liaqat said.
How do you know?
I just know, stupid.
Well, you’re talking rubbish. You can’t even swim.
You can’t swim either.
That’s true. Hussein Ali shrugged. That’s why I’m afraid of crocodiles.
But there aren’t any. Can’t you get that into your head? There. Aren’t. Any. They live in rivers.
I wouldn’t be so sure of that, whispered Hussein Ali, looking at the water and shifting a small stone with the tip of his foot. There could be all kinds of things down there in that darkness.
———
It was a good day, the next day, a really good day, even though we’d used up all our supplies of food and water. Soltan tried to drink water from the sea, and after the first mouthful he started to scream that the water was poisoned, that the Turks and Greeks had poisoned it to kill us. We kept ourselves to ourselves (well there wasn’t anyone else), slept for a long time and built traps for wild pigs. We didn’t think about the dangers of the crossing. Death is always a distant thought, even when you feel it close. You think you’ll make it, and so will your friends.
Around midnight we came out into the open. We moved the equipment close to the rocks, to be protected and not be seen by passing boats. The dinghy had to be inflated with the pump, a pump with a balloon that you pressed with your foot. It was a blue and yellow dinghy—not all that big, to tell the truth, and the maximum weight it was intended for was lower than the combined weight of the five of us, but we pretended not to notice.
We were so busy inflating the dinghy and setting up the oars that we didn’t see a light approaching, a light at sea.
It was Rahmat who saw it. Look, he said.
We turned our heads in unison.
Out on the water, I couldn’t say how far out, a boat was passing, with