Chapter 29: The Carpet Rolls - My Name Is Samim

Refugee camp, Greece, summer 2021

The following morning, Zayn yanked me awake, his voice breathless. “Wake up, sleepyhead! I followed some people down the road, and guess what?”

I blinked, my eyes wide in shock. Zayn was talking! And with such a cheery voice!

Zayn, tired of waiting for my response, waved his hand at me. “There is a van that gives out porridge, tea and biscuits at the end of the road!” He spread his arms in excitement and paused again for my reaction.

I gaped at him, wondering if I was dreaming.

“Stop staring at me as if I’m a ghost and get up before there’s no porridge left for us! I’ll go get the others!” he yelled, and bolted from the tent.

We were too late for porridge that day, but it didn’t matter. My stomach might have been empty, but with Zayn finding his voice again, my heart was full.

* * *

Three months flew by from the day Auntie Amina adopted Zayn and me, allowing us to sleep in her tent, eat her food and dream by her campfire. Spring turned into summer, which brought scorching days and muggy nights. Our skin was sunburnt, our stomachs constantly rumbled, and our bodies grew thinner by the day. Still, we were no longer alone, and being part of Auntie Amina’s family was a blessing for which we thanked God every day.

Then one night, while we all huddled by the fire pit, Auntie told us she and her grandchildren were leaving.

“In a few hours, when the night is at its deepest, we’ll walk quietly to the end of the main road. A truck will be waiting for us there. So let’s wash up, pack water and food, and get some sleep.”

Zayn and I shared worried glances. Auntie Amina leaving meant we would be left alone again.

Auntie saw our looks and shook her head. “You’ve been staying under my tarpaulin roof for almost three months now and you still think I’d leave you two behind? Silly boys! Go, shoo, get ready to leave!”

Our faces beamed with relief, and we rushed to pack.

When the time came, Auntie led us to the end of the road. As she tottered before us, one heavy step after another, I thought she had the spirit of ten young warriors trapped inside that limping body.

At the end of the road, a man with hands in his pocket greeted us with a nod. A truck with a giant trailer was parked behind him. The man unlocked the trailer’s metal door, and it swung open with a screech. Inside, three massive shelves stretched across the space, each lined with rolls of carpet.

The man yanked a cloth stuffed into one of the rolls and shone a torch inside the unplugged tube. A face stared out at us from inside the carpet roll, squinting from the light.

“Water!” the voice from the tube croaked.

The man didn’t move.

Auntie waved to one of her grandsons, who climbed into the trailer and held a bottle of water to the man’s chapped mouth. He glugged greedily, his throat bobbing with each swallow.

Everyone’s faces drooped with dread.

“How long will we be trapped in there?” Auntie asked the driver.

“Twenty minutes till we get to the port. Then four hours till we get to Italy. I’ll let you out on the boat, but you’ll have to hide again until I find a safe place to stop,” he said.

Auntie’s chest swelled with a deep sigh. She looked at all of us, then nodded in defeat. Her eyes were heavy, and I wondered what it was like to be responsible for so many lives.

“There are thirteen of you, but I only have eight carpets left,” the driver said.

“I paid for thirteen spaces.”

“Thirteen is a crowd, Auntie. You’re lucky I have eight spaces. This is your best bet.”

“I doubt it,” Auntie replied. “But you’re my only bet now, so we will have to squeeze in. Masood, get inside that one, face towards the back.” Auntie pointed at one roll with her stick, and the boy with one shoe wriggled in, facing the back. “Kabir, climb after him, face towards me, so you both can breathe at each end.” Kabir followed, his big eyes wide and blinking as he squeezed in behind his brother.

Auntie continued to give orders, and everyone obeyed without question.

Zayn and I were the last to hide inside our rug pipes after we helped Auntie climb into hers.

The man shoved a cloth into the hands of each person facing the trailer door. “Plug the rolls if we stop. And stay silent. Always.” His growl echoed as the trailer door slammed shut, plunging us into a heavy darkness.

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Soon my sweaty shirt clung to me like a second skin, my lungs burning. But just as my eyes blurred and I thought I was going to pass out, the truck stopped and the driver flung open the doors. We tumbled out of our rolls one by one: red, dizzy and gasping for air. We glugged water and lay on the floor of the ferry parking deck, enjoying its coolness against our sweaty backs. We nestled together, and most of us fell asleep.

The driver’s gruff voice woke us when it was time to hide again. The small kids cried, refusing to crawl back in, but Zayn tickled their bellies and promised them sweets once everyone arrived in Italy.

“Where will you get sweets?” Masood asked him, wiping his snotty nose and wriggling into his roll. His little eyebrows furrowed in distrust.

“Where does anyone get sweets?” Zayn asked.

“Shops?” Masood answered, his head poking out of the carpet.

“Well, yes, but where do shops get sweets from?”

Masood shrugged.

Zayn pulled a professor face, raising his finger to the sky. “God provides!”

I turned away to hide my chuckle.

Masood still had a suspicious frown on his small face when the man plugged his rug.

Once we all climbed back inside the dreadful rolls, the engine thundered and the truck moved.

I drew a deep breath. We were finally going to Italy!

But half an hour later, the air inside my rug pipe grew thick as mud, each breath turning into a wheeze.

“I can’t breathe! Let me out!” I yelled in panic.

“Calm down, Samim!” Zayn’s voice echoed in the darkness. “Count pi!”

I heaved a deep, shaky breath. My eyes blurred, and I closed them.

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I counted until my mind gave up and I fell asleep.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, the truck wasn’t moving.

My clothes were soaked in sweat and my back was itching against the rough wool. But there was light seeping inside my roll, which meant it was unplugged and I could get out.

Had we been caught? Were we in trouble?

Fear gripped me as I wriggled out, bracing for the worst.

As soon as my feet touched the trailer floor, Zayn grabbed me in a bone-crushing hug. “We thought you were dead, you toad-head!” he yelled.

Everyone patted my back, smiling with relief.

I couldn’t understand what was going on.

“We couldn’t wake you. You were stuck in there and you wouldn’t get out, you slug-brains!”

“I must have zonked out,” I mumbled, still unsteady on my feet.

Zayn threw his arms in the air. “He ‘zonked out’! I swear to God, Samim, I will slap you so hard for this once you feel better, you will never dare to zonk out again!”

“Thank God you are alright, boy.” Auntie Amina embraced me as I jumped down from the trailer. “You gave us all a fright.”

“I’m sorry, Auntie,” I muttered, my mouth hot and dry.

Zayn shoved a bottle of water in my hands and gave me another angry glower.

I glugged the water, and my eyes watered with pleasure.

“I need our exact location and a phone,” Auntie told the driver, stretching a ten-euro banknote to him.

The driver snatched the note, handed her his mobile phone and said the name of the road. It was a broad two-way lane, dry amber fields with olive trees spread out on both sides.

Auntie dialled someone and told them where we were.

“Please tell them to bring sweets?” Zayn asked, pressing his palms together. He was ambushed by the kids with sulky faces, waiting for their promised treats.

Auntie smiled at Zayn. “And please bring sweets for the little ones,” she said before ending the call.

The driver took his phone back and sped away on his truck, leaving grey clouds of fumes behind.

We strolled deeper into a field and hid from the sun under the low-hanging branches of an olive tree. I lay on my back and watched the clouds transform from a mountain to a boat, from my mother’s face to Darya’s.

The leaves rustled in the summer breeze. The air smelled like wildflowers and freedom.

Would we ever be free? Or would we be like stars, hiding in the darkness all our lives?

An hour later, three cars pulled up to the roadside. Two men and a woman left the drivers’ seats, looking left and right.

“Let’s move,” Auntie said, and we all rose as one.

We walked behind her slowly, keeping our pace aligned with hers. Like fawns in a forest teeming with predators, we were constantly on alert, ready to bolt at the slightest hint of danger.

Once the men and the woman spotted us, they hurried over. We stopped, exchanging nervous looks.

“It’s okay,” Auntie said. “These are your aunt and uncles. We are safe now.”

A woman with dark hair tied in a ponytail clutched Auntie in a tight hug, tears streaming down her face like tiny waterfalls. The men scooped up the little ones and carried them to the cars. When they handed everyone the sweets, Zayn beamed an ‘I told you so’ smile.

Although we were relieved to be safe at last, no word left anyone’s mouth. We were too used to bad things happening to us. So even though we weren’t in danger any more, in that car we still sat tense, silent and cautious – wild creatures who spent too long in the dark and needed time to trust the light again.