Chapter 36: As Long as We’re Together - My Name Is Samim

Calais, France, autumn 2021

One day, Zayn and I returned to our tent after gathering wood. The mountain man, whose name we still didn’t know, was slouching over the fire, cooking. Four orange yolks bubbled in the metal pan with some beans and tomatoes.

Zayn and I shared looks. We had never had such a feast in Calais, so we asked the man what the special occasion was.

“We’re getting out of here,” he said.

“‘We’? How?” We fell to our knees beside him.

“I got us three seats on a boat. A good boat. My friend used this handler last week, and he is in the UK now. It’s €2,000 per person. Three spaces are left, and I said I’d take them. Unless you don’t have the money?” The man’s black bushy eyebrows pinched together as he frowned.

“We have the money,” Zayn mumbled, poking the ground with a stick.

Auntie Amina had given us €5,000 before we left Rome. But… a boat. Another boat. We swore we’d never go on another boat again.

“Why the sour faces, then?” The man’s voice grew annoyed. “Don’t you want to get out of here?”

We swapped glances again. Of course we wanted to get out of there, but we were scared.

Zayn took a deep breath. “Thank you, Uncle. Of course we want to go. We have the money. When are we leaving?”

I shot Zayn a panicked gaze.

“We’re leaving tonight. Hence the last meal. We’ll eat and drink like kings today, pack up and start moving around ten. Be ready by then.”

We gulped and nodded, gritting our teeth. Fear sat like a rock in our chests as, once again, we were forced on a journey no one goes on by choice.

We didn’t have much to pack, yet we fussed for ages, securing the star map to Zayn’s body. It was inside the crinkled plastic bag, and we tied it with rough rope, the knots tight against his skin. We did that back in Greece, too, and although the map still got damaged, at least we didn’t lose it. We couldn’t lose it. It was the only thing that reminded us that we deserved safety and we mustn’t give up.

At ten, we stood outside our tents, our knees shaking. The dark sky above us was clear for once, pearly stars gleaming. I hoped it was a good sign.

The mountain man came out of the tent with a small bag. He brushed the dog and gave it some food and water.

“Will the dog come with us?” I asked.

“Don’t be stupid,” the man grumbled.

Zayn and I looked at each other. The mountain man loved his dog. The dog was the only thing he cared about. How was he going to leave it behind?

We plodded through a muddy field, puffing clouds of warm breath into the icy air. Our wet shoes sucked and slid with every step. Before we got to the beach, the man turned to his dog and ordered it to sit.

The dog dropped onto its back legs and sat obediently.

“Stay,” he said, pointing his giant finger at the ground.

The dog sat still, looking at the man warily with its kind brown eyes.

The mountain man turned away, sighed and walked off. We rushed after him, looking back at the dog, who remained frozen, watching us and loyally obeying its beloved master’s command.

“Poor thing,” I whispered to Zayn.

“Says the guy who’s about to cross the English Channel on a dinghy,” Zayn muttered under his breath.

Zayn was scared. I wasn’t used to that.

As we got to the beach, we quivered from the salty winds that smashed the waves against the shore. Our boat was already there, packed with people, bobbing on the rippled waters.

My knees weakened. Dreadful memories flooded my head, and I grabbed Zayn’s hand.

Zayn gripped it tight and looked me in the eye. “We’ll be okay. I promise.”

As we approached the handler, his eyes grew large. “Names?” he asked in Dari.

“Samim, Zayn and Jabbar,” the mountain man answered, handing him the money.

Zayn and I swapped sidelong glances. Finally, we’d learned the mountain man’s name: Jabbar! Of course his name was Jabbar. Jabbar means ‘mighty’.

The handler found our names on his list, then counted the money, eyeing us up and down and glancing back at the boat.

He coughed and mumbled, “I only have two spaces.”

“What? But I paid the deposit for three,” Jabbar growled.

“I know. But look at the boat: three of you won’t fit.” The handler shrugged, his voice apologetic. He was trying to say there were three spaces for ordinary-sized people, but the mountain man would take up three spaces just for himself.

“Why don’t you go, and the boys will be first to board the next boat,” the handler said, trying to please the angry mountain before it erupted.

The ‘mighty’ Jabbar glowered at him and then walked to the boat. He scowled at everyone on board, checking the space left. People gaped back at him, blinking nervously. They were probably praying he wouldn’t get on.

Finally, Jabbar turned around, grabbed the money from the handler’s hand, spat on his fingers, counted some euros, put them in his pocket and returned the rest to the handler.

“Safe journey, boys,” he said, strolling back into the woods.

“Wait, Uncle!” I ran after him, and he turned to me, his shaggy eyebrows knitted in a glower. “Why did you let us take your place? Why did you help us?” I asked, panting.

The man gazed at me for a few seconds, then said, “Because you’re nobody’s children. And nobody’s children are everybody’s children. Even if they’re as annoying and useless as you two.”

He turned around and let out a piercing whistle that ripped through the silent night. Seconds later, the white dog appeared in the distance, its ears flopping in the wind as it raced to its owner, tongue out, panting with joy. When they reunited, the man kneeled and rubbed the dog as it licked its master’s hands and face gratefully.

I stared at them, bug-eyed.

“Well, get in then,” the handler shouted, giving two life jackets to Zayn and pointing at the boat.

I ran back, and we put the life jackets on. Then we froze, staring at each other.

“As long as we’re together, I’m not afraid,” I said to Zayn, for once trying to be the brave one.

“Well, that’s good, because I’m so scared I’m about to wet my pants,” Zayn whispered.