The Crossing
He watches the ocean aggressively rush to his feet, like arms extending towards him,
threatening to consume him. The ocean petrifies him, yet he allows the water to reach
just the tips of his shoes, a taste of what lies ahead.
Clutching his waist is a little girl, her two brown pigtails brushing over her shoulders, his
sister. She stares out at the sinking sun. Her head only reaches his elbow, which
reminds him of how she was shortest in her grade; her classmates would tease her for
her height.
One day, a boy in her class grabbed her favourite neon pink hat and tauntingly waved it
over his head. When the boy tried walking away, she forced her foot in front of his,
tripped him over and watched as he collapsed on the ground like a Jenga puzzle. Then,
with a snicker, she snatched her hat out of his grip and returned the taunting gesture
with a smirk.
He misses seeing the dimples of her smile.
Not long ago, he was pushing Laila on a swing in their backyard while their parents
were in the house. In between Laila’s laughs and his mother calling them for dinner, he
heard a loud whistle from above.
He stared up at the afternoon sky as if waiting for an explanation. The whistle grew
louder until it became a persistent roar, almost too deafening for him to hear the
ear-splitting boom that came afterwards. The boom of a bomb. And another. Then
again. The realisation hit him like a pile of bricks. His heart pounded out of his chest, he
glanced back down at Laila, who was already off of the swing, she held her trembling
palms to her ears, tears spilled from her widened eyes and her bottom lip quivered in
terror.
He could barely hear his mother’s piercing scream “Khalid! Laila! Get inside!” From the
corner of his eye he saw the tip of a fighter jet above him, like the fin of a shark. Then, a
thunderous boom erupted, turning their home into rubble and ash. They became
orphans that afternoon.
The memory is a stain in his mind. He recalled the shattered glass, crumbled walls,
bricks and rooftop tiles scattered on the ground. In between the chaos, he lost his
glasses, so that when he looks into the distance, the colours blend and shapes merge.
Ironically, he found his inability to see what lies beyond as a gift, it taught him to take
one step at a time, and worrying about the troubles ahead would only add onto the
burden on his 17-year-old back.
They managed to escape the warzone they once called home. They travelled across
borders, journeyed through unfamiliar climates and depended on universal hand
gestures to communicate with speakers of different languages and dialects, all to finally
arrive at the coast of Libya.
He wonders what his and Laila’s life would be like if the bomb fell just metres away.
Would they have someone to call Mum or Dad? Someplace to call home? Something to
call their own? But instead, they brace themselves for a voyage through the
Mediterranean on a rickety rubber boat.
They stand between many dozens of people, from Arabs to Africans to Amazighs, some
fleeing conflict and violence, others escaping starvation and poverty, but all are
desperate enough to take the deadly journey of the Mediterranean Crossing.
They plan to set off after dusk, concealed by a blanket of stars, so they can avoid being
captured by the Libyan coast guard. A truck unloads a white rectangular boat onto the
shore. It has an odd shape, the edge of the boat is zigzagged, and he wonders why it
was made that way.
After the boat is placed in the water, a man with a checklist on one hand and a pen in
the other begins calling out names ‘Ahmad Ali!’ a man stands up and walks over to him,
they speak a few words and then he is allowed onto the boat.
The series of names began to dragged out and he lost his focus as he dived into his
thoughts. The man looks well over 50 years, and Khalid can only stare at the man’s
pointed face, like an arrowhead. He thinks the man had ping pong balls for eyes from a
distance and a long white moustache drooping at the ends. Khalid thinks the man has
features that resemble the face of a seal and he snickers at the thought.
‘Why are you laughing?’ Laila asks, wanting to join in.
See that man’ Khalid points in his direction, ‘Doesn’t he look like a seal?’ He laughs.
She giggles, holding her hand to her mouth to hide it, ‘Seal Face!’ She whisper-shouts,
'When are you gonna call our names?’
As if in reply, Seal Face calls Khalid and Laila’s names. Their laughter drowns out and
they give each other a look worth a thousand words that could only be understood by
siblings. They start walking towards the man, Laila holding in her laughter, but all the joy
Khalid felt seconds ago is drained out of him and is struck by the reality of the situation.
Even a smile feels too heavy for him to carry.
Seal Face is frowning when he says, ‘Tickets?’
Khalid fumbles through the small backpack that carries all they have, then pulls out two
tickets and hands them to Seal Face, who gestures towards the boat, but before he
could call the next name, Khalid bursts into a flurry of questions, ‘How long will it take to
get to Italy? What are the chances of a storm? Are there any sharks? Stingrays? Eels?’
Seal Face cuts him off with a roll of his eyes, ‘Listen kid, it’s just six hours, no storm, no
sharks or whatever.’ he then dismisses him with a wave of his hand and returns to
calling out names.
They walk to the inflatable rubber boat and Khalid helps Laila inside, then pulls himself
inside. A tall man is pointing people where to sit, the front half of the boat is already
packed with rows of people sitting cross-legged and facing forward. He realises some
are even sitting on the zigzag edge of the boat with their backs against the raised edge,
one leg in the boat and the other in the ocean.
The man guiding people points to Laila next, ‘Little girl, sit there and face forward,’ then
turns to Khalid ‘and you, go sit on that edge.’
Khalid feels his heart double its pace. ‘No. I want to sit with my sister, and inside the
boat.’ He is surprised by how calm he sounds.
The man looks at Khalid with consideration, ‘I’ll put your sister next to you but you’re
sitting on the edge, if you don’t want to sit there, go find another person to put you on a
boat’ He asserts.
Khalid, knowing he has no other choice, complies, ‘Fine, I’ll just sit there.’
He takes Laila’s hand into his and guides her to where the man pointed, Then he lets
her sit first, right next to the edge of the boat. After she is seated, he moves to the
lowered edge, it is only two feet high and he worries the water might seep in through it.
He lifts his leg over the lowered edge, dips his shoes in the water and feels a tremble
run through his spine. He takes a deep breath and slowly lowers his foot inside the
water, then up to his knee and quarter-way up his thigh. The water is so cold he feels as
if his leg was in a bucket of ice cubes. Blood rushes through his body and he feels he
might vomit, but he is grateful that he only gags.
He looks to his right and checks up on Laila, then turns to his left and stares at the
seemingly opaque water. He pictures a shark appearing from the depths and biting off
his leg, but quickly tries to remove that image from his mind.
He attempts to get comfortable by resting his back on the raised edge and starting
conversation with Laila, but despite all his efforts to keep the conversation going, it trails
off and they end up sitting in silence.
He stares up at the sky, now completely dark after the sun has set. He is taken by
surprise at the sight, the star-filled night sky is not a familiar sight back home, since the
city lights dull them out. He finds a sort of comfort in the stars, they give him something
to wonder about for the six-hour voyage.
Seal Face shouts ‘That’s everybody! Let’s send them off!’ He glances at the packed
boat and estimates there are at least a hundred and fifty passengers. Panic fills him and
his imagination creates a hundred reasons why he should get off the boat, but all he
does is stare up at the stars.
The boat engine roars and the boat begins moving forward. Slowly leaving the safety of
land and entering the dark abyss of sky and ocean. His left leg cuts through the water
and he hopes he does not bump into any sea creature during the journey.
By some miracle, he manages to fall asleep.
He dreams of his parents again, he prepares dinner with his mother in the kitchen, his
father can be heard from the living room teaching Laila how to convert improper
fractions to mixed fractions. As he sets the dining table he tells his mother his ambition
of becoming a world-renowned economist, his mother smiles and nods along as she
rolls her famous stuffed vine leaves, he can already taste the sweetness of the
pomegranates and the sourness of the lemon juice just from the scent of the stuffed
vine leaves flowing in the kitchen. But out of the blue, he feels a sting on his left foot, he
looks down but finds nothing, and another sting on the knee. Then his thigh. He cannot
move or speak. He is trapped in his own body.
The stings, like hot needles piercing his skin, infect his entire left leg. He wants to
scream, shout, anything. But he cannot. As if underwater, he hears sounds, he focuses
into them and realises they are voices. Panicked voices. Then he wakes.
It is the break of dawn. He still hears shouting and screaming, but his mind is too
occupied with the burning stings on his left leg. He quickly looks down to his left but is
paralysed by the shock of what he finds. Jellyfish. Thousands of yellow jellyfish the size
of basketballs lining the surface of the ocean, like underwater lanterns mimicking the
night sky.
He finally breaks out of the daze and pulls his leg out of the water. He pulls his pants
over his knee. It is like nothing he had ever seen before. Lines of bulging red skin
spread all over his leg, prints of the contact made with the tentacles that somehow
made their way through the pants. It was like a blaze was lit on his leg. He moaned out
of pain, staring at the red lines underneath his skin.
Not knowing what to do next, he looked to the others for help. That is when he noticed
Laila wide awake, watching him. She is silent, pale as a ghost, eyes locked on his leg.
What should he do? He is certain she has seen worse, so returns his focus on his
wounds.
His leg throbs out of pain calling for him to heal it. He searches the boat with his eyes,
looking for something that may cure the ache in his leg. He sees a man, with similar
burn marks on his leg, holding a bright orange plastic box. A first aid kit.
‘Hey, boy in the blue shirt!’ A dozen pairs of eyes turn to him, he feels a sudden rush of
embarrassment, ‘No, sorry I meant the one over there.’
Laila lets out an annoyed huff, then shouts across the boat ‘You there! Boy with the first
aid kit’ the boy turns to her, ‘My brother got burned too! Can we borrow the kit after
you’re done?’
‘How much do you have?’ The boy shouts.
At that, Laila rummages through their backpack and pulls out 50 dinars. Khalid shakes
his head in disagreement, then says ‘We only have 200 dinars, don’t give him the
money, we’ll find another way.’
But she doesn’t listen, she raises it into the air and says ‘Here! Give me the kit first!’
Khalid does not feel anger at her persistence knowing he would do the same, instead
he feels proud of her, a girl her age would be too scared to demand and take control of
a situation with confidence like hers.
‘Double it and I’ll give it to you.’ The boy says with a smirk that is skewed by the pain he
is trying to cover up. By now, most people onboard watch the conversation, they turn to
look at the boy, then at Laila and Khalid, like a crowd watching a tennis match.
Khalid and Laila discuss their situation, but before they reach a conclusion. a woman
snatches the first aid kit out of the boy's hands, then frustratedly says ‘Kindness doesn’t
have a price, you jerk! And that kit isn’t even yours, it was on the boat before anyone
came on board!’ With that, she passes it to the person behind her who then passes it
on, until it finally reaches Laila and Khalid.
Khalid feels an overwhelming sense of gratitude and Laila is left teary-eyed by the
gesture. Khalid shouts ‘Thank you so much ma’am!’ Then he and Laila turn their
attention to the burns on his leg.
Laila opens the first aid kit and pulls out bandages, cleaning wipes and tape. She starts
cleaning the burns with the wipes, and Khalid feels a flood of pain in each swipe. He still
sits on the zigzag edge of the boat, but both his feet are in the boat, so he leans on the
higher edge of the boat. He fears falling backward into the ocean in his sleep, but he
does not dare putting his leg back into the ocean.
He tries to ignore the burning in his leg, but he cannot. He takes the kit in his arms and
searches for something to numb the pain, he finds a bright red gun in the kit and
wonders why it might be there. All he finds is some Aspirin. He decides that something
is better than nothing and swallows the Aspirin while his sister tends to his wounds.
The midday sun is beating down on them, its heat is so intense it reminds him of the
time when his parents and Laila and he were making s’mores by the bonfire, he
accidentally set his marshmallow on fire and tried to put it out with his hand but the
burning hot marshmallow melted into his hand, it burned his hand so intensely, even
when he tried pulling the marshmallow off his hand, it stuck to him like glue, and when
he managed to finally pull it off, it took ten layers of skin with it. He feels a mild version
of that pain all over his body now, which pulls him out of his thoughts.
He glances down at his sunburnt arms and a silly picture flashes into his mind making
him giggle, it was an image of his arms replaced with burnt bread loafs. Then he feels
his stomach rumbling and it registers to him that he had not eaten since yesterday.
He searches through his bag looking for food and water, all he finds is two small bottles
of water, one for him and the other for Laila, he tells her they must ration the water since
the journey is turning out to be longer than expected.
He recalls Seal Face’s broken promise ‘It’ll only be 6 hours’ and anger boils inside of
him like a raging fire. How could someone be so callous to send off desperate people to
what seems to be their deaths. Who knows if they may ever arrive in Italy, he ponders.
Are they truly lost in the seemingly endless vastness of the ocean, never to be seen
again? Would they even be remembered? He dwells in his thoughts for the rest of the
day, until he is blessed with the only escape from the treacherous journey, sleep.
His eyes flutter open to see the sun beginning to float up, and despite his attempts to
fall back into his dreams and forget everything, the burns on his body were persistent in
keeping him awake.
The two water bottles are nearly finished by now, he and Laila are only left with a few
sips of water now. His through is like sandpaper, but he saves the rest of the water for a
more desperate moment. Today is the third day of the voyage. If they do not arrive
soon, they may die of thirst. Or of the jellyfish burns. Or maybe even pure lunacy.
From behind him, he hears a splash of water. It is just the waves playing tricks on him,
he thinks. But he hears it again, then another time. He feels the hairs on his back rise
and he is suddenly alert. He turns around to see what may have caused the sound, but
the sun is blindingly bright, so he raises his hand to block the sun from his eyes. He can
see just enough to catch a glimpse of a large shape leaping out of the water and the
sun reflects on its scales. Then another leaps out, this time he sees just enough to
recognise its silhouette and his heart drops when he does. A spearfish. A group of
spearfish.
‘Spearfish! There’s a bunch of spearfish!’ Khalid shouted in panic, his throat burning as
he spoke.
‘That’s great! So we must be near Italy! The Spearfish are mostly found near Italy!’
Someone exclaims.
‘I think you’re missing the point that we’re on a balloon in the ocean with a bunch of
needle face fish!’ Another person frustratedly screamed in reply.
Panic and anxiety spread through the boat, and maybe the smell of it in the air was
what triggered the attack. A spearfish pierced the edge of the boat, only two rows of
people behind Khalid, screams ripped through the air, a huge rupture is left on the edge
and air rushes out of the bout, deflating it.
They have to act quickly. Khalid grabs the first aid kit and pulls out the bandages, then
he rushes to the rupture, avoiding stepping on the startled people on the way, he is
certain that he stepped on somebody’s hand, and a squeal follows, but there is no time
for apologies now. Now he stands in front of the rupture, he looks around to ask for
help, and he sees Laila right next to him.
Without saying anything, she takes the bandages from his hand and he pulls the two
ends of the rupture together holding them in place while she tapes them together, until it
is fully sealed. The boat is so deflated it is a miracle that it still floats. The boat erupts in
a burst of applause, he pulls Laila into a hug and feels a sense of relief flooding in, and
somewhere along with it, a sense of hope.
But it does not last long. The bandages pop open and the boat deflates even faster than
before. He and Laila try to shut the gaping hole again, but it is too late. Water starts
seeping in. The boat is sinking.
The realisation struck him into silence. Khalid feels an insurmountable weight on his
heart so heavy it physically hurts him. He killed his own sister. He brought her here. He
put her through all this pain and misery, all to end with an even more painful death.
Nobody could hate themselves more than he does now.
He stands paralysed by the grief. A lump grows in his throat and tears stream down his
face like rivers. He does not bother to hide it, he turns to his sister and pulls her into a
hug, she too, is crying ‘I’m so sorry Laila. I’m so so sorry…’ he apologises over and
over, knowing it still would never be enough.
‘It’s not your fault. You never forced me on this boat.’ Her voice is shaky from the crying,
but still impactful. ‘I chose to get on this boat. You did so much for me after Mum and
Dad died, I’m so grateful to have you and at least we’ll leave the world together.’
They both stare out at the ocean and the purple-pink sky, watching the sun sink along
with them, watching the sunset for the last time. He accepts this fate rather than fighting
it, no matter how horrible it is. Every person will taste death. He happens to face it with
the person he loves most in this world, and that is the greatest blessing he could ever
ask for.
An object appears in front of the sun, and despite the heavy weight on his shoulder, he
makes a joke ‘We’re staring out at the sunset before we die, and something decides to
show up to ruin this perfect view? How could this get any worse?’ Laila laughs through
her tears and he feels so grateful to have had her as his sister.
The object's silhouette slowly grows and eventually blocks out the sun, and that is when
he realises what it is. A ship. He stands in disbelief, then turns to Laila, who also turns
to look at him, they both are too shocked to speak. Until she does, ‘Is it a ship? It’s a
ship! We still have a chance!’
He remembers seeing the bright red gun in the first aid kit, and it clicked in his mind that
it is not an ordinary gun, it is a flare gun. He exclaims ‘There's a flare gun in the first aid
kit! Where’s the kit?’ Only Laila hears him, the others are too panicked to hear a thing.
He and Laila search for a first aid kit and spot it floating in the other end of the boat, it is
seconds away from being engulfed by the ocean. They both run to the kit, pushing
through people, but the water makes them slower and intensifies the pain in Khalid's left
leg, the kit it inches towards the ocean and then falls out of the boat. As it does, Laila
catches it.
She quickly opens it and pulls out the flare gun, Khalid finally catches up to her. She
gives it to him and nods, he takes it in his hand and raises it to the sky ‘On the count of
three. One. Two. Three!’ And he pulls the trigger. A loud bang pierces through the air
and the flare bursts in the sky like a firework. Now they wait.
The short moments pass like centuries. They stand watching the ship slowly near them
while they sink. He asks himself, did the crew see the flare? And as if in response, a
light flashes on and off from the ship. Help is coming their way.
The ship arrives just in time, when the boat has completely sunk. It is night now, but the
moon is full and bright and illuminates everything. The crew lets down a ladder and one
by one, people board the ship.
He is on board the ship now, belly full, too full actually, he feels he might vomit it all out.
His wounds were taken care of by a doctor and the pain is replaced with a mild
discomfort. He leans on the rail of the ship, the cool breeze flowing through his freshly
washed hair.
Laila is asleep in the deck below among other children her age. She is finally safe now.
He feels all the burden on his shoulders are lifted. He feels relieved and relaxed, and for
the first time, there are no jellyfish or spearfish or any other sea monster that disrupt it.
He can see Italy from a distance, the lush green mountains, the silver sand beach. For a
moment, he thinks he did die and is in heaven now. But he pinches himself, making
sure he is still alive.
He stares up at the stars, the ones he found comfort in since the beginning of the
journey. They slowly disappear as he nears the city lights. The stars appear in his
darkest moments, bringing him light. They disappear as he leaves these dark moments
in the past, but he knows they will always be there for him to shine light when he needs
it most.