Aisha went home to pack their suitcases. Each person was allowed only one small overnight bag. The driver had met with them and explained the details.
“Do not look anyone in the eyes. Keep your heads covered. Bring cash. And do not speak unless spoken to.”
Aisha tried to decide what to put in these cases. What would they need for the rest of their lives? She put in the oil painting her mother made, but then swapped it out for a jacket. Her wedding photo went in, but she took it out in exchange for a picture of her grandparents. Underwear beat socks, but socks beat hat.
***
“I’m scared. How can I possibly bring children into this nightmare?” Aisha had asked.
“Things will get better,” Khalid had said.
But they didn’t get better, and soon even Khalid had to admit that Iraq might never be safe again.
“We will leave,” he’d said.
Aisha had been waiting to hear these words for months, but she knew not to press on. Time had taught her to plant a seed and sit back and wait. If she pushed he would resist — this was Khalid’s way.
***
She looked around at all the items on the shelves and in the drawers. It all seemed insignificant. There were so many things: books that they’d already read, movies that had been watched, clothes that didn’t even fit, and so many knickknacks.
Aisha and Khalid didn’t know where they would go after they made it to Jordan. They were allowed to stay for only three months and they were not authorized to work. The one thing she knew — they could no longer stay in Baghdad. Since Saddam’s army had invaded Kuwait, chaos had set in. Gangs had taken over parts of the city, and looting and crime were rampant. She had wanted to have children, but it was no place to raise kids.
She busied herself with packing and dreaming of their new life as the radio blared in the background. “We will overcome this. We are fierce warriors. Allah is on our side. Kuwait is rightfully ours. It was the British that took Kuwait from us, and now these infidels are living like kings while we exist like beggars. The Kuwaiti people have stolen our land, our riches, and now they are stealing from us again. It is true; they are slant drilling in the Rumalia field. I have seen this…”
Aisha turned the radio off.
Toothbrush beat deodorant; it was getting easier. Her eyes fixed on the beautiful jewelry box Khalid had bought her for their first anniversary. It was marble with an inlayed picture on the lid; tiny marble shards made up an image of a gray heron. She picked it up and rubbed its smooth surface with her fingers. Aisha set the elegant box back on the dresser and placed her hairbrush in her suitcase. She repeated an old Arabic proverb, “Close the door from which the wind blows and be calm.”
Amy Corbin has been published in filling Station, The Cynic, Ascent Aspirations, Shine, Every Day Poets, Every Day Fiction, Haruah: A Breath of Heaven, Ignavia Press, Flask and Pen,The Battered Suitcase, and Flashes in the Dark. She will soon be published in Short Story Library, Smokebox, and Boston Literary Magazine.
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16 Responses to “LEAVING • by Amy Corbin”
Comments
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June 21st, 2009 at 2:47 am
A solid enough story.
However, the dialogue was a bit wooden due to a lack of contractions.
June 21st, 2009 at 5:43 am
Very depressing–like a news story or reading a refugee’s diary. It was not like reading a fiction story, which is what I anticipate finding here.
June 21st, 2009 at 5:56 am
I liked this very much. Showing how Aisha gradually embraces their decision via the hard, practical choices she makes was very subtle and true-to-life. I like that you didn’t throw in a jarring note of false sentiment at the end. This rang true.
June 21st, 2009 at 6:20 am
Very realistic dialogue. Loved the choice of the last line. Good job, Amy.
June 21st, 2009 at 6:29 am
A sad but good story. I liked your characters a lot and how they dealt with what they faced. It’s a good lesson to mon from the things you can’t take with you, even though it’s a hard one from me to follow.
I gave it five stars.
June 21st, 2009 at 7:17 am
I like the last paragraph – the way the writer brings alive and rounds out an enormous, heart breaking event with the tiny detailed acts necessary in facing it. But the proverb (maybe it loses in translation) seems dangerous advice to follow – to shut ones eyes to danger and look away.
June 21st, 2009 at 7:26 am
Very disjointed, didn’t seem to go anywhere. The start was weak, we had no idea what was going on until after that second “scene break”. Not much plot, just somebody trying to decide what to pack in limited space.
And the use of a proverb should provide some sort of familiar link to the reader; in this case, use of a totally unfamiliar Arabic proverb leaves the ending weak for those with little acquaintance with the culture.
June 21st, 2009 at 8:25 am
A good idea, reasonably framed. I think it was a little dry though. For me going over choices of socks over hats and simple things like toothbrush over deodernt dragged the story down. The more important items like family pictures and ‘why’ she chose her grandparents’ over her own photo were where the interesting part of the story lay and you left it fairly unexplored.
June 21st, 2009 at 9:20 am
Agreeing with Bob, the harsh reality of the story was told well with out the false sentiment.
June 21st, 2009 at 9:59 am
Hey Everyone,
Thanks for the comments. I love this place! I love all the honest critiques from all of you.
June 21st, 2009 at 12:41 pm
I lost track of what was going on in the background of the story here:
“The one thing she knew — they could no longer stay in Baghdad. Since Saddam’s army had invaded Kuwait, chaos had set in.”
If this is pre-Gulf War I, it would seem these people should be Kuwaitis fleeing Saddam’s army. Or are they Kuwaitis living in Baghdad who need to flee? Why is there chaos in Baghdad at this point in time? The names are standard Arabic and give no clue.
Writing was good, situation was interesting. I hope I’m never a refugee.
–John
June 21st, 2009 at 4:26 pm
If I were in this situation, I’d wear the extra underwear and socks and take that box. It might be worth something in survival trade.
The proverb at the end was vague enough that I had to sit and ponder its meaning, and didn’t really add to the story for me.
June 21st, 2009 at 4:30 pm
Following the progression of decisions — what to take, what to leave behind — brought the current events/news story down to a more personal level. And, “Time had taught her to plant a seed and sit back and wait.” Isn’t that the truth?! It’s a lesson we all learn in time.
June 23rd, 2009 at 2:19 am
Of course I have no idea how much research (or even first -hand experience) went into this but it does have the feeling of observation from a distance. Nonetheless, I just loved it for the sentiment–for the attempt to reach out and understand one aspect of a life that has been decimated.
June 23rd, 2009 at 1:59 pm
Poignant. I liked the value judgments. They said a lot about the character. A character who would choose the irreplacable heirlooms over the practicalities of life would be a totally different person.
June 24th, 2009 at 6:16 am
Thank you all again for reading and commenting.