Exodus

An African woman risks everything to cross into Europe. (a story i wrote sometime back)

The wind stopped howling in the dark night and the flail of the waves had become softer. The boat now gently rocked on the waters, moving with the tide. Nikika opened her eyes and looked at her little girl.


Wrapped in a bundle of all the clothes she owned, the girl was asleep. Like the rest of the boat, she smelled of sweat, vomit, blood and hopelessness. It was a miracle that she was still breathing.


More than twenty people had died since they left the shores of Morocco. Their bodies sadly and silently dropped into the ocean, to make the boat lighter. No one had mourned; they would mourn when they reached their destination, if they reached there.


Nikika’s need to go to Europe was such that she was ready to sacrifice her life for it.


Now in the middle of the journey that would change her life forever, she got cold feet. She wanted to go back to her country. She wanted to face poverty again and battle it long and hard, try to get something out of it. She wanted to go back to her daughter's father.


She was ready to take the beatings, sleep hungry and work like a donkey if that was needed for her daughter to live. She wanted to go back and die in her father's mud thatched house. She wanted to but it was too late.


She passed her tongue over her lips. They were dry and cracked.


Blood had clout in between the cracks and it hurt when she opened her mouth. Her throat was dry and hot; she thought a burning coal was in there. Her hands were too numb to feel cold. Although she moved them, the fingers did not respond as she would have liked it.




She closed her eyes and remembered the journey.


Anxiety had been the initial feeling but this had given way to fear.


She had prayed to Jesus and the Virgin. When her prayers failed, she prayed to her ancestors, then to Allah and at last to the spirits of the sea. She wished, hoped and made vows like never before. But alas, her prayers seemed to bounce off the heavens without any answers.


When the boat nearly capsized, she cried for what she thought was the last time, holding her girl tightly.


She told the frightened little girl of how much she loved her, wiping off the girl’s tears with her tongue. The girl cried because her mother cried. She was so distraught over her mother’s sadness that she failed to see the danger they were in.


When her sister could no longer hold onto the rocking boat, Nikika’s tears failed her. She did not cry. She watched her sister fall into the ocean. She watched as she struggled, swallowing water, coming up, hands frantically searching for something to hold on to and then as her head slowly submerged. Nikika watched and swore that will not let that happen to her daughter as long as she lived.


She now tried to give her fingers life by rubbing them on her clothes. Her eyes blood shot, from fatigue and salt water stared into the night.


She felt more dead than alive. She couldn't remember how long they had sailed but she could remember every face of the dead ones. She recalled the rising winds, the biting force of the water on the boat and the fear that rose among them like a mountain on a plain. She could still hear the wails of those who fell aboard, the helplessness state she felt as she watched them try to swim, stretching their hands out.


They went down after a short while, came up and made the last effort to live before the angry ocean swallowed them. She had watched the trail of blood that followed the boats as sharks feasted on them.


Now, the sharks were nowhere in sight. The angry ocean was calm and everything seemed at peace. She turned and looked at the remaining seven people on the boat. They were all asleep, tired of fighting fate. They were all ready to embrace death.


They slept, waiting for it, praying for it. Those that had hope knew it no more. Those with dreams had stopped dreaming and those whose hearts had pained for a better tomorrow prayed for a quicker death.


Nikika raised her head up and looked at the wide expanse of the ocean. Her head ached, her neck pained when she moved it. She stretched as she looked. At the edges of the horizon, the night seemed gray.


She gently rubbed her eyes in disbelief and quickly removed her hands when she felt the salt penetrate the eyelids. The pain was forgotten as her breathing became rapid. No, she thought. It couldn't be land. Could it? She sat up and looked hard in the night. She saw lights.


She screamed with joy. The others woke up, startled. Nikika was pointing and screaming 'land' over and over again. She picked up her girl and hugged her so tight that the six year old started crying. They all looked where she pointed. Then, they all started speaking at the same time while hugging each other in joy. The boat tilted dangerously. They stopped their sudden movements and silence once again reigned in the boat.


An old man picked up an oar. Nikika looked at him, put down her daughter and picked another oar. The others followed suit. They started rowing, slowly towards the lights. The little girl looked at the lights unimpressed and sighed. She looked at the excited adults in wonder and went back to sleep. The boat slowly crawled on the thick dark waters as they paddled. Nikika's every muscle ached, she felt her body strain with every push but she still rowed. The old man started humming a tune.


'Nkala, nkala sallah

Luka ole ntala lah'


'Trouble, trouble everywhere God,

please look at me now.'


A younger man started singing the song. His voice was soft, like the sound of a flute; it soothed away the pains and brought tears to her eyes.


As he raised his voice, their speed slowly increased and tears flowed freely. They cried for the dead, the hardships they endured. They cried for yesterday and tomorrow.


'Luka ole ntala lah,

Poleh koha aha'


'God, please look at me now,

I am coming home soon'


Their spirits rose with every row, their pains seemed less with every centimeter gained. They rowed as they hummed the chorus. Dawn was at hand, land ahead and this time, it mattered not where they landed.


And as the land drew near, the voices rose.


'Luka ole ntala lah,

Ole ntala lah'


'God, please look at me now,

Please look at me now.'