A Hope More Powerful Than the Sea(52)
Approximately one hundred people had initially survived the shipwreck, but as the night wore on, more people would die from cold, exhaustion, and despair. Some who had lost their families gave up, taking off their life jackets and allowing themselves to sink into the sea. At one point Doaa heard desperate shouts as fellow passengers attempted to give hope to one young man who had removed his life jacket. “Don’t do it,” the other survivors pleaded. “Please don’t give up.” But the young man pushed the life jacket away and sank head down into the sea. He was so close to Doaa she could almost touch him.
Amid the despair, a solidarity emerged among those who were left. People with life jackets moved toward those without them, offering a shoulder to hold on to for a rest. Those with a little food or water shared it. Those whose spirits remained strong comforted and encouraged people who wanted to give up.
Bassem took off his jeans so they wouldn’t weigh him down, but he was losing strength. They had been in the sea for twelve hours. “I’m sorry, Doaa. I’m so sorry,” he kept apologizing. He was devastated that he had insisted they travel by sea when it terrified her so much. “It’s my fault this happened. I shouldn’t have made you get on the boat.”
“We made this choice together,” she told him firmly. His teeth were chattering and his lips had turned blue. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she saw how weak he was, but she kept her voice steady. “We’re going to make it Bassem,” she said, echoing the words he had used to comfort her in the boat. “We’ll be rescued and we’re going to have a family together.”
“I swear to God, Doaa, I love you more than anyone in the world,” Bassem said, clutching her hand. He crossed his arms over the edge of the float, rested his head upon them, and drifted in and out of sleep. Doaa held on to his hand as if it were the only thing keeping her from joining those the sea had taken.
When the sun rose the next day, Doaa saw that the night had taken at least half of the survivors. Corpses were floating all around her, facedown, blue and bloated. Doaa recognized some of them, but not from the group of initial survivors. She realized that they were the people who had drowned when the boat first sank, and their bodies must now have risen to the surface. The people had drowned before her eyes and throughout the night had disappeared their lungs having taken in too much water instead of air, causing their bodies to become heavy and sink. Many of the bodies that now floated in the water had their hands clutched to their chests as if they were cold. Some of the remaining survivors who had made it through the night without life jackets desperately resorted to hanging on to the corpses to keep afloat.
Doaa choked on the stench from the dead. When Bassem awoke and observed the scene around them, he began apologizing again. But this time, Doaa could hear resignation in his voice as if he had given up hope that they would survive. It sounded to Doaa as if his apologies were actually Bassem saying good-bye.
“Don’t worry,” Doaa assured Bassem, feeling her love for him well up in her chest. She, too, had come to accept that they might not make it much longer. “This is our fate.”
A man nearby must have noticed Doaa and Bassem’s spirits flagging. He yelled over to Bassem, “Keep moving or your body will go stiff!” So Bassem let go of the ring and swam off for a few minutes, looking around for something to bring Doaa—a bottle of water to moisten their parched mouths, or a box of juice to combat the dizziness that overwhelmed them both. But there was nothing but endless sea, bobbing heads, and bits of wood. He returned to Doaa, shaking his head. The sun was getting hot, which warmed their bodies but made them thirstier. Bassem was sick from all the salt water he had swallowed, so Doaa stuck her fingers down his throat to help him throw it up. Afterward, Bassem once again crossed his arms over the side of Doaa’s inflatable ring and laid his head on them to rest.
A small group of survivors gathered around the couple, treading water. Some, probably delirious, were saying things that made no sense. One man said, “There is a café nearby, go get us tea!” Amid the cacophony, Bassem looked directly at Doaa, raised his voice loud enough so that everyone could hear, and solemnly declared, “I love you more than anyone I have ever known. I’m sorry I let you down. I only wanted what was best for you.” Doaa saw that his eyes were feverish, and he stared into her eyes as if it was the last time he would ever see them. He spoke with an urgency she hadn’t heard since he’d threatened to go back to Syria if she wouldn’t agree to marry him. It was as if getting the words out was the most important thing he’d ever done. “It was my job to take care of you,” he said, “and I failed. I wanted us to have a new life together. I wanted the best for you. Forgive me before I die, my love.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Doaa told him, through sobs. “We will be together always, in life and in death.” She pleaded with him to hold on, telling him over and over that he was not to blame.
As she reached over to stroke his cheek, she noticed an older man swimming toward them, clutching a small baby on his shoulder. He held on to a water canister with his other hand, kicking his legs hard to get closer to them. When he reached them, he looked at Doaa with pleading eyes and said, “I’m exhausted. Could you please hold on to Malak for a while?” The baby was wearing pink pajamas, had two small teeth, and was crying. Doaa thought the baby looked just like what the name Malak meant—“angel.” The man explained that he was her grandfather. He was a fisherman from Gaza, and they had left to escape the latest Israeli bombardment. Twenty-seven members of their family had been on the boat, and all the others had drowned. “We are the only two who survived. Please keep this girl with you,” he begged. “She is only nine months old. Look after her. Consider her part of you. My life is over.”