The Beekeeper of Aleppo(54)

I wandered over and asked them if I could sit down. They were wary, their eyes darting to the woods, but they were too young and too naive to refuse. They shook my hand and introduced themselves as Ryad and Ali, twin brothers, not identical, about fifteen years old. Ryad was the taller and stronger of the two, Ali had something of the child in him still; together they were like puppies. I asked them questions and the boys answered, talking over each other at times.

They told me how they fled Afghanistan and their father’s murderers. After their father’s death the twins were themselves targeted by the Taliban and their mother urged them to leave before they were captured. She didn’t want to lose her boys as well as her husband. They described to me how she had cried and kissed their faces a hundred times because she feared that she would never see them again. They told me about their journey through Turkey and Lesbos, and how they arrived in this strange city with no help and no idea what to do next. That was when a man advised them to head to Victoria Square, a well-known meeting point for refugees.

‘We thought somebody there would help us,’ Ali said.

‘And we couldn’t sleep on the streets anymore.’

‘And all the benches were taken.’

‘And there were too many gangs.’

‘Ryad was afraid.’

‘Ali was more afraid – he was shaking in the night.’

‘So they told us to come here.’

‘So, you know Nadim?’ I said. ‘Has he been helpful to you?’

‘Who’s Nadim?’ Ryad said. They both stared at me without blinking, waiting for a reply.

‘Maybe I got his name wrong.’ I forced a smile. ‘The man with the guitar. The man with the scars.’

They quickly looked at each other and their eyes became dark and unwelcoming.

‘I think you mean Ahmed,’ Ryad said.

‘Oh, that’s it! I knew I’d gotten it wrong. I’ve met so many people these last few weeks and I’m terrible with names.’

The boys remained silent.

‘Did he help you?’ I said. ‘I’ve heard that he’s very kind.’

‘He helped us out quite a bit the first night,’ Ali said, and Ryad nudged him. It was slight, on his thigh, but I saw it.

‘I see. And then?’

Ali was reluctant to answer. He lowered his face to the ground, not looking at me or his brother.

‘Does he want the money back?’ I said.

Ali nodded. Ryad rolled his eyes, looked up at the sky.

‘How much?’

‘We are paying in instalments, OK?’ Ryad spoke up now, he sounded defensive.

‘How? Where do you find the money to make the repayments?’ I must have looked at Ryad’s new shoes because he tucked his legs under him, but it was Ali’s reaction that disturbed me the most. I noticed that his body folded inward and he wrapped his arms protectively around himself, his face bright red. From nowhere there was a shadow that blocked out the sun and I saw that Nadim was standing over us, rebab in hand, a crooked smile on his face.

‘I see you’ve all met,’ he said, taking a seat beside us on the blanket, and he began to play, the soft sound washing through my mind, washing away the thoughts and worries, the melody warm, dipping lower and darker and becoming even more mesmerising. After an hour of music, Nadim put down his guitar and drifted away from us. I saw him head for the woods and decided to follow him, past a group of Greek men smoking by a bench, past two women loitering in the shadows. I followed him to a clearing with a fallen tree and as he sat down on the cracked log, he took something out of his rucksack: a small, sharp penknife. He placed its blade on his left wrist, paused for a second, then scanned his surroundings. I stepped back into the shadows to make sure that he wouldn’t see me. Then without any more hesitation he ran the knife along his forearm. I could see the creases of pain on his face, his eyes rolling backwards, so that for a brief moment there was only white. His arm was bleeding and he took some tissues out of his bag and held them over the fresh wounds. But it was the look on his face that I remember the most; he seemed angry. Was this punishment?

I moved slightly and a twig broke and Nadim looked up and his eyes settled on me, narrowing. I stepped back, further into the darkness, and not knowing what else to do I began to run through the woods and back to the campsite.

‘What happened?’ Afra said when I sat down beside her.

‘Nothing. Why?’

‘Because you’re breathing like a dog.’

‘No, I’m not, I’m perfectly calm.’

She shook her head slightly in resignation and in that moment Nadim emerged from the trees and sat down on the step of the statue. He suddenly appeared emaciated again just as he did the first day I saw him – his strength had been drained from him. I waited to see if he would approach me, but he didn’t even glance in my direction. He simply rolled one cigarette after another and sat there for an hour or more smoking.

The boys were on their blanket, playing a game on their phone and laughing. Sometimes Ali punched Ryad’s arm, and then Ryad got fed up and took the phone, sitting with his back to Ali so that he couldn’t see the screen.

Although Nadim seemed relaxed and preoccupied with his own thoughts, I could see that his mind was actually on the boys, his eyes constantly flicking towards them.