Sinai, the reef, the german child
Dusk. A clear & white light. Me, then some deck chairs (empty), a ridge of speckled stones, a line of white foam galloping forward like a whole cavalry of alabaster horses, proud and strong, then the sea, the royal sea. And, cloaked in haze, the red mountains of Saudi Arabia.
But that is that way. The other way, and all around us, the fabricated world of Dahab, cookiecut specifically as a 'backpackers paradise' for the sunseeking European 'adventurer'. The trashy bar, shaped like a big ship, the stores sparkling with hippified handicrafts, the walk-way dotted with touts begging us into their resturants with words like 'chill-out' and 'relax' and 'lots of fresh seafood, man'. The arabs on horseback clacking up and down the shore looking for potential riders. The pasty tourists waddling to the water in their ridiculous scuba gear. Palm trees and white concrete bungalows. And there, beyond, the craggy shadow of the Sinai mountains.
And then there is the third direction, downwards, below the lapping tide. This is the reason I am here, and its the reason most of us are here, all the rest is thankfully secondary to this. The coral reefs, pulsing with colour. The swarms of vibrant fish, the clams, the lonesome old turtle. The Darth Vader noises of your regulator and the squeak of equalised ears.
We've dived for two days as part of the PADI open water course, and theres two to go, progressively deeper and more exciting as it goes on. We rest up at night on the Bedouin cushions with the rumbling tide crashing on our backs. We eat calamari and conjugate Arabic verbs and work out how to use a recreational dive planner and I read the most incredible 5000 year history of Cairo and we smoke apple flavoured shisha and shoo the gaunt, desperate kittens who slip under the low tables. The stones make a soft chattering sound as the waves receed.
We have met up a couple of times with three other guys from the Arabic course in Cairo, who are here as well and diving through another club, and who are German and Swiss and Swedish. Since arriving here last weekend they have kind of adopted this kid, along with the Swiss girl they are staying with, who is teaching here for 6 months. This is the story:
This is Hanas. He is nine years old, has a lovely sun tan and speaks German and a really tiny bit of English. Really tiny. We do not know his surname. He came here to Egypt with his German mother for a holiday in Sharm-al-Sheik. While she was here, she fell in love with an Egyptian man who lives here in Dahab. She decided to move here to be with him. Five days ago now, she gave Hanas 500 Egyptian pounds, which is about 110 Australian dollars, or about 70 Euros. Then she left Dahab, and Egypt, by car, to return to Germany overland, through the Middle East, Turkey, and Eastern Europe. She left him with her new boyfriend, who speaks absolutely no German, and has not really any interest in Hanas whatsoever, and she said "I'll be back in four weeks, with your sister" (she is apparently staying with her grandparents). The general idea is that she is going overland to avoid any suspicion when she returns with the girl, as the real father will not know anything about this. Hanas has no idea what to do with 500 pounds, he speaks no Arabic and not enough English to really do anything, he spends the days roaming the beachfront finding things to play with. He is very energetic and very friendly and funny. His new 'father' has no idea where Hanas is at any time, as is often the Egyptian way with children, especially around Dahab, where small troops of thick haired Beduoin girls roam the resturants, barking at tourists to buy bracelets and taking self portraits with peoples digital cameras sitting on tables. Anyway, this Swiss girl found him, and has adopted him for a while, and the other guys are helping her, and each day and each night they (and now, occasionally, we) play with him (hide and seek, wrestling, joke telling), feed him, make sure he showers and cleans his teeth, and put him to bed in the spare bed at their apartment. He clings to you, jumps all over you, cannot bare to lose your attention for a moment. He doesn't really know when his mum will be back. No one really knows what the best thing is to do now.
I almost didn't believe them at all when they told me all that. What a bitch.
Here is a joke Hanas told me:
An English person is walking along the beach and there are lots of German people all around, and the English person says "hi" and the German people all get scared and say "where?!". Hai is German for shark you see, but he told it in broken English so it didn't really work, but it was a nice try, for my benefit, my German being less than broken itself.
Please relay a heartfelt Hi to young, bounding Hanas on my behalf, all the way from Perth. His story is a humbling one, his Mother a befuddling one, but his smile: it's nothing short of luminous. I wish him more than mere luck.
ReplyDeleteM.S.
And on a less sombre note, let it be known that I think you can make words dance, sentences sing. Please do keep titillating us with your tales from afar.
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