A Good Land. Nada Jarrar Awar

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СКАЧАТЬ adamantly refused. The civil war had just come to a shaky end and they were both anxious, he said, to get back and play a part in rebuilding Lebanon.

      I did not know it then, but my uncle’s determination played a part in my own longing to return, and confirmed my conviction that what I had always seen as my roots on this earth were worth preserving, that in abandoning them I might also be losing the very qualities that defined me. How does one live, I began to ask myself, without a clear sense of self in a world where individuality is constantly being eroded?

      ‘You know, amou,’ I tell my uncle during one of our conversations on the terrace. The air is warm but not uncomfortably so. ‘In many ways you’re very different from my father.’

      ‘Oh?’

      ‘I mean you both grew up here, set up business and eventually married and had families. Yet he was prepared to give it all up and move away, without looking back once.’

      I shake my head to emphasize my disapproval.

      ‘There’s no right or wrong in what we each chose to do, Layla,’ he says.

      ‘He left home and dragged his family away with him, without allowing anyone else a say in it.’

      ‘You were too young to make choices then, habibti, and your mother was very happy to leave the war behind. They did it for you, after all.’

      ‘You have children too,’ I protest. ‘Why did you decide to stay?’

      He sits up and looks at me.

      ‘I suppose I couldn’t imagine myself and my family being happy anywhere else.’

      ‘Is it really as simple as that?’

      He shrugs his shoulders and leans back in his chair.

      ‘Why don’t we just try to enjoy the afternoon and stop worrying about things we can do nothing about?’ he says not unkindly.

      Would it take only a change of perspective to make me comfortable with myself wherever I happen to be, I wonder later. Could Margo be right, am I simply misleading myself in thinking that there is only one place, one way for me to be?

      Margo is not old in my eyes. Her hair is white, her skin is furrowed and lined and the colour in her eyes seems to have faded to translucent, but her spirit is unblemished by age, as though in living so long and so much she has merely reverted to innocence and fooled the inevitable movement of time. It is strange but often, when we are together, I feel wiser and less vulnerable than she, the protector rather than the one in need of protection.

      ‘Margo, are you on your way somewhere?’

      She is standing at the end of the alleyway leaning heavily on her stick and looking around her with some bewilderment.

      ‘Layla, sweetheart,’ she says, her voice anxious. ‘Fouad just dropped me off. He couldn’t find anywhere to park his car so I told him to go on home.’

      ‘Why don’t I walk with you up the stairs?’

      I reach out to take her arm but she shakes her head.

      ‘I…I’m feeling suddenly tired, sweetheart. I think I need to rest for a moment.’

      She is looking pale and I am concerned she might fall down. I knock on the door of one of the ground-floor flats and ask them for a chair.

      ‘I’m sorry for being so much trouble, sweetheart,’ she says, sitting down.

      I hand her the glass of water that the neighbour has given me and she sips at it slowly.

      ‘Perhaps we should take you to see a doctor?’

      ‘Margo, are you alright?’ Fouad asks, walking into the alley.

      He leans over to wrap an arm around Margo’s shoulders.

      ‘I found a parking spot further up the road,’ he says. ‘I didn’t want to leave you to walk up the stairs on your own.’

      ‘Please don’t fret you two,’ Margo says, patting Fouad’s arm. ‘I’m feeling better now.’

      ‘I’m glad you were here for her, Layla,’ Fouad says.

      ‘You are beginning to look better, Margo,’ I say. ‘The colour’s coming back into your cheeks.’

      ‘I was a bit worried there for a moment,’ Fouad says, looking at me. ‘We were on our way down from the mountains and Margo said she wasn’t feeling too well. But she wouldn’t let me stop at a doctor’s to have her checked.’

      ‘I’m a useless old thing sometimes, I know,’ Margo interrupts him. ‘But I’m perfectly alright now, and I’m ready to make my way up to the flat.’

      ‘I’ll come with you,’ Fouad insists, helping her up from the chair.

      Margo looks at him and shakes her head.

      ‘Actually, I was on my way back upstairs,’ I say. ‘I just realized I’ve forgotten something. Why don’t I go with you, Margo?’

      ‘If you’re going to be with her, Layla, that’ll be fine. She’s always had a hard time accepting help anyway.’

      He bends down and gives Margo a hug, then pulls away again, looking at her with a depth of tenderness that makes a deep impression on me.

      Once upstairs, I ask Margo if she would like me to help her into the bedroom.

      ‘You know I’ve always thought of myself as self-sufficient,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘I suppose it’s easy to do when you’re young and strong, but old age changes all that.’

      She laughs and I reach out to touch her hand.

      ‘I’m always here for you, Margo.’

      ‘Yes, I know, sweetheart. It’s just that sometimes I can’t help wishing…’

      She looks down and brushes the front of her sweater with her hand.

      ‘You know, I never thought this would happen to me,’ she continues. ‘I always believed I would remain strong enough not to have to rely on anyone.’

      She pauses and looks up at me again.

      ‘It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?’

      On the outside landing, by Margo’s front door, is a plant pot perched on a stand. Inside it is a small nest and four baby birds, their disproportionately large and bare heads quivering on thin necks, their beaks wide open.

      ‘This is amazing,’ I exclaim, peering into the pot.

      ‘They hatched only a few days ago. The mother comes and goes all the time, feeding them and keeping them warm.’

      ‘She doesn’t mind you being around?’

      Margo shakes her head.

      ‘Not СКАЧАТЬ