As the plane landed Ameen felt something really strange. He wanted to call Petra, to tell her that he was there in her country, that he was ready to start the life they once planned, that this time he was going to stay there forever. As he walked in the airport and saw the people embracing on the terminals, he could not control himself anymore and let those tears that wanted to come out for so long to flow on his face. It was almost 7 o`clock in the evening and he wished he could hear the call for the pray. But he did not. There was no mosque there. In fact there was nothing from the world he was used with. He had to admit that he let it all behind. He wanted to have at least one thing that was sure, one point that he could start from, but all he felt was a big emptiness. He was alone in the middle of nowhere, in a country where he was just an Arab, a woman beater, a terrorist. He knew it would be a long road convincing these people that he does not want to kill anybody, that he has no bomb under his shirt.
He went out and felt the cold weather freezing even his bones. It was not like home and it was not like when he illegally came here either. Then he was like a stone, he did not care about anything, de did not feel anything but the endless pain Petra caused. But now it was much different. More than one year passed and things were clear in some points of view.
"Maybe I should have call her then. Maybe we would still have a chance. Who knows?" - he thought. "But now it is too late. It is not worth. I will just live the days with what those bring to me. She would say the same."
He went to the railway station and bought a ticket to Petra`s city. When he saw the mountain, it was like being home. He smiled for the first time he landed in this country. It was like returning after a journey, and he did no longer feel the cold october wind.
He called the man who borrowed him money, the one who took the necklace from Petra, then sent it back. He was also a Palestinian, but lived in Petra`s country for many years. He had a business and hired Ameen. In a few days he found an appartment he rented and started to arrange it as he and Petra planned on that special night in Istanbul. He painted the walls to purple in the kitchen, bought black and white furniture and colored cups. Then he started to decorate the Arab room - as she said. He put a sadejah (carpet used for the pray) on the wall, a water pipe on the table and a color lamp from home beside the bed. He knew there were other details too specified by Petra but he did not remember them all.
"We should have done this together hayaty. U would know better what to do. Off, ween enty?" (where are you)
He had to take care of himself, he was totally alone, had to do everything on his own, he had to face the reality which was cruel. The people were not very kind to him, called him terrorist my his back. He knew that, he felt it every day, every step.
But he always remembered Babba`s words. He did not want to become a European, he was proud of being Palestinian, Arab, Muslim. He also remembered Petra`s words, how she wanted him to come to her city with all he had and all he was. She never wanted to change him, then why did others, strangers?
One day he saw an announce that the local university was searching for an Arab assistant. It was a sign he had to follow, a sign that he had to remain who he was.
He went out and felt the cold weather freezing even his bones. It was not like home and it was not like when he illegally came here either. Then he was like a stone, he did not care about anything, de did not feel anything but the endless pain Petra caused. But now it was much different. More than one year passed and things were clear in some points of view.
"Maybe I should have call her then. Maybe we would still have a chance. Who knows?" - he thought. "But now it is too late. It is not worth. I will just live the days with what those bring to me. She would say the same."
He went to the railway station and bought a ticket to Petra`s city. When he saw the mountain, it was like being home. He smiled for the first time he landed in this country. It was like returning after a journey, and he did no longer feel the cold october wind.
He called the man who borrowed him money, the one who took the necklace from Petra, then sent it back. He was also a Palestinian, but lived in Petra`s country for many years. He had a business and hired Ameen. In a few days he found an appartment he rented and started to arrange it as he and Petra planned on that special night in Istanbul. He painted the walls to purple in the kitchen, bought black and white furniture and colored cups. Then he started to decorate the Arab room - as she said. He put a sadejah (carpet used for the pray) on the wall, a water pipe on the table and a color lamp from home beside the bed. He knew there were other details too specified by Petra but he did not remember them all.
"We should have done this together hayaty. U would know better what to do. Off, ween enty?" (where are you)
He had to take care of himself, he was totally alone, had to do everything on his own, he had to face the reality which was cruel. The people were not very kind to him, called him terrorist my his back. He knew that, he felt it every day, every step.
But he always remembered Babba`s words. He did not want to become a European, he was proud of being Palestinian, Arab, Muslim. He also remembered Petra`s words, how she wanted him to come to her city with all he had and all he was. She never wanted to change him, then why did others, strangers?
One day he saw an announce that the local university was searching for an Arab assistant. It was a sign he had to follow, a sign that he had to remain who he was.
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