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Ana and Binta shuffled
together along in the queue of anxious people waiting to leave Alif. The barbed
wire marking Alif territory was just metres behind them, with the striped
barrier pole raised by an officer carrying a fearsome submachine gun. Ahead of
them and temptingly near was the barbed wire border of Agdal. Between them and
the border, however, were very officious looking customs officers and armed
guards who were meticulously discomfiting all those ahead of them in the queue.
Already, a couple had been rudely pushed to one side, and stood helplessly by
in the
The border
officials examined every passport with incredible care, slowly turning each
page and examining the visa stamps. Beyond were customs officials, in front of
which had already developed a queue, who were being equally thorough with the
contents of their luggage. Alif passports were particularly scrutinised, and
their possessors were asked a frighteningly extensive list of questions. Did
they have relatives in Agdal? Had they visited Agdal before, and if so, for how
long? Had they ever drunk alcohol? Were they likely to do so
on their visit? Had they ever been imprisoned or cautioned for any civil
or criminal offences? Were they now, or had they ever been, employed by the
government of Alif? One young man with a male friend was bluntly asked if he
were homosexual. Ana shivered as she listened to this exchange in which the man
indignantly declared otherwise only to be asked further blunt and humiliating
personal questions. The two men were then taken to one side. Ana feared what
might happen to them, but less than ten minutes later, after Ana and Binta had
shuffled a couple of metres nearer to passport control, they were walking,
clearly shaken, towards the customs post.
“You’ve
been to an awful lot of countries, young lady,” remarked the passport official
when it came to Ana’s turn at the counter. “Gharab,
Ana had
studied her passport well enough to remember the real name on the visa. “Thafady,” she corrected.
“Thafady. Did
you go mountain-climbing there, young lady?”
Ana was
quick-witted enough to answer: “No. There are no mountains in Thafady.”
“Hmm! No, maybe there aren’t. Though Dafathy’s well equipped with them.
And what is your home town like?”
“Akin. It’s
very nice.”
“Better than anything in Alif?”
“No, about the same.”
“And did
you enjoy your stay in Alif?”
“It was
very pleasant.”
“And what
was the purpose of your visit? Do you have any relatives in Alif?”
“Not that I know of.”
Eventually,
the official seemed satisfied and at last picked up his visa stamp, flicked
through the pages and pressed it down on the ink pad before transferring it to
the passport. He then squiggled a mark over it in biro
and handed it back to Ana, before proceeding to do the same thing for Binta.
Ana and
Binta had pretended for almost an hour now not to know each other, had only
exchanged smiles at each other, and Ana trembled as she strode on to the next
queue while Binta was being interrogated in much the same nature as herself.
She felt a certain
degree of elation as she strode on, nearly but not quite free of Alif. As she
settled at the end of the queue, she spent several anxious moments watching
Binta from a distance who like her was asked a series of questions. It seemed
like an eternity, but it couldn’t have been more than five minutes, until a
smiling Binta strode towards her, separated by an elderly couple from Agdal who
had been processed by the other official.
The next
ordeal was to have their bags searched, and questions asked on how much they
had spent in Alif and where it had been spent. In the process, as Wahata had
predicted, they were made to surrender their Alif money (some of which Ana had
cautiously secreted into a pocket, more for reasons of sentiment than
practicality). The customs official seemed quite satisfied by the amount which
he meticulously counted separating one or two notes from the others which he
carefully placed in an official box. Ana’s bags were not so much unpacked, as
tipped upside down, the contents of underwear, shoes and clothes scattered over
the bench and onto the floor. Ana was instructed to pick up these items and to
replace them on the table.
“You seem
to have an awful lot of clothes,” sniffed the customs official, hardly
disguising his disappointment. “More changes of clothing than you had days in
Alif I think.”
“I like to
be well prepared.”
“Many of
these clothes have Alif labels. Did you buy them while on your holiday?”
Ana could
see the clothes were mostly too worn for that to be plausible. “They must have
been imported into Agdal where I bought them.”
“It’s good
to see that Alif exports something!” grunted the official cynically. “Let’s
look in your other bag. You may pack the first bag again.” He opened the bag
and produced a camera and a radio which were hidden among more clothes, towels
and personal belongings of mostly sentimental value. “I see these are Alif
goods. Have you got an export license for them?”
Ana shook
her head mournfully, knowing that this was the last time she’d see either of
them again.
“I’d best
confiscate them, young lady. You presumably haven’t been informed of our
government’s very strict policies regarding exportation.”
As the
official scrutinised the few books, ornaments and the travelling iron she had
in the bag, she was very grateful that she had decided after all not to take
with her the letters written to her by her parents and which she’d been so
reluctant to throw away. The official would have probably opened them and read
them, particularly on noting the fact that the stamps and postmarks on them
were unmistakably of Alif origin, featuring the ubiquitous features of President
Marmeluke. Several pens, two novels and a nail clipper did not rejoin the other
items she was eventually allowed to stuff back into her bag, although no
mention was made of any export regulations regarding them.
And then
Ana was free at last. She strode along the desolate path to the Agdal border. A
single guard stood there with his hands in his pocket. Ana showed him her
passport, and he merely flicked through it with a bored expression. He handed
it back to her with a smile. “Have a nice day,” he said before returning to the
stool in the shade of the small hut where he was based and waited for the next
person.
It was an
agonising ten minutes Ana waited by the roadside as other people passed her
through the border, her bags at her feet and sweat streaming down her forehead.
At last, Binta wandered along, still trying to secure her case, and just
managing to retrieve her passport to show to the guard.
“Welcome
home to Agdal,” he said smiling, letting Binta through.
As Binta
approached it was as if the cares and worries of the last few days and the
trials of the last few months disintegrated like vestiges of cobweb from Ana’s
mind. Binta was grinning broadly, scarcely capable of restraining her delight
and relief. “Free!” she exclaimed. “Free! Really and truly
free!”
“Oh, Binta! Binta!”
Ana replied, rushing up to her lover and hugging her tightly
against her. “We’ve done it! We did it! We’re here in Agdal. Where we can be ourselves. Where we can be
a normal couple. Where we can say what we like. Where we won’t be put in
gaol or sent back to the Brothel. Where,” she added slyly, “we can take our
clothes off in public like Ketaba does when she’s in Agdal.”
Binta
smiled, glancing slightly to one side at the shoulder strap of her skirt which
was slipping down her shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll be taking my clothes off. At
least, not for a good while. It’s more liberating for me to be able to
wear them again after all these years. The first thing I’ll do when we’ve
started earning, is build up a wardrobe of clothes I’ll be happy to wear.”
“Of course. Of course you must!” breathed
Ana. “What’s important is that we’ve got the choice. No more Brothel.
No more Director. No more ...”
“No more
filthy, abusive, dirty-minded men. Ever again. I’ll
never ever have anything to do with them again. Ever! From now on, it’s just
you and I. Nobody else.”
She eased
herself out of Ana’s grip, and allowed her bags to drop to her feet. She turned
around, holding Ana’s hand in hers, and scanned the horizon. Ahead of them were
the mountains they had seen from the deserted farmhouse, led to by a metalled
road in good condition and dotted by houses in much better condition than those
neighbouring the border on the Alif side. A few kilometres ahead, a tractor was
slowly ploughing across a field followed by a flock of seagulls. Cattle were
grazing in fields nearby. A bus was standing by a bus stop just thirty metres
away in which the others who had come through the border were already sitting.
Several green taxis stood by a taxi rank where men and women were sitting
around, smoking cigarettes and chatting. Trees dotted the plain with wire
protecting their bark from any unwanted grazing.
“Those
border guards!” Binta remarked turning her head back to face the barbed wire
defending the Alif border, which now seemed so much more distant than the few
metres between them would suggest. There were still people being processed by
the Alif officials, while the sole Agdal border guard was sitting on his stool
reading a paperback with headphones over his ears. “They asked so many
questions. They said my clothes were in a pretty poor state for someone from
Agdal. I told them I didn’t wear them very often, which is true, but it was not
really the right answer. They asked me what sort of a whore I was. Did I practice
my loose morals in Alif? Had I imported any alcohol? All
sorts of horrid questions. They searched me and found some Alif money
I’d hidden in the handbag you gave me, and accused me of trying to smuggle it
out. Of course, they took it from me. Such an awful amount! All the savings I’d
ever had before I’d been sent to the Brothel. I thought they were going to turn
me back. It was awful!”
“But they
didn’t, did they? You weren’t turned back. You were
let through.”
“I don’t
think they’d really suspected me of being an Alif citizen. Safari’s such a long
way from Jebel that I might as well have come from a foreign country. They just
didn’t like me because they thought I came from Agdal. They think all women
from Agdal are whores. Ironic, really. They just wanted
to humiliate me. Alif’s last word, I suppose. They took the ivory doll Ferhana
gave me. They took the bracelet Zabba gave me. It was horrible. I had to crawl
on the floor to pick up all the underwear they’d dropped down there. But
believing me to be from Agdal, they probably thought they couldn’t do anything
to stop me passing through.”
“But we’re
free now!” pointed out Ana.
“Yes.
Free!” Binta turned to Ana, her arms outstretched and a tear running out of the
corner of her left eye and over her cheek. “Oh, Ana!
I’m so happy! So happy! This is the happiest moment of my entire life! We are
here, together! You and I. No other moment could ever
be so perfect. Oh, Ana! None of this could have been possible if it wasn’t for
you! Never would I have seen a day like this if it wasn’t for all the
selflessness you’ve shown towards me. All the suffering you’ve been through
because of me! All that you’ve done for me, despite
everything. Ana! Ana! I love you so
much!”
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