All of a sudden, someone who was dressed in a dark and long clothes, calls a waiter from my behind. I turn and look at the man who called the waiter. He is the man who was staring at me. The waiter moves toward him slowly. Midway, when he is almost near my table, he collides with someone else and falls on my knapsack which is near a leg of the table. It falls on the floor, unzips and my belongings pour out of it.
The man who collided with waiter is one of the two men who were sitting behind me. He unweaves his hat, then, as if newly realized that, begins to apologize:
Sorry, I’m afraid I didn’t see you. I was talking with my friend and I didn’t see you at all.
Then he bows down to take the waiter’s hand. The waiter looks at him angrily, and then gets up. He looks around for a while and says:
I don’t need your help. You’d better watch yourself and be attentive.
The friend of hat man comes to help him and says:
Hey man, he begged your pardon. You are going too far!
Hat man confirms what his friend said with shaking his head. The waiter who has a rather athletic body, takes the offensive position and comes one step forward:
I don’t need your apologize. Just keep your distance as much as you can. No one invited you here. Here has its regulations.
All at once, all of the red-eyed in the shelter rise from their chairs in support of two men. When two men see their backing, dare to breast the waiter and say:
You’re talking too much! Watch up what you say!
The rest of the waiters and the common people, who have not red eyes, rise and rush to help their friend. Like two nations in the battle field, they rencounter. The shelter divides into two fronts. An invisible line separates them from each other and each groan at the other. They are just waiting for a sign to attack. Although the reds are more than the commons, the waiter says:
It is mean to be you hear something like this. So be ready for it.
The two outsiders move among the red-eyed crowd like devils and agitate them:
Your words cost you dearly!
Then he looks at the red-eyed crowd. It is like his eyes can hypnotize them. All of them reply him saying hurray and I can see their clenched fists. Against them, the common crowd reach out their hands toward the tables and chairs to use them. Some other are standing near the walls neutrally and just look. All are ready and their eyes stare at each other like a viper and tiger. Their teeth are gnashing under their lips. Their eyebrows are close together and their body halfcocked against each other. I am standing there just like before and look at them. I don’t know what should I do, but just know the first one who would hurt, is me. My sensations threaten that the war is imminent.
Hey, wait a minute!
I hold my hands toward them as a stop sign, and, while trying hard to keep my self-confidence, say:
Do you think the only thing you can do in this conditions is fighting? Here, beside you, are some other people, don’t you see women and children? You may hurt them.
Both men look at me agazed and from the Rakovan’s look, this is the name which is written on the ID card attached on his shirt, it seems to me that he is shocked. I can see the effect of my words on each face. In some of them anger is subsided thoroughly, some are waiting for my words going on. I search for a more effective phrases to say. Suddenly, Yatilan intervenes and stands by me. He is the same man who brought me clothes. His short beard has covered his face, in which an especial kindness can be seen. He frowns a little, then says:
Be calm. Here isn’t the place to fight. Please respect each other. If someone has a grievance, he can report it to the chief of the shelter. It is certainly more effective than quarrel.
Then he points to a crying child and continues:
You can behave in other way.
The outsider’s jaw begins to shiver:
Why your chief of the shelter isn’t here to answer his subordinate’s actions?
The waiter unweaves his frown and replies:
What’s wrong? Anybody has said something wrong?
The outsider shows Rakovan with his eyes and says:
He thinks we are his flunky!
Yatilan turns his face to Rakovan and asks him just with his eyes, but only sees his angry look and remains unanswered. As Yatilan takes a deep but short breathe, shakes his head to show his regrets and says:
I’m sorry, I’m sure Rakovan meant something else.
The outsider gives him a derisive smile:
Just this? Finished!? It seems here all things would be amended by excuse, how nice!
I can’t do anything more, I apologize again. Rakovan will be punished as well.
The outsider shrugs and raises his eyebrows:
Zounds, how effective it was!
All of the people scatter while griping and wisecracking. Again, the atmosphere inside the shelter becomes calm, but people talk about the event. The red-eyed are still upset and angry, and contempt can be seen in their eyes. Rakovan forces his way through the crowd and enters the room near the fireplace. Like a fountain which falls after it soars, the tempest of the crowd subsides and all of them back to their place. Only I and my knapsack, which is scattered on the floor, remain there.
The commons keep their distance from the red-eyed, separate their chairs and tables and sit in their group. The red-eyed sit at a distance of the common persons.
I bend down over my chair and gather my belongings. The hat man comes to help me but his friend joins to his people. I wonder at his behavior that may make another quarrel. Maybe he wants to compensate his previous act. Although he gathers my outfits, his eyes look around. It is like he wants to see if anybody looks at him. As I see him with suspicion, I don’t want be heedless of him even for a second. I don’t want to lose anything of my belongings. His behavior is a little suspicious. I can’t find any reason for his help in this quarrel. Yet I can’t refuse his help.
When all of my outfits are gathered, that man gives me a box and goes toward his table. I open the box to make sure the ring and the necklace are in the box. Both of them are in the box. I should think up an idea about them; they are all my life.
I look into my knapsack. It seems everything is there. But yet I think I have lost something; I look under the table again. My guess is correct, the bunch of key is near a leg of the table. I bend down hardly and pick it up.
I go on the way to the room which the waiter told me before. People shake their head to show their discontent and turn their back on me. I find the reason without thinking. They are upset because I accepted that man’s help. I stand few seconds behind the door. I look at myself maybe I can make my appearance a little better. The only thing I can do is to clean my mouth and shake the crumbs out of my clothes. Then I take a deep breath and knock on the door. A voice replies:
Come in.
I can guess who is in the room. Rakovan is sitting behind his desk, while has inserted his fingers into each other and put them under his chin as a pillar. He beats a rhythm with his foot while is thinking and is await. I enter the room and try to smile:
Hello!
Rakovan doesn’t bother to raise his head. Just, while he put his hands on the desk, lifts his eyebrows a little to be able to see me. From his look I realize that he hasn’t seen me yet. With a poker face, and as if I am not his addressee, Rakovan says:
I’m the doctor of the shelter. It’s good that…
Suddenly he cuts his word. His eyes survey me from head to toes and finally stop on my face. His face changes: it becomes exactly the same look of few minutes ago. Time passes in silence for a while. I can see he is struggling with himself to find out or remember something. But his face doesn’t change any more and he looks at me calmly and a little amazed like before. Once in a while, his eyes looks at me like a dead man, and then ponder again. It seems he wants to adjust my face to his own thoughts. His eyes is still zoomed on me. It is like he has forgotten that I am here. It seems time is frozen and the only thing that moves are
my eyes which are trying to avoid direct looking to his eyes. He seems wants to place my face. His heavy looks press on me like two walls. I say:
I have some problem with my legs.
Then he looks at my feet. He lower his head with me like a robot from behind the desk and looks at my legs. After a few second, it seems he has found something and while his look is toward another side, says impatiently:
Please come and sit on that couch and extend your feet so I have a look on them. Your feet have problem, am I right?
Then he shows me with his eyebrows a bed which is in the left side of me. Since I was waiting for this moment, go toward the bed fast, sit on it and extend my feet. He unweaves the wrinkles on his face and stands near the bed while looks at me suspiciously. Before he comes toward me, he takes a key from the drawer of the desk and goes toward a big case on the wall with a pale plus sign on it. He opens it, picks up some band, disinfectant agent, fiber and needle for stitch, and put them on a table near the bed. He takes his medical gloves out of his pocket and pulls them on. Suddenly, as if he remembered something, scowls and says:
Ah, damn!
Then looks at me and says:
May you do me a favor? I forgot that to pull off your shoes. You have to do it yourself over there.
He waits for my reply. I pull them off immediately and put them near the bed. Now, he doesn’t show anymore the anger which he demonstrated when encountered with the red-eyed, as though he has forgotten that thoroughly, or as if it didn’t happen to him at all. He thanks me with a winkle and engages in examining my wounds.
His eyes still have the same strange figure and although his eyes are brown, it seems to me that it is the first time I see them. He has a clean appearance almost like Karisan, and has combed his hair upward. As he keeps his face, says:
Perhaps you’ve seen my name on the card attached to my clothes; however, I’m Rakovan. It seems that you haven’t lost so much blood, but too many wounds have covered your feet. You may feel ache a little, because we haven’t too much numbing agents and we should use them just for the patients whose conditions are critical. You cannot help but tolerate the pain.
Then, before he begin his work, stare at a point and says:
You like to show heroics, ha?
I was more anxious about myself than to be a hero.
He shows his seeming approval by raising his eyebrows. He engages in stitching. I gnash my teeth and close my eyes each time he infixes the needle into my body. He says:
You didn’t choose a proper time to do that.
I couldn’t choose but doing that. I did something that seemed to me right.
A bitter smile appears on his lips and says:
Right thing?
I shake my head:
I think so.
He thinks for a while:
If you did wait, you could see the right thing.
Do you mean hurting the women and children? Or even death of some people?
Maybe!
Maybe?
Maybe yea! The disaster which is to be happen to us in future.
I lower my head and think. Rakovan says:
No need to think. The reality is clearer than needs to think about.
I agree with him. I smell the trouble:
Maybe you are taking it too serious. They can’t do anything.
I try to convince him and myself as well. His lips take a figure of smile, and he says:
For this I say that you acted heroics uncaused. We lost a good chance. Few minutes ago, they couldn’t do anything as well, but they were doing.
You mean that the war would be begun?
He shrugs and says:
I hope it would be just this.
It is possible to prevent it.
Nothing can prevent it. It would be an all-out war.
He stops working, and then, after a pause continues stitching. I say:
Why war? Is there still any reason for it in the world?
There is always a reason for it, even now that the world is destroyed.
He gazes into my eyes:
To be alive!
Silence reigns for a while. The scene of dispute in few minutes ago is displayed in front of my eyes. Rakovan’s words correspond entirely with the event that was going to happen. I feel that the death angel is awakened by Rakovan’s words.
I look around. The color of the room has turned into gray and black, and the dust on the wall can be seen. Here are two medical couch that I am sitting on one of them, and some picture frames on the wall, and also dusty walls and the frames which their pictures are faded because of this dust.
Where do you come from that your feet become like this?
From “Life” shelter.
Now his stitching job is nearly finished.
For sure, there isn’t any place for the people, because where ever you look, you see the red-eyed.
“Life” shelter is the last shelter, but, on the other side, is the first shelter for the red-eyed who arrive there. Food is a serious problem for the people there. There’s been a big increase in population, and if things has been continued like before up to now, they’ve faced with a big problem. Two shelters were built there, but they couldn’t solve the problem. Although the stores were filled with the foodstuffs and are supplied every two days, it’s not enough.
Haven’t it arranged that their chief establishes the relief camp before they get here?
Yeah, it was coordinated for that but nothing was done. As a result, their people put the blame on us.
Did any skirmish happen for that?
I take a deep breath:
Unfortunately, yes. They found us guilty of the death of their dear ones. Too many people died. We hadn’t foodstuffs and medical equipment.
What was the result of the skirmishes?
The rebels even advanced toward the chief’s office but fortunately there didn’t happen something bad and we could control the situation.
One of Rakovan’s eyebrow goes up, and he stops stitching:
You could or they gave up?
I may say they come to terms with the situation.
He smiles and continues his work:
I know the reason why.
This time, it is me that elevates one of my eyebrows.
He says:
The people of that shelter are rallying and without any trouble. What’s better than this? They just recede and look until the circumstance matches by itself. Just there remains the base.
I agree with him entirely, but he is like a viper in one’s bosom.
Everywhere is full of red-eyed.
Exactly! Heretofore the number of the people of the shelter was less than twenty, but now there are at least over three hundred persons in the shelter, and we manage the shelter just by ten persons.
The sound of displacing the tables and the chairs can be heard from outside. He pours disinfectant agent on my leg. It is a little cold. With this, I realize that the stitching has finished. He enwinds the band around my leg slowly.
I say:
We can’t do anything.
We can: war.
But we are already in war. Another war means…
He cuts my words:
Means world destruction.
And stares at me:
Your face needs stitching.
Then hesitates for a while and says:
I’m sorry. Its scar remains on your face forever.
I rub my hand on it. Irritates. I say:
We can’t help it.
He begins his job with smile. I close my eyes and gulp my saliva whenever the needle pierces my skin.
Finished.
Suddenly someone knock on the door and he turns his head.
You can go. If you have problem again or your feet bleed, be sure to call on me.
He gives me a smile, goes to the door and talks to the man behind the door. Takes something from him, raise his hand and shows me a pair of shoes. Their color has changed and are dusty. The color of th
e margin around each one differs.
He says:
We couldn’t find better than this!
I thanks him and wear them promptly. Then, I go toward the door slowly. My feet still ache a little. Suddenly I stop by Rakovan’s voice. While something has spring to his mind, says:
If you can do something for us, call on Karisan. We need someone who is competent to do things. Here, no one is professional nor knows something special.
I shake my head and smile. Before I go out, I stop spontaneously and say:
Always best things happen in the worst conditions.
Chapter 5
The nomads