The boy on night duty had rested his head on the counter and was snoring lightly. Ömer did not have the heart to wake him up. He thought he heard a noise from the kitchen. He went towards it in the hope of finding someone to ask for water and whom he could send to the chemist’s. The cat Virik streaked out of the kitchen and hid under one of the armchairs in the lobby. Ömer pressed the light switch beside the door. A feeble yellow light illuminated the room which looked more like a place for making coffee than a working kitchen. As he turned to the corner where the fridge was, he noticed that the window opening on to the side street was open. They must have left it open to air but, still, what careless behaviour! A shadow passed in front of the window. He shuddered and was angry with himself for doing so; he was angry with this sinister town and the clouds that had descended over it.
‘I want to live without the fear of masked men raiding my house in the middle of the night and wandering around inside, taking me away to some unknown place; without the fear of being hit by a bullet in the neck on a street corner; without experiencing the fear of losing my loved ones or turning against them. This is all I long for, all we long for,’ Jiyan had said. ‘And I want to wander as free as a bird on summer nights along streets lit by street lamps, where people sit in front of their doors, where they sit and talk in front of their shops, without fear weighing on my heart,’ she had said. He understood.
He took a bottle of cold water from the fridge. Although it was not his job he shut the window. As he closed it he did not stick his head out of the window but took shelter behind the wall. This time instead of being angry with himself he laughed. This is what I call adapting to the environment; if someone who was not from this area were to see me they would make fun of my behaviour. He went out of the kitchen leaving the light on. The boy at reception was still fast asleep. The cat was waiting in front of the hotel’s glass door, watching for the door to open. When it saw Ömer it rubbed itself against his legs and miaowed. ‘Do you want to go outside? Come on, Virik.’ He liked addressing the cat by its name. Virik stopped being any old cat and became a cat he knew, that knew him; it was as though it smoothed out his feeling of foreignness.
As he was trying to open the door to let Virik out, the youth at reception awoke and leapt up befuddled with sleep. Ömer glanced at him and saw the gun that had suddenly appeared on the counter. He pushed Virik who had begun to miaow away with his foot.
‘Don’t worry. You were asleep, and I didn’t want to wake you up. I came down to get some cold water, and the cat wanted to go outside.’
‘Let him go out, abi. Wait, I’m here now. I’ll open the door.’
As the boy was opening the door and pushing the cat outside, he stood for a moment as though riveted to the spot and then hastily closed the door. He said something in Kurdish. Ömer did not understand what he said but gathered from his tone that he was swearing.
‘Has something happened?’
‘No, abi. You go up to your room. They’ve surrounded the market again. They’re over by the chemist’s.’
Ömer rushed towards the door.
‘Don’t open it, abi. Go up to your room. This is our business.’
‘What do you mean, our business, buddy? Don’t I count as a man here? Isn’t this my country? If there’s a nasty situation developing here, then it’s as much my business as yours.’
The young man stood in front of the door without moving a muscle. In his harsh eastern accent, emphasizing his words one by one, he obstinately reiterated, ‘I’m responsible for your safety.’
Buddy, you were asleep just a moment ago. If I had gone out, you wouldn’t have known, thought Ömer.
‘You are right, abi. It’s your country, too. But you don’t know this area, what it’s like. We fight, and you are the judge. If the judge gets beaten up there will be even more blood and tyranny. Just stand back and leave things to me.’
‘I can’t stand back. Your Jiyan Abla’s chemist’s shop is over there. My friend is there…’
‘Our Jiyan Abla knows how to handle them. She has survived till now. She knows death, blood and tyranny. Nothing will happen to her. No one would dare touch her. Anyway the men are not coming just to see her. It’s a general raid on the market, and in passing they’ve stopped by the chemist’s shop.’
‘But, still, let me go and look. If they see me they will steer clear.’
‘Here no one will steer clear of you. If they take you in, they will question you like there’s no law or constitution — or even God. Here no one has a God, not in the mountains nor on the plains. Men you drank with, talked to, yesterday will suddenly disappear. There will be no one behind you to offer support.’
‘Are we just going to stand here with our hands tied? If I call the Commander…’
‘It won’t do any good. Anyway the Commander knows. Sometimes it’s beyond the Commander. Who’s really in charge here is anyone’s guess!’
Ömer sank into the armchair next to the door. He realized that his headache and the throbbing in his temples had passed. This must be what they call the hair of the dog that bit you. Years ago, when they arrested him and took him to the police station — was it when they went out flyposting or was it during a protest to support a workers’ boycott? — he recalled them saying, ‘Even if the Son of God came, he would not be able to save you from this place, so spill the beans! Tell us about the organization.’ Such things get forgotten … Years pass, our lives change, no one cares any more, we pass over to the other side and we forget. Tyranny and terror recede from our surroundings because we have become compliant, respected members of the system, the cogs of the cutting machine. As the boy said, at best we are the judges. Here rights, justice, even God have long since fallen victim to unsolved crimes.
‘Well, ring the chemist’s shop.’
‘That won’t do, abi. In any case they will have connected the phone to their own line. To telephone from here is not on.’
My mobile phone! Why didn’t I think of that before? Luckily it’s in my hip pocket. He dialled Jiyan’s number and waited, his heart constricting. ‘The number you have called is unavailable at present. Please try later.’ He looked at his message inbox. Two new messages: the first was from Elif. Without reading it he quickly skipped to the second one. It was from Jiyan. ‘Don’t worry. It’s a routine check. I’ll call later.’
He sank a little deeper into the armchair or, rather, he shrank. Out of the corner of his eye he watched the youth on night duty take the gun on the reception desk and place it under the counter.
‘While you were asleep I went into the kitchen and the window was wide open,’ he said to put the boy on the spot.
‘It can’t be. I closed everywhere up myself,’ replied the boy. He took out the gun he had hidden under the counter. As he walked towards the kitchen he turned to Ömer and with the smile of a naughty child he said, ‘You’re angry so you’re teasing me, aren’t you, abi? Was the window really open?’