Chapters (38)
- Cover
- Also by Susan Abulhawa
- Dedication Page
- Glossary
- I. Kuwait
- The Cube, East
- Dance, Ruby River
- Um Buraq
- II. Iraq
- The Cube, West
- Six Months
- III. Jordan
- The Cube, North
- Unsteady Earth
- IV. Palestine
- The Cube, South
- The Layers of Absence
- A World Beneath & “Our Spot” Above
- V. Jordan, Again
- The Cube, Up & Down
- Money Softens the Heart
- VI. Palestine, Always
- The Cube, the Space Between
- Anatomy of Home
- Chaos Theory
- Harvest
- Homecoming
- A Time for Us
- Redeeming History
- VII. Between Freedom
- The Cube, the Unreachable Beyond
- Day One
- Week Two
- Week Three
- Weeks Four & Five
- Weeks Six, Seven, Eight & Nine
- Joy
- Acknowledgments
“Thank you!” I said, contemplating the difference between us. He was not much younger than me, but I was already much older in those days when I was still in my twenties.
IV. Palestine
IV.
PALESTINE
The Cube, South
THE CUBE, SOUTH
A VAULT DOOR on the south side is the only entrance and exit. Food comes through a waist-high rectangular opening. Sometimes books are pushed through the same slot.
The first books I received preceded the first visitors by three bowel movements. One book was about blue whales, one on the cosmos, and another a bad translation of a badly written Western romance novel. I devoured them before the visitors arrived and had begun rereading about blue whales. Such extraordinary creatures. True gentle giants, full of mystery and romance, like the ocean itself.
An expressionless armed guard escorted the visitors into the Cube—a woman in her midtwenties and a man twice her age. He spoke Arabic. She didn’t, but was learning, she said. They asked short, simple questions. What did I eat? How frequently? How often did I go outside? Did I communicate with family? Did they give me books to read? Pen and paper?
I find it difficult to look visitors in the eyes. My gaze gravitated to the man’s dark, hairy forearm emerging from a rolled-up white sleeve.
All I could think about was touching the dark, hairy forearm.
“Are you interested in blue whales?” the woman asked, nodding at my books. “And outer space?” She smiled as if we were having a normal conversation. I understood her English, but I waited for the man to translate. Information swirled in my head. Blue whales are the largest creatures ever to roam our planet, as long as thirty meters and weighing up to 173,000 kilograms. They have intricate social lives and complex languages. Hunted to near extinction. Less than a few thousand remained before whaling restrictions were introduced, but whalers continue to serve a black market, and these majestic creatures might disappear from the world. Blue whales subsist on krill. Krill is a Norwegian word. I wonder what it’s like to be Norwegian. What’s it like to be a whale? To live in water. To be the biggest creature on earth, still vulnerable to a small man’s greed.
Dark, hairy forearm. Rolled-up white sleeves.
“Yes,” I said, barely audible. “I’m interested in whales.” Her gaze made me more aware of my prison clothes. I had done my best to tidy my hair. Although the man was dressed casually, the woman wore a conservative dark suit, low black heels, and a gray blouse. Blue stones studding her ears accented her blue eyes and, when I focused on them, it seemed as if she had four blue eyes. I wished she had worn glasses. I’d like to see a reflection of myself.
“You seem healthy and well-groomed. I understand your shower comes on automatically. Are you able to shower daily?”