The more she looked into other people’s huts, the more Saba noticed differences in mindset. Some fled with mattresses and pillows, others with coffee machines or cooking utensils or clothes. And Saba suspected it might not have been the lack of money to pay the smuggler for extra possessions that prevented her mother from fleeing with more, but rather that their mother had left valuable belongings so that they would always think of returning home. Memories alone were not enough to tie someone to a land, they faded with distance and the passage of time.

But Saba wondered too if her mother had worried that some of the neighbours staying behind would talk and place a curse on the family if they were to see her taking not only her children but also her belongings, while they couldn’t afford to take themselves out of the war zone.

Finally, the girls arrived at the forest. The bush was less threatening, it had lost some of its density, the vastness that had made it seem so impregnable in the beginning. Without charcoal, the camp’s residents relied on the bush’s wood for fuel.

The grass underneath Saba’s feet shifted in the wind. She rubbed her scalp with her index finger so she wouldn’t loosen the bandana that Hagos had rolled and wrapped around her head, pulling her thick hair up into a tight bun. Ahead of her, Samhiya, in a floral dress that hugged her curves, observed a flower emerging from the cracks between the rocks.

The breeze brought the aroma of the city from Samhiya’s perfumed neck to Saba. Saba inhaled, as if Samhiya’s fragrance was something she could carry to Hagos like she carried the water on her head, the firewood on her back. Saba smiled at the thought.

When they had collected as much wood as they could carry, they helped each other tie bundles on their backs using their scarves.

Zahra stooped over the green field and picked wild spinach leaves for her grandmother.

As Saba bent next to Zahra, the bundle of wood on her back rolled to her nape, cutting into her skin.

Vafanculo.

Language, ladies, said Samhiya.

Only a well-maintained lady like you minds her language, said Saba, pressing leaves on the fresh wound.

I think someone is jealous, said Samhiya. I shouldn’t have shown off my snake skin.

The girls burst out laughing.

Saba gave some of the bundle of wild leaves she had collected to Zahra.

Saba, are you all right?

Yes.

Silence.

Saba, you talk less and less. It must be hard living with Hagos.

Hagos is not mute to me, said Saba. Maybe if you ever listened to him you would hear him too.

I’m sorry, Zahra said.

Hagos is not mute. But the world is not prepared to listen.

Saba swayed as she pushed herself up. Zahra held her arm. They rose together. I will learn to listen to him then, Zahra said as she applied more leaves to the wound at Saba’s nape. The blood stopped.