From civilized one to a terrorist

   It was a dark night. Too dark to be in an old, outdated fishing boat heading to an unknown destination. Not exactly unknown for the passengers who miserably sitting on the floor of the fishing boat, in the lower floor, looking outside from the ground, cracked, and filthy window to the formidable waves that angrily impacting the lonely boat from the left to right, making them vomit and pass out. They all knew where they were going; to Australia. 

  A land far from their homeland, maybe thousands of miles away, in the southern hemisphere. They all knew that. They chose this one, rather than Europe, because of all the talking and promises that the JABBAR, the migrant smuggler who formed a fortune by sending people with no future, mostly from Africa, the middle east, and Southeast Asia, to the promised land. They saw the photos of Australia, pictures of Kangaroo, Koala, happy and sexy young girls bathing under the sun at one of the 12000 beaches. They were sharing the photos together in the last resort in JAVA. They were hypnotized by the glamorous of that woman who smiles at the camera, wearing a bathing suit, and sweating so hot that it was responsible for masturbation of all single men in that slum resort until they board in. JABBAR knew how to keep them motivated!

  It was truly a dark night. Although the milky way galaxy illuminating the sea, and the moon was half cut, but rather than this God-created phenomenon, no artificial light, and no other ship or a small boat was visible in a radius of 10 miles. Someone who could not sleep in this swinging boat comes up and reaches to the front deck, stands behind the stained taffrail, and stares to an invisible dot in front of himself, trying to forget his past.

  He is AMIR, a 29-year-old citizen of Syria who fled from a real-time barbaric war going between the cannibalistic Muslims that ruthlessly beheading, raping, and slaying the unfortunate people under their self interpreted Islam, and the official Army of Syria, with the alliances of Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Russia, and the big brother, the USA. He got lucky that after he went out to buy a birthday cake for his 7-year-old Daughter, a Rocket landed on his two-story building, and in an instant, a a gigantic explosion of fire, woods, bags of dust, sands, glasses, and concretes slatting to every direction, wiped out all those years of hope and made him a single, childless person when asked for migration.

Amir was a successful person in his town. He had a good reputation in his job as a marketer and salesman, working simultaneously in two different international companies. He was the person in charge for all the southern sides of his country to sell and distribute the newly innovated LED Lumps that grossly reduce the consumption of energy up to 40%. He passionately spoke with the households, businesses, small and big malls, workshops, and manufactories to buy these lumps. Despite their expensive prices, he always used his gift of persuasion to convince the people to buy. Everybody knew him as an honest seller, who never lies, exaggerates, or hides the possible defects or drawbacks in those lumps, such as their lack of warranty, or their delicacy during installation, or the highly poisonous powders that are the lighting agents. He was a realistic Muslim.

The point that he was staring was a hollow space, with nothing waiting for him except water, and water and water. Everywhere was dark blue water, and that color reflecting the picture of the milky way galaxy so high definition that if there were no waves, it could be a pure silver-coated mirror.

All those memories distressed him, they always did, and he had no way to erase them out of his brain. Something he wished that there was technology capable of doing that for him, but until then, compromising remained the only way to cope with that. He was literally traumatized at that time, hence he did not aware of that.

A smoke lighted and two deep inhales soiled it in half. He remembered that his daughter always nagging him for this negative habit, good or bad luck, she did not exist to nag again.

 The smoke vaporizing and the winds blowing them to his face. It entered into his eyes, making him shed tears.

In that point he was staring, something started to expose. A gray dot. He felt that it is because of tears, but after wiping his eyes and looking focused on the point, the dot appeared to be realistic. It seems like a cliff, a rock or something. He was excited to see that, after being a week wandering among mere water, that was something optimistic for itself. He rushed back to informed others, but once he stepped down to the passenger’s floor, everybody slept. He looked at them out of pity. These illegal passengers going to an unknown destination and everything is at risk. He thought what should happen to someone that makes thinking and executing such irrational decision. Then he thought about his own life, and the second moment afterward, the empathy and sense of understanding mixed.

He climbed up, found the watchman, and told him;

“Hey, brother!! Wake up. Can you see that dot? I think we are reaching to Australian coasts!”

The watchman, an Indonesian teenager, who had no clue what he was talking about, due to the lack of English proficiency, expressed his bewilderment. Amir understood that he can not understand a single word of him, so he stretched his hand, pointed the dot to him. The Indonesian teenager got a Binocular and strengthen his power of vision. In a second, his eyebrows lifted up, showing his attention, making him jump up and left to call the deeply-slept captain.

The captain, a permanent drunk Indonesian, with no teeth in the upper jaw, dinted cheeks, grained tanned skin, and so-so hairs, with sleepy eyes appeared. At the first glance, with that clumsy suit, filthy sleepers, and zigzag toes, he wouldn’t leave any hope for passengers about the expertise that this dude might have to maneuver this rubbish boat. He looked through the binocular and said:

“Ok, Alhamdulillah, we are arriving at the northeastern shores. Travel is ending. Go and wake up all passengers” He demanded to the watchman.

The teenager ran like a wind, jumped downstairs,s and shouted in his language. No doubt that the gibberish English or Bahasa Indonesia have no difference here, he had just one task; to wake all of them up.

Amir joined them downstairs. He was trying to wake the hardly slept ones and asked them to be prepared. All of them are glutted by the sense of victory, that all their waiting and tolerating the problems are finished with a victorious result. However, they were wrong, it was just the beginning.

“Collect your stuff, faster-faster. All you come upon the deck.” The sleepy captain demanded.

They all came up, some who had more strength, help others to lift the luggage up. There were families of four, from Afghanistan, with three big luggage and two backpacks, and two handy bags. They carried their life with themselves.

“OK, everyone sits down on the deck. I want to talk to you”. The captain had something important to say. The teenage watchman, locked his hands on his chest, looking at them like a shepherd.

“We are closing to the Australian shores. I hold the ship 2 kilometers farther, then you should jump.”

The eyes of passengers rounded in shock. They did not expect this to come. Swimming in the sea was not a plan. They came up to protest. First of all, Amir, who was born free, and bowing and obeying him could not be tolerated. It was immorality, to its highest extent, forcing innocent people to jump into the sea, when they paid for a safe voyage. A small protest led to loud arguments and a small riot. NIAZ Mohammad, who was an Afghani’s husband and father, burst out and approached the captain, threatening him with his naked knife.

 

Two bullets shot. A loud screaming rings Amir's ears. Everyone put their hand on their head to cover themselves. The Afghani husband, the father of children seeking a better future, fell on the ragged wooden deck, bleeding intensely on his chest and right hand. The woman confronted with a nightmare came in real in Infront of her, unable to digest the incident, burst a hysteric laugh.

The poor passengers clawed somewhere to save themselves, keeping away from another

possible shot. Poor children shed tears in silence, with their tiny thin hands wiping out the drops, staring at their dead father. The woman, hugs two children, kissing and cuddling them while staring in a total disappointed figure at the captain. The scene made Amir badly disgust. He could not imagine what is going on in those two children's heads now. He could guess though, a vague future, raising without a father, and coping with the horror of losing their father in an incident in Infront of their eyes. Notwithstanding, this was a new start for them. A rebirth, a resurrection.

 

"Ok you listen to what I say. Do not make a problem. 10 minutes later you jump. I tell you when." The captain turns and walks back to his wheel to check the GPS where they are and when they should stop. The cliff of Australia is closing to the rusty boat. The sounds of sea waves smashing to the cliffs, scratching it , and smoothing it. Now the Scene is passed. A woman helps the woman and children to be prepared. Everybody tie their belonging to their body, firmer and firmer. Amir, who had nothing more than a backpack, get it ready and cover it in garbage plastics he got from the watching boy. Amir could see a sense of shame in his older-than-usual eyes. He could see this little man have not lived in comfort and understands human grief. They both got eye contact for a couple of moments. Amir could penetrate in his mind, and somehow he saw himself in there. Seems he got lost his family in an explosion in Indonesia too.

For a moment, Amir felt that he is begging for a hug. Amir stretches his arms, pointing the watching boy to embrace. He jumps in his chest and both hardly hold each other. The watching boy starts crying like a baby. Amir cuddling his black hair.

 

The captain shouts on the watchman, telling him something in the Indonesian language. The boy immediately separates himself from Amir and goes back to the closet to bring the cleaning stuff to revive the stains of blood. Amir with the boy lift the poor dead man, swing it, and throw it into the wild waves. In an instant, the waves swallow the body and the story of an Afghan man, with all wishes and hope vanished.

 

The boy then start cleaning the surface. Amir is still absorbing the scene. To him, it's like greasy and heavy food that is much bigger than his stomach.

 

The captain rings the bell. It's time to jumping down to the sea. The depth of water is 150 centimeters high only. The first one who jumps is Mohammad's wife and children. The wife bravely holds his children upper their neck, affording relentlessly to hold them up. Other passengers jumping one by one, and Amir, after lifting his head to the sky, whisper something and jumps in too. He clearly asked for help from God. The question is: is there someone up there to help?

 

######

Rod was an immigration lawyer, specialized in refugee cases, and how to win in immigration courts. Winning was what he is known for. Being a versatile immigration lawyer, having a solution in mind for anyone, literally anyone who seeking to get a positive answer in court. From being endangered in home country due to changing the religion to being gay and occasionally, if there was no substitute option, political asylum cases. Not having a single rejected case made him an unrivaled immigration lawyer.  Jabbar knew him very well. He once won a case for one of his travelers only by forging a high court paper that determining the traveler was known a high pitch opposition in his country. He accepted the case because the traveler was a woman and being one month a sex slave at Rob’s service, regardless of his fantasy, was the deal if the positive result was gained.

“Hello, Amir, how are you doing today? I have got good and bad news for you…. Sure, I will win your case. Why you thought I won’t?! Yes, let me come there to meet you. I got fixed the appointment. Yes, I fixed it. No, I am your lawyer. They can not stop me. No worries. See you today at 6. And one more thing Amir…… Please shave your beards…. Ok? Thanks. Bye for now.”

Rod picked up his files, papers, and statements, stuffed all in his brown leather briefcase, locked it up, looked around, and went out. His office, where he runs it on his own was his fortress of forgery. Piles of fake documents, fake passports, identities, and court cases. He did everything alone. In this business, trusted only himself. He never drinks, never do drug, and never had any friends. Even not having any love affairs, meaning that this career has taken everything from him out.

 

Amir hung up the phone and turned back to his tent. The refugee camp in Papua New Guinea was a vast square, 10 kilometers each side, won by trophic plants and trees, and 100 rows of tents, 500 in each row. According to the first meeting he had with Rod, the estimation of the population living there was 270,000 refugees, mostly from Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan, Bangladesh, Nigeria, and Indonesia. With a simple rolling in the sideways, yellow skin faces, and their speaking language tells the observer that Middle-east is on the threshold of getting fucked.

The time was 4:35 PM. Amir appeared in his tent, looked for his locker to retrieve the shave blades, soap and towel. He could successfully maintain his beard for three months, but in his last visit, Rod protested and expressed his disguised face when seeing his beards. Amir had belief, and growing a beard was an important thing in his culture. He stared to himself into the blurred and scatted mirror and after wetting his long beard, initiated from his ear side to his cheeks, from his neck to his jaw.

“Attention…..Attention…. Mr. Amir Albaradei, Mr. Amir Albaradei, please come to the visiting section, you have a guest.” The giant amplified speakers asking for him.

“Are you Mr? Amir Albaradei?” the immigration officer was asking him in a hilarious way.

“Yes sir, I am Amir.”

“Are you a relative of Mr. Albaradei, the former Atomic energy agency secretary?” The officer could not resist more and exploded in laughter.

“Man, you should ask your relative to help you.”

“Alright officer, John lone. I take him from now. Thanks for your duty.” Rod just jumped in and saw him messing with poor Amir as always. His family name has always been a cause for joking for him. At least for everyone who knew who Mohammad Al Baradei was.

“Sit” Rod pointed to a plastic chair in that meeting room, commanding Amir to sit.

“Alright, how you have been Amir lately? Is everything alright?”

 

“Alhamdulillah, Mr. Rod, I am grateful to Allah. I have everything here, Mobile, food, TV, Cigar, and a place to live.”

“Alright, Amir, listen to me, things are getting worse out here. Lots of refugees are rejected. The judges getting a real pain in the ass. In just this month, more than 370 refugees from Afghanistan and Indonesia were deported back to their countries. Those stupids trusted rooky lawyers. But I am Rod, and I won’t lose any case.”

Amir’s face was showing a baking face in distress. The sense of anxiety was nested into his heart since that shooting incident on the boat. Despite that his trauma backs in Syria, when everything burnt in front of him, there was something peculiar in that incident that never left him.

“What you are saying, Mr. Rod? You mean I have no chance to get a positive answer in court?”

Amir’s lips were trembling. For him, there was nothing left to revive in Syria. A country that is under the incursion of bloody savage ISIS militants. People, there has no other option except joining them or being decapitated. Women in “Nikah Jihad” was a kind of hardcore sexual slavery and men who had to close their eyes and obey what is known as a false Islamic rule that forcefully attempting to reverse back Syria to 1400 years ago. There was no bridge for Amir to return. Everything was ruined.

“No….!!! Why Do you ever say that!? You are my client. My clients never left this country. I am going to win your case, and I guarantee that.”  Rod was saying furiously.

“Allah bless you Mr. Rod. I have nothing back in my country sir, I lost everything. I used to be a respectable man in my city, but those days are wiped out.” Amir was in his vulnerable status.

“Alright, lets back to the business. I have two options for you. The first one is filling you as a political refugee whose life is in danger if back to home country. For this one, I will charge you 10000 AUD, and it takes roughly 1 year of court attending and back and forth investigations and interviews.”

“ I do not have that money Mr. Rod, I told you all I have is 4000 AUD and I gave it all to you. That is what I have at all”

“Alright, Mr. Rod, then we have only one left option, and that is announcing you as a gay who could not live in his country because of the aggressive approach of the ruling government. For this case, the procedure is faster, easier and cheaper. I can assure positive answer by the court in three months.” Rod was speaking professionally and firmly.

“Alright, Mr. Rod. What do I need to do? This is good. Let’s try this.” A ray of hope emerged

“There is only one thing that you should do. Because I detest being a loser in court, I considered everything Amir.” He leaned back to his chair, chained his fingers together and hold on his belly.

“What I have to do Mr. Rod? I do whatever you ask. No problem.”

“Ok Amir. Actually, after we announce that you are a gay person, they will be going to take a medical examination from you to find out whether you are truly a gay person or you just bluffed. For preventing any misleading for your case procedure, I will ask you to follow what exactly I say advice you to do.” Rod brought up his briefcase and took a box out of it.

“Please take this keep it by yourself. Show it to no one.”

“What is inside it?” Amir curiously demanded.

“This is a middle-sized Dildo, and hormone modifying pills. The day prior to the medical examination, you should put this in your ass and let it be there for 24 hours at least. The pills, you start popping them up from tomorrow, one per day”

 

It continues.....