Saturday 3 February
8am A decision that you are forced to make is not a decision. That was my thought while my sister and I waited for the man who was coming to take Manara. It kills me that we are going to send her away, but we have no option. In addition to the fact that she is pregnant and might give birth soon – which is something we are not prepared for logistically or emotionally – her ruined eye still bleeds from time to time, which means she needs a surgical intervention the minute the whole nightmare is over.
The man who came to take her is somebody we fully trust: an animal lover, he never hesitates to save animals or do what is best for them. For over three months we did not have access to him due to the bad communications. Finally, we did, and he, despite being displaced with his family, is offering Manara all the care he can provide.
We did not give him Manara only, but two additional cats as well. The first cat, I found the day before and his back leg is broken. When I saw him in the street, I hoped he was just standing there, but on my way back, hours later, he was still in the same spot, so, I brought him with me. The second cat is a kitten that appeared around a week ago out of nowhere. We couldn’t find his mother.
I tried to speak to Manara, to apologise for letting her down and not taking care of her in the best way. As if she knew what was about to happen, she refused to even look at me, and she was very anxious. When the man showed up, he took one look at her and said: “She will give birth within seven to 10 days.”
The two other cats showed no resistance, yet Manara fought and meowed very loudly. She did not want to leave. She must think that we were abandoning her. We let her in, took good care of her, and now, at a very vulnerable situation – the last days of her pregnancy – we are letting her go with someone she does not know to an unknown destination. She must think we are the most horrible people in the world. She did not know how difficult the whole thing is for us. We need a better chance for her and her babies. A chance we cannot guarantee if she stayed with us.
I don’t know why, but the minute the car moved, the words of a friend played in my head. I got the chance to talk to her in mid-November, a month after the whole thing started. By then, she and her family had been displaced twice. She told me how she never physically disciplines her daughter, but when she does something wrong, she would take her tablet device away from her and not allow her to go visit her best friend.
“My daughter thinks that I am punishing her,” my friend said. “She begs me to see her friend or give her her stuff that we left behind in our house when we evacuated. I tried to explain to her over and over that she did not do anything wrong. But her little mind couldn’t grasp what is actually happening. I feel extremely guilty.”
My heart aches, for Manara, for my sister, my friend and her daughter, and for every person who suffered and is still suffering.
Noon For over three months, the main means of transportation has been by animals or on foot. There are few cars on the streets. In addition to the fact that movement became very difficult due to the huge number of people in the streets, fuel is very expensive.
To take a taxi has become a unique experience: I couldn’t believe that I was in a car. Today, I asked the driver about what he uses for fuel. He told me there are two options these days. The first is using gas canisters; and the other option is a mixture of fuel and cooking olive oil. The drivers would mix three litres of cooking olive oil with one litre of fuel.
“Filling a gas canister is very difficult, but what is the canister for if I don’t have food to cook with it?” the driver, who has been displaced with his family for almost four months, told me. “All our money is gone. If you had little money on you at the beginning, it is gone now. At least, I can provide a few things to my family with the money I get from the car.”
I asked him whether the two alternatives are safe. He said: “Neither is safe nor good for the car. They ruin the motor. But what other option do we have? All we want is to survive, and after this is over, I can deal with the car issues.”
It goes without saying that the prices to travel by car are expensive, and you would take four to five times the required time, due to the heavily crowded streets.
3pm Another friend tells us that he had an argument with his hosting family, which led to him moving out. Every now and then the same scenario happens over similar details. It has been four months now, four long months.
I can never blame any hosting family for asking people to leave. Hosting another family means more food consumption, less space, more stress, less stability.
After all this period, having disagreements, disputes and problems is the normal result. Everyone is stressed out, everyone is not OK, everyone is extremely upset.
I contacted a friend to check on her, her family were staying at her best friend’s house. “We had to move,” she said. “Things got really bad, and I don’t want to lose my best friend over this. Half of my family went to the house of my father’s friend, while the rest, including myself, are staying in a tent.”
For the last three months at least, finding a separate place is almost impossible, and if you are super lucky, you will have to pay crazy amounts of money. Days ago, a friend of mine told me they found an empty apartment that has only walls (no kitchen or utilities like basins, taps, etc). The owner asked for $1,400 a month and asked for three months’ payment in advance.
Our hosting family are incredible people, they never made us feel unwelcome, even at the worst of times. But I am always terrified that something might happen, and we will be asked to, or have to, leave before this is all over.
11pm I want to use the toilet. I go outside, pass by the many bodies sleeping on mattresses, trying to make the least noise possible. I open the toilet door and I hear some rattling. It is complete darkness, so I turn on the flashlight I had, and see a mouse moving.
I walk backwards and close the door. For the past four months, I have always done my best to pass through the hallway without looking around, to respect the privacy of the people. For the first time, I look around, trying to locate where Ahmad is sleeping.
Most people have their faces under their blankets. It is very cold these days. I find Ahmad and he turned his face towards me.
“Ahmad, wake up.” I whisper.
“I am awake, don’t worry. Is something wrong?”
“There is a mouse in the toilet.”
“OK. Just keep the door closed and someone will deal with it the first thing next morning.”
I want to yell that I need to use the toilet, and I would never do it with a mouse inside. But I did not want to disturb people. So, I go back to the room and sit on the couch, covering myself with my blanket and wearing all the clothes I have including my jacket. I keep thinking of all the decisions “I took” that I never wanted to.
I never wanted to leave my apartment, yet I made the decision to leave.
I never wanted to stop taking my medicine regularly, yet I am doing so.
I never wanted to wear the things I am wearing now for five days in a row; to eat what I am eating now; to sleep on a couch; to walk for hours to find basic things. But I made the decision to do all of these things.
I never wanted to let Manara go, but I made the decision to do so.
I did not want to go back to the room without having to use the toilet, but I went back.
I really want to have a simple, quiet life in which I am in control of the basic things related to myself. Right now, all I need, desperately, is the freedom to use the toilet.
