Saleem and his mother knew Pakistan, Iran, and India had grown increasingly fatigued by the burden of Afghan refugees. This was not the case with Europe or America. People who fled to Europe never spoke of returning. Word of their happy, new lives traveled like the scent of ripe peaches in the summer breeze. Europe had sympathy for the war-ravaged people of Afghanistan and offered an outstretched hand.
Hakan had been concerned by Saleem’s rosy view of what life would be like in England. Saleem had talked of attending school and having his mother return to teaching. Hakan knew immigrants, including thousands of Turks, faced misery in Europe, but he cautioned only gently. Some would hate the Waziris for trespassing, for sucking at their nation’s teats, for looking different. But there was no better alternative for the Afghan refugees, and he felt it useless to disappoint them so early in their journey.
Saleem had pushed aside Hakan’s warnings. Now the family walked about the port city, wondering if it might be possible to pass for Greeks. Since they’d left Intikal Madar-jan had folded up and put away the head scarf that had been forced upon her by the Taliban. She was happy to leave it behind. Here in Greece, she could dress as she did in the Kabul of her youth. Fereiba ran her fingers through her loose hair, feeling renewed.
They stopped in three hotels looking for lodging but were discouraged by prices too steep for their shallow pockets. One front desk clerk took pity on Saleem and directed him to a smaller, cheaper hotel a half kilometer away. She drew him directions on a paper napkin before returning her attention to the small television under the desk.
Attica Dream turned out to be the best they could do. Saleem negotiated the rate from forty euro to twenty, promising to be very clean and quiet. The clerk, a woman in her fifties, saw Madar-jan with three children and four bags in tow and then turned to a leather-bound ledger on the desk, tapping her pencil on the grid of numbers and dates. Attica Dream had survived decades without renovations, and the owners did not seem to mind the lack of interest in their lodgings. They’d long been overshadowed by newer hotels in the area and the owners didn’t seem to care much. Their advancing age would drive them out of business, if the lack of guests didn’t.
The clerk sighed heavily and nodded in agreement, trying to appear as if it were a huge sacrifice to rent the room for so little. Saleem pulled out the bills he had changed in Chios and paid the woman for one night while she extracted a key from a wooden box. Saleem led his family up the creaking steps and into the room with two beds. The mattresses were old and lumpy, but they were happy to get off their feet, stretch their legs, and rest their shoulders.
Saleem’s legs throbbed as his head hit the pillow. He closed his eyes and thought of how far they’d come. Maybe it had been the right time to leave Intikal. Or maybe they should have left long ago. This was the next phase of their travels, Madar-jan had told them.
So here we are in Greece, Saleem thought as he tried to get to sleep. But now what?
CHAPTER 26
Saleem
THE HOURS CREPT BY WITH SALEEM AWAKE, LISTENING TO THE remote sounds of conversation and footsteps on the street below. Athens was alive at all hours. Eventually sunlight began to filter through the gauzy curtains. Samira stretched her arms and arched her back with her eyes still shut. Aziz flipped onto his belly, and Fereiba’s legs slid to the floor. She rubbed her eyes and stood. Saleem felt very adult watching them wake, as if not being able to sleep indicated some sort of maturity.
They splashed cool water on their faces in the bathroom so small Saleem could touch all four walls with outstretched arms. The last of the food Hayal had packed for them was spread out on a newspaper and divided.