Doaa longed for the Quran that she had brought to Egypt with her from Syria, her most precious possession. Since her early teens, she had read from it every evening before bed, and at random times during the day when she needed some comforting words to give her peace of mind. After reading from it, Doaa would slip it back into its hard case, which was embossed with a pink-and-white geometric pattern. Her Quran would have soothed her now, she thought, but her thoughts soon turned to anger as she remembered that it was in the black duffel bag that had been confiscated during her first arrest. She was suddenly overcome with hatred for the smugglers and anger at the police and everyone who tried to profit from the desperation of refugees such as herself.
A few moments later, a smuggler approached their section of the boat with a book in his hand. “Someone has dropped this Quran. Does anybody want it?” He was the first of the smugglers who had spoken to them with any kindness. Bassem was chatting with a Palestinian man next to him named Walid who accepted the book, but then, not wanting to appear selfish, Walid turned to Bassem and Doaa and offered it to them. Doaa whispered to Bassem, “I do really want that Quran.” Walid smiled kindly and handed it to her. Taking hold of the small holy book, she felt energy and relief return to her body. Just the feel of the soft leather in her hands comforted her. She kissed the cover and opened the book anxiously, reading the words of God inside, and feeling as if she held an object of protection. As she flipped through the pages, she found small slips of paper with handwritten prayers. When she finished reading them, she closed the book carefully, making sure not to lose the notes, and slipped it under her T-shirt close to her heart.
Sometimes the other women sitting close by would join Doaa when she took the Quran out; they would recite prayers alongside her and ask God to guide the ship safely to Italy. The woman sitting directly to her left struck up a conversation, telling Doaa about her difficult life in one of the Palestinian refugee camps in Lebanon. She asked Doaa what drove her from Syria and where she was going. When she learned about Doaa and Bassem’s engagement in Egypt and their plans to seal their marriage in Europe, the young woman, who called herself Um Khalil, “mother of Khalil,” her two-year-old teething son, was delighted. “You’re a bride!” she exclaimed. “We will make you a lovely wedding when we get to Europe! We will sing and dance all night!” Doaa was touched. The other woman seated beside her, a middle-aged Syrian Palestinian, chimed in, “When we arrive in Italy, we will buy you the nicest dress and have two big parties—one for your wedding and one to celebrate that we have arrived!”
“You are so lucky with Bassem,” Um Khalil told Doaa, catching Bassem’s eye and smiling at him. At this, Doaa felt suddenly possessive and turned toward Bassem, and away from Um Khalil.
Bassem immediately recognized the insecure expression of jealousy on Doaa’s face. “You should keep chatting with her, she’s nice!” he whispered in Doaa’s ear.
“What do you mean by that?” Doaa asked, taken aback. Was he using her to get close to the other woman? she wondered.
Bassem grinned at her. “Are you jealous?” he teased. Then, seeing that she was truly distressed, he reassured her, “I only have eyes for you, my love.” Hearing this, Doaa curled up against him and took his hand in hers. “In just two days, we will be in Italian waters,” he predicted. “Then we’ll make our way to Sweden and be married and have our family.” He’d heard from friends who had made it to Europe that once they got to Italy, the smugglers would send out a distress signal, alerting the coast guard to their location using GPS. Sometimes, the smugglers would get picked up by collaborators before the rescue ship arrived, leaving the refugees without a captain or crew, Bassem explained. If not, they pretended to be refugees themselves to avoid being arrested, getting the passengers to vow to not disclose their identities, then the first chance they got, they would abscond from the group.
None of the passengers on board had any idea where they were. There were no landmarks, just a vast body of water surrounding them. Every now and then, people would test their mobile phones for a signal, but there was none.