You Hang on Faith Ach Sheli

She rushed through the halls of the building packed with the many people who claimed ownership of its rooms. They were screaming and bleeding and yelling at each other, and their faces blurred into a frenzy of swirling masses. A gunshot cried out, and the bearded Lebuvovitch next to her fell to the ground, his hands raised to Adonai with a streaming down the cracks of the linoleum floor. The girl panicked and ran to the staircase at the end of the hall, squeezing her way through the sea of broad shoulders. Two Arab men flew down the steps past her, as fast as their elderly legs could carry them. On their heels, a small group of armed Zionist soldiers chased after them, and pushed the girl roughly into the wall. The young lieutenant leading the pack threw tear gas in front of the Arabs, and they collapsed. But the bullets riddled their bodies before they had hit the ground. The girl kept running, jumping over their bloody puddles. She collided into another girl holding the Qu’ran to her chest. The book dropped into the puddle with a splash, and the other girl began to sob, crazed with sudden grief. The girl continued running, jumping over the heaving body of the other girl. Upon reaching the second level, she grabbed the railing as she slid to the ground.
Her heartbeat pumped violently, and all other sounds became a violent, muffled throbbing her in head. She had lost her room in the building, and her family with it. Nobody seemed to be able to be able to claim a room in the building for more than a year without bloodshed. Even the Jews who’d supposedly owned most of the building the longest; their own leaders would sometimes force families to leave and find new rooms to squeeze into. The girl savored the deafening moment of internal solitude at the stair rail. She begged only for G-d to take away all of her senses, so she could not longer feel, so she would not longer have to flee. In the darkness of her tightly shut eyes, a cold edge sliced smoothly into the side of her neck. The pain was sharp, and the world of chaos crystallized into clarity in that instant, slapping her promptly out of her daze. A young man’s voice whispered into her ear from behind, “Allah o akbar!”

The room to where she awoke was large and empty, and a dead blue light fell through the misted window above her. Her hands were bound and her body ached from bruising. Slowly, a figure emerged from the shadows. He circled her three times with a posture bent and pained; yet lacking injury. She could not see his face, and he could only see the blue glow of her nose and eyelids from the downward cast light.

“Yesh lecha zman?”
“Ekhresi!”
“Atah m’dah ber anglit?”
“Ekhresi!”
“English, do you speak it?”

He paused, and retreated back into the shadows. She listened carefully to his movements: he sat in a chair and twirled something hard and heavy on the ground. She imagined it to be a large gun.

“Yes, I speak it.”

He lit a candle, and carried it slowly to her, sitting on the floor not four feet away and setting the flame between them.

“I do not want you to speak to me any more,” he said coldly and firm.
“I am going to die. I want to use my last breaths reaching to someone.”

They were now staring at each other; one with the last strength of softness in her brow line, and the other with emptiness to all but his sad, pained eyes.

“You are my hostage. When they come for you, I am going to pull this string,” he pointed to a loose strand of rope escaping from a hole from the seem under his arm, “then you will all die.”
“Why do you want to kill us?”
“Because you killed my father, and then my mother, and then my brother.” His voice quivered and she watched a tear stream, he was no older than she at eighteen. “You took our corridor from my grandfather. You took the water we used to drink and clean our clothes. You took the money we used to feed ourselves,” a terrible pause, “You even took away the people who wanted to help us!” His cry was piercing, and her heart jumped and pushed forth her own tears.

“I’m sorry ach sheli” He hit her and turned his face.
“Don’t speak that language to me!”
“Do you hate me?”
“Ai’wa”
“Well I do not hate you.”
He sneered an intelligible sentence, and walked over to a corner where he slid onto the ground. “What are you trying to do, Jew?”
“I’m convincing you to let me live.”
“You convince me of nothing.”
“I am succeeding as we speak.”
“You’ll speak no more.” he said sternly and pointed a finger at her. “We’ve had too much talk already. We are done trying to talk to you people.”

She then lay down on the cement. Her shoulders ached from her twisted arms that were tied at the wrists behind her back. The boy just watched her with the same emptiness he had before, yet the darkness under his eyes had lightened. The tapping of his knife to the floor kept her eyes only fluttering as she tried to fall into sleep.

And she did sleep. She slept deeply, and peacefully.

“You must let me live.” She moaned as she opened her eyes to search for him in the darkness.
With a laugh he replied, “and why should I do that? Through away my eternal happiness and the security of my family for a Jewish girl?”
“Killing me, yourself, and a dozen other Jews with really give you happiness?”
Again, he gave her a terrible pause, “yes” he said weakly.
“I do not think that you believe this yourself.”
“Enshallah it will happen.”
“You hesitated before you spoke.”
“Must we always answer so fast? Steadiness and consideration of speech does not mean confusion. You Jews do not seem to understand this.”
She sat up again, “But your cause, it hangs on faith, not certainty ach sheli.”
“I am doing my part of the struggle. I am fighting for change, not sitting around waiting for help… that will never come.”
“You struggle in vain – and you’ve accepted my attempts at kinship.”
“Ekhresi!” He cried, and kicked her in the stomach. “Do not call me ‘ach sheli’ again!” The girl whimpered with fluttering breaths. It was not long before she inhaled deeply and withdrew a long, sad face.
“Your anger and hatred will live on in death, but it will be passed on and will give power to those you have afflicted.” They stared at each other for several moments, solemnly, sympathetically, “and so the wheel will keep turning.”
“Why are you smiling at me?”
“Because I am hoping that you will take some of my happiness.”
“I have made a mistake, you are not a Jew, are you?” He stared quizzically at the gold Star of David at her chest, and rolled back onto his elbows. “Who are you?”
“S’licha. And who are you?”
“…Saïd”
“What was your mother’s name, Said?”
He looked frightened and confused, and lifted himself to sit straight. “Khalifah” he said softly, and put his hands on his knees.
“My mother’s name was Zohra.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because we have both lost our mothers. I want you to see that the pain in me is the same as the pain in you. For G-d or nation, our souls are all of one.”
“I am going to finish what I’ve started,” Said went to the window and peered down, “There are Jews and Arabs everywhere down there, they are killing each other with their bare hands.” He looked disgusted.
S’licha curled into the ground and planted her head to the floor, “Do you feel this earth?” she asked
Saïd turned to her, and watched. He was curious by her strange questions and movements.
“Do you feel it Saïd? The earth under your feet?” she persisted
“Ee.”
“All people fighting in this building can too.”
“What do you want?”
“I want you to set me free.”
His laugh was uneasy, with a forceful strain behind it.
“I want you to set me free so we can stop this violence”
“We?”
“We. We’ll do it together.”
“Now how is that possible?”
“The Arabs will listen to you, you are one of them and speak their language, and the Jews will listen to me. We will explain how we are connected. How we are all energy, life on the earth. We will explain to them how our differences come from suffering, and we will explain to them how peace in mind and limitless compassion are the only escape from suffering.”
“If I fail this mission, if I do not pull this string, if I do not kill at least you, they will never listen to me.”
“So you will kill me, and then preach love and compassion towards all people?”
Saïd’s face grew sad.
“Come and sit with me a while.”
“Sit and do what?”
“Breathe, Saïd, breathe.”

Saïd watched her hesitantly. S’licha’s offer sat in front of him calmly. Her offer risked him his family, his community, his life. The boy had suffered in the beautiful old building his entire life at the hands of S’licha’s people, and now, bound and beaten at his feet, she meditated in front of him, with a soft smile on her lips. Said walked over next to her and sat down.
The light in the window was turning yellow as the sun rose from the sky, and two young people sat on their knees silently looking upwards in a bare room, clean of memory and affiliation. The dwindling candle shimmered between them, its orange light licking the sides of their faces, and the shadow of their rising and falling chests shivered with the unsteadiness of the light. Cold, musty air skimmed their nostrils and trickled down their throats into quivering lungs. Each breath quelled their straining calmness. Each breath softened the light around them. Saïd’s hands were open to the brightness of the window above, and S’licha’s opened to the darkness, stopping the demons behind her. Each breath took in the warmth of the little light. Each breath built a stronger barrier from distractions in the dark.
They sat there for many hours. They sat there until their lips dried and their stomachs sank inward with hunger. No one came for the girl’s rescue. No one came to aid the boy’s mission. As the sun began to dip over the horizon, and room began to drain of light, Saïd flipped the razor from his side suddenly stood. He looked down on the girl darkly and descended upon her with the knife facing heaven. Swiftly, he tore loose woven bounds around her wrists, and stumbled backward. Just as his knees buckled, S’licha lunged over to catch him in her arms, and the Said wept openly into her steady frame – his muscles relaxed and weakened.

“Hold onto me” she said, and rose slowly.

They clutched each other with their lives as they made their way to the door. The boy grasped onto her stability, and the girl relied upon his honor. Stepping out of the empty room and into the hallway, they froze in its icy stillness. Not a soul loomed. The faint echoes of memories cried in its emptiness, and time relieved himself of his duties. There was no one left to save.


Translations

Yesh lecha zman – Do you have time? (hebrew)
Ekhresi – shut up/shut your mouth (female) (arabic)
Atah m’da ber anglit? – Do you speak English? (hebrew)
Ee/Ai’wa – Yes (arabic)
Ach sheli – my brother (hebrew)
S’licha – Excuse Me (hebrew)
Allah o akbar – God is great (arabic)
Enshallah – god willing (arabic)