Home Is Beyond the Mountains (21 page)

When all the almonds were
gone Miss Shedd said, “I want to tell you what will happen when we get to
Tabriz. In the city there's a boys' orphanage and a girls' orphanage so you
will not all be in one place. I'm sorry that the families can't stay
together but the two orphanages are right next to each other and I'll make
sure you get to see each other often. Remember that you will only be in
Tabriz over the winter. I'll start working on getting you home as soon as
you're all settled and going to school.”

She stopped speaking and
everyone was quiet. They had gotten so used to being together on the road
that it was hard to think about being inside buildings and
separated.

On the last day of the
journey the wagons, the line of children and the mules all started out at
dawn. The family groups stayed together but now and then a child would dart
along the edge of the road, looking for a special friend in another family.

When Miss Shedd came by she
said, “You'll have plenty of time together. You don't have to say goodbye.”

Anna came to walk beside
Samira. “If they find a home for either of us we'll have to say goodbye,” she
said. “When that happens we'll probably never see each other
again.”

Samira looked down the line
of children walking toward Tabriz. If each one could suddenly go home they
would end up walking in a hundred different directions, not together at all.

“If we could have stayed in
the orphanage in Hamadan none of us would have to be separated. Would that
be better?”

“Maybe,” said Anna. “It was
a kind of home, and none of us knows what home we will find when Miss Shedd
sends us on from Tabriz. She says that we all have family. Maybe some of us
don't.”

“I hope I'll have some
family,” said Samira. “My aunt or my cousins. But it won't be the family I
had before.”

“You know more than I do,“
said Anna sadly. “I was away from my village when we had to leave. I never
found out what happened to my mother and my sisters. Maybe they went to a
different camp. I'm afraid to hope but I do hope.”

Anna had never spoken about
what had happened to her family. Now Samira knew that Anna's story was
different from hers. She might even find her mother or her
sisters.

Samira could not hope for
that. Her mother would not be waiting for her and neither would her father
or Maryam. Her hope was to find Aunt Sahra or someone in Ayna who would
remember her and Benyamin.

In spite of all the
questions Samira could feel her spirits lifting. She knew that not very far
away was the big lake, Lake Urmieh, that she had heard about all her life.
Now she could imagine that she would see it and even cross it in a boat and
return to Ayna.

At midday a group of men and
women from the orphanages and schools in Tabriz came on horseback to meet
the travelers. Miss Shedd was riding at the head of the caravan on Sumbul.
She wore a dark blue jacket and a scarf striped with many shades of red
wrapped around her head and shoulders. The children had never seen these fine
clothes before.

Samira suddenly remembered
the men of Ayna putting on their finest coats and riding to meet expected
guests, to greet them and honor them.

“She must have brought that
jacket especially for this day,” she said to Anna. “I'm glad we braided the
girls' hair. We don't look fine but we aren't a disgrace, either.”

“Will they talk for a long
time?” asked Elias. He was watching Miss Shedd and the people from Tabriz
exchanging greetings. Samira thought he was right to be worried. When
grownups were being polite they could talk for a very long time.

This time, however, they did
not, and all the children were pleased to see that the welcomers had brought
big baskets with them. They spread out trays of grape leaves rolled up
around meat and rice, bread spread with jam, sticky dates and little cakes
made with almonds.

“This is not what we eat
every day,” warned the director of the girls' orphanage with a smile. “It's
a special picnic to welcome you to Tabriz.”

After lunch Miss Shedd spoke
to the whole group.

“The people of Tabriz and
everyone in the orphanages want to welcome us to the city. We aren't far now
so brush yourselves off and look as tidy as you can. Boys, you walk on the
left side of the road and girls on the right. That way you won't have to
sort yourselves out when we reach the two buildings.”

Benyamin was sitting near
Samira. When he heard the word orphanage he stirred restlessly and said to
her in a low voice, “I'm seventeen. I don't think I belong in an orphanage.”

Samira was surprised. Where
else could he go?

But there was no time to
talk. It was time to move on to Tabriz.

When they got to the city
the sides of the streets were so crowded with welcoming people that Samira
saw nothing but smiling faces until they came to an open square with two big
buildings on one side. Lined up in front of the buildings were many children
neatly dressed in uniforms.

When they saw the travelers
they began to sing, and Miss Shedd led the caravan children forward to the
buildings. Then the girls went up the steps of the building on the right and
the boys went up the steps of the building on the left.

Samira looked around at Anna
and Maryam and Monna and all the girls of the Rooftop Family and the other
families. After thirty days of walking together under the sky they were
going through tall wooden doors into a new part of their lives.

Before she crossed the
threshold she turned toward the boys' building. No one was left on the
steps. Like magic Benyamin, Elias, David, Malik, Avram and Ashur were gone.

Wait for the Morning Star

November 1923

THE GIRLS
STOOD
crowded into the dim front hall of the orphanage. A woman
standing halfway up a staircase talked to them about baths and clean
clothes.

Anna whispered in Samira's
ear, “Just like going into the camp at Baqubah.”

But it really wasn't. For
one thing the water was wonderfully hot. For another their clothes weren't
taken away and burned.

“Your clothes are a little
worn but they are perfectly good,” said a woman as she handed out new
clothes. “You can mend them and keep them to wear when you go home. For now
you'll wear the uniform of the orphanage.”

The uniform was a white
blouse, a dark blue skirt and jacket and a blue headscarf. The clothes made
Samira remember Mrs. McDowell and the green dresses, all alike. She wished
that Mrs. McDowell could know that she and Anna were in Tabriz, almost ready
for the last step that would take them home.

Hot water was not the only
luxury. The soup they had for supper was really hot, too, and there was a
bowl of sliced cucumbers and onions on every table. The first fresh
vegetables the children had had in a month.

The Hamadan girls were
pleased with the new clothes and hot soup, but when they saw the dormitories
where they would sleep, they were uneasy. There were no familiar sleeping
mats to unroll. Instead the long rooms had beds lined up along each wall,
and each bed had another bed above it.

There was no word for such
beds in Syriac, so the matron told them the English word. Bunk
beds.

“I can't sleep up in the
air,” Samira whispered to Anna. “I'll fall off and break my
bones.”

She was not the only one to
feel that way. When it was time to go to bed the caravan girls, without any
talking, arranged to sleep so that each bunk bed had one big girl and one
small girl, and the two girls both slept in the bottom bed.

One evening Samira looked
down the line of bunk beds and thought, “I used to sleep on a roof. Surely I
can sleep on the top bed.”

She settled Monna in the
bottom bed, saying, “I'll be right above you if you need me.” Then she
climbed up and slept soundly all night.

The other girls waited a few
nights to make sure Samira wasn't going to fall off. Then they stopped
crowding each other in the lower bed and took turns sleeping up and
down.

“We shouldn't get too used
to these fancy beds,” said Anna. “If we do get back to our villages we'll be
sleeping on the ground again.”

“That will be easy,” said
Samira.

It was not easy to get used
to the organized life of Tabriz Orphanage. There was less work than in
Hamadan but more schooling. Each day the children had lessons in the morning
and training in the afternoon. Training meant learning to do something that
could earn some money in the future. Samira was learning to be a teacher of
children just beginning school, or at least a teacher's assistant, and Anna
was learning to be a nurse's aide.

After training came outdoor
games and circle dancing. Sometimes the boys and girls played together, but
they were expected to keep the games going so there was not much time for
visiting. Being told what to do most of the time made Samira restless.

“I miss having time to talk
and be with our friends,” she said to Anna one day. “And you know what? I
miss our caravan.”

“I know what you mean. Watch
Elias and Malik when you see them on Sunday. You can see how much they miss
being outdoors.”

It was on Sundays after
church that the caravan families could gather in the big square or in the
boys' dining hall if the weather was bad. Nothing organized, just a chance
to be with friends.

The next Sunday Samira
watched Malik and Elias chase each other through the groups of children.
Malik was faster, of course, but Elias was small and quick. He could
sometimes dodge around a corner and come back and surprise Malik.

The rest of the Rooftop
Family was happy to sit and talk together.

Miss Shedd usually spent
some time with the caravan children during these gatherings, but she was now
director of both the boys' and the girls' orphanages so she was even busier
than she had been in Hamadan. Often she had to rush off to a meeting, but
she always made sure that each caravan family had a chance to be together
before she left.

Then one Sunday Miss Shedd
did not hurry off. She sat with the children in the boys' dining hall and
spoke to all of them.

“I miss the days when we
were getting our caravan organized and when we were out on the road
together,” she said. “We all got to Tabriz but our purpose was to get you
home and you aren't home yet. Miss Sabat, one of the teachers, is ready to
go across the lake as soon as the weather warms up. She will visit the
villages to try to find your family members or friends. Your job is to be
patient. You have the rest of the winter to work hard at your school lessons
and training so when it's time for you to go home you'll be ready to be
useful, and the people in the villages will be glad to welcome
you.”

After Miss Shedd left,
Samira saw Benyamin coming toward her. He looked tall and serious.

“You look as if you have bad
news,” she said.

Benyamin looked past her out
the window.

“It's not bad news but I
know you're not going to like it…” His voice trailed off.

“Just tell me,” Samira said.
She had a cold feeling that she knew what he was going to say.

Benyamin looked straight at
her now. “Ashur and I have decided not to go back to our villages. We want
to leave the orphanage but we'll stay here in Tabriz in a lodging with some
of the others our age and go on with our schooling. We want to do more in
the world than tend vines or take care of sheep. Miss Shedd says it's a good
plan but I need to know that you understand. Do you?”

Samira's head could
understand, but the words that spilled out of her came from somewhere else.

“Not go home! How can you
even think of not going home? We're a family and we're supposed to stay
together. Don't you remember?”

Benyamin sat down on a bench
and pulled her down beside him. He was quiet for a long time.

Then he said, “Yes, I
remember. I was fifteen when I said that, and I couldn't imagine living
anywhere but Ayna. Now I'm almost eighteen. I see that there are other
places to live, other lives to live. I can't go back. Not to
stay.”

Samira looked down at
Benyamin's hand pressing hard into the wooden bench. His fingers were long
and strong. He was not a boy anymore.

“But what will I do? I
thought we would go to Ayna together. I don't think I could stay in Tabriz.
My life couldn't be here.”

“No,” said Benyamin. “You
really want to go to Ayna. Miss Shedd will find out who is there for you. If
there's no one we'll make another plan. I won't leave you alone. I'm your
brother.”

Samira could see that
Benyamin had decided. She could only wait to see what would happen to
her.

The winter passed slowly.
When the wind felt almost warm and the bushes around the courtyard began to
show little green leaves, Miss Sabat set off on her first journey to find
homes for the caravan orphans. She was going up into the mountains on this
trip so Samira and Anna knew there would be no news for them.

When Miss Sabat returned,
Shula, Avram, Maryam and Malik, who came from mountain villages, were called
to a meeting. They would hear news of what she had found.

Samira, Anna, Benyamin and
Ashur were waiting in the hall when children began to crowd out of the room.
Maryam hurried over to them.

“She brought a letter from
my father's cousin welcoming me home. I didn't believe it could happen but
it did.”

Avram and Shula had good
news, too, and they all rushed off full of excitement.

But Malik did not come out.

“Let's go in,” said
Benyamin. He pushed the door open and the others followed him into the room.
They saw Malik standing in front of Miss Sabat shaking his head.

“My grandmother? How do you
know it was my grandmother? It must be a mistake.”

Miss Sabat tried to answer
him but Malik kept shaking his head and saying, “How do you know?” louder
and louder until he was shouting.

Miss Sabat stepped away from
Malik and motioned the other children to come near. Malik stopped shouting
and just stood looking dazed.

“You're friends of Malik,
aren't you?” Miss Sabat asked. They all nodded.

“I found Malik's
grandmother. She managed to stay alive in her village these five years. She
wants Malik to come home but he can't believe I really saw her. I think he
made up his mind that she had died.”

Malik suddenly stepped
between Samira and Benyamin and said to Miss Sabat, “Did she give you
something to show that she's really my grandmother?”

“No,” said Miss Sabat. “But
she gave me some words to say to you. Do you want to hear them?”

“Yes,” said
Malik.

“She said, ‘Tell my grandson
to wait for the morning star to rise before he sets out on his
journey.'”

Malik looked up and met Miss
Sabat's eyes. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.

“You have seen my
grandmother. That is what she always said when I was going out very early in
the morning to take the sheep into the hills. I thought she would be dead by
now but I was wrong. I will go home.”

He turned and looked at his
friends.

“Goodbye,” he said. Then he
reached out and clasped each one of them by the hand.

“Goodbye,” he said again.
Then he was out the door.

“Why did he say goodbye?”
asked Anna. “Surely he won't be going right away.”

“He will,” said Miss Sabat.
“I'm leaving tomorrow to visit more villages and a few of the children have
permits to cross the lake with me. He's one of them and it seems that he's
ready to go.”

“He's made up his mind,”
said Samira, almost to herself. “He'll go tomorrow.”

But she could hardly believe
she would not see Malik coming around the corner unexpectedly one day with
his long legs and uncombed hair. She felt a hole inside her somewhere. And
this was just the beginning.

THE CELEBRATIONS THAT
came
with the Persian spring were just over when Samira and Anna stood in the
parlor of the girls' orphanage waiting for Miss Sabat. She had just returned
from traveling to villages in the hills around the city of Urmieh, and she
had sent a message asking the two girls to meet with her.

They were too nervous to sit
down. Whatever Miss Sabat had to tell them was serious. It could not wait
for a meeting of all the children from the area she had visited. Samira
found herself braiding and unbraiding the fringe at the end of her scarf,
and Anna was twisting her fingers into one knot after another.

It seemed a long time before
the young teacher came through the door. She asked them to sit down on a
bench, speaking in a gentle voice that made Samira feel worried.

She looked from one girl to
the other.

“I wanted to talk to you
girls together because I have been told that you are very good friends.”
Then she looked only at Anna. “Most of the villages I went to this time are
somewhat ruined, but people are there and they are rebuilding their lives.
But I'm sad to tell you, Anna, that your village was really destroyed. No
one could tell me what happened to any of the people from your village. And
no one has returned.” She put out both her hands as if she wanted to comfort
Anna and then clasped them in front of her.

Anna was looking past her,
out the parlor door and down the long hall.

“I kept thinking my mother
or maybe one of my sisters might be alive,” she said. “I wasn't there when
the soldiers came. I was in another village helping my aunt with her new
baby. I couldn't go home so I ran away with them.”

“And your aunt?' asked Miss
Sabat.

“No,” said Anna. And she
began to cry, big sobs bursting from her.

Samira had never seen Anna
cry, and she didn't know what to do. But Miss Sabat took Anna by the hand
and led her to a comfortable chair and said, “You cry. We are here with
you.”

After a bit Anna's sobs
changed to gasping breaths. When she could speak she said, “All these years
in the camps and the orphanages I've had a tiny thought that someone might
be alive. I was so foolish.”

“No,” said Miss Sabat. “Hope
is never foolish. It helped you remember the people you love and that is
good.” She stopped for a moment and then said, “I could tell you Samira's
news. Would you both like to hear it?”