A story inspired from struggles of life”Oh God,,,” [Archives:2003/687/Culture]

By Adam Taha
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I have always been a boy who would be deep in thought. Words would come to me and I would memorize them. I couldn't write, so memorizing my words by singing was the only way. I was different to the many children who would go out into the hot sun and play football with their bare feet in Yemen. My mind would wander to a far away place and I would hear melodies from flutes, strings and voices singing my song.
Some children thought I wasn't normal and some thought I was slowly growing crazy, because of my parents leaving me because of the steel boom industry in England. It wasn't the case at all. By this time my mother and father memories were long gone, disappeared into the back of my mind, somewhere deep inside of me. So deep, it would be a battle for me to muster any love for them in the future.
There were days I would take long walks and yes, I do admit, I would talk to myself and I am sure if someone saw me then they would have thought this child has gone crazy, and locked me up. It would not make much difference. This world has become a prison and it will do so for so many years to come until I find what I lost in my journey…myself. A world that would cage me to not give me what I so wanted, and all I ever wanted was to be part of a family.
I hid myself from the laughter of the Yemeni children by walking far away from the village, towards the cotton fields. There was no destination, just walking as far as I could go so I could be alone. I reached the forest of trees where the women go to get wood for the fire and climbed onto a rock, sat there, with right hand on my chin. I sat there, scratching my head every few minutes and started talking to myself. It was the only way for me to resolve any worries, pain that I was feeling or confusion. It was the only way to sooth that burning rage that kept tapping into my soul.
“Are you there? God? I'm sorry I haven't talked to you much lately, just been busy worrying over some things, and I know it's not much of an excuse, but I'm sorry. I was wondering if you could help me? I never asked anything of you. I know a lot of people ask you for a lot of things and you might be too busy, but I need your help. I need to ask you something's which I need answers for.”
I took a deep breathe before asking Him. I was scared to do what I was about to do. I know I didn't know much about God but I knew He created everything and my grandma told me a few things about Him, which got me thinking a lot about talking to Him for the first time. So here I was, getting ready to ask God and I wasn't sure if I should do it.
I felt my heart beating fast and I was getting nervous. Actually, I was terrified but I stood up on top of the large rock and shouted:
“Why? Did I do anything wrong to you? You give me this life and make my life miserable! You took away my mother, my father, everything I ever wanted and look at me! Look at my life! I got no one! I feel so alone”
“Who said you were ever alone. Hmm?”
I nearly fell off the rock. Is that God replying to me? I couldn't believe it! I felt my heart beating faster. My heart felt like it would leap out of my chest. I was terrified. What have I done? Why did I say such words to God, the Creator of the Universe? I thought my life was going to be over. I have done something terrible. I shouldn't have said such words to God. But then I thought I'd make sure that it wasn't the Devil:
“Erm, God?”
“No, not God..”
“Shaytaan!”
“Hey, I am no devil either!”
“Then you must be an angel or a jinn.”
“I'm right behind you. Take a look.”
“Do I have to?”
He started laughing. I slowly turned round to see a tall white man, wearing black trousers, black shirt and one big moustache over his lips.
“Who are you?” I asked
“Call me what all Yemeni's here call me: The Russian man.”
And so I forgot for a while about God and was curious to know about this Russian man. I was hesitant because I've never seen him, before but curiosity got the better of me. I jumped down and slowly I walked to him.
“So, you were talking to God were you?” he asked.
“I wanted some answers,” I replied.
“Well, that's best way of getting them, but He doesn't always answer, and when He does, sometimes we are deaf to hear His answer and blind to see He has given so much already.”
“I don't know what you mean,” I said, staring down at his large black boots.
“Let's say, sometimes we don't like the answers so we don't want to listen.”
“I see.” I said.
He sat down on the trunk of a tree, which must have surrendered to the storm a few weeks ago. I stayed standing for a while, staring down at him, wondering why was he walking in the woods like I have been.
“Can I ask you something” He asked.
“Depends.”
“On what?” I asked
“Well, I don't even know you're name.”
“My name is Sid.”
“Hi there Sid, come and sit in front of me and ask away.”
“Is it true that there's a world out there?”
“Oh yeah Sid, so much to see, but then I found people go to such worlds to really search for themselves, only lose themselves.”
“I don't know what you mean Russian man.”
“Well, I know quiet a few Yemeni's left Yemen to go to England to help their families here, but the day they stepped in that country is the day they forget about why they left Yemen.”
“How come?”
“Life in such countries, Sid, is a life were there's lots of money and you will always want more. Suddenly, you are so busy making it, you forget you came to England to return back to Yemen. I know some don't ever come back and some come back when they are really old. They come back to die here.”
“Oh.”

I think the Russian man had an idea why I was asking and I couldn't hide my face of disappointment as I slowly sat down and looked up to the sky. Maybe, I will never see my parents after all. Maybe they will come back to only die with their son. He saw me lower my head in sadness and that's how I learned more about the Russian man. He made me forget for a while about what pained me and told me stories.
“I used to be a sailor and we used to go into the sea for food with the fishermen. My life would change, because I never really stepped out of Russia. My parents needed money badly and things were bad in Russia. The economy wasn't good.”
“The economy? What's that?”
“Economy is about money, Sid. Jobs. And if the country has no jobs, businesses are not making money, then the economy is not good.”
“I see, go on please.”
“I met a Yemeni sailor who told my father that I can make good money as a sailor and I will come back with enough money to help the whole family. My father was OK about it, but my mother wanted me to stay. I was the only son they had. Although I had four sisters too.”
“So you left them?”
“Yes, Sid, and promised I would come back rich.”
“What happened?”
I left with the sailor and we traveled all over the world on great ships, hunting whales and even sea-lions. It went like this for 10 years and I sent money back always to the family. My life changed one cold, foggy morning on land. I had this long spear and a steel hammer. It was my first time they let me go with them on the shore and they were hunting white puppy sea-lions, that beautiful white fur skin.
I remember that I stood over one, and as I raised the steel hammer to hit its head, I saw its eyes, I saw the tears running down. I couldn't believe what I saw. I couldn't do it and walked away towards the sailors who were shouting at me to go back and finish the job. I didn't of course, but they finished what I couldn't.
It has been 15 years and I went back home to find that my father died and my mother also died, and no doubt from a broken heart. She loved my father and I was not there. My sisters were married and had families of their own and I couldn't stay with them. The house was sold to someone else, and there was nothing left for me but to travel again. That is why I came to Yemen.
“But what made you come to Yemen?”
“It was simple. The man who took me away from my father, like I said, was a Yemeni. He came with me to see my family and saw the pain I was in and took me with him, but his own family and relatives didn't like me too much to stay in their own homes. So I found wohere and there with the fishermen. but as years went by, jobs became scarce and the money I had left was all gone.
I saw the look in face, his eyes and he too gazed towards the sky, as if he was asking God for answers or maybe his father or mother. I don't know, but what I do know is that I felt he was in my situation. I felt a bond with the Russian man that day and he would tell me more stories on the world he had seen.
I learned so much about world history, about revolutions and music. He was like a walking history book and a map put together and I loved listening to him. He would get me sitting at the edge of life, filled with excitement on the adventures he had been on.
It was getting dark and hours must have gone by with so many stories in my mind. I knew I would meet him again soon. Before I left I said:
“I really thought God would answer me.”
“Maybe He has, Sid. Maybe He already has.”
Maybe God did answer me. Maybe He sent a new friend to me, the Russian man. The man of dreams, journeys and love for his father and mother. I realized then, that I was lucky. At least I got hope; my father and mother are still alive, somewhere in England.
I said my goodbyes, and left him staring at the great sky. Maybe he also came here to talk to God and find what he lost a long time ago. Himself.
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