Refugee Stories PDF

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 1 2 3 4 5 A L A N G R AT Z 6 7 8 REFUGEE 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 SCHOLASTIC PRESS / NEW YORK 095-67848_ch00_1P.indd 3 1/17/17 1:31 PM  Isabel J u s t o u t s i d e H ava n a , C u b a — 19 9 4 1 2 3 4 5 6 IT TOOK ONLY TWO TRIES TO GET THE SCRAWNY 7 calico kitten to come out from under the pink cinder- 8 block house and eat from Isabel Fernandez’s hand. The 9 cat was hungry, just like everyone else in Cuba, and its 10 belly quickly won out over its fear. 11 The cat was so tiny it could only nibble at the beans. 12 Its little tummy purred like an outboard motor, and it 13 butted its head against Isabel’s hand in between bites. 14 “You’re not much to look at, are you, kitty?” Isabel 15 said. Its fur was scraggly and dull, and Isabel could feel 16 the cat’s bones through its skin. The little kitten wasn’t 17 too different from her, Isabel realized: thin, hungry, and 18 in need of a bath. Isabel was eleven years old, and all 19 lanky arms and legs. Her brown face was splotchy with 20 freckles, and her thick black hair was cut short for summer 21 and pulled back behind her ears. She was barefoot like 22 always, and wore a tank top and shorts. 23 The kitten gobbled up the last of the beans and mewed 24 pitifully. Isabel wished she had something else to give it, 25 but this food was already more than she could spare. Her 26 lunch hadn’t been much bigger than the cat’s—just a few 27 7 095-67848_ch01_1P.indd 7 1/17/17 1:32 PM 1 beans and a small pile of white rice. There had been 2 rationing and food coupon books when Isabel was little, 3 but a few years ago, in 1989, the Soviet Union had fallen, 4 and Cuba had hit rock bottom. Cuba was a communist 5 country, like Russia had been, and for decades the Soviets 6 had been buying Cuba’s sugar for eleven times the price 7 and sending the little island food and gasoline and medi- 8 cine for free. 9 But when the Soviet Union went away, so did all their 10 support. Most of the farms in Cuba grew only sugarcane, 11 and with no one to overpay for it the cane fields dried 12 up, the sugar refineries closed, and people lost their jobs. 13 Without Russia’s gas they couldn’t run the tractors to 14 change the fields over to food, and without the extra food 15 the Cuban people began to starve. All the cows and pigs 16 and sheep had been slaughtered and eaten. People had even 17 broken into the Havana zoo and eaten the animals, and 18 cats like this little kitten had ended up on dinner tables. 19 But nobody was going to eat this cat. “You’ll just be 20 our little secret,” Isabel whispered. 21 “Hey, Isabel!” Iván said, making her jump. The cat 22 skittered away underneath the house. 23 Iván was a year older than Isabel and lived next door. 24 He and Isabel had been friends as long as she could 25 remember. Iván was lighter skinned than Isabel, with 26 curly dark hair. He wore sandals; tan shorts; a striped, 27 short-sleeved, button-down shirt; and a cap with a fancy 8 095-67848_ch01_1P.indd 8 1/17/17 1:32 PM  letter I on it—the logo of the Havana baseball team 1 Industriales. He wanted to be a professional baseball 2 player when he grew up, and he was good enough that 3 it wasn’t a crazy dream. 4 Iván plopped to the dusty ground beside Isabel. “Look! 5 I found a bit of dead fish on the beach for the cat.” 6 Isabel recoiled at the smell, but the kitten came running 7 back, eating greedily from Iván’s hand. 8 “She needs a name,” Iván said. Iván gave names to 9 everything—the stray dogs who wandered the town, his 10 bicycle, even his baseball glove. “How about Jorge? Or 11 Javier? Or Lázaro?” 12 “Those are all boy names!” Isabel said. 13 “Yes, but they are all players for the Lions, and she’s 14 a little lion!” The Lions was the nickname of the 15 Industriales. 16 “Iván!” his father called from next door. “I need your 17 help in the shed.” 18 Iván climbed to his feet. “I have to go. We’re building... 19 a doghouse,” he said, before sprinting away. 20 Isabel shook her head. Iván thought he was being 21 sneaky, but Isabel knew exactly what he and his father 22 were building in their shed, and it wasn’t a doghouse. It 23 was a boat. A boat to sail to the United States. 24 Isabel was worried the Castillos were going to get 25 caught. Fidel Castro, the man who ruled Cuba as presi- 26 dent and prime minister, wouldn’t allow anyone to leave 27 9 095-67848_ch01_1P.indd 9 1/17/17 1:32 PM 1 the country—especially not to go to the United States—el 2 norte, as Cubans called it. The north. If you were caught 3 trying to leave for el norte by boat, Castro would throw 4 you in jail. 5 Isabel knew because her own father had been caught 6 by the Cuban navy. Papi had been thrown in jail for a 7 year the last time he tried to sail for Florida. 8 Isabel noticed her father and grandfather heading down 9 the road toward the city to stand in line for food. She put 10 the little kitten back under the house and ran inside for her 11 trumpet. Isabel loved tagging along on trips into Havana 12 to stand on a street corner and play her trumpet for pesos. 13 She never did make much. Not because she wasn’t good. 14 As her mother liked to say, Isabel could play the storm 15 clouds from the sky. People often stopped to listen and 16 clap and tap their feet when she played. But the only people 17 who could afford to give her pesos were the tourists— 18 visitors from Canada or Europe or Mexico. Ever since the 19 Soviet Union had collapsed, the only currency most 20 Cubans had were the booklets you got stamped when you 21 went to pick up your food rations from the store. And 22 food ration booklets were pretty worthless anyway— 23 there wasn’t enough food to go around, whether you had 24 a booklet or not. 25 Isabel caught up with her father and grandfather, 26 then parted ways with them on the Malecón, the broad 27 road that curved along the seawall on Havana Harbor. 10 095-67848_ch01_1P.indd 10 1/17/17 1:32 PM  On one side of the road stood block after block of green 1 and yellow and pink and baby blue homes and shops. The 2 paint was peeling and the buildings were old and weath- 3 ered, but they still looked grand to Isabel. Isabel stood on 4 the wide promenade, where it seemed all of Havana was 5 on display. People might have been hungry, but life went 6 on. Mothers carried babies in slings across their chests. 7 Couples kissed under palm trees. Buskers played rumbas 8 on guitars and drums. Boys took turns diving into the 9 sea. Tourists took pictures. It was Isabel’s favorite place in 10 the whole city. 11 Isabel tossed an old ball cap on the ground on the off 12 chance that one of the tourists actually had a peso to 13 spare, and lifted the trumpet to her lips. As she blew, her 14 fingers tapped out the notes she knew by heart. It was a 15 salsa tune she liked to play, but this time she listened past 16 the music. Past the noise of the cars and trucks on the 17 Malecón, past the people talking as they walked by, past 18 the crash of the waves against the seawall behind her. 19 Isabel was listening for the clave underneath the music, 20 the mysterious hidden beat inside Cuban music that every- 21 body seemed to hear except her. An irregular rhythm that 22 lay over the top of the regular beat, like a heartbeat beneath 23 the skin. Try as she might, she had never heard it, never 24 felt it. She listened now, intently, trying to hear the heart- 25 beat of Cuba in her own music. 26 What she heard instead was the sound of breaking glass. 27 11 095-67848_ch01_1P.indd 11 1/17/17 1:32 PM 1 2 3 4 Mahmoud Aleppo, Syria—2015 5 6 7 MAHMOUD BISHARA WAS INVISIBLE, AND 8 that’s exactly how he wanted it. Being invisible was 9 how he survived. 10 He wasn’t literally invisible. If you really looked at 11 Mahmoud, got a glimpse under the hoodie he kept pulled 12 down over his face, you would see a twelve-year-old boy 13 with a long, strong nose, thick black eyebrows, and short- 14 cropped black hair. He was stocky, his shoulders wide 15 and muscular despite the food shortages. But Mahmoud 16 did everything he could to hide his size and his face, to 17 stay under the radar. Random death from a fighter jet’s 18 missile or a soldier’s rocket launcher might come at any 19 moment, when you least expected it. To walk around get- 20 ting noticed by the Syrian army or the rebels fighting 21 them was just inviting trouble. 22 Mahmoud sat in the middle row of desks in his class- 23 room, where the teacher wouldn’t call on him. The desks 24 were wide enough for three students at each, and Mahmoud 25 sat between two other boys named Ahmed and Nedhal. 26 Ahmed and Nedhal weren’t his friends. Mahmoud 27 didn’t have any friends. 12 095-67848_ch01_1P.indd 12 1/17/17 1:32 PM  It was easier to stay invisible that way. 1 One of the teachers walked up and down the hall ring- 2 ing a handbell, and Mahmoud collected his backpack 3 and went to find his little brother, Waleed. 4 Waleed was ten years old and two grades below 5 Mahmoud in school. He too wore his black hair cropped 6 short, but he looked more like their mother, with nar- 7 rower shoulders, thinner eyebrows, a flatter nose, and 8 bigger ears. His teeth looked too big for his head, and 9 when he smiled he looked like a cartoon squirrel. Not 10 that Waleed smiled much anymore. Mahmoud couldn’t 11 remember the last time he’d seen his brother laugh, or 12 cry, or show any emotion whatsoever. 13 The war had made Mahmoud ner vous. Twitchy. 14 Paranoid. It had made his little brother a robot. 15 Even though their apartment wasn’t far away, 16 Mahmoud led Waleed on a different route home every 17 day. Sometimes it was the back alleys; there could be 18 fighters in the streets, who were always targets for 19 the opposition. Bombed-out buildings were good too. 20 Mahmoud and Waleed could disappear among the heaps 21 of twisted metal and broken cement, and there were no 22 walls to fall on them if an artillery shell went whizzing 23 overhead. If a plane dropped a barrel bomb, though, 24 you needed walls. Barrel bombs were filled with nails 25 and scrap metal, and if you didn’t have a wall to duck 26 behind you’d be shredded to pieces. 27 13 095-67848_ch01_1P.indd 13 1/17/17 1:32 PM 1 It hadn’t always been this way. Just four years ago, 2 their home city of Aleppo had been the biggest, bright- 3 est, most modern city in Syria. A crown jewel of the 4 Middle East. Mahmoud remembered neon malls, glitter- 5 ing skyscrapers, soccer stadiums, movie theaters, muse- 6 ums. Aleppo had history too—a long history. The Old 7 City, at the heart of Aleppo, was built in the twelfth 8 century, and people had lived in the area as early as 6,000 9 BCE. Aleppo had been an amazing city to grow up in. 10 Until 2011, when the Arab Spring came to Syria. 11 They didn’t call it that then. Nobody knew a wave of 12 revolutions would sweep through the Middle East, top- 13 pling governments and overthrowing dictators and start- 14 ing civil wars. All they knew from images on TV and 15 posts on Facebook and Twitter was that people in Tunisia 16 and Libya and Yemen were rioting in the streets, and as 17 each country stood up and said “Enough!” so did the 18 next one, and the next one, until at last the Arab Spring 19 came to Syria. 20 But Syrians knew protesting in the streets was danger- 21 ous. Syria was ruled by Bashar al-Assad, who had twice 22 been “elected” president when no one was allowed to run 23 against him. Assad made people who didn’t like him dis- 24 appear. Forever. Everyone was afraid of what he would 25 do if the Arab Spring swept through Syria. There was an 26 old Arabic proverb that said, “Close the door that brings 27 the wind and relax,” and that’s exactly what they did; 14 095-67848_ch01_1P.indd 14 1/17/17 1:32 PM  while the rest of the Middle East was rioting, Syrians 1 stayed inside and locked their doors and waited to see 2 what would happen. 3 But they hadn’t closed the door tight enough. A man 4 in Damascus, the capital of Syria, was imprisoned for 5 speaking out against Assad. Some kids in Daraa, a city in 6 southern Syria, were arrested and abused by the police 7 for writing anti-Assad slogans on walls. And then the 8 whole country seemed to go crazy all at once. Tens of 9 thousands of people poured into the streets, demanding 10 the release of political prisoners and more freedom for 11 everyone. Within a month, Assad had turned his tanks 12 and soldiers and bombers on the protestors—on his own 13 people—and ever since then, all Mahmoud and Waleed 14 and anyone else in Syria had known was war. 15 Mahmoud and Waleed turned down a different rubble- 16 strewn alley than the day before and stopped dead. Just 17 ahead of them, two boys had another boy up against 18 what was left of a wall, about to take the bag of bread he 19 carried. 20 Mahmoud pulled Waleed behind a burned-out car, his 21 heart racing. Incidents like this were common in Aleppo 22 lately. It was getting harder and harder to get food in the 23 city. But for Mahmoud, the scene brought back memo- 24 ries of another time, just after the war had begun. 25 Mahmoud had been going to meet his best friend, 26 Khalid. Down a side street just like this one, Mahmoud 27 15 095-67848_ch01_1P.indd 15 1/17/17 1:32 PM 1 found Khalid getting beaten up by two older boys. 2 Khalid was a Shia Muslim in a country of mostly Sunni 3 Muslims. Khalid was clever. Smart. Always quick to 4 raise his hand in class, and always with the right answer. 5 He and Mahmoud had known each other for years, and 6 even though Mahmoud was Sunni and Khalid was Shia, 7 that had never mattered to them. They liked to spend 8 their afternoons and weekends reading comic books and 9 watching superhero movies and playing video games. 10 But right then, Khalid had been curled into a ball on 11 the ground, his hands around his head while the older 12 boys kicked him. 13 “Not so smart now, are you, pig?” one of them had 14 said. 15 “Shia should know their place! This is Syria, not Iran!” 16 Mahmoud had bristled. The differences between 17 Sunnis and Shiites was just an excuse. These boys had 18 just wanted to beat someone up. 19 With a battle cry that would have made Wolverine 20 proud, Mahmoud had launched himself at Khalid’s 21 attackers. 22 And he had been beaten up as badly as Khalid. 23 From that day forward, Mahmoud and Khalid were 24 marked. The two older boys became Mahmoud’s and 25 Khalid’s own personal bullies, delivering repeated beat- 26 downs between classes and after school. 27 That’s when Mahmoud and Khalid had learned 16 095-67848_ch01_1P.indd 16 1/17/17 1:32 PM  how valuable it was to be invisible. Mahmoud stayed in 1 the classroom all day, never going to the bathroom or the 2 playground. Khalid never answered another question in 3 class, not even when the teacher called on him directly. 4 If the bullies didn’t notice you, they didn’t hit you. 5 That’s when Mahmoud had realized that together, he 6 and Khalid were bigger targets; alone, it was easier to be 7 invisible. It was nothing they ever said to each other, just 8 something they each came to understand, and within a 9 year they had drifted apart, not even speaking to each 10 other as they passed in the hall. 11 A year after that, Khalid had died in an airstrike 12 anyway. 13 It was better not to have friends in Syria in 2015. 14 Mahmoud watched as these two boys attacked the boy 15 with the bread, a boy he didn’t even know. He felt the 16 stirrings of indignation, of anger, of sympathy. His breath 17 came quick and deep, and his hands clenched into fists. 18 “I should do something,” he whispered. But he knew 19 better. 20 Head down, hoodie up, eyes on the ground. The trick 21 was to be invisible. Blend in. Disappear. 22 Mahmoud took his younger brother by the hand, 23 turned around, and found a different way home. 24 25 26 27 17 095-67848_ch01_1P.indd 17 1/17/17 1:32 PM