It had been over three years since he had seen his parents, his sister and brother. Three years since we flew across the Red Sea back to Jeddah.
Less than a year ago, it went off again. After several weeks of uncertainty, his family managed to flee the capital and resettle in their old house in a village in the North. They took only the essentials with them. It’s in our nature to hope, we don’t usually think about the possibility of no return. They also had to leave their car behind in their yard, which would have made the journey too dangerous, or almost impossible. They had to travel by organized public transport. Soon after, the militias started looting. The car was riddled with bullets. The abandoned house, which the neighbors could look after for only a short time, received new residents. Army mercenaries need a place to rest. So now the enemies are sleeping in their beds. They brought their families from other parts of the country. All the plates, all the cups and teapots are now theirs. Bedding and clothes as well.
Even in the time of war, new bonds of marriage arise. And so the former neighbors phoned to the North that a new couple had gotten married in Tamer’s former home backyard. And the groom wore Tamer’s wedding set, which he left in his family wardrobe that faithful August 2019.
It is difficult to talk and write about it. But I must find a way. It is difficult to ask him how his parents are doing, with whom he only manages to speak on the phone. It is difficult for him when I suggest whether he will send them a photo from the snowy winter fairy tale that we have in Ljubljana. “It’s difficult,” he answers me when he can no longer find words for what is happening in his homeland.