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Monday, February 18, 2019 ARCHIVES  |  SEARCH  |  POST ADS  |  ADVERTISE  |  SUBSCRIBE   |  LOGIN   |  CONTACT US

The man with no name...

Hamed Fakhro

“I don’t think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains.” – Anne Frank
He woke up and it was still dark outside as usual. As he groggily lifted his head he rubbed his eyes and stared around blankly. A drab windowless room silently peered back, grey walls and caked ceiling paint the only expression he got from a totally unsympathetic accommodation. He lifted himself from the worn mattress on the cold floor and nudged his roommates to also get up. They were also exhausted. The four sunbaked men had the same look of dejectedness in their eyes as they tried to rise and start a fresh day. The youngest newcomer tried cracking a joke, but it fell on deaf ears, as nobody was really in the mood.
The man with no name dragged on his blue overalls that he tiredly hung behind the door last night and walked barefoot down the dreary corridor. His boots were still there, as he left them; outside. There was some morning dew with caked dust on them. As he shook the ragged work shoes to make sure there were no insects or other creepy crawlies inside, some sand fell out. The man hopefully looked to the sky, but it was also expressionless and totally indifferent. It seemed nobody cared this morning. It was so dark.
The man joined the random unorganised line that was pouring into the old crusty bus. The chatter was minimal, and the other workers just stared silently forward. Most were thinking about their families, some dreaming of a hot shower, and others of a warm meal. A vision of a rope hanging from a ceiling flashed in his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. Who would take care of his family he thought. Was that all a dream? Those lush jungles where he grew up playing in a spring? His mother tucking him in after telling him a folktale? How was his boyhood snatched away so suddenly and abruptly? How was he so deeply in debt? How did he end up here?
The roads were deserted. The only other cars were either buses or minivans transporting others like him to unknown locations. As the bus stopped at a traffic light there was another blue overall with a broom sweeping the street. He also had no name, and his head was totally wrapped in cloth, so he also had no eyes. He wanted to say something. Do something. He had no money so couldn’t give him any. He wanted to support him, but he also had no voice. He wanted him to see him, but he himself was also a man with no name.
The bus moved on without a care, and even blew some dark emissions at the blue overall in the street. As it trundled carelessly to its destination the bus shook and rattled to its own tune. As the grey mass that was the construction site neared, all the overalls started waking each other up and getting ready to start the rough long day. Our nameless man tightened his laces and his upper lip as he stood jaw clenched. It was time to get back to work. On the site he was handed a hammer and told to get to work. It was just another day for Raj, and the sun hadn’t even started to rise yet.

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