Sound of flapping wingsA story of a teenager Pakistani from a Greek prison1

Narrated by: Zubair Tahir2

Just call me ‘I’. I’m 16 year old from a Raja family of Phalia area of Mandi Bahauddin District in Punjab. Not attracted to school, I was found of pigeon keeping. I simply love them, their whispers, the stamina for long flights and their sound of flapping wings. Sitting near them, I used to spend hours and hours imagining how could they go to far off lands and come back to home without being lost!

Mother wasn’t happy with my pigeon loving habit. Tired of every day complaints for absence from school which was located in nearby village, she used to say that she would send me abroad… ‘You can’t do anything here… you can’t be somebody successful here’. I had an elder brother and a younger sister. Mother never had such thoughts about my brother. Actually he was not bad at school. Though mediocre student but never let the complaints reach home.

Then suddenly mother died, around five years back. I remember it was early 2007. She fell sick. I do not know much about the Hepatitis A or B, what I remember people talking about ‘black hepatitis’. She didn’t take much time after this discovery. I was simply sad, spending more time with my pigeons. They were a good flock of 40. Their whispers were to cheer me up and observing their flights in an open blue sky were making me light and feathery.

1 Based on an interview.2 The narrator is working for French Red Cross, dealing with survivors of human trafficking.

No one was there to criticize my hobby. My father! -- don’t ask about him -- a typical villager spending most of his time working in the fields. With very harsh behavior, I think he was convinced to use his hands for every thing... even to talk. Sitting on earthen floor of our courtyard, near the fire where mother baked fresh bread, we used to eat our meals. He would give me a slap for just asking to fetch him a glass of water.

Two year passed, early 2009, with the pressure from my grandfather, he married my aunt – younger sister of my mother. Neither the death of his wife not the marriage with new one would change anything in his behavior. Some time I just think that he had some mental blip. He wasn’t found of hash or alcohol but used to take some doze of opium time to time.

I left school in mid 2009. At 14, I was still in the 6th grade. I entered in delinquency. I would steel small items from the neighborhood and sell them away. I started smoking hashish and even drinking locally made strong alcohol. Two years passed. Mid 2011, observing my increased felony behavior, grandfather would suggest sending me abroad with a human smuggler. In my area, either every second house has some one abroad – mainly Europe - or intends to send someone. Having heard about this Eldorado, I did dream of going to Europe. Grandfather, knowing that my father won’t agree to spend money on my travel, decided to sell a piece of land silently – still his property though cultivated by my father. He did so and got a good amount of 850 000 Rupees.

My seasoned grandfather had contacts with people in connection with agents of human smugglers. In my area, it is not difficult to find such agents, too many people in this business. Quickly an agent of Kot Momin area of nearby district Sargodha was found… Let’s call him Agent A. The deal was stuck around 750 000 Rupees. Agent A had to bring me in Greece by road via Iran and Turkey. Remember… no long walks, only travel in taxies, buses or train. An amount of 450 000 Rupees was paid as an advance. Agent A told that ‘journey to paradise’ will take five to six months. Have never been out of my area, have never seen mountains, have never traversed any border, have never been in a plain, all

what I could imagine was the long flights of my pigeons in an open blue sky. Yet I was aware that long journeys do require endurance and doggedness.

It was humid but shiny day of August 2009. Agent A called from Faisalabad and asked to reach at the main bus station there with my step uncle – the cousin of my father - who also had stuck a deal with Agent A for Greece. Though my father didn’t have good relations with his cousins and we didn’t use to see us much due to familial conflict though living in the same village; Him and me, we travelled together to Faisalabad. At arrival we called the Agent A who came up with 3 more boys. One 19 years old from a village nearby of mine where my school was located and two others of 17-18 years from another nearby village.

Agent A gave us train tickets for Karachi. With the sunset, around 8 pm train departed from Faisalabad. Have never taken a long distance train before, I was feeling myself in a flock of 5 pigeons, flapping our wings to take off for long flight. Agent A didn’t travel with us, he gave us a telephone number instead, to be called at arrival.

We arrived at Karachi around 10-11 am, our phone call led to appearance of 3 guys. One of them appeared to be a close aid of Agent A. This man took us in a taxi. In 30 minutes we found ourselves in a small house where there were already 15-16 people. In first few seconds, I understood that they were also travelers like me. Next day, in the afternoon, around 3 pm, a man (one of 3 who came earlier at railway station) took a group of 7 (my old group of 5 plus 2 new) in a van. We headed to Quetta where we arrived after the midnight, around 2 am.

Van driver had a key of a house where we spent rest of night. Food was given to us in the morning and in the evening. Around 9 pm, same van guys brought us to a bus station where he handed us over to a man of Pashto or Balochi origin. Not very talkative, speaking passable Urdu, in his 30s, with small beard and big mustaches, lets call him Agent Taftani, he took us in a passenger bus towards Taftan border. During this night, we changed the bus twice… I do not know the locations. These were

small towns… darkness… few buses…people speaking in Pashto or Balochi, I don’ know.

After 8 hours of travel, we arrived at Taftan. The man directed us to a certain direction on foot and we marched around one hour. The terrain was rough, unleveled and dusty. During this escalade, we observed dawning. Prior to full break of day, at a certain point, the Agent Taftani paused and asked us to move forward straight in group of two. After 500 meters there would be a man waiting, each group would be following the direction of this man. A group of 2 went forward. I remained with others. Nothing happened, group disappeared. Apparently Agent Taftani received a signal from other side. This time, me and another one went forward. We marched around 500 meters in the unleveled bushy terrain and we saw a man with feature not far from Agent Taftani but wearing pants. This man, from far, directed us to a certain direction with a sign of hand. We walked another 500 meters and reached to a point where there were a group of around 10 people including two persons who left our group prior to me. In a similar fashion, remaining people of our group who were left behind, joined us. The man we saw in the way did not join us.

Thus, I found me in a new group of around 15. In this group, the majority was of Pakistanis. There were 2 Bangladeshis and 3 Indians. Indians were speaking Punjabi. When they told me that they were Sikhs and Indians… I was astonished. How come! How could they be Sikhs? They were like me. No turban.. no big beard ! They were not talkative. I didn’t know their itinerary. Don’t know how they entered in Pakistan. From this place which was a kind of cavity in shaggy area, I could see a point of border guards, a couple of, with guns, near a jeep. I think the border-crossing activity cannot be escaped by these guards. This was done under their nose. I think they were offered a ‘pitcher of wine’ be the agents. We were not supposed to talk. Nobody asked us to do so. I think it was a reflex. Unconsciously, we were not talking much to each other. We were like a pigeon frightened from a cat. Some earlier comers of the group told that we were supposed to wait for ‘someone’.

The day was well broken. We didn’t leave the land under our feet. Couple of hours passed away, a man came. I couldn’t recognize whether or not this was the one we saw during the crossing. This guy, lets call him Irani-1 threw some bread among us [it was roundy dry bread, like bread in the bakeries and not the one cooked at home]. Hungry, we picked it and started eating. I felt that it was not Irani-1, It was me, throwing grains to my pigeons... and us, we were not us, we were pigeons.

Irani-1 asked to keep the place till dusk and not be noisy. So did us. Around 7 pm, Irani-1 appeared from bushes and asked us to follow him. We started marching. Six hours of continuous walk; after mid night we arrived at a bank of road. During this tiring night walking in an untidy terrain, the most disgusting feeling was the deception vis-à-vis my imagination. This was NOT a pigeon’s long flight in an open blue sky. It was like small gawky flights of a bat… in the dark… during the night. Indeed I was metamorphosed into a bat with webbed forelimbs and not the silky feathers with divine sound of flapping. I was having my first deception. Undeniably it was not the only deception. I recalled the words of Agent A…. “Remember, no long walks… only taxis, buses and trains”.

So after 6 hours tiring walk we reached to a road. There was a taxi car pulled over on the road side. Not to forget, during the walk, in an unknown language probably Farsi, Irani-1 was in contact, time to time, with someone, probably this taxi guy, the Irani-2.

Irani-1 asked 4 of us to get in the taxi, including me. Two others were from villages nearby of mine [one from Dhunni and other from Sirian] and forth one was Indian. This is the time I lost contact with remaining people of my original group of 5 including my so called uncle.

Taxi ran on the deserted road, rarely another vehicle crossed by, during almost one and half hour and dropped us on the road side, in a deserted area.

Thanks to the mobile phone communication between Irani-2 and an unknown, in an incomprehensible language to me, there was

a man, let’s say Irani-3, waiting at this point. The later asked us to follow him on foot. This was the time of another day to be broken. The virginity of the new day was shedding light on the pathway on which we were forwarding. The terrain was rough, jungle, trees, bushes and fields. It took us 4 more hours. Yet it appeared to me like it was much more than that. I think it was due to last 2 nights’ travel, day in the cavity and dry breads in between. Irani-3 led us to, what it looked like, the suburbs of a city. He led us to a house. It was around 8 am.

A man opened the door at our knock. Small beard middle aged was home alone. He appeared to be a gentle man. We were handed over to him. He gave us some food… kind of burger… bread with some vegetables in it. Food in hungry stomach and tiredness led us to sleep. Our keeper, the Irani-4 was able to communicate with us for necessary things in broken English. During the day, he used to go out for many times. He asked us not to go out. One day he took one of us to market to fetch some vegetable. He was not harsh. I had the feeling like I had landed on the antenna of another pigeon keeper’s house.

On the sixth day, he took us to a bus station. He probably got a signal from somewhere that it was the time to move on. We took a passenger bus to a city of unknown name. All I knew that it was leading to Turkish border. We took this bus at dusk… around 7 pm and arrived the next day at 8 am. The bus was direct. We didn’t change the vehicle. Another night was rolled over with clumsy bat flight.

At arrival, Irani-4 handed us over to a new man. One of us was of opinion that new man was different in style of speaking and gestures. In my encounter with others in earlier group, I had heard about the Kurdi [Kurdastani] agents at Turkish border, therefore let me call him Kurdi-1. Where we arrived, it was a rather big town. We walked through streets and bazaars. With start of day, streets were enough animated. People were moving from one to other direction. Kurdi-1 took us to a 4 story apartment building. He led us to a house on the ground floor. In this empty house there were three rooms, bath room and small courtyard. We were given food… some vegetable burgers again. Tired, we

rolled ourselves in our webbed forelimbs and make us sticky to a carpet in one somber room and went into day hibernation. I didn’t feel to ask anybody about the next step. I have understood that I had to be sticky with the land under my feet during the day light. Only the darkness will enable me to see.

We got up one by one in the evening. The ritual of dry bread and fresh vegetables was revised. We stretched our skinny forelimbs with the arrival of darkness as we were asked to move on. Kurdi-1 guided us through streets. In few minutes, we were out of city. Apparently, the house was located on outskirt of the town. Total 30 minutes of marching led us to a secret border-crossing point. During the night escalade, what I could observe was a rather green hilly terrain, with trees and freshness.

So at a certain point, Kurdi-1 asked all 4 of us to go in certain direction and keep walking 15-20 minutes until a man intercepts us. We followed the direction… no barbed wire… no lights. We were able to see at a distance a group of 4 uniformed men under some light. This lighted was surely not the place to land. Thus, we kept following the direction in the darkness. 15-20 minutes walks with irregular heartbeat and faces that must be yellow [except we were not able to see each other’s face clearly], we arrived to point where a man intercepted us. He, let’s call him Kurdi-2, signaled us to follow him. With few minutes’ more walk, we were in a town. It seemed to me like there were two towns on the both sides of border. Kurdi-2 directed us to a bus station. He took a passenger bus with us to a certain direction.

Two hours of bus travel and we arrived at a place which was apparently the terminus of this bus. Kurdi-2 directed us towards a taxi. We were following the Kurdi-2 blindly. This is what we were supposed to do. Fellow from Dhunni village was able to understand a bit of English. Me, with my 6th grade of village school, wasn’t able to understand the sign boards. Language on these boards was incomprehensible. We were like the blind bats. The artificial lights of this bus stand were making us even blinder

and having draped our bodies with skins of our forelimbs, we crept into this taxi.

The taxi man, let’s call him Turki-1, without saying a word to us; put his taxi on a highway and it continued for 7 hours. At last, it was a very big city. Turki-1 dropped us at a house where a man, say Turki-2, took us over. It was around 8 am. With some food in stomachs we stretched ourselves on the cloth sheet on the floor. The whole day passed. We waited for the night, as usual, for something to be happened. When the night prevailed, Turki-2 guided us to a bus station. We took with him a bus to another destination….. I remember it was a red color bus. This was the only part of my travel that I went into sleep during the journey. It was around 7 am. Bus arrived in a city. We were again handed over to a man home alone, say Turki-3, where we spent our day.

Turki-3, gave us food once, again vegetable sandwiches, and we kept our bodies wrapped with our forelimbs and legs stretched during the whole day. Around 9 pm as soon as the night prevailed, Turki-3, asked us to move on. The marching on foot started. Three hours of walk and we arrived at a deserted place I could see for the first time an ambiance of protected border. There were marks indicating the limits, barbed wire not very high and a rotating search light at distance.

Turki-3 asked us to move on in group of 2. We were 4 in total. First group moved on as soon as the search light turned to opposite. Both sneaked under the barbed wire. As soon as they crossed, I along with other fellow followed them. When were arrived at the barbed wire, we could see from far the 2 border guards captured the first group. We took a U-turn immediately and came back to our initial point. Turki-3 was still there. Turki-3 suggested that guards will take the group in some time to their post that is far. Therefore, it will be a nice occasion to cross the border. We were convinced. We didn’t have choice of not to be convinced any way.

We stayed one hour at this point and then we repeated the ritual. As soon as we crossed the wire and moved near about 100 meters in, all of sudden, 2 guards appeared from the darkness and that’s it. We were hand cuffed. I understood that Turki-3 didn’t negotiate with the guards and tried blindly, perhaps in order to save money of bribe. We were deceived as we thought like the previous two border crossings, there would be a man waiting on the other side. Consequently, we found ourselves with the other group of 2 fellows at a border guard post which was located not very far. It was around 1 am. We found ourselves in a detention center, after 2 hours travel in a military kind of vehicle.

We spent 4 days in this detention, the first real detention of my life. Two of us were in one cell while 2 others in nearby one. Food was given once a day… no fixed timing… some time late morning some time later afternoon. We were 8 to 9 in one cell. It was very congested. We were not able to stretch our legs. There were no toilets in the cell. Every morning 5 minutes were given to everybody, one by one. What if we need to go to toilet during the day? I never felt …nobody ever felt… at least during these four days… we were given food only once… I felt the need once in four days. The cell had windows on both side. The rear one was small. During the night, inmates used to piss through this window. On the next day of our arrest, the guards took us out of cell and aligned us. Everybody was given one strong lash. One who gets the lash naturally fells down with the force of its stroke. This is something that I can’t forget. At first you feel something burning hit on you back. In the second instant, you fell down with feeling of being unconscious… but this remain only for a second or two and then… the pain. The fellow from Dhunni village was well-built. He saw everybody felling down with one lash, he tried to prove that he is stronger. He succeeded to stay standing after the first lash… so he deserved a second lash. Then did not get up at least before 10 minutes.

Third and forth day was terrible. Unable to stretch legs and having sleep in episodes, I was having two types of dreams. My mother calling me to come and sit near the fire where she would

cook round chappati and them me calling my pigeons at dusk to come down from the antenna… putting them in their cage. Then my mind had a reflection on cage. I put them in cage to protect them, otherwise they are loyal. They always come back after long flights. I was protecting them from cats. Were they protecting me in this cell? No… they were detaining me because I tried to have a long flight… I crossed the frontier… off course the forbidden frontier… forbidden to me. Thoughts of open eyes were often getting mixed with dreams of closed eyes…like my sleep in pieces of 10 to 15 minutes. In my cell there were one Punjabi other two were in next cell. Remaining inmates were of different colors from different countries. I didn’t use to talk much… even not with Punjabi fellow with whom I could. What to talk ! Nothing to say. I think often we were too hungry and weak to talk.

The face of one of these guards would remain engraved in my memory. A well-nourished heavy built white guys with small beard. He would abuse all the time. Without understanding a word, I am sure that he was using abusive words and insults. His body language exhibited this. Passing by our window, he would throw words inside. It seemed to me that if it was in his control, he would lash us to kill.

On the forth day, guards took 4 people from different cells, me, I boy from my group and 2 other guys unknown to me. They put us in military van. After 3 hours travel, we were thrown in a big detention facility.

My detention has entered into 73rd day, today. I don’t know what’s going to be with me. I have lost my weight a lot. I often feel cold. I keep my body wrapped with my webbed forelimbs. I have only one dream… having silky feathers of my pigeons… flying in a blue sky back to my origin… and landing on the antenna of my home….

-o-