Refugee Boy Page 4

  Alem thought for a while. ‘I know; maybe I could design a better building for them so that when they get the money the new plans are finished.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Mariam said as she stood up, ‘and when you’ve finished designing their new building, do you think you could design new offices for us?’

  Chapter 5

  ˜ Welcome Home ˜

  The children’s home was situated on the outskirts of Reading. It was an old building that had been through many uses. It had originally been built and owned by a wealthy merchant, who had sold it when he could no longer afford to run four mansions. Since then it had been used as a tuberculosis isolation hospital, a home for the elderly, a yoga retreat and a borstal. The moment Alem arrived, he hated it, although it was the kind of building that he could have really liked. It had a long drive leading to it, and with the knowledge Alem had gained from reading books on architecture he guessed it was Victorian. Two large stone lions guarded the main doors and much of the grey stonework was covered with creeping ivy. The green surroundings were idyllic but Alem just had a bad feeling about the place. It was as if he knew that the place had a pretty bleak history. Something made him feel that he wasn’t going to be having a great time there.

  Mariam stayed for only fifteen minutes before saying goodbye and promising to visit Alem soon. It was left to Sarah Cohen, a middle-aged blonde woman, to introduce him to his new home.

  ‘We have eighty-six boys staying here and I know the name of every one of them,’ she said proudly. ‘My name is Sarah and there are another seven members of staff here. All the boys call us by our first names. The staff are never all here at the same time, of course, some prefer night duty, some the day shift, but you should find that all the staff are friendly and willing to help you.’

  Alem showed no emotion as he looked around the drab office. He had only one thing on his mind and he said it: ‘When am I leaving here?’

  ‘I must be completely honest with you now: I don’t know – no one knows. What I do know is that Mariam and her colleagues will try their best to make sure that you don’t stay here a moment longer than you need to – but while you are here I promise that we will try to make you as comfortable as possible.’

  Alem heard the sounds that came from her mouth but he was not listening to her and she knew it.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘bring your bag, I’ll show you around.’

  They left the office and began to walk the timber-panelled corridors. In places the highly polished wooden floor creaked and as they progressed Alem began to hear activity in the distance.

  ‘The staff offices are out of bounds to the boys – unless they are invited, of course – but most of the staff spend very little time in the offices anyway.’

  They turned a corner and she opened a side door. The noise hit Alem; it was like an explosive attack upon his ears. The large room was full of boys. In one corner four boys played table football with a small group cheering them on. In another corner a group of boys took turns using hand-held consoles to play each other at Streetfighter on a television screen. Two boys were chasing each other around the room for no apparent reason, while others watched a football match on another television. On the other side of the room, board games were being played and other boys just stood around shouting at each other. From all this tumult two male adults emerged and headed towards Alem and Sarah. Sarah had fully entered the room but Alem still stood near the door.

  ‘Come in, Alem,’ said one of the men as he stretched his hand out towards him.

  Alem was surprised by the man’s very casual use of his name. Alem lifted his right hand nervously, he wasn’t used to shaking the hands of adults, but he went for it. The man shook vigorously, too vigorously for Alem’s liking.

  ‘My name’s Tom, Tom Whittaker but the boys just call me Tom. How are you?’

  ‘I am fine, thank you,’ Alem replied unhappily.

  Tom was in his late forties, his brown hair tinged with grey. He was wearing purple corduroys that looked as if they had been handed down from one generation to another and a large black and white jumper that looked as if he had wrapped a whole sheep around himself. He looked genuinely excited to see Alem, which made Alem worried; he wasn’t in the mood for excitement.

  ‘Well, Alem,’ Tom said, looking around the room, ‘these guys may look wild but they’re all right when you get to know them; we have our problems but who doesn’t?’

  The other man stretched out his hand. He was in his late twenties, in jeans and a sweatshirt, and had completely shaved off his hair.

  ‘Hello, my name’s Dave.’

  Alem shook his hand.

  ‘I’m new here, so we’re kind of in the same boat. It’s only my second day.’

  Alem had another glance around. Since leaving Eritrea he had not seen so many young people in one place. He realised how much he missed the sound of his own generation but he wondered how he would get on with these teenagers, they all seemed so confident. He could see that the boys came from all racial backgrounds, he had never seen such a mix of boys in one place. Then he saw one boy who was alone, sitting on a chair away from the other boys just staring at the wall in front of him with his eyes wide open.

  Tom noticed that Alem was looking at the boy. ‘That’s Mustafa, nice boy but he’s a bit of a loner,’ Tom said.

  Sarah began her tour-guide routine. ‘This is the recreation room, most of us spend most of our time here. Some of the boys have gone on a hill climb for a couple of days but they’ll be back tomorrow. Anyway, this is where the action happens. We have a variety of things to keep you occupied and we always welcome ideas to keep the boys busy.’

  ‘See you later,’ said Tom.

  ‘Take it easy,’ said Dave and they both walked off, leaving Sarah to it.

  ‘We’re very open-minded here,’ Sarah continued, ‘but we only allow smoking in the smoke room for those that are over sixteen. We don’t allow knives on the premises and mobile phones will be confiscated, alcohol is not allowed and we will not tolerate drugs of any kind – in fact if anyone is caught breaking the law, the law says that we should report them to the police, and we do.’

  She turned and walked past Alem back into the corridor. ‘Come along, I’ll show you where you’ll be sleeping.’

  She pointed out the toilets and a small room known as the quiet room where boys could sit and read. There were no books or boys in there. Then she opened another door. ‘This is the smoking room.’ Three older-looking boys looked towards them from the smoke-filled room.

  ‘Hello, boys, this is Alem,’ she said, waving the smoke away from her face.

  One boy raised his hand. Alem wasn’t sure whether he was saying hello or waving them away. Another just pulled on his cigarette, and the third one smiled wickedly and said, ‘All right?’

  ‘Yes,’ Alem replied, trying not to breathe in too deeply.

  ‘We’ll soon see to that,’ the boy replied, nodding his head in assent to a question that had not been asked.

  ‘Very funny,’ Sarah replied, closing the door and continuing the tour.

  Upstairs, Alem was taken into a large room with about fifteen beds in it. Alem looked horrified, he hated the idea of sleeping in a room with so many others.

  ‘This is the large dormitory,’ said Sarah. ‘Some boys like being together like this and that’s OK as long as they behave. This is the biggest room we have but it doesn’t suit everyone, of course. Follow me.’

  She walked into another room, which was much smaller, with only two beds. ‘This is where you will be staying. You’ll be sharing with one other boy, a nice boy about your age.’

  She walked over to a bedside locker and patted it as if it were a docile pet. ‘This is your personal locker. You will have your own key but if you have anything really valuable you should let us keep it in the office.’

  Alem had absolutely nothing to say. He hadn’t known what to expect but he didn’t expect this. He kicked his bag under his bed.r />
  ‘OK?’ said Sarah. There was no reply. She tried again louder. ‘Is that OK, Alem? Do you have any questions?’

  Alem just shook his head and looked downwards.

  ‘Good,’ she said cheerfully. ‘It’s almost time for our late snack, then you’ll have a chance to meet some of the other boys. Soon after the snack it’s bedtime, it’s a pretty straightforward routine. By tomorrow dinnertime I’m sure you’ll have made a few friends. It’s always difficult to get used to a place like this, it takes time.’

  The late snack wasn’t anything special and Alem didn’t want anything anyway. Tom and Dave took digestive biscuits and tea around on trays to the boys in the recreation room but when Tom offered Alem some, he declined. Alem watched as the boys ate their biscuits and drank their tea. As he watched, he was approached by one of the boys he had seen earlier in the smoke room, the one who made the remark to him.

  ‘Get some biscuits,’ he said, nodding his head in the direction of Tom.

  ‘I don’t want any,’ Alem replied.

  ‘Get some biscuits,’ the boy insisted, ‘and bring them to me. Now.’

  Alem was still unmoved. He just replied very calmly, ‘I don’t want any biscuits. If you want biscuits you get them for yourself.’

  Two other boys now joined in; Alem recognised them, they were both in the smoke room earlier. ‘Get the biscuits, it’s the easy way out,’ one of them said as he looked Alem up and down.

  ‘You’ll get me some biscuits or I’ll bust you up,’ said the first kid loudly, loud enough for Tom to hear.

  Tom walked over. ‘Right, so what’s the problem here?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ said the first boy while the two others quickly walked away. ‘I was just welcoming the new boy, you know how it is, Tom, new kid on the block, needs a bit of guidance.’

  ‘Of course, why didn’t I think of that?’ he asked sarcastically. ‘So why are you shouting? And didn’t I hear you say something about biscuits?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said the boy smiling.

  ‘I think so,’ said Tom smiling back. ‘Alem – you tell me what happened.’

  Alem was as straightforward as he could get. ‘I was standing here on my own, he came up to me and asked me to get some biscuits. I told him that I didn’t want any and he said that I should get some biscuits for him. I kept telling him that I will not get any biscuits. Then his friend told me to get some and he shouted at me,’ said Alem while pointing to the boy in front of him. ‘And then you heard him and you came.’

  The boy looked straight at Alem, amazed that he had the guts to tell all. Alem just looked back at him unmoved.

  ‘Apologise,’ said Tom to the boy, ‘apologise now.’

  The boy was still staring at Alem when he replied unconvincingly, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Right,’ said Tom, ‘and I don’t want to hear of you trying to get someone’s biscuits again. If someone wants to get their share and give it away, that’s fine. But you can’t force them to give you anything, even if they don’t want it themselves. Have you got that?’

  ‘Yeah,’ the boy replied quietly.

  ‘OK, you can go now,’ said Tom pointing him away.

  The boy walked away with a swagger.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Alem, and walked away to a relatively quiet part of the room.

  About fifteen minutes later the three boys appeared right in front of Alem as he watched some boys playing the computer game.

  ‘You’re dead,’ said the main boy, the boy who had kept telling Alem to get the biscuits. ‘You are dead meat, that’s all I’m saying now, you’ve had it.’

  When they were a safe distance away, Alem watched them carefully, checking out their size. They were much bigger than him but he knew that he should not be intimidated by them. He clenched his fists defiantly and continued to watch the computer game.

  At ten o’clock they were all instructed to stop what they were doing and go to bed. Alem had still made no friends, only enemies. When he arrived at his room, he found a boy there. The boy was sitting on his bed playing with a Gameboy. He stopped when he saw Alem.

  ‘What’s your name?’ the boy asked.

  ‘My name is Alem Kelo,’ he replied. ‘What’s yours?’

  ‘My name is Stanley Burton.’ Then he began to speak frantically without a pause. ‘I’ve been here for ten months, they told me I wouldn’t stay here long but I’ve been here for ten months. I hate it here, they’re mean. Some boys just disappear from here and nobody knows where they go. They just disappear, like; you know what I mean? My father died in the war, the Gulf War, the newspaper said he died like a hero, I want to die like a hero, I want to die like my dad, I don’t want to die yet but when I do die I want to die like a hero. Get my picture in the paper and stuff, you know what I mean? My mother ain’t dead, she’s alive but the doctor said she can’t cope. That’s why she didn’t feed me or send me to school, she couldn’t cope. She’s in a place like this too, only that one’s for big people, and my sister, she’s in a place like this too, only that one’s a place for girls.’

  Alem thought that he had to do something to bring this verbal marathon to a halt. He grabbed his bag, removed his toothbrush and said, ‘Excuse me, I must go to the bathroom,’ as he shot out of the room to the toilet and shower area.

  It was the quickest Alem had moved all day. He looked for a sink to wash his face and clean his teeth but they were all busy, with boys waiting. They were noisy, telling jokes that Alem couldn’t understand. No one made an attempt to speak to him, yet he thought that he was the one that everyone was joking about.

  Then Mustafa, the loner that Alem had noticed in the recreation room before, came up to him. He looked African, Alem thought, but not Ethiopian. The boy looked quite seriously at Alem. ‘Watch out, man, Sweeney is going to get you. Just watch yu back and don’t mek him tek any liberties wid yu.’

  Mustafa walked away. Alem looked around and decided that he wasn’t going to wait around any longer, so he began to make his way to his room without washing.

  Back in the room Stanley was already in bed. He lay on his back looking silently up at the ceiling. Alem tried to go about the business of getting into bed without disturbing him. He removed the family photo from his bag, got undressed and put on the worn-out but clean pyjamas that had been left out on the bed for him. Just as he got into bed, Stanley verbally took off again.

  ‘The lights will go off in ten minutes unless you want to turn them off yourself but I usually wait for a member of staff. The staff don’t do much here, they just walk around, like, so let them work, that’s what I say. Have you ever been in a helicopter? I have on the army base; we used to live on the army base, you know. Have you ever touched a gun? I have –’

  ‘OK, that’s enough,’ came a voice from the doorway. It was Dave. ‘Are you all right Alem?’

  ‘Yes,’ Alem replied.

  ‘Don’t let him talk you to death. If you let him, he’ll talk to you all night. All you have to do is to tell him to stop and he’ll stop. He never gets offended. I’ll put your lights off now if that’s all right with you guys.’

  The boys didn’t reply and the lights went off. ‘Good night,’ said Dave, ‘see you tomorrow evening.’

  Alem listened in the dark, holding the photo to his chest, as the doors were closed up and down the corridors and Dave and Tom bid everyone good night. When they had gone, whispers and giggles could still be heard coming from some of the rooms, especially the large dormitory, but soon it all died down to silence and Alem fell asleep.

  The day had been a long one so Alem had no problem sleeping, until deep in the night when he was woken up by the sound of Stanley crying and talking in his sleep.

  ‘No, please don’t! I haven’t done anything, Mummy. Please don’t lock me in my room, I don’t like it in my room, Mummy, don’t, please don’t!’

  Alem tried to stay still but Stanley got louder.

  ‘Don
’t go, Mummy, please don’t go, Mummy. When are you coming back? Don’t leave me in here all on my own! I love you Mummy. Please don’t – Mummy I’m going to jump out of the window, Mummy, come back, it’s dark, Mummy look – I’m going to die.’ Then he screamed, ‘Somebody help me!’ as he jolted upwards. He sat up and opened his eyes.

  Alem couldn’t see him in the dark but he could hear him trying to get his breath back. Alem listened as Stanley composed himself, lay down and took a deep breath before trying to go back to sleep.

  Silence fell upon the room once more, but just before Stanley fell asleep he took one last deep breath and said, ‘Mummy, it’s so dark, Mummy, please come back soon.’

  Chapter 6

  ˜ Meet the Lads ˜

  The call of ‘Good morning, boys’ echoing from the corridor woke Alem up at seven. The first thing he did was to make sure he still had his photo and check to see whether Stanley was all right. Stanley was very quiet. He put a thumb up to Alem, smiled and got out of bed as if nothing had happened.

  Another female member of staff knocked on the door and entered the room. ‘Good morning, boys,’ she said. ‘How are you today, Stanley?’

  ‘I’m happy, Maureen,’ Stanley replied.

  ‘Did you sleep well, Stanley?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said.

  She turned to Alem. ‘And you must be the new boy – Alem. Good morning, Alem,’ she said, almost skipping away to the next room.

  Alem put the photo in his bag and followed the crowd. This time he managed to get a wash and then they went down for breakfast in the large dining hall. First the boys had to line up and choose their meal. They could have bacon, eggs, toast, sausages, tomatoes and cornflakes in any combination. The tables were laid out in three parallel lines. The boys were watched over by three members of staff, the bubbly posh lady who had woken Alem up and two men whom Alem had not seen before. Alem was just not sure what to eat; it was food but not food as he knew it. He played it safe and had toast and tea. He wasn’t sure where to sit and for a while he stood with his tray looking for a place until he spotted Mustafa, the boy who had given him the warning about Sweeney. The seat next to Mustafa was empty so Alem went and sat next to him.