Welcome to Gaia! ::

The kitchen, the centre of the home. Full of light and love, women’s gossip, children’s tears, stolen tidbits of food. Before weddings and special festivals the kitchen would be at its best. Spices and the scent of cooking colouring the air. The women of the family would gather together, making dinner, laughing and joking about old husbands, new husbands and husbands to be. Children would also be a hot topic, trials, triumphs, births. Then would come gossip that had been circling the neighbourhood. The world would be light, warm and free of cares that could not be shared in that sacred and ancient bond of community.

Elaheh could see it all as she looked into the bowl. A decorative hand made bowl of clay. A gift from her grandmother on her wedding day. Handed down, she said. Elah traced the patterns, plain yet at the same time elaborate. It was her favourite, reminding her of home as she stood in her own small kitchen. Not fit for boiling tea let alone preparing a meal. She would not miss it.

“This one.” She said softly as her husband appeared in the lamp lit room, carrying some water which he placed on the table. “I want to take this one.”

She watched him as he watched her at her request, a silence hung in which they could hear the explosions far outside the city.

“You know we cannot Elah.” he said softly, removing a bottle from where he had wedged it under his arm. “It will get damaged.”

She looked down at the bowl and then to him. In a few days the city would be a war zone. It would not be safe in the home either. She knew it was pointless to argue and so she placed the bowl lovingly on the table, her fingers lingering on its rough surface as she stepped away. Away from her kitchen, her life.

“I will get the passports.” She said softly taking a torch and switching it on as she moved down the hall to the spare room. This room she would not miss. She realised as she walked into the room that served as a study. She had hoped one day that it might be a nursery but when that dream slipped through their fingers, more than once, the papers and computer replaced the toys.

She breathed deeply as she shone the torch around the room, it rested on the cupboard . None of it would be able to come with them. The things they had worked hard for. The new computer would stay, her husbands papers for his book on Neurology, pens and post it notes .

Ela opened the closet and sank down to her knees so that she could look for their official documents. She removed photo albums, captured memories that would have to stay. They were items that could never be replaced once they were lost they would be lost to her forever. One day, when she was old, she would never be able to look back and remember the dress she had worn on her wedding day, what her brothers had looked like as children, her home town, her honeymoon. It would all be lost.

The box sat at the back of the closet, she pulled it out and balanced the torch on her legs. The lid lifted with a soft sound as cardboard slid against cardboard and she peered in to the junk that lay within. The passports were hidden under a few tax documents and contracts, she pulled them out and replaced the lid then the box. Funny she thought after. It would not have mattered if she had left them there, open and awaiting their destruction.

She slipped the passports into the pocket of her jacket and picked up the torch. As she moved the light dances across the items in the cupboard, catching a forgotten plush bear that had escaped their clearout. She swallowed and picked it up. She should leave it, no room for such useless items. Though how could she, it represented one thing they needed above all others. Hope.

The sound of gunfire, far away yet too close for comfort pierced the sombre silence. Elah jumped a little clutching the toy and dropping the torch on the floor. It rolled and bumped against the wall causing it to go out. She sighed and groped in the darkness, her hand moving across the intricate carpet they would not be able to take until they hit the plastic casing. She picked it up, shook it and the light flickered back to life.

She breathed deeply and made her way back to the kitchen, through the living room where she picked up a photo of her family. If she could only take one it would be this one. Her brothers, parents and grandparents. All lined up outside the family home in the peaceful mountain region. She hoped to god that it was still peaceful.

“I have them.” She said softly, placing the photo and the toy on the table as she reached for the small documents.

Firdaus watched her and said nothing, he smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently, reassuring.
“Get your clothes together El. I will start putting this into the bags. They will be here soon.”

Elah nodded and smiled a little, wandering to the bedroom to collect things together. Essentials. She thought as she opened the door to her wardrobe. She dug around a little, reaching for some pants and a tunic top she had brought for their honeymoon in Europe. Fir liked hiking so she had needed something more practical then her usual Abaya.

They would be useful for where they were going. She dug again, ignoring her beautiful decorative outfits. Ones she had worn for meals, parties and special occasions. They would all be lost too. She pulled out a couple of plain Abayas and light coloured Hijabs. It would be hot in the camp without air conditioning or stone walls to keep them cool.

She folded them carefully and made a small pile on the bed. She then added underwear and some practical shoes, her hiking boots she would wear.
“Do we need sleeping bags?” She called as she carried her essentials through to the kitchen.

“They will have them for us.” Fir called as he packed the bags tightly. “The red crescent will provide a tent and survival items for us. As we volunteer for them.”

Elah smiled a little and nodded. She hoped so.

Silence fell over them once more as they packed their bags. Clothes, food, water, medical supplies. Ela removed the photo from the frame and slid it into a pocket, followed by the little blue bear.

A car horn pierced their hectic silence and made them both jump. There was so much to be afraid of. Fir swung the larger backpack onto his shoulder and glanced around their home.
“Are you ready?” he asked softly, holding his hand out to her.

Elah nodded and swung her own back onto her back. It was beyond heavy but a burden she was willing to bear.
“Quickly.” She whispered, slipping her small hand into his larger one. She reached out to turn the lamp off and plunged them both into darkness.

Elah was surprised that she managed to sleep. Fear, nerves, the panic to leave it must have drained her so much that she slept through the night, her head on her husband’s shoulder. When she finally managed to open her eyes it was light outside. They were no longer among the concrete jungle of the city but out in the mountains. There were other cars on the road, people who had taken time to pack as much as their car could carry. Some people walked, whole families, old people, young. Mothers with babies. She wondered how far they had travelled to make it here, a place they had been promised would be safe.

Nothing could have prepared her for the reality of their destination. A sea of tents behind a high fence. People queuing to get inside, to pass the road blocks. They were waved through, past those waiting patiently for a meal and a bed for the night. They had probably walked for days.

The jeep came to a halt and they stepped out into the heat of the late afternoon sun. The ground was dusty and the air smelled only as the air of thousands camped close together can. People were everywhere, lining up to get food, water, health checks. Ela watched them as they chattered, children still running through, playing and laughing. Make the best of everything. That was something her grandmother had always told her. She told her on her wedding day, when she had been scared to marry a man she had known for only a few months. Make the best of things, give him a chance.

Only now they were making the best of things for survival. She slipped her backpack onto her back again as a tall, blonde man made his way over to them. He wore pale clothes covered in sweat patches and dirt, his pale skin burned pink with the sun.

“Hello. I‘m John. John Walters. Internal medicine.” he said in English. A language both Elah and her husband spoke well. She did not know about the others in their group. “Come with me, I’ll show you where everything is. You must be pretty tired.”

They followed with polite greetings and agreement that they were indeed tired from their journey. Ela glanced around as they passed by tents with women cooking around a fire. It made her long for her childhood home once more. She had wanted to help though and that was what she was here to do.

“What is your specialisation?” The pink man asked, turning back and grinning at her. “Mrs … sorry, I lost the list.”

“Bahmahrdi.” She said softly, glancing to her husband a moment. He nodded his head and smiled back to her. “I am a nurse, not a doctor. Midwifery or pediatrics, I have worked in the ER too.” She smiled a little and glanced up at the enclosure they approached.

Her husband stepped forwards and reached out to take the man’s hand as they stopped.
“I am Firdaus Bahmahrdi, surgeon. I also have emergency experience.” he smiled eagerly and pumped the young man’s hand.

Ela sighed and stepped through the gate as the rest of the team introduced themselves. It seemed wrong to have this private priviledge. She thought as she took in the tent for dining and the groups of nicer tents for them to stay in. Not makeshift. They were no different from those camped out side this oasis.

They were shown their new home, a small two man tent, just big enough for them and their belongings. They placed their bags inside on the sleeping bags and followed the man to the hospital. Nothing could have prepared her for the hospital. She had seen many on new reports from neighbouring countries throughout her life. They were miles away though, nothing for them to worry about in their comfortable apartment with their wide screen TV.

The smell was bad, untreated wounds, sweat and bodies left festering in the heat. Aid workers bustled to treat patients, people were moaning, children crying, some dead, their bodies covered with white sheets ready for burial.

She breathed deeply and swallowed. How could it have come to this.

It was night by the time Elah made her way back to the tent she had seen many women and children. Helped them as she could and given them her best advice. Most were well and healthy now, though they had all just arrived. Things would no doubt get worse as time in the city of tents went on. The night was beautiful, she thought as she hugged herself against the cold and stared up at the sky.

Stars shone brightly without the glare from the false lights of the city. She smiled a little and thought of her family. As children she and her brothers would sit out on the wall of her house and watch the stars at night. Her grandfather telling them stories of the past. Of their ancestors who used only the stars to navigate. They were wise and powerful, they built cities, conquered the land and the sea. She had used to think that exciting and amazing. Not anymore. Nothing good came of man’s greed.

The camp was quiet, a few snores filled the air, people trying to grab the precious commodity of sleep. Over in the hospital tent she could hear talking and work, in the mess tent hushed conversations over coffee. She smiled and nodded to a few familiar faces and crouched down to unzip the modern tent. It seemed so false with its durable materials and brand names. She would prefer the canvas of the tents outside, they seemed more natural, larger.

Fir was not there. She zipped the tent up and started to remove her headscarf, it was nice to have a moment alone. She prepared for bed silently, folding her dirty clothed carefully as if they were brand new and she did not want them damaged.

As she pulled her cotton nightdress over her head she whispered a goodnight to her family and a small prayer for their safety.

It was still dark when she was woken by the tent zip and the fussing of another body.
“Hey.” She murmured.

“Hey.” The voice of her husband said back as he lifted the blankets and slipped in next to her. “Sorry, I did not mean to wake you.”

Elah smiled sleepily and watched him in the darkness. This was the first time in a few days she had seen him for more than a minute. She reached out to touch his face and gave a small laugh.
“You need to shave.” She whispered, shifting closer to him. “And I was dozing more than sleeping. It’s too cold.”

“Roughing it is a good excuse not to shave.” he laughed wrapping an arm around her and kissing her cheek. “Now, I will keep you warm, but you must sleep. I do not want you to get sick.”
Elah smirked at his fussing and curled into his warmth. “OK, but only if you get some too. I do not want you sick either.”

Green Eyed Monster.
(week of envy)



The weeks after the day of pain and death passed in a blur of chaos. First apathy, why should they work, move, help people. The war grew stronger, things were getting much, much worse. Why waste precious energy struggling to save what was already doomed. Elah spent the week sat outside her tent staring up at the mountains.

Her home was up there somewhere, her family. Hopefully safe, tucked away under the snowy peaks.

So far.

Too far.

Cries filtered through from the field hospital. Those left to die, ignored as the medical teams could not find the energy to treat them. All they could do now was wait.

Wait for the end to come.

By the end of the week the paralysis that had taken hold seemed to lift. People began to move, slowly returning to their posts. Was it hope that drove them back or denial. The refusal to believe the severity of their situation.

That morning, Elah watched the sun climb its way above the mountains. She was struck with a thought. If the sun could rise to shine another day then so could she.

A week of neglect had left the camp a mess of humanity. As the sun rose to its height the smell was almost unbearable. Human waste, rotten food, bodies, garbage. Insects crawled and flies swarmed. Elah held the edge of her embroidered veil over her mouth and nose. Old perfume masking the smell a little and the fabric keeping the flies out at least.

She could feel the eyes on her as she walked to attend to those who needed it. A young woman, sat outside her tent, sewing reached out to touch her Abaya as she passed. There was a look in her eyes, covetous. A look of want, though it was one of Elah’s most simple ones.

She shrank a little, turning down a narrow pathway that made a filthy street between the tents. A hand, grabbed her arm, holding her fast. She spun, and found herself face to face with a dark haired man. His palms were sweaty, his eyes crazed and he looked into hers.

“That’s a pretty veil.” he said softly, reaching out to feel the fabric between his fingers. Elah smiled politely and tried to remove her hand from his grip.
“Thank you.” She said, keeping her eyes down and trying to move once more.
“I want it.” He replied, tightening his grip and pulling her closer, as if another would catch onto his find.

“No.” She said firmly. “Let me go please.”

Across the path of rotten vegetables a shout went up, two women in a heated argument over a bracelet. What had been verbal was becoming a scuffle. A slap, clawing, one woman pushed to the floor. The man stopped, turning to watch them, his grip loosening with his distraction.

Taking the opportunity she pulled her hand from his grasp and turned to run, gathering the long skirt of her dress and charging back the way she had come, past other arguments. She did not want to be among them. She wanted to be home, curled up safe and happy. She walked past the foreign aid workers and glared. They still had that option. Families, homes, life. Yet they neglected them to be here. How she would give everything she had to have the option to return home.

A quiet morning. The sun rose slowly, blue skies stretched as far as all eyes could see, smudged with hints of pinks and purples. As people rose to the call for morning prayer they turned their eyes to the skies and marvelled at the beauty of the morning.

There was silence.

The call of birds over hear, the laughter of children and the tears of a hungry baby. It was almost peaceful. People turned their eyes away from the skies and glanced at each other, not daring to break the silence, though the question was lingering in their eyes.

Was this it? Was it over?

Could they return home, start to hunt for lost family members and friends. Begin to rebuild their world up from the ground.

Elah shared this look with her husband. She dreamed of home every night. In the muffled silence of the night they planned and plotted. They would adopt , move back to their hometown and live in peace as they had always wanted to. A little family. Elah smiled softly and took a deep breath of the unusually clear air.
“We should get to work.” She said as people began to move. Life and death waited for no one. Fir said nothing for a few moments, just smiled and watched her in the light of the new morning. Daring to believe this was the beginning of the end.
“Be careful Aziza.” He said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead and looking down into her eyes. Elah smiled in return and nodded.
“You too.” She said softly starting on her rounds and giving one last glance back to him. He looked handsome in the morning light, his dark hair still loose, his hands shoved in the pockets of the combats he wore every day. She gave a small wave and slipped through the gate and out into the camp.

By the afternoon the sky was still perfectly silent. No explosions or gunfire. Elah, enjoying the peace was checking on a newborn and his mother. He was the youngest of four and the poor young woman was so exhausted she could barely move from her bed. Her husband took care of the other three and seemed to have his hands full getting them fed and ready for the day.

Elah held the baby against her chest and reached out to place a soothing hand against the woman’s soft cheek.
“I will bathe him and get some water for you all.” She said with a warm smile. “I will get some cream for that rash too.”

The mother nodded and reached out to touch the hand of her little one.
“Thank you Elaheh.” She smiled and took a deep, weary breath. It was hard to maintain the will to wake up each day. Even with the future of the country in your arms.

As Elah slipped out into the blistering sunlight she heard a sound that sent a shard of ice right to her very core. It was a sound that paralised her, made her feel sick. A low hum, a throbbing that echoed around the mountains and then shook the ground where she stood. All those around her remained glued to the spot, their eyes fixed on the blue sky where a swarm of black gathered on the horizon. As the man made cloud drew closer the form of the spots became visible and the ground shook harder. Helicopters, floating across the desert.

Somewhere a child screamed, the paralysis broken panic siezed the camp. Shouting, calling of names. What could they do? Where could they go? As they ran a sound like thunder phased out the hum pf rotor blades. A woosh and the area behind Elah exploded in flames, the force of the blast throwing her to the ground .

She screamed and clutched the baby tightly, protecting him with her body as heat and debris washed over them. Screams pierced the sound of flames, horrifying cries for help and family. The world around them was falling. Another explosion, more screams. Elah clutched her charge tighter daring to look up at the red world. Therewas smoke and fire everywhere. Tents and people burning. More gunfire nearby, she watched as a young man flailed and fell to the floor in a puddle of his own blood.

Shelter.

She had to move, get to safety

War 2
She could not see through the smoke and flames ahead of her. Coughing as the smoke choked her she managed to scrabble to her feet. Ignoring her aches and pains, her burning skin as she straightened and glanced around. Behind them a collapsed store building. The corrugated iron roof fallen but leaving a small gap. She did not have time to think, to weigh the concequences as she ran. Where as before all she had wanted to do was help. Now, as the shells rained down she ignored what had once been homes, lives, people. Her only thoughts were on getting the little life in her arms to safety. She owed it to his family, she had a promise to keep.

She slipped the baby inside and then got onto her hands and knees to crawl into the small space, unpinning her hijab and making it into a bed for the infant.
“Shhh.” She said softly, stroking his cheek as she settled him on the soft silk, another explosion landing close by and causing his cries to grow louder. In the smoke clouded darkness she formes a cacoon around him, kissing his cheek and humming a lullaby. One she had sung to her own son before they took him away from her. It had turned out for the best. She thought to herself as watched the little one begin to calm down. His creased face relaxing, as he kicked his arms and legs. Just as well her boy had never gotten to draw breath in the evil world that surrounded them.

After an age of hiding and praying it seemed that the fighting had ceased, she heard the sounds of gunfire and the hum of engines grow more and more distant. She waited a while longer, all night, holding the warmth of the child against her as she waited for safety. When the sounds of fighting came no more and she heard the calls of rescuers she moved, her body aching and burning with pain.

Once she was out in the morning air she glanced around. What had once been a city of tents was now flat, she could see to the other side of the camp. Craters of smoke and bodies littered the scene before her. She swallowed, watching as family members and aid workers searched for survivors. She did not imagine there would be many.

Carefully she pulled the baby out of their hiding place and clutched him to her chest. Everything was gone, the tent, where his family had been was a burning pile. Bouncing him a little she kissed his soft downy hair and breathed the smoke tainted air carefully. Part of her wanted to go and see if anyone had made it. She wanted them to be there to be alive so he would have some hope. Though deep down she did not want to go, she did not want to see the bodies. To know that this little creature, free from sin and hatred was now alone in the world.

Alone ….

“Firdaus.” She whispered, looking towards the hospital. Smoke plumed from there as much as the rest of the camp. There was a gathering of people. Walking wounded, wounded being carried, she could see them all from where she stood.
“Come on Mehr.” She whispered, walking from the carnage to hope. Uncaring that her dark hair flowed uncovered down her back. “Lets find your dad. I’ll bet he’s waiting for you at the hospital.” With Fir. She thought to herself. They would all be there. Waiting and smiling.