A Man Without A Nose Sharif Miakhail

A Man Without A Nose

He loudly and so harshly shouted at me, “Look right Sharif!” As soon I saw that a lorry was coming at my side at a very high speed I ran back fast, tried to pick up my bag, but it was too late. I got rid of a deadly accident but my bag was crushed into pieces down the 22 wheels of the truck. He was laughing at me for being so ignorant of Calais’ deadly and lawless roads, but he didn’t know that I may laugh at him later. I sat down a while, took a deep breath and started a new thought for a game of death. He slapped me on head and told me “Come on, let’s go”.

It was the second week of November 2014, a despairing evening. A chilly, freezing wind made me feel like a man without nose. Deep and angry clouds were lurking for a heavy and cruel rain, which would make many migrants tent-less and shelter-less. I, too, was like many other migrants; fearful from this nature of universe, with many more fears in my heart, like the fear of getting sick, fear of accident, being hungry, fear of fight, being stabbed, the fear of death. I found a place for this fear too and kept it in a corner of my heart. My heart now became full of fears but I wasn’t scared, for in times of trials being scared is another trial.

We walked an hour and saw a long line of lorries, waiting for the green light to pass through check in and get through the euro tunnel. That was the thing I wanted. I ran fast and went near a lorry – the driver did not see me. The lorry was slow-moving and I was walking behind it. I don’t know if the driver behind me was looking me or not, God knows best. But I was in a great desire for a red light and the stop of the lorry. As soon as the lorry stopped, I laid down on the road and started to move upon my chest and reach myself to the middle wheel of the truck. I sat on it. I was shivering, my heart was beating fast, my face was warm and hot, I wasn’t me. I said, Where is he? I lost him and I smiled at him now for being so ignorant of these tricks on the tricky roads of Calais. Then the cars started moving and with the start of the truck my left foot fell down on road, but I controlled myself and tried to hold the huge electricity wires even tighter. There was noise of migrants and shouts of police and running and closing doors and abusing and spraying and rubber bullet shots and every possible struggle to stop these migrants from illegal pass through Calais. I knew in this situation nobody wins, neither police nor migrants. I got the chance of sitting on a wheel.

You know what? Human is a strange and an amazing creature. You know how? Let me tell you, as soon as I sat on that wheel, I started dreaming. Dreaming of life, happiness, ease and a lot more. I didn’t know I fell asleep.

Suddenly a huge voice ripped the nerves of my ears. I opened my eyes and saw a big black and white dog with a heavy chain on its neck, its mouth full of sharp teeth and a long tongue like a devil in its physical shape. I was scared and fell down the wheel. I looked up and saw two officers saying “bonsoir”. I didn’t say anything for I didn’t like to talk to them, because they woke me up from a sleep which made me hopeful in the time of dismay. I cleaned my eyes and rubbed my face and they started laughing at me, for I could not see what they could see, that I had blackened my face with the smoke of the wires that I held under the lorry. For them I was a fun toy and for me they were just as bitter as green chili. I hated it. I couldn’t make it. I lost my bag, I was angry, I was wet, there was falling rain. I was trying to go back to Jungle, but my feet didn’t like to go, like a dead body with a weak soul, like someone drunk for no reason.

I came back to Jungle to my cottage. I went with my nose, I came back without my nose. Was it in hope of death or life?