The road to Samarkand

Two things happened at once: Dzenita burst into tears again and ran out the door, and Fuad's hand landed on my shoulder and gave me a sympathetic squeeze.

"Yeah, that was what I thought. No-one goes on a trip like this if he isn't serious about it. The problem, my friend, is to undo the damage she has already done by not believing in your love, and that might prove to much in the end. I will however not give up until it is over, and I hope you will give her another chance. If not for her or you, so at least for your son."

'Oh, sure, don't play fair now!' I thought, but I knew he had me there: my son that I had known about for less than an hour was the ultimate weapon to make me behave to at least some extent. How could I not give her a chance when he was involved?

No, I didn't try to fool myself. I was well aware that I still loved Dzenita, and I would desperately miss her again if I left. I knew it had been a mistake to come in the first place. I had known that it would lead to more hurt, it would have been easier if we hadn't met in the first place so many years ago, but they say that pain is part of love, and damn they are right! Then there was Peter, my blonde and blue-eyed Peter, a part of me that even shared my name...

"Alright, I will try," I told Fuad "but I doubt that it will work to be honest. If she really believe I would take him with me, without her, there is no hope in hell that we can settle this, not after keeping him a secret for so long. I thought we were best friends and trusted each other, but apparently I was wrong."

"Peter my friend, you have to realise what happened down her during the war and after. Best friends became enemies over night and tried to kill each other, or they betrayed each other so that others could do the killing. She left all that, but the memories are still there forever, and now that she is back here they come back to life. I have heard what she has said about you, and what Hasan has said: you were best friends and more than that, but it's been almost three years and she doesn't know if you are still the same. Betrayal is part of our lives: who can tell who will be the next to do it? She will find out -- if you show her -- that it won't be you, just like you will find that it won't be her."

I was far from convinced that he was right about the last part, but it ended our conversation for then and we returned to the others. I was told that Dzenita had left with Peter, gone home to think things over. Alen and Ilena, Fuad's parents, had told her that she had been stupid to say those things, asked if she had any reason at all not to trust me, and Ilena had pointedly asked how it came to be that she had a son with a man she didn't trust? It was a bit confusing for me that Fuad spoke of the reasons not to trust anyone, and Ilena talked as if it was the strangest of things not to trust.

- - - - - -

The dinner had been delayed because of our drama, but was warmed up and eaten in the end. It was, on my part, a solemn meal where I sat in deep thoughts and hardly listened to anything that was said.

After that I told them that I had to get a hotel room, something that was dismissed as an insult to them because I was almost part of the family and had to stay with them, and after protests from me, then from them again and apologies from me, I was shown to a room where my bags already stood waiting. That is, after several glasses of slivo had been consumed to confirm our everlasting friendship...

It was Fuad's childhood room and had two beds along separate walls. He showed me his things from back then, what there was left of them anyway, and I noticed especially a part of the wall over his bed with dozens of photos.

There were pictures of kids and adults together with soldiers and military vehicles, and I wondered what that meant. Sure, there had been a war, so the soldiers wasn't that strange, but I got the impression that those pictures were important to him in some way.

He noticed my interest and took hold of my arm, dragging me towards the door:

"Come on, let us go for a walk and I will show you."

The sun had set, but Fuad guided me through the streets confidently, greeting people by name all the time. He was clearly well known and seemed to know everyone in the whole town too.

When we stopped we stood in front of a burnt down building, and his voice was low and tense when he spoke.

"This is where Dzenita's mother died. I don't think Dzenita knows the whole story and I won't tell you either, not even her name though you can certainly get it from someone else. What happened was pure cruelty and sadistic murder, that is all you have to know, and I hope you will respect my wish that you won't try to find out more. Whatever you do, don't talk about it with Dzenita or Hasan, that would be too cruel."

He stood silent for several minutes with head bowed as in prayer before he took a deep breath and started to walk away.

"I was fifteen then, and the foreign troops that had arrived to reinstate peace were not always either effective or interested. Some left when trouble started, others stood their ground to protect the civilians. Some stayed away from us at all cost -- maybe to not make us targets -- while others were friendly, especially to us kids. They gave us chocolate and taught us strange words, laughing and joking even though we didn't understand.

We had troops from Sweden here, Scandinavia really, and we got friendly with them. Not that we had much chance to be around them most of the time, but still. Those photos over my bed were taken the few times they had time with us and it was calm. It was they who found Dzenita's mother and delivered her body to us. Tears ran down their faces when they did, and they apologised over and over again for not being able to save her. That made an impression on us, they made an impression with how they behaved and what they did.

Hasan had enough after that, and to keep his children safe he decided to flee. Sweden was his goal because of those soldiers, and he has never said a negative word about Sweden. Your family has been mentioned often after he returned. So what is the point with telling you this?" he asked rhetorically.

"Sweden has a good reputation among many of people here, and your family has a good reputation within our family. Dzenita got in trouble when it turned out that she was pregnant without being married. That it wasn't a Bosnian man made it worse, or at least a Muslim. She held her head high though, stating that it was a Swedish man and the best friend and man anyone could have. She was proud, she said, that she carried your child.

I won't say that it stopped the comments and the glances, not at all, but at least it softened things a good deal. A blue-eyed blonde boy sticks out here you know, and you showing up stir things up even more."

"I understand that Fuad, and I realise it was a mistake to come here, to ever get involved with Dzenita."

"Who do you think you're fooling now?" he chuckled "You love her and would have come here sooner or later anyway."

I didn't comment on that, and he continued:

"You heard me explain that it is hard to trust people after what took place, and you heard my mother say the opposite more or less, regarding what Dzenita said to you. We are both right in many ways. One thing I learned about those Swedish soldiers -- at least that is what I believe -- was that they could be depended on. Hasan says the same thing about what he experienced after he fled. Dzenita has said the same thing too, but for her it is different now."

"How? Why?"

"I think I understand, but remember that it is what I believe only. She told you she loved you very much, but her love for Bosnia was greater, right?"

I nodded, remembering that very well: it had been the beginning of the end after all.

"What she thought she loved above all was an illusion. I think she wanted to be close to her mother first and foremost, to honour her by returning here. Her love for you threatened that, but giving birth to your child gave her both things she desired in a way. When you arrived she feared that one part would be taken away from her again, and remember that a mother protects her child at all cost. It is part my fault, I wanted to surprise you both and never said anything to her. I had to tell you that I was sure it was her, but that was all. It became a shock, and her instincts said you were a threat at the same time as she saw her loved one. So you see, it was a conflict emotionally for her."

"For her? What do you think it was for me realising I had a three year old son, and at the same time find the woman I had loved and hated at the same time? I understand that she was conflicted, but she wasn't the only one!"

"Okay, I understand your feelings too, I did study Psychology and Human Behaviour for two years before I gave it up and became a taxi driver. Anyway, if you have to blame someone, blame me for not telling her you were on your way here."

"I might do that, but it's not your fault that she kept Peter a secret from me for three years, or leaving me in Gothenburg after only a couple of hours when I thought we had at least a week together."

"No, that's not my fault, but she explained her reasons. If anything that should tell you how much she really loves you. She knew that she would stay with you if she had to say goodbye, and that conflicted with her longing to be close to her mother.

Fuad seemed to have an answer to everything, but psychology and logic seldom convince ones emotions. I could understand and accept what he said, but I still felt betrayed.

Fuad and I returned to his parents home, and if nothing else our long walk and talk had made me tired. The house was dark and quiet, and we went straight to bed. Before settling down to sleep I had a question:

"Fuad, why did you demand that I pay 200 dollars when you knew where to find Dzenita all the time? She's your damn cousin after all!"

"Oh, that..." he chuckled "I could say that it was my revenge for you ruining my attempt to have you pay ten times the fare that first day, but honestly it wasn't. First of all I wanted to know if you really wanted to see her. Then it was an insurance in case things didn't go well when you met: Dzenita would get the money for Peter. Angry?"

"No, just wondering. The way things are, the 'insurance' might turn out to be needed, though I don't intend to leave Peter without economic support if -- or when -- I leave."

- - - - - -

I woke up when Fuad got out of bed, but I didn't feel fully rested. I couldn't remember waking up even once during the night, and had no recollections of any dreams either, but I could have sworn it was only seconds since I fell asleep. My watch said it was seven in the morning.

"How do you feel my friend?" Fuad asked when he noticed I was awake.

"Tired. Crushed. Groggy. I think that about covers it." I answered testily.

"You look it too you know." he laughed "Don't expect this day to be a lot better than yesterday though. If you like it or not, Dzenita will likely be in worse shape than you, and want to talk to you. A lot. Not casual conversations either, but emotional stuff with a lot of tears, maybe hurt and anger too. Better get up and shower before breakfast so you're ready for that. If she's not already here, it won't take long before she arrives."

"Fuck!" was my reply to that, and I meant it: I wasn't in any shape to be ready for that.

When I entered the kitchen, all of them were there and seated. Peter junior sat in Fuad's lap, laughing while jumping up and down. As soon as he saw me he sat still though, and the laughter died.

"Good morning." I said, but felt that it was a hell of a morning, especially when Peter crawled over to Dzenita's lap and buried his face against her shoulder.

I almost turned and left, but didn't. The only empty chair was beside Fuad, and I sat down on it far enough away from the table for Fuad to hide me from Peter and Dzenita. Or hide them from me? Fuad leaned over to me to whisper in my ear.

"Peter, don't blame him, her or yourself. It was an accident that can be reversed, not the end of the world."

I had to bite my tongue to not yell a reply and make things worse. I had a short fuse because I was tired, upset and what not.

"Peter, I'm sorry." Dzenita almost whispered, in Swedish "I..."

"Dzenita, can we do this later?" I interrupted in Bosnian "And not in Swedish until I don't understand. If we are to talk with others around I want them to understand what is said."

"As you wish." she replied almost inaudible, and that was all any of us said during the meal.

I dreaded what would come, so I ate a lot and slowly. A bottle of Slivo was on the table and I feared that too. It was custom to offer a guest a glass, and rude to say no. In my state of mind the last thing I wanted was alcohol, afraid it would loosen my tongue, and as could be predicted the offer came.

I was at a loss how to handle the situation without insulting anyone, and in the end I turned to Dzenita, in Swedish.

"Dzenita, help me out here please. I'm upset and tired, not ready to talk to you, but aware that we have to. If I drink that glass of slivo I'm afraid I will say something stupid. More stupid I should say, since I probably will anyway. Can you explain that I don't wish to insult them, but it is best if I don't accept the drink?"

What she said exactly I don't know, because her words came out like bullets from a machine-gun. The last thing was clear though: 'please!'.

Alen took the filled glass away, smiled at me and said:

"Later!"

I nodded and gave him a tired smile back. It wasn't impossible that I would need the slivo, later...

Fuad picked Peter up in his arms and left, Alen left a moment later and Ilena and Amira cleared the table and started with the dishes. Dzenita remained seated, so I did the same. After a moments silence she started to speak slowly in Bosnian to make sure I could stop her if I didn't understand.

"Like I tried to say I am really sorry for how I have acted and what I have said. Please understand that I didn't mean to hurt you, or sound as if I didn't trust you."

"Dzenita, begging me to not take Peter with me when I left can't be interpreted any other way, can it? You believed that I would take your -- our -- son away from you, and that also said you knew I would leave you here."

"Okay, you are right. I was convinced that you would leave again, soon, but taking Peter was not what it sounded like. I can't explain it really, but he is all I have left of you, and what I had in Sweden. It would kill me if you did, and I didn't expect you to come here, to ever see you again. When you did, the thirst thing that entered my mind was that you were here for him."

"How could I have come for him when I didn't know he existed?"

"I know, you couldn't, but that is the truth anyway. It wasn't logical but emotional. Returning here wasn't like I had expected. My studies, Peter, getting a job, a place to live, the way people saw me: nothing turned out the way I had planned. Sometimes I think it was a mistake to leave Sweden, but I had to. My mother died here, my father returned here. Except for my brothers all my relatives live here."

"Fuad explained all that to me last night. I can understand it, but then again I was prepared to stay here too, with you. You didn't give me a chance to tell you before you ruined everything."

"I know. Something I have dreamed about at night, and when it was about to become real it turned sour like everything else. Except for my memories and Peter."

She sounded bitter and looked dead tired, about to give up. It hurt to see and hear her like that, but it was the result of her own doing, wasn't it?

"I'm sorry too Dzenita. I understand the reasons why you left and why you did it the way you did. You were right that it would hurt to say goodbye forever face to face, but after only a few hours? And after loving for the first time? That was hard to take, and I never got over it. I had to see you one more time at least. If you had married I would have left without you knowing I was ever here, but instead I found that we had a son that you had kept secret. How do you think that felt for me?"

"I hope it felt good after the initial shock."

I sighed. She didn't seem to understand what I was saying.

"Yeah sure. Are we done now so I can get out of here?" I asked, not seeing a reason to go on.

"Dzenita, what are you doing?" came Amira's voice behind me "You know very well that he is hurt, and you know that you care. Why are you trying to upset him even more, driving him away? Be honest with him when he is honest with you!"

"Why?!" Dzenita yelled "You heard what he said yesterday: I ruined everything! He came here to stay if I was free, but I screwed that up and now he will leave me. I don't want to wake up those emotions again just to be alone one more time!"

Then she leaned forward and rested her face on her arms with shaking shoulders. Amira knelt beside her, one hand rubbing the jolting back and the other stroking the hair. I sat staring for a moment before I stood.

"I'm too tired to grasp any of this." I said to no one in particular "One moment we have to talk to clear things up and I get apologies, the next there is no point talking because I'm leaving. I'm going back to bed, perhaps I will be able to understand if I get some more sleep."

With that I left.

It wasn't easy to fall asleep with thoughts chasing each other in my head, but I really was exhausted and slipped away anyway.

I dreamed. A twisted dream where I recognised the summer camp where we had met years ago, but we weren't kids. We were adults and sat together on a blanket spread out in the grass, and a boy and a girl was there with us. The boy was blonde and the girl's hair was dark, almost black.

She had a kerchief over her head, covering most of her hair, and she seemed shy. He held her hand in his and Dzenita and I smiled at them. From the look of it they were about ten years old.

It is strange how dreams can affect us, we are after all asleep and not conscious. I was upset by it and I figure that would have been natural if I had been awake and thought about something like that. Next thing I knew I was awake, sobbing with tears flowing. I knew the dream would never come true, my path would not follow Peter's.

A hand moved from my chest to my cheek, wiping away the tears. It wasn't my hand and I opened my eyes to find Dzenita laying beside me supported on an elbow.

I sighed and started to roll away from her, but her hand pressed against my cheek to hold me back.

"Why are you crying Peter?" she asked silently "Is it because of what I have said and done?"

I didn't answer, but removed her hand and turned my back to her. I had no wish to start over with a conversation that would lead to nothing.

Her hand moved over my back softly, comforting. I didn't want to be comforted, not there and then and by her at least.

"I'm afraid and confused Peter, that's why I can't seem to make sense when we talk. I'm confused because coming back here wasn't like I had expected it to be. I feel like a stranger in my birth town, people I once knew are strangers to me now, relatives are more like distant friends, and I don't recognise the streets and houses. This is what I wanted more than anything, and I am more of a stranger here than I was in Sweden. I wish I had never left you now, but I couldn't admit it even to myself."

Dzenita fell silent, but I didn't speak, didn't move even.

"My father has started over on his parents farm. They were killed in the war, I think I told you that when we got back from summer camp, but he got the land back at least. My mother is buried here, and I thought that I wanted to be close to her, but I have only visited her grave one time. It was too painful and I ran away. I haven't worked up the courage to go back after that. Then you showed up out of nowhere."