"People, who didn't know me, always asked me, why do I hate the numbers 246? Someone I know now always told me that people normally hate the number 666, but 246 was a bit odd. I smiled and didn't reply, I only said that I'm a bit of an odd person myself. And she was satisfied with this answer anyways....
"My memories of that time are vague. I can't recall specific details about the how long I've been held in that rotten place, or when I was released. I lost the sense of time - and perhaps the sense of feeling- at that time. All I know is that it was so dark, pitch black; nobody was in the place with me, except for the ones who captured me and locked me away. I remember being grabbed by the shoulder from my mom's arms, I remember seeing my dad's tearful eyes while he tried to break free from the hands of the kidnappers, to get to me and take me away from them. I remember hearing the screaming of my little sister, whom I never saw afterwards - she must be a pretty, tall girl now, she look like an actress I can't remember her name now- she was only a year and a half when I was taken away. I remember the car I was taken in, I can't remember what it looked like exactly, but I remember the road they took, had lots of turns, it must have been an old road, cuz the car was buzzing. I also remember the state of mind I was in, disbelief, waiting to wake up from this nightmare, till I realized, days after that, I wasn't dreaming, I was wide awake...the strange thing is that I didn't panic, I didn't feel anything. At least not till days after that...
"I'm not sure what kind of mechanism they used on me, but it apparently didn't work at first. They deprived me of food, held me in a dark place and exposed me to electric shocks. Something inside me wouldn't die, they said. It was hysterical to see their facial expressions when they failed to break me. They used everything at first, and when they failed, they decided to stop being nice, it was time for something that would make me talk...
"I remember crying afterwards, telling myself that I should have fought stronger and killed the bastard who imposed himself on me. I cried cuz I lost my dignity. When they turned me back to my cell, I was feeling ashamed of myself. My spirit was broken, it was shattered to pieces. What is it that is left for me even if I get home? I didn't care about the wounds and burnings, I didn't even think of them as bad things, they were a sign that I resisted. But this....this is beyond what I thought...
"I still didn't break. Many women and girls faced what I faced, they weren't scared. What more can they take from them anyways? What more can they take from me? But the memory of that day haunted me all the time, just remembering the feeling, the shiver, the pain and the tears. His sadic laugh, his enjoyment and my screams, my slapping and kicing. And his relief and happiness after he was done. And me being curled up on myself in the corner of the room, trying to gather myself together, searching for my things, as if searching for my shattered spirit and trying to get it back together. Just the memory is all that tortured me...
"I knew I was pregnant after a month and a half from that day. A woman told me that the signs you get in this place have a different meaning than it has outside it. She told me I was pregnant, and I have to have an abortion. Nobody will have a pregnant woman in a place like this, they won't take the responsibility. I looked at her, not knowing which I should whine for, being pregnant, or knowing that I have to give up the child that is growing inside of me. I spent my days remembering my family; I couldn't imagine what they'll do to me when I come out. "But it's not my fault" I used to tell myself. I was just a 19 year-old girl. What could I have done in front of a whole army of kidnappers?
"Most people who knew me before and after I was taken away, always told me that I grew old about 60 or 70 years inside that place. I entered that place and I was 19 and got out when I was 39, but they used to tell me that it seems like I got out 70 years-old. It showed on my face, my voice and the way I looked at everything. I always remembered that day, that memory. I didn't remember many other things, but this was the most vivid memory of all. The feeling of that day still gives me chills till now...
"The days passed slowly afterwards, I had no hope in coming out anyways. I didn't wanna come out. I was devastated and crushed, I wished death more than once, but never got it. The small things I used to be upset about in the past seemed so trivial and silly now. I remember my little sister, and how her crying used to wake me up and upset me before. How I longed for her crying, her laughter, just holding her in my arms. I never saw her afterwards, she got married before I got out, and she moved away, she traveled to
"One of the girls with me in that place was called Zainab. She was a pretty girl, who amazingly had a sense of humor that I envied her for. She was my friend, and the sister I left outside. She used to tell me about her family, her friends, and her childhood sweetheart, Taher. She told me that he comes to visit whenever visitation is allowed, and he's waiting for her when she comes out. She used to talk about him in a tone of someone really in love, I loved their love story and longed to have one of my own, but that dream seemed so far, after what I've been through. Zainab, one day, didn't show up. They say the kidnappers took her to 'talk' to her. She then returned to her room, and didn't come out that day...or the days after that. She cut her wrist, they said. I missed her smile, laugh, and her talk about Taher and their wedding. After that with a few moths, we knew she was killed. Raped to death, they said. Taher never showed up again....
" I've learned so many things since I entered that place. I was too young then, but I guess I understood what was going on. It's the vague memory of that place that is keeping me going. I'll fight, like I did that day. But this time, I don't think their force and might can make me surrender. They've taken away my life, my family, and my children after that day. They've taken away my choices in life, my dreams, my friend and my only sister. They've taken away my neighborhood, my house, and my land. But they've never taken away my heart, spirit and faith. They've never taken away my hope. They couldn't make me shut up, and not pray. They couldn't stop my tears when I hear the name Allah. They couldn't break me down. Whatever happened to me that day or any other day was a test, that's what I tell myself and the girls and women who work with me. We're fighters, and fighters endure...
"I know I'm dying soon, it seemed like a dream once, now it's a cure. I know that I left more than I took in this life, and this is relieving. Someday, someone might remember me, or not, it's not important. My memory, myself.We is not important. What matters is that these people won't forget the high walls the kidnappers built upon us for years, the pains and tears...I hope they won't forget Zainab. I hope life won't take them in its waves, and they'll leave the house, the home and the land. I hope they stay and fight...cuz we're fighters. And fighters never forget....fighters endure..."
N.H.
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