CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 2

Looking for one day shelter

Full moon made the night very light indeed. You could easily identify the faces even from 10 metres distances in the narrow streets of Old city of Baku. It was rather cumbersome to Malik to remember where he stayed last night. He felt like, all the years he spent bumming was just an illusion, because of the frequency of the same habits, doings and days. He just had a stable memory that yesterday he dwelled somewhere within the Old city – which is known as Ichari shahar (inner city) compact ancient apartments and buildings with very narrow streets reminding of endless labyrinth – thus all the buildings, apartments, wall had a pretty resemblances, like two halves of the same apple. It would be very appropriate to dub Ichari Shahar as the second Fas in the world – the ancient city of Morocco. I can bet with everything precious that any foreigner with no local guidance i.e. directions of hospitable residents or GPS navigation system, would take at least hour in order to find exit of this horrible dejavu… thus finding the gates of Ichari shahar.

After several minutes, it came to Malik that yesterday he stayed in mosque- where he was fed up as well…But he also remembered that yesterday was the holiday of Kurban- that what he ate was part of sacrificed animals – most predominantly sheep, that had been cooked and distributed among poor and beggars in good lump of portions. But heavy smell coming from his dirty clothes…this could be skipped by people praying in mosques. However the fact that, he was also giving out the alcohol smell…he should be the last man in the world to enter the mosque with such an abnormal state, as alcohol is forbidden by Shariat.

Malik was very upbeat about his future flight, ‘cause autumn was getting harsher, and without indoor premises he was to put under a risk his survival. So he thanked Allah, for such a donation at a needed time. He was so tired that legs could have roared if they had a mouth and tongue. Exhausted, he had no power to continue the search of new residence, so he heavily sat down just onto the pavement when suddenly he felt someone, grabing his shred jacket from behind. It was a young woman

-          Ata (means Dad), are you out of your mind, we have been looking for you all day long, it has been 2 days that you’ve left the house without any notification.- she paused and peered the dressing of Malik, she smiled and continued- look how you smell, and where did you find such a junk to wear I wonder… you are dressed just like an ancient darvish…I wish I had my camera on me. What a pitty.

-         Xanum, (means lady, madam) I don’t know what youre talking about, I wear these what you call junk, since I remember myself. I have no family and I’m all alone already 20 years…I thing I only have exterior resemblance with your lost father…May Allah help you to find your father, but theres nothing I can do about it…so please, leave me in peace, I’m very tired and whanna rest.

He was already to sit down again, when she gave another firmer grip, and tryied to pull such double heavier than her man beside him. He also aggressively gripped her hands and after a moment  brutally scattered it. It hurt the gentle girl so she burst in tear…

-         I told you that I’m not your “ATA”, leave me alone- so he damned the time and place, and continued his way without resting.

Only one day left to a transition day…  a day of Great Expectations, that may change his life to best forever…after 20 years he’ll be at last employed, and In a foreign company, in a foreign country…He must somehow endure the cold of the night, the sword like sharp winds of Baku, the land of fires,…he was happy that all of his documents, both passport and visa will be finally confirmed and signed tomorrow. So looking forward the day of tomorrow, he fell asleep, with empty stomach lying right on the cold stones covered with ragged woman coat.