40 Days In The Desert

Chapter 4 - Hope Is A Dangerous Thing

Souss-Massa Region, Morocco, 5th of July 1999

The eagle kept carrying water in his beak throughout the last day. So much until I wasn't thirsty anymore, and he ended up letting it fall on my wounded abdomen. The sensation was terrible, but I know that it had to be cleaned somehow, even if it was just with a few drops of water.

Hope hasn't left me yet. If these days I thought I'm going to die, after the miraculous water bringing of yesterday, I allow myself to have a better view of this torrid morning.

I'm not thirsty anymore, even if the eagle has left. I simply don't need a thing other than the noon to pass to allow the more chilly evening to appear. And, even if I'm not a fan of the cold, I believe I do a bit better during the night with my friend protecting me, than under the killing waves of the sun at noon.

There's not much to do in the desert. Just to remember. About old times, people who don't even existing anymore, beautiful and sad moments. All memories should be cherished in this time when I've got no chance to make others. So, I'm once again trapped in the spiral of time, mentally transporting myself to a much chiller place than this piece of the Sahara Desert, back to a painful memory about the most important person in my life.

~

East Berlin, German Democratic Republic, 17th of March 1988

Back when I was a kid, I never knew the difference between East and West. However, now, as I walk through the streets of Friedrichshain, trying to conceal as much as possible my western appearance, I know that there are a lot of inconsistencies between these mirroring parts of what used to be the same city.

After Conrad's death, I needed to take some days off at work. My boss was really pleased with the study I made on the competition and was already making plans on how to update our store as well, hence he didn't have an issue with the time I asked for myself, considering it's a good reward for my market analysis.

Little does he know why I always ask for so many free days, sometimes even in the middle of the week. But the best part is that he doesn't care or bother to ask. He's completely aware there's no one else who'd work in those conditions, so he has no other option but to accept mine too.

Not that I'd tell anyone what I'm doing in the East almost every week, but I'm sure I'd be considered crazy if I'd do. Someone at the store once said that no sane person would cross the border on the other side. I couldn't help and laughed, so the man, an ex East Berliner himself, asked me what I find so funny. I had no other way out but to apologize and move on with his purchase, but that remark remained imprinted in my mind.

I know I'm insane for doing this, but I can't neglect both my dad and the inner feelings that keep telling me to look for my sister. Sabine Wachsmuth is ten, or, better said, will be this December. If my sources are correct, she just changed schools a few weeks ago due to relocation. But, as I walk around the dull buildings and look at the people passing by, the police and guards at almost every corner, I can't help but wonder how easy it can be to relocate in the German Democratic Republic. My guess is that it surely isn't as simple as it was for me in the West, which gives course to even more questions.

Why would the woman who raises her move for the third time in a year? And, most importantly, why? Why would someone her age with a little child would switch places all the time? It doesn't make sense and, by now, I assume that there are some higher forces implicated in this bullshit. Either the grandma and the child never left their address and this are all false information I'm being given, or they're running from something.

However, according to a trustworthy source I have in the West, a guy who smuggles things over the border, this time I might have some luck. Sabine is said to have contracted hepatitis, a highly contagious disease, and was sent to quarantine at the only hospital in East Berlin with a children's section for her type of illness. It sounds awful to rejoice in these news, as I myself have had hepatitis when I was a kid and it was a terrible experience. Yet, I can't help but feel a hint of hope that this is the only way I can finally get to meet my sister.