40 Days In The Desert

Chapter 16 - The Sense Of Belonging

Souss-Massa Region, Morocco, 17th of July 1999

When the sun shines over me in this new day, I realize there's nothing better than to stay and count the miracles that happened to me.

Besides the obvious one that I'm alive, there are plenty of others that shouldn't be overlooked. Even if the air is so hot during the day, I can still breathe. My face and hands are entirely burnt from the sun. My German skin complexion not being of help either, as I always used to get red from staying too long at the beach, yet I don't feel any pain. The wounds are bothering me from time to time and are leaking puss regularly, they're not as painful anymore. It's like God has pressed pause on all the bad things and decided to offer me some comfort.

Not to even mention my feathery friend who's now out to hunt, but who never forgets me, not even when I think he does. This bird has been loyal since the first day and, little by little, I start doubting how real he is. Yet I can't help it. If this thing is a mirage, but it's keeping me alive, I'll stick with the idea that the eagle is not a figment of my imagination.

Nonetheless, I'm thankful for everything. I have no idea how I made it so far after the fatal wound, but I don't lose hope that it'll get better.

Back to my memories, I'm now forced to relive the continuation of yesterday's events and how that moment from Sabine's bedroom changed the course of my life for a little while.

~

Montecarlo, Principality of Monaco, 8th of September 1988

I've always had an issue when visiting more upper class areas of Berlin, like Charlottenburg; where people are looking down at me if I get to the exclusive zones dedicated only to those who are wealthy enough not to acknowledge how much they spend on mostly anything. However, being in Monaco for a day has shown me that I never truly knew how the sense of not belonging somewhere feels like. Suddenly, the small rejections I encounter when visiting luxury Berlin stores are nothing in comparison to how I felt in this city in less than 24 hours.

This state is by far the most obnoxiously rich place I've ever been to. Everyone has money, even the people who are not supposed to. Servants here are probably paid the minimum wage of a bank director in Berlin. Which is why my frustration kept increasing by the second after I reached my destination.

"You need a makeover before you leave here," Matilde, the wife of John's friend, announces me as I get ready to go to the hotel where I'll be staying for the next couple of days. "I know it might not be your style, but we need to do some adjustments."

"Alright," I nod slowly, thinking what she means by that word. Yet, looking at her, with her hair styled perfectly, the neat suit she's wearing, and the expensive jewelry, I realize that it must be something in that area.

An hour later, I was going to find out. In the hard way, as no less than four of her servants were trying to prepare me to look better for my surroundings.

I doubt I've ever felt more overwhelmed. I'm used to my calm Berlin lifestyle and never thought that there's something wrong with me. I wouldn't say I'm pretty, neither ugly, just a regular German-looking girl. Yet the gazes of these people and the way they speak make me have doubts about my appearance, which was never a thing of importance for me.

After my eyebrows are plucked and all the rest of my body is left without hair, I feel like a chicken without feathers. I wonder when torturing women to death only so they could wear revealing clothes became a beauty standard. Back in Berlin, it was never an issue if my legs or armpits weren't shaved. Apparently, here it seems like these aspects are part of the norm and in no way an option.