The basis Ivan grew up in was in Bulunsky District in the Sakha Republic with the nearest city being a rural city named Kyusyur. He had to travel through Lena river edge to reach it so he wouldn't get lost. The basis is on a big island in Lena River that is mostly hidden from civilians around (the three of them. Sorry.). Just understand this is fiction; there is not an actual basis there for as long as I know. The exact coordinates more closely to this spot are 70°52'14.2"N 127°33'04.8"E if you want to see on Google maps.
This chapter was the mixture of testimonies I searched for about Stockholm Syndrome and the psychological analysis made by professionals, but it's a strong scene to write and to read. If you are sensitive, the part will be in bold.
This happens ten days after Ivan went to the Gulag to talk with Taalay and Tiên Huệ delivered the letter to him.
* •
Russia
December 27th
1958
The place was cold and gentle in his skin while he was appreciating the weather as someone returning home. Ivan has always cherished summer, nevertheless, he missed the extreme winter Russia can promote between November and February. He also liked how his country was hot in July; even in places where every foreigner swore it was permanently frozen. He strolled far from his car until he was almost lost in the snow. Stepping on the moisture was getting difficult, but he was almost reaching the place he was supposed to be. He saw a single indication he was following the right direction: Olenyok River's mouth almost smiling at him when he passed. In specific weather, nor too cold or too hot, the soldiers would train his direction skills making him find the way back home. Ivan wasn't the best at finding his path. He used to get lost and cry more than he should until he sees the river smiling at him and guiding him home to the real river his base was placed.
The Russian thought about the words he read on the answer to his letter. The same that lead him here. They were inviting him for the basis in Yakutia because they wanted to clarify things to him. Since Ivan was missing Russia more than anything he wasn't even thinking about denying. He drove all the way from China to Russia, stayed for a long time in Moscow to decipher things and went to Yakutia when the sun was setting. He found the secret basis next to the River Lena on a tiny island without a person from kilometres away. Ivan always admired the women in his childhood that came from all the positions in USSR seeking their husbands and sons.
The only way to cross the river was by walking on the ice during winter or travelling by boat during summer. Ivan reminded the time he tried to cross it when he was sixteen and he fell on the water scarcely before soldiers saved his life. Nothing hurts more than icy water when it tries to enter your body utilizing every microscopic pore. He was so traumatized he stayed in the basis for two months and the soldiers were completely gentle with him.
There were so many memories in that place. Yet Ivan was against spending his afterlife there and he couldn't understand why. Perhaps, it was the facelessness he had inside those fortified walls and the heavy fences keeping everything away. He didn't think about the fact he has tons of bad memories about that place.
Ivan knocked on the iron door of the fortification and held his bag's strap stronger. It was unnecessary when a soldier on watch saw him and opened the gate. The Russian entered perfectly elegant to receive the world he has always known. The place was empty besides himself. He strolled through the snow until he reached the front door standing with iron and firmness. Ivan used to play a game on that door with other soldiers. They would knock once and the child would ask the password. They would ask what kind of thing it was and Ivan would say "Animal" or "Number" or "Color". Of course, he only knew four types of animals, memorized how to count to ten and discerned the colours on the basis. It wasn't difficult at all. If they guessed the right password, they would enter and run after Ivan until one of them gives up or they have another choir. One summer's day, every soldier played hide and seek with him until two soldiers started to fight over defeats and they had to endure punishment for not getting along. Ivan didn't even have a name that day, but he loved how they called him every possible name. Names from their sons, brothers and nephews they might never encounter again. He was many people that day and he was cherished. One even called him "Ivan".
The corridor was the same ironed and cold place he used to run and play around. He used to pretend the walls were alive and he would talk to them whilst the soldiers were training. The creatures that don't breathe have always been people alive to him. Winter, walls, soldiers, himself.
"Comrade!"
The Russian looked at the voice calling his attention and soon he kneeled on the ground.
"Comrade..."
"Ivan, you are an adult stop humiliating yourself like this!" He exclaimed making the echo ricochet in the walls and Ivan held a sob. He wanted to cry. He was doing mistakes all over again after seconds. "Did I raise a submissive?"
Ivan stood up from the ground and programmed the perfect posture. He thought about how the older soldiers taught him the perfect way to do it and they would give him piggyback rides if he does it right.
The general standing in front of him was the same general from his adolescence and the day from the cell where he was screaming the words Ivan cherished for so long. His name, birthday and age were given by General Joseph and, since he was fifteen, that person has always been here when the soldiers were always leaving and coming back or just leaving. Ivan cherished that man and he held back a smile. If people were sins, that man would be Envy because he has several characteristics you can find in most Russians. Parts of him were tremendously common and there was nothing outstanding about his appearance. The same uniform, the same face of someone firm, the same pale hair and clear eyes. Blue with blonde was a common combination. Nonetheless, he was taller than any man he has ever seen. He was at least two meters tall and Ivan felt small next to him, even if he was taller than the average.
Ivan believed in him. He believed in him strangely and extremely like he was some kind of salvation. He would reprove every word against him and say he is only attempting to be a good soldier.
"My sincere apologies, comrade. It's been a while and I forgot my good manners for a second." He placed his glare on the ground. His hands were shaking. "This won't happen again."
Joseph walked until he was in front of the Russian and held his face in his hands. Ivan was too fearful of him to look at his eyes. He knew he was shaking and he tried to stay neutral. In his chest, he was feeling a big mixture of happiness and something similar to be standing next to a knife. He could feel the butterflies in his stomach trying to cut his organs because the excitement was hurting. He couldn't understand why it was hurting or why his heart was beating faster than his breathing. He wanted to disappear and be trapped at that moment forever.
"No. It won't." The general welcomed and kissed Ivan's forehead. Then he released his face from his hands and hit his cheek with the palm of his right hand. The slap ached in a frequency he hid under a faceless mask. He should embrace it like always. "You have several subjects to explain."
All he was asking after that scene was a moment to regain his posture and retain his tears. Perhaps an explanation or at least the slightest sign that it hurts more in him than in Ivan. Nevertheless, Joseph started to walk in the direction of the corridor contrary to the soldiers' rooms and his old cell.
Ivan tried to focus on the straight iron corridor.
"Enter." The General indicated the door of his office. The sun was making dust dance in the air demonstrating the way in a display of fictitious fantasy. "Have you gained weight?"
Ivan obeyed without questioning and entered the General's office. The Russian sat on the chair in front of the table with the perfect posture. He tried to picture the daily salute they did to USSR and proclaim the National Anthem.
"Did I tell you to sit?" The General screamed. He stood up and practised his posture as a mantra. Ivan swore on himself in his head for being so sloppy and useless. "I'm kidding, kid. Sit down!"
He sat again without responding. Ivan watched his hands shaking on his lap whilst the General sat on his adorned chair. The office wasn't anything great just like its owner and the window behind him had iron bars. There were always a glass of water next to him.
Ivan couldn't read him. Or predict nothing. He could only wait. That was agony. Every second he could change his mood and...
What comes next? What is his mood?
"You know why I called you here, Ivan?"
He didn't. Not knowing was almost like torture because he wanted to answer right to him as he wanted to breath. It was natural. Ivan felt a cold sweatdrop fall from the middle of his chest. He was shaking and his heart was an echo in his ear. Somehow he wanted to cry the same amount he wanted to avoid crying.
"I have failed you coming here instead of staying in America and I'm here for you to punish me correctly, comrade."
"Correct. But more than that, kid. I want to understand completely."
He waited. Ivan felt his nails scratching his skin whilst the time passed bitterly on the clock.
"I can't believe you had the audacity to stay quiet when those soldiers tried to interrogate you. Not even spilling if there were other people in that house. You were in that Chinese's house. You told me you had nothing on him anymore. Yet you were in his house like you belonged there. You talked adequately with the soldiers who went there to make sure you didn't betray us. But you stayed quiet about your real intentions. Almost as if you were trying to protect someone." The man answered himself and the window behind him was trembling in Ivan's blurred vision. "How could you do it? We raised you with the few resources we have. We kept you alive, Ivan. How could something be more important than us to you?"
Ivan bit his tongue until he tasted blood.
"Let me guess... You were closer to Wang Yao than I originally thought, even after he sold you."
He thought about Tiên Huệ's words.
"It wasn't..."
"You know he died because of you, right? I can see you know more now. What are you going to do with this knowledge, Ivan? Are you going to cry saying we didn't allow you to see him when in fact you would have denied by yourself? Don't blame me."
He was right.
Ivan felt the wave of guilt trying to consume his veins as multiple blades. He wanted to kneel and apologize to Joseph.
"You can explain your actions."
"I was tracking a clue that people were escaping from Karlag. And I found out I was right. I discovered the number of the prisoner and one of us who was helping."
The General crossed his arms.
"I don't care about a prisoner. They are in the right place and they shouldn't last long. Tell about the traitor."
Ivan grabbed things from his bag. The papers were perfectly forged, but he knew the general wouldn't glance at it too much. He would just accept the betrayal and arrest someone because anyone can be an American spy. Anyone can be on a Gulag for the motherland's safety.
"In these documents, you will see that Igor Igorovich Baikal helped to release prisoners using his influence just to make space to use his own men since the prisoners weren't producing the right amount. He was stealing the resources to sell it himself to other countries."
Joseph glanced at the papers. Ivan waited with a cold liquid passing through his blood. These letters were hard to forge.
"Good, brat." He affirmed. "You always see what we ignore, don't you?"
Ivan felt the happiness passing through his lungs and he stopped breathing normally. He didn't notice he was smiling until his cheeks were embracing his teeth. He was being nurtured by the most stable person in his life since he was able to discern between humans. While the soldiers were always leaving and coming back or never returning, he was here.
In a second, Ivan's happiness turned into terror when Joseph aimed a gun at his forehead. The projectile was almost touching his skin and Ivan could feel his cells trying it's hardest to stay away from the aim. His heartbeat increased. Every trace of skin in his hand was vibrating to defend himself, but he was watching while his reflexes were battling with his dependency on that man.
"So?"
He waited. All Ivan wanted was to stop breathing so heavily. He waited for more, however, nothing came.
"Please, I..."
"You think you are going to be celebrated? You disobeyed me!" Joseph shouted. In a minute, the man trespassed the table and clenched the platinum hair in his fingers. Ivan was trying his hardest not to cry. He felt dirty. "We kept you alive, yet you disobey us deliberately? What were you thinking? This wasn't your job, useless whore!"
Ivan tried his hardest to stay silent when Joseph hit his cheek with the gun until his eyes were wet and he couldn't feel his face. He wanted to cry or to apologize. Either action would result in disaster.
"Do you think I can't pull the trigger on your forehead? I could kill you right now and wouldn't even have to fill the paperwork. After all, you don't exist in this world. What is me without you, Ivan? I'm still the General and a legitimate Russian! What are you without us? You would be less than nothing! You aren't a real person; you don't matter slightly in this world. You are nothing without me to tell your name. And yet you disobey us? Are you that useless? Are you a hypocrite? You deserve to die, don't you know that? But I keep you breathing..."
"S-sorry... I'm..." He apologized and started to cry deliberately. His hands were shaking in front of his eyes, he couldn't give rise to his words together in his mind and his stomach was hurting. "I..."
"Kneel!"
The Russian obeyed. One more hit and he would crumble. He wanted to forget the pain, the torture and famine he suffered during a month. Somehow, he felt it was longer than that. He remembered what the soldiers did to him in Yao's house and cried more when everything was going through his mind.
"This is all your fault, kid. See what you made me do?" He asked between the quiet sobs coming from Ivan. "Do you regret it?"
He agreed with his head.
"Prove it!" He affirmed calmly and placed the gun on Ivan's lap. "You know what we do to traitors. Put a bullet in your brain."
Ivan glanced at the man with his eyes melting in tears and his world crumbling around. That request was twisting his organs in ropes and creating a knot in his throat almost as if he was being hanged by his own body. Even his ears were hearing his own breathing whilst his heartbeat was increasing. He must have heard it wrong. He didn't learn how to react to that. He was supposed to kill himself to prove he was useful and worth it to them? He considered doing it at the same time a voice in his head was screaming to run. All the screams making his audition numb were trying to regain attention. How could he do this to the perfect weapon? He sold his soul to that man and what he represents. Ivan trade everything to regain his name. They tried to change his name to make him a perfect disguise but he implored to maintain that identification. It was the only thing he could hold on even when the nights were lonely and guilty. His name was important. He couldn't change it after so little or he would lose himself completely. Then he traded his freedom. The red men promised him the freedom to live after he completed the duty, but he gave that up to maintain his name to Joseph. When he comes back to Russia he is going to control that basis alone for the rest of his life. During winter, during summer, until he dies. He traded his life to call his name to empty walls. His existence belonged to them. So why they were asking him to take it?
His head was a situation similar to shooting and he wanted to scream. He wanted to scream until the mixture of thoughts vanished. There was one thing that could stop then. Joseph was always helping him. He grabbed the gun, put in his mouth while it was shaking and pulled the trigger.
No bullets in it. Of course.
"See?"
Ivan broke and let the gun slide through his teeth until it hit the ground.
He thanked Joseph in his mind.
"You are loyal to us, Ivan. Don't forget that." He stated carefully. His voice was a distant sound in the messy reality Ivan was handling to keep his mind sane. "I didn't put the bullets. I didn't kill you. I allowed you to live. Don't you think you own me?"
The general said those words as if they were a mechanism to a strategy. Then he clasped a pencil and a small piece of paper. Ivan watched from the ground with his heartbeat increasing and his vision blurring with the shock when he wrote. Joseph folded the paper and let it in his desk.
"I wrote the name of your mother. Your real mother." He affirmed and Ivan almost lost his mind. "I'm warning you to leave it here. I'm ordering to don't read it or you are going to fail your country, your people, me and yourself."
He stared at the General.
A name that could give him the past he has always wanted and the three names he has always wished. Ivan was looking at a piece of paper that could save him from never existing. He wasn't thinking about anything else when he grabbed the paper whilst he was kneeling on the ground. He held the edge of the table to gain balance when he opened it. He thought the general would shoot him. He was still inhaling and exhale acid when he read the paper.
Here is your mother:
Ivan left the paper fall from his hands and stared at Joseph with wide eyes. The man was as cold as the weather and he was as harsh as the stone that made that place. He has always thought he was shallow, but that man didn't seem human.
"Your desire to have a past is bigger than your fear of us. Perhaps you developed the necessity to please us in order to survive. But I see that you developed the need to have a past in order to remain a sane person. You wouldn't mind kill yourself to please us. You tried to commit suicide years ago, after all. Your life belongs to us to take right? But when we talked about changing your name you took away your own life again." The man explained without emotion in his mouthpiece. Ivan was completely terrified when he noticed that same lack of emotion in him many times. "What would you do if I gave you the entire backstory? Your mother abandoned you like the garbage you are. So what? You will still be trapped here for all your life even if she wasn't motionless. You trade your life for your name because you couldn't bring yourself to give up the only thing that meant anything to you at all. But your life belongs to us. You know that. And you will always reside here behind these walls. We will always find you because you live by us and only with us. You can't scape. You can save whoever you want from Lithuania, Estonia or Latvia, we will know afterwards."
He could sense the world opening below him trying to erase him from existence and he was asking for it. Ivan could feel the shame of everything like he was naked in front of that man.
"We know about them since you scaped the cell somehow. Think I wouldn't have people from KGB inside those camps? Karlag is controlled by us since we were called NKVD. The guard who led you to the officer was my recommendation to that place. He recognized you instantly. Very lazy for a spy, Ilya. I should have painted your hair black and burned your eyes. You are too recognisable. Also, did you think it was a coincidence the soldiers appeared on Yao's house the same day you returned? We were keeping track of that house for days. My men said you were able to remain three days without sleeping on the Gulag. I am fucking proud, Ivan. How were the nights you screamed in your bed? You are rather weak. I wonder if I'm in any of these nightmares where you wake up crying in despair and sweating like when the soldiers did that to you. Am I in them? Do you blame me for the mess you are? What if I leave? You wouldn't have anyone to care for you here in Russia or anywhere because no one besides me wanted to continue with you. I paid people to take care of you and teach you. Now I pay people to pretend to care for you because we both know they wouldn't do it without payment. I own this experiment you call life."
Ivan laid his head on the table completely defeated. He wanted to rip his hair off his head and blind himself. Destroy the weapon they cherished. He had the same thoughts crossing his mind when he tried to kill himself when he was younger.
"See? It doesn't matter what is your name. I can change it however I want and you will be whoever I want you to be. Perhaps I should kill Toris, Eduard and Raivis and use their names for you to blend in around the Baltic countries. Perhaps I should teach you that disobeying leaves an aftertaste. How would you like that, Toris? Or Eduard? Or Raivis?"
He thought about travelling with Toris and how he would cry next to him. How he would sing. How the Lithuanian would say he is his friend at least for one second before Ivan ruined everything as always. He thought about the three of them hugging each other when they met again.
The General smiled. It was cold water throwing itself at Ivan's face and he could only shake. Joseph caressed his head and the Russian almost sighed with relief and almost vomited on the floor.
"If you try to save someone again, you will only make me kill them in front of you, understand?"
He agreed with his head and smiled.
"I was reckless. You are more important to me than anything." He whispered feeling his blood getting colder. "I won't disobey you. Please forgive me."
"Then I shall give you something to prove we are on the same side, kid." He affirmed with a calculated voice and caressed Ivan's hair. "The name of the girl who gave you this scarf."
•
China
December 27th
1958
Basch was reading the construction of Vietnamese language for hours while Maxim was playing with toys on the mattress. The Swiss was anxious the whole week like something was crawling through his skin to grab his face, but he could only watch. The sun was setting on the peaks and the day was hotter than any other day he spent there. The snow wasn't even completing the atmosphere that day after weeks of snowy fields. The gravestones were a distant figure on the window.
Maxim was optimistic. Of course, he was having sequels from his traumatic year because there isn't a path manageable to disregard. He was trying to hide them, but Basch could see them. In how he would vomit every food they tried to put in his stomach and the days he woke up and started to call for a name next to him. He was spending time in the wheelchair strolling around like he was playing, nonetheless, he would just stare at things. After a few days, he travelled through the house questioning every single scratch on the wall. He was asking tons of questions about the people on that house and who saved him. Those were things Basch knew only the surface since nobody was there anymore. Just them.
"Who saved me?"
"Ivan."
"Who is Ivan?"
"Don't know. Don't care."
"Who is the owner of this house?"
"Some Chinese guy."
"Where is he?"
"Six feet under."
"Why?"
"Don't know. Don't care."
Basch wasn't great with conversation after years talking mostly to himself because everyone around him spoke Vietnamese or some random African language. It was rare to meet someone that spoke German or English - the only languages he was fluent. Russian was the most common and he studied enough to handle himself in a conversation, but not enough to handle tons of dialogues. He was spending time in Asia and Africa mostly and spending time with diseases wasn't the most talkative atmosphere.
"How fast can a train travel?" The child asked in broken Russian. His Russian was obviously learned in school or at home or at Karlag because he made terrible mistakes and mixed the languages with a different Latin language. "I travelled in one once."
"Don't know. Don't care." He responded with annoyance towards Maxim. "Why do you need to know?"
"I was wondering." Maxim retorted placing the toy similar to a train in a stuffed cat's lap. Something about his abnormally skinny face was childish pure, but there were deceptions in his gorgeous amber eyes. "I used to ask my questions to someone. I missed having answers in Karlag."
The walls were glaring at him or Basch needed to sleep urgently. He was having insomnia for a while on those weeks. He tried to focus on his broken hand with missing fingers and a big scar. Every time he was trying to gather emotion he would glance at that broken limb. He tried to avoid a boy from picking a bomb he thought it was a toy in Afghanistan two years ago. He only tried to touch his shoulder and had his hand almost amputated and seventy per cent of his body burned. The child lost his life.
"I'm sorry I annoyed you, domnule."
He discovered too much emotion to talk about anything.
Basch stopped looking at the Vietnamese dictionary and glanced at the boy. He remembered Gupta's advise translated by Sadik before they left.
"Give meaning to everything so Maxim sees the poetry in his suffering."
Maxim was awake that night they left, but he was agonizing days ago with sobs when the Swiss told him he was never going to walk again. He just whimpered a little in the pillow with the snow smiling through the window with all the movement he wished. Basch tried to argue that people can live with this and they should live happily as anyone else. They are normal. Nonetheless, it only made things worse when Maxim asked if he was being selfish to cry about his condition when several people would have died from the shot. Basch didn't know what to say or what to do. He wasn't good with kids. He was only good with Elise. So when the boy started to stay silent in the bed for days he didn't know what to do. He followed Gupta's advise and started to give meaning to every room and scratch on the wall. He knew the names that used to live there and he started to create personalities to them, even if he doesn't know them for a fact. He created a personality to Mei Chan, Hai Guo, Wang Yao and Li Xiao. He told short stories about them thinking about his own childhood and Maxim was interested in them. He started to walk around the house asking the meaning of everything and Basch would say little in a harsh way, but he would like the small details. Maxim was smiling and asking questions again. Too many questions.
"You didn't."
The Romanian smiled displaying the space between his teeth. Seeing his smile reminded him of his sister's broken smile when she was changing her teeth. Basch stepped away metaphorically from his own thoughts. He grabbed the message he wrote and tried to walk away from the room.
"Excuse me, domnule?" Maxim called and Basch turned around. "What happened to your hand?"
Basch shivered. He could hear the screams of every emotion and feel the emptiness in his chest after hearing another soul leave the wound he was holding.
"Just rest."
He walked away from that. Kids were his weakness. He couldn't look at them and don't think about Elise. And it doesn't matter how far he goes from Switzerland, he would never forgive himself for living more than his whole family. That was why he was ready to come back to Europe. He wanted to rebuild what he lost and fulfil his mother's dream. The picture was still on his backpack after years.
Basch was ready. But someone wasn't ready to leave that place.
The Swiss strolled carefully through the lanterns and the stair while the rain started falling. He grabbed the message he wrote all afternoon to talk to Tiên Huệ in her language and saw raindrops falling on it. He wasn't very good with anything evolving feelings or console, but he had to say something. That woman was waiting for someone that wasn't coming.
"Tiên Huệ..."
Her dark eyes stopped on him. She saw things being done he would never consider possible to be made. All he knew about her was that she lost everything she had in Vietnam and he imagined she was losing parts of her in the places she takes care of strangers. He couldn't watch when another person from her past was leaving the same painful way. She was wishing to save one more soul. Repay the lives she couldn't save and the ones she couldn't love. But this wasn't healthy and it doesn't depend entirely on her hands.
"Ivan không đến."
His Vietnamese was full of the accent he heard whilst he stayed next to that woman for years. Basically nothing. Then he was sure she wasn't understanding a word, but he needed to make her understand he was trying to console her at least a little.
"Tôi đi với anh ấy. Tạm biệt."
He was walking away when she grabbed his sleeve. Her eyes were placed on the ground for a second and he could see her hesitation to leave without Ivan. She was really hoping she could save him, nonetheless, some people just don't want to be saved. She seemed to be wanting to say something, but he knew she wasn't skilled to speak another language besides her own. For the first time in three years, the lack of spoken communication seemed to be a dilemma to them. No more mimics, gestures, glares to each other and random Vietnamese translators. She wanted to say something especially to him with her own words, however, she couldn't.
"Okay." He affirmed because that seemed to be the only word every language can understand. "No Tạm biệt."
He promised to learn Vietnamese from now on.
They walked together after years of a silent friendship and a magnificent companionship. They were unlikely, they knew nothing about each other and their cultures were distinct. But this shouldn't be an issue to save lives together.
Basch prepared his backpack with absolutely nothing extreme for a trip; Tiên Huệ prepared her several medical suitcases. They used to have a rickshaw to put their things the Vietnamese gained from her friend, but they were robbed a week ago so they were trying to carry everything with two hands. It was useless, however, Sadik and Gupta arranged a new rickshaw with Kalyan and they were happy again. They put a sleeping Maxim in the wheelchair with stuffed toys, a small train and an umbrella to save him from the drizzle. They prepared boxes full of supplies from Yao's storage to distribute between people that need around their trips. No one was going to use them and Tiên Huệ was friends with the owner of the house and she started to grab boxes so Basch didn't ask.
He watched Tiên Huệ saying goodbye to graveyards and lanterns. He turned away to prepare everything for the trip at the beginning of the mountain. Basch couldn't watch when she hugged both the graveyards and started to cry. In years of catastrophes, she never shed a tear.
She is accustomed to the world's tragedies but not with her own. The man from Yaoundé said once to Basch. It's easier to cold people to be a watcher on the world's tragedy.
The Swiss almost smiled when he saw the truck on the old road and the Vietnamese coming from the edge of the way to the mountain. Basch didn't say anything to her about the two lanterns on the starry sky when she stayed at his side. What could he say? They didn't speak the same language. When the truck arrived, he remembered why he loved silence with Tiên Huệ.
"karşılama." Sadik greeted in a scream with quiet Gupta next to him on the truck. Basch watched when Maxim moved in his sleep. He sighed with his hair getting wet from the rain. "Sorry. I didn't see the child was sleeping. Look at our fucking truck! I love Kalyan. He can be my favourite human after Gupta."
"Just drive when we are ready and keep your mouth shut."
Basch placed all the boxes on the old truck with the other's help whilst Gupta placed Maxim in an improvised seatbelt and placed the backpack and the suitcases close to the new rickshaw. The truck was shut down. They stayed in the dark with their thoughts and Gupta and Sadik's conversation in Arabic. The road would be long until they have reached Turkey's station so they can go to Switzerland by train.
The Swiss' thoughts ran between corridors of cheese and bombs. He thought about his appearance when he sees Roderich and Elizabeta and they wonder how he shattered so quickly. His left side and most of his face were covered in burned skin because of a mine from a long time ago. His hand was destroyed and he had to learn how to be a nurse and a human with the other hand. He lost at least twenty kilograms and he had tons of scars. He even had small scarification in his shoulder from the tribe Kofyar from Central Nigeria after he and Tiên Huệ asked for a few of their agricultural resources to help refugees from Sudan during the Civil war that assailed the country. They were well received by the Kofyar and the tribe was gentle with them enough to mark them for abnegation. In a resume, Basch saw terrible things and met people he thought about walking in their steps as a child. He opened his mind to many things, good and bad. He was delighted to make this trip, but he needed to see his dear country again before having the strength to come back to the field.
He was tired. He was going home.
•
Kazakhstan
December 5th
1958
Tiên Huệ glared at Basch Zwingli before she grabbed her last things and put on her new rickshaw. It was different from the one Preecha gave to her, however, she was happy pulling something again besides her guilt.
In a moment, her friend knew she wasn't going with him to Switzerland. Her place wasn't simply one in the world. She was a traveller that doesn't deserve a home and Europe is no place for her in the slightest. His green eyes seemed to understand that like they understood a thousand signs they made over three years together as a team.
The Vietnamese wanted to say to him that if he was able to handle the gap between the communication, he was going to be good with Maxim and his paralyzed legs. She wanted to say that he was one of the best people she had contact with. Basch was kind, open-minded and he was broken like her. They were alike. They were closer like siblings for a sparkle of dust in time and that was going to remain. Looking at him now made her wish to learn another language besides Vietnamese.
She knew something he knew what it meant in her language.
"Tạm biệt, Sebastian."
He glared at the ground like he was angry, but she knew he was simply sad they were going to separate. They learned how to read through each other, after all. He said goodbye to her in a language strongly and beautifully built like a tower. German, probably. Tiên Huệ saw the beauty of languages before she understood them.
This was the penultimate time she saw him.
She turned around when the Swiss closed the truck and they started to move. There was a road ahead of her and tons of motives to walk with pride in it.
Tiên Huệ looked at her new company. One of the girls were pulling a donkey with another girl riding it. The girl on the ride coughed several times as they continued to walk. A girl with braids on her head that Sadik introduced as Aizhan Utemisov and a small girl named Taalay Parvana were Basch's substitutes whilst they were heading to other places helping in Edelweiss' name. They couldn't communicate with each other, however, they had several paths to follow if Tiên Huệ is planning on teaching medicine to them.
They placed the donkey to carry the rickshaw and placed Taalay in the rickshaw with the suitcases and the backpacks. The girl with the stronger glare tried to speak to her, but the Vietnamese was ready this time. She handed to her a dictionary with figures to learn Vietnamese she handed from Yao. The girl studied the gift with confusion.
Tiên Huệ decided that if Basch is reaching his homeland, she is also going home.
* •
Domnule = "mister" in Romanian.
"Ivan không đến." = "Ivan is not coming."
"Tôi đi với anh ấy. Tạm biệt." = "I'm leaving with him. Goodbye."
karşılama = "Welcome" in Turkish.
He even had small scarification in his shoulder from the tribe Kofyar from Central Nigeria after he and Tiên Huệ asked for a few of their agricultural resources to help refugees from Sudan during the Civil war that assailed the country. They were well received by the Kofyar and the tribe was gentle with them enough to mark them for abnegation.
Scarification = a mark or marks made by scarifying. You can be drawn in your skin with scarification and there are several tribes that do that in the African continent. In the past, a woman or man would have scarification marks that will distinguish her/him from anyone else, tell her/his rank in society, family, clan, and tribe, and symbolize her beauty or strength. In some African tribes, it was like wearing your identity card on your face. Some of the tribes in Northern Ghana who use the markings are the Gonjas, Nanumbas, Dagombas, Frafras, and Mamprusis.
As for the Kofyar, they are a tribe from Nigeria that has been applauded by their agricultural abilities. Robert Netting began anthropological research with them in the early 1960s. Basch was there before. Lmao. Netting's primary focus was on the Kofyar ecological adaptations, including the highly intensive agriculture being practised and also the social institutions that were instrumental to sustainability.
As for the Sudanese civil war, well in a resume the First Sudanese Civil War wasn't the last; there was another in 1983, sadly. Also known as the Anyanya Rebellion or Anyanya I, after the name of the rebels, a term in the Madi language which means "snake venom" was a conflict from 1955 to 1972 between the northern part of Sudan and the southern Sudan region that demanded representation and more regional autonomy. Half a million people died over the 17 years of war, which may be divided into three stages: initial guerrilla war, Anyanya, and South Sudan Liberation Movement.
It was different from the one Preecha gave to her, however, she was happy pulling something again besides her guilt.
Preecha (It means intelligence like "Tiên") is Aph Thailand. I will talk a little about him in the next chapters, but he helped Tiên Huệ to enter Edelweiss. I am not focusing on him but he is an Edelweiss helper in Thailand and he usually helps deserters from North Korea that come to his country. He is "Basel people" because he works with bureaucracy and he can create fake names and forged lifes.