Into The Sea

The story I am about to tell, today, belongs to a quite different world. It is my story and I warn you, if you find it rather too exotic or foreign, then you probably need to stop reading here for I have put every possible effort to narrate it as realistically and as horrifying as it is. It is that on the shores of the dazzling Mediterranean, there lies a city called Alexandria. You may have heard about Alexandria which is located on the north coast of Egypt, or as Alexandrians call it “Iskendria.” Long ago, in the early 90s, on the saffron soils of my beloved city, two lovers were united in holy matrimony. Anwar and Thoraya’s happily married life began on a Thursday night and so did our story. 

Anwar and Thoraya are my beloved grandparents who were born and lived their entire lives in Alexandria, Egypt. Anwar was born to a family of fishermen and soon he developed strong affinities with the sea. It is rare that you may find an Alexandrian who does not relate to the sea in a personal way. We have all been crowding on its shores our entire lives. All of our memories, good and bad, were made with the sea lingering in the background. Our sea has witnessed, for years, tales of love, heartache, inspirations and has taken the lives of many people welcoming them into its vast open arms.

In his teenage days, Anwar grew rather fond of his father’s profession. He often missed school and chose to accompany his father on his fishing trips. He was enchanted by the sea. His mother spent all her time worrying about them especially on rainy days. She was a typical Alexandrian housewife who believed the sea to be “treacherous.” She had lost a cousin or two who went for a swim one day and never came back.

The family’s house was more of a kiosk on the sand, it was surrounded by a few more shabby ones where some less fortunate fishermen lived with their families. Anwar’s father took pride in his house and always bragged that it was greater than a thousand mansions. Anwar learnt all about fish, their kinds and where to find them. He begged his parents to let him drop out of school and become a fisherman but they wanted him to work for the government and become a well-educated respectable man. Education did not cost a lot of money in Egypt and it was easy for anyone to join a good college. Thus, he yielded and finished his high school and joined the faculty of commerce successfully. Four years later, once he finished college, he was promised a beautiful wife and a small house, far from the sea but close to work!

Anwar got married to Thoraya whom he had only seen twice before the wedding. During those two encounters, they were accompanied by both their families because it was not religious to be with a woman on your own. However, he considered himself lucky because his best friend Mohamed only saw his wife on his wedding day and was not quite happy about it. Anwar liked Thoraya and wished he could hear her voice or exchange a word or two with her, but he felt too ashamed to ask. On Thursday 19^th June, 1957 Anwar and Thoraya were alone for the first time and that night Anwar couldn’t sleep. He was used to sleep to the sound of the sea waves and the smell of the salty waters penetrating his nostrils and purging his soul. Two weeks later, his mother passed away. She was the only thing Anwar loved more than the sea!

Thoraya, my benevolent and amazing grandma, knew her role as a wife very well. Anwar felt that she was born to be a housewife, a perfect one. She would wake up before he does and have his breakfast ready. He would find his clothes clean, tidied and ironed. Grandma never used a maid to clean the house or a cook. On Fridays, our weekend, she would burn special incense — bokhoor — and recite verses from Quran while rooming every corner of the house to drive away the evil eye. As a middle eastern, we all grow up believing in the power of the evil eye, when someone is envious and wishes you no good, they behold you with an evil eye that might turn your world upside down if you’re not too careful. We take the evil eye very seriously! As the years gone by, Thoraya bore him five healthy children, despite the evil eye that surrounded her world, three boys and two girls. Nabeela, my mother, was her youngest. Their life was quiet and warm. They were neither rich nor poor and they were content with their lives until the strangest thing happened — a strange incident that affected their family for years.

It was on a cold December night when Anwar had a wave of nostalgia that shook him out of a deep sleep and led him towards his favourite spot, the sea shore. So, he took off early, before dawn, to enjoy watching the sunshine from his late parents’ kiosk. Thoraya was sleeping well and nobody was awake to see him off. It was still dark and the streets were empty. He saw an old man opening the mosque door and turning on an odd green light getting ready for dawn “fajr” prayer. He contemplated going into the mosque to perform the prayer but he changed his mind and preferred to do it by the sea instead. It was a long walk, but Anwar was too enlivened by the cool wind that carried the smell of his life companion, the mighty sea!

Anwar got there, put the key into the lock and to his great surprise, the door was already open. It must be that someone had been into the house, he thought. Was it a burglar? But the house was empty except for two small beds, some old cabinets and his hookah which he left lying in a corner the last time he visited. Anwar turned on the lights and gave a sigh of relief. There was no one there and he could finally enjoy his hookah while watching the sun rise. He was taking a moment to remember his parents with a prayer when he heard a long hoarse voice calling his name, “Anwaaaar.” The voice did not sound human and gave him a thrill of fear. He immediately looked out of the window. There was nothing but complete and utter darkness. Anwar called, “Who is it?” But heard no reply. His heart started throbbing fast and his knees felt weak. He recalled a lot of stories about the inhabitants of the sea, those who inhabit the sea at night and that’s why people in Alexandria never came close to the shore when the sun set so as not to disturb them. He’s heard many stories from his mother but he always thought they were old wives’ tales and he wondered why he was thinking about them again. 

The voice was not heard again, to his great relief. Anwar recited some Quran verses while preparing his hookah and leaned his head out of the window one last time to make sure no one was out. He was setting his hookah on the sand when he saw her. She was in the water, he saw her eyes fixed on him and her arms stretched out calling for his help, she called his name again and he was entranced by her beauty. He took off his clothes and jumped into the water reaching out for her. He was led by a force greater and stronger than reason. As he got closer, she seemed to be moving further, but he could see her face clearer now. She had large black eyes, long black hair and very thin lips. He could see a red birthmark that covered her left eyebrow and he noticed how it seemed to get larger as he approached until her whole face turned red. He trembled with fear. When she opened her mouth to call his name, he could obviously see a hollow gap. Anwar knew he must be dreaming because no one would dare swim in the water at that time and especially women. “Was she even a woman?” He asked himself. However, he continued swimming towards her with all his might. It felt as if his body was moving against his will, he wanted to stop and go back, indeed!

As he drew closer, he saw her hair growing into one long white snakelike pony tail and her face twisted so awfully and before he could scream, he was surrounded by darkness! 

When Anwar tried to open his eyes again, he could feel the blinding sun rays penetrating his eyelids and blinding him. He was lying on the hot sand, which gave some warmth to his damp body, surrounded by a lot of faces that he couldn’t recognize. His hands were holding an object so tight. He tried to let go and a sharp pain went through his arms. Apparently, he was holding on to that ivory box for a long time that his arms and hands had grown used to it. 

“What’s happened?” He asked. 

“You’ve been found lying here clutching the box.We thought you were dead!” One of the men answered.

“I came to see the sunrise but I must have fallen asleep,” Anwar lied because he remembered everything very well. He wanted to go home and think everything through and maybe find out what was in that box!

When my mother, Nabeela Anwar, gave birth to me, she was disappointed. She wanted a boy and so did every member in her family. They picked the name, Sameera, to rhyme with Ameera, my older sister’s name. They loved me dearly, but they were ashamed that they had no son to inherit the family’s name. On the 5^th October, 1984, I was climbing the stairs of our modest building where my family lived on the 6^th floor. My grandma lived on the 2nd floor. I cursed whoever used the elevator and did not close the door properly. As I passed by my grandma’s apartment door, I heard a sound of throbbing, like trumpets, and thought I saw a weird green colored smoke leaking from the door corners. I got closer and stuck my ear to the door but the throbbing stopped. It was now replaced by a hoarse sound speaking. I couldn’t recognize the words, but it didn’t sound earthly to me. I rang the bell and the maid opened the door to assure me that grandma was soundly sleeping and that she had the radio on. I forgot about it and carried on.

I printed a kiss on my grandmother’s cold forehead and bid her farewell on the 9^th of December 1987. I loved her dearly and I cherish every memory I had with her. She was finally reunited with my grandfather, but I felt lonely. I kept her eyeglasses and a small pocket watch that she had. My mother had a long meeting with her siblings after which they agreed that she will inherit grandma’s ivory box. The box that no one would ever tell me what was inside it. And that’s how the old ivory box made its way into our house. I often begged mom to tell me the story of the box but she said that it was just an ornament that grandpa loved dearly and so it was passed on to family members through the years. She assured me that it was empty and insignificant. I somehow knew that my mom was lying. That night, I woke up from deep sleep at 3 a.m. thinking about the box. I snuck into mom’s bedroom to have another look at it but her door was locked. I thought I heard a hoarse voice talking but then I heard it no more. “I must be imagining things,” I thought to myself.

The tragic death of my mother, only one year after grandma’s death, has left us all shocked. My mom was burnt to death in her own bed, she had a candle on for too long as reported by the investigators. She was all I had, the light that kept me going, my backbone and my favorite person on earth. I held the ivory box to my room and rested it on my nightstand. I spent weeks and months grieving. My whole world fell to pieces and I thought I’d never be over it. 

Six weeks ago, I woke up at 3 a.m. to the sound of the ivory box falling with a loud bang. It crashed open and to my great surprise, it wasn’t empty. It was full of tiny brown parchments. The parchments were rectangular and each one had a single word written in an odd green colour. The words were all incomprehensible to me. They were Arabic letters but they did not form any familiar word. I thought of waking Ameera up and telling her but I ended up in my mother’s room searching among her stuff for an answer.

That night was long and depressingly dreary. I spent two long hours looking for any clue. Eventually, I fell asleep and had a vivid dream. I saw my mother and my grandmother sitting on a white sofa. They both looked at me and smiled. Then, I saw a green light shining from an ivory box in mom’s hands. I opened my mouth to ask her about it, but words wouldn’t come out. I tried to use my hand and point at it but my hands were full. I looked down and I saw myself holding the box. I looked back up to my mother but I saw an ugly red colored woman staring at me instead. I tried to scream but she held out her hand and gave me an envelope. I woke up, startled, and found a strange green colored envelope in my hand.

I tore the envelope open and started reading. It was my mother’s handwriting. It was short and vague: 

In the name of Allah the Merciful,

I write to you today to tell you about our family’s secret. In the Ivory box, you shall find many words written on pieces of parchments. You are to wake up every night at 3 a.m., open the box and read one word loudly 3 times then burn the parchment. If you forget or choose to, the consequences will be serious. It was the destiny of your grandfather and your grandmother after him. I have tried all my best to put an end to this curse, but I lost my life in return. Forget not and tell no one. Pass it on to your children and no harm will befall you. 

I read the letter over a thousand times and thought about it even more. I did as my mom bid me every night. My head was buzzing with questions. Where did grandpa find this box? How did he learn what to do with it? Did he see it in a dream as I did? What would happen when the parchments are finished? When I have read all of them, what will change? I was going to find out tonight because I was going to read the last one. I opened the box with trembling hands and took a deep breath. I repeated the word " خمصتي" three times and waited. Nothing happened. I burnt the parchment and thought about my mom’s death. She must have forgotten to put out the fire after burning her parchment. Finally, I was relieved and felt free of the insane curse. I climbed back to bed and went into a sound deep sleep. 

When I woke up this morning, I noticed a small red birthmark over my left eyebrow. I have spent the whole morning drinking hot liquids because it felt like my voice sounded hoarse and odd. In the evening, I went to search for Ameera in her room to ask her if she could notice the birthmark and see if she had any medicine for hoarse voice but she wasn’t there. It is strange how my nostrils were filled with the smell of sea water all day. I haven’t been to the sea for months now so I thought maybe I should pay it a visit. It was 2 a.m. but I found myself putting on my coat and getting ready to leave. I had to be by the sea right now. I avoided looking at the mirror because last time I did, the birthmark was so big it covered half my face. For some reason, I felt that my mind wasn’t thinking straight anymore. I walked and walked, reached the seashore, took off my boots and felt the sand touch my feet. I went into the water and saw him there, I looked up and the moon stared back. I closed my eyes and …….. darkness!