We awoke in our empty apartment and finished off the cereal. Rashimi wouldn't let me out of his sight and made sure a pair of sticky hands were firmly clamped around my mid thigh for most of the morning as I attempted to pack the last few bits and pieces and move towards the car.
St Grace arrived wearing a pair of yellow jeans and a huge smile, carrying a small bag of clothes and three photographs of her husband, Suranjaya and son, Jonathan. No road is too long in the right company, I thought to myself.
We said goodbye to Sayyad and although the dwarves didn't really understand the enormity of our departure, fortunately they both responded with a huge hug and kiss for him. He shook my hand and said: 'Anti ukhti' (You are my sister). We left in a convoy of 4 cars, J in front, the dwarves and I second, St Grace and Suranjaya in their car, and a car load of Sri Lankan friends of Suranjaya's in the car behind, to escort him back from the border after bidding farewell to his wonderful wife. I could tell they were both quite nervous, and I reminded myself of how courageous she is to be making this move with us. She's been in Jordan for the last 15 years and although she'll come back once a month, it's a big step. 'I like to always be changing things in my life, so nothing stays the same,' she confided to me the other day.
At the border Suranjaya hugged St Grace and wiped away the tears from behind his mirrored sunglasses. He's a bear of a man, and I wondered at one point if he would really let her go. I waited in our car with the dwarves and just before she got into the passenger's seat she looked back, gave Suranjaya that huge smile of hers, wobbled her head gently from side to side in his direction, and joined us in the car with the tears streaming down her face. If I hadn't felt confident that we were offering her an enormous opportunity, I would have felt guilty. But Rashimi by this stage was yelling, 'Gace! Gace! Borda! Borda! Lap!! Lap!! Lap!!' and trying to clamber over the seats to sit with her. This made her laugh and we cruised out onto the road waving goodbye to her gang of Sri Lankan escorts.
The lunar landscape and metal fences around the border look angry and bleak. Grace shuddered saying it looks like a prison. I wondered what she was expecting to see the other side.
St Grace arrived wearing a pair of yellow jeans and a huge smile, carrying a small bag of clothes and three photographs of her husband, Suranjaya and son, Jonathan. No road is too long in the right company, I thought to myself.
We said goodbye to Sayyad and although the dwarves didn't really understand the enormity of our departure, fortunately they both responded with a huge hug and kiss for him. He shook my hand and said: 'Anti ukhti' (You are my sister). We left in a convoy of 4 cars, J in front, the dwarves and I second, St Grace and Suranjaya in their car, and a car load of Sri Lankan friends of Suranjaya's in the car behind, to escort him back from the border after bidding farewell to his wonderful wife. I could tell they were both quite nervous, and I reminded myself of how courageous she is to be making this move with us. She's been in Jordan for the last 15 years and although she'll come back once a month, it's a big step. 'I like to always be changing things in my life, so nothing stays the same,' she confided to me the other day.
At the border Suranjaya hugged St Grace and wiped away the tears from behind his mirrored sunglasses. He's a bear of a man, and I wondered at one point if he would really let her go. I waited in our car with the dwarves and just before she got into the passenger's seat she looked back, gave Suranjaya that huge smile of hers, wobbled her head gently from side to side in his direction, and joined us in the car with the tears streaming down her face. If I hadn't felt confident that we were offering her an enormous opportunity, I would have felt guilty. But Rashimi by this stage was yelling, 'Gace! Gace! Borda! Borda! Lap!! Lap!! Lap!!' and trying to clamber over the seats to sit with her. This made her laugh and we cruised out onto the road waving goodbye to her gang of Sri Lankan escorts.
The lunar landscape and metal fences around the border look angry and bleak. Grace shuddered saying it looks like a prison. I wondered what she was expecting to see the other side.
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