A Bed for the Wretched – Chapter 11

A Bed for the Wretched – Chapter 11

The horde that ran behind the trucks pushed him down and he remained there until the first birds sang (dawn). He could hear the last truck leaving, struggling to make it up the hill, as he swore at everything living that passed by him repeating the same curses over and over again. He swore at every fall he had ever had, at every humiliation he ever experienced and at every evil and empty promise ever made to him. When the hum of the engines completely disappeared and the valley returned to silence, he stared at the starry sky which made him feel even lonelier. He felt completely lost in that vast and elusive world, then suddenly he heard screaming and then a barely audible hum of moving trucks. The trucks appeared at the top of Preval, behind the curve that starts the downhill decline. He came out of the ditch and when the trucks appeared before him, about one hundred metres away, he took his crutch. The driver waved at him and continued to drive towards Prenies, where the people were already massing, running and screaming. The old jeep with the usual passengers followed behind the last truck. When it came closer to Numo it stopped and the person, the officer who accused Numo of stealing his gun, came out. He quickly approached Numo at a fast pace and without greeting him, asked: “And you, you bum, you loiter around, eh? Don’t you know where your place is? Have you not been told where to stay and not to loiter in this area? Or do you want to go back to where your Albanian friend pulled you out from? Think about it because if we sent you there once we can send you again and then even Christ, your God, will not be able to get you out. Katalaves? (Got that?) And now – march out of here…!” The experience gave Numo goose bumps so he used his crutch firmly to stand up straight and firmly stepped on his wooden leg. He then angrily said: “I have already done all my marching and I did it well. I did my marching so well that I lost my leg in the process... Now you be careful that you don’t get your boots dirty when you do your marching. I am telling you this so that you know and if you want to know more, I will tell you even more but by a different means...” “Shut up!” he yelled at Numo and came closer, so much so that Numo could smell his cheap cologne. “Shut up! And now report to the administration office, katalaves (understand)?! That’s where we will come to an understanding!” “What is there to come to an understanding at the administration office when everything is very clear here? I understood you already and I am not going to the administration office. I have a forty centimetre-wide straw mat in my horse barracks which I share with the other sardines there

waiting for me and that’s enough for me. I am also glad to have seen you...” replied Numo sarcastically. “You scoundrel, you can do as you like! Do you know what...?” said the officer while grabbing his gun holster. Numo at that very moment pulled out the tobacco pouch from his pocket, looked sideways at the other two men in the jeep and quietly said: “Sir, don’t go grabbing your gun now. For you that gun is only a decoration. If you want to be a real hero then go over there (to the front)…” said Numo as he pointed to the east, “prove yourself there, and not here so far from the battlefield! Why are you doing this? What are you trying to prove?” “We will see each other again and that’s when you will be sorry!” said the officer. “So we will see each other again, let that be your wish, but you can be sure I will not regret it... Now get out of my sight... I am a wretched man and I will hurt you...” “Are you a member of the Party?” asked the officer with a stern voice. “No!” replied Numo angrily. “How lucky of you…?” said the officer. “If you say so! How lucky of me…!” Numo replied sarcastically. “You are disrespectful, aren’t you...” said the officer. “I told you I am a wretched man. What do you want from me? Do you want me to stand at attention in front of you? I have stood at attention but not here, up there,” Numo pointed his head towards Preval. “I have stood there and I am not going to do it here. I have seen heroes like you many times before in other places. So please go away, your comrades are waiting for you. Go…” As the officer was climbing onto the jeep, Numo overheard one of his comrades say: “Why do you bother with that lame man?” And the officer said: “I will teach him a lesson he will never forget!” Numo then coughed slightly while stroking the gun he was hiding under his shirt. The trucks were passing through Prenies and the people were running from every direction shouting and screaming. White pieces of paper and envelopes were flying high being blown away into the ditch by the turbulence caused by the moving trucks and by the running horde. When Numo came close to the first barracks he could hear crying and sobbing inside. Those who were earlier crying outside now brought their misery inside. Inside the women were crying out loud, mourning their loved ones. The old people, sitting on the rocks in front of the barracks, were slowly puffing smoke from their cigarettes while openly wiping the tears from their eyes. Here in Prenies, nobody is ashamed of their tears. Crying is a normal activity for both old and strong. Every day life is filled with anticipation of the worst. It is rare for anyone to anticipate anything but bad news. But at the same time, everyone hopes and secretly wishes for good news from the battlefields just secretly hoping to get good news. But, that is only wishful thinking and is always wrapped in an atmosphere of trembling fear, of vague hope and of long night prayers... Numo sat down on a rock near the road. He stretched his good leg beside his wooden one and stared at the horde. He saw Pando. He was among the people who were picking through the tall grasses looking for pieces of paper. He raised a crutch and shouted: “Pando, hey, Pando!” Pando lifted his head and when he saw Numo waving his crutch, he headed toward him. “Well, here I am, Pando, I failed again,” said Numo. When Pando came closer he again said “I failed again…” “I see...” said Pando. “I heard the girl died. Did they bury her?” asked Numo. “It’s over...” replied Pando in a quiet voice. “You mean they already buried the beautiful blond girl? Did they put anything in her grave or did they just toss her in the earth and bury her in a mound of soil, eh?” asked Numo. “It was the way it was Numo...” replied Pando. “And is that our destiny, Pando? Is that how they will bury me when I am gone? Under a mound of soil?! I don’t want just a mound of soil…” said Numo. “I suppose you want a Turkish dome on top of you...” remarked Pando. “No, I don’t want a dome but I do want everyone who comes to my funeral to throw a stone on top of me.

I also want everyone who comes to visit my grave after that to put a stone on it. Then after many years have passed a whole bunch of stones would have collected. These stones would have been brought there from the mountains, the rivers, the streams and from everywhere. You know, every stone has its own destiny even though it has no will of its own; it depends on the will of others to move it. Somebody else decides where it should be and what role it should play. Imagine a huge variety of stones sitting on me, stone resting on stone. That’s the kind of tomb I want that grows into a hill over time... I don’t want an inscription, just many, many stones. And when someone passes by they are sure to ask ‘who lies under that hill of stones?’ That way my grave will not remain silent. It will speak through the stones...” concluded Numo.