Our cleaner Iman walks up the stairs in a worried, almost terrifying pace.
She asks if I'm going to Shatila tomorrow and I say,
'Lah! Tanein..!' [No! On Monday]
Thinking, why is she asking me again. She saw me leaving Shatila yesterday as she was coming in. I had gone to the refugee camp with another two girls who were interested in starting volunteering.
She looks at me and starts speaking Arabic with words she knows I don't know.
She looks up then looks down, she puts two fingers together and touches her chest.
I'm starting to visualise images and I picture it.
There was a shooting in Shatila.
She's warning me not to go. Then she repeats the pantomime.
My eyes widen and I gasp-
'Oh no! Shooting?' I'm looking for an answer.
'Eh!'
My look becomes blank. I don't even want to picture it, though I'm picturing the whole community of Shatila alerted.
I think of Ilaf, a teenage girl who I haven't seen since I've been back. I think of the cute 5yr old habibi that I saw yesterday and all the kids and faces familiar to me.
I wanna see their faces again yeani.
Fuck sake.
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