Orhan's Inheritance by Aline Ohanesian

Author:Aline Ohanesian
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Algonquin Books
Published: 2015-02-03T01:47:56+00:00

CHAPTER 19

The Road to Kangal

WHEN THE GENDARMES give the marching orders on the third morning of the journey, it is with a great deal of cursing and yelling. Perhaps they too wish to be anywhere but here. As for the deportees, they look more and more like sheep, walking one after the other, their arms hanging like wet wool at their sides. Aram lies listless on the wagon bed. Lucine and Anush sit near him, their thrice-shielded faces covered by soil, bonnets, and the shelter of the oxcart.

Bedros sits tall in Firat’s old seat, the oxcart’s reins held in each hand. Mairig slouches next to him, and his left shoulder is a shelf for her head. The scorching sun beats down, amplifying the deep creases in her brow and cheeks. Hers is a face made for the indoors, for piano recitals and books of poetry. What would Hairig do if he saw her like this, looking more and more like a sheepherder’s wife, her Parisian face cream abandoned in one corner of the house? She looks like all the rest. All the things that made her float above everyone else in Sivas have disappeared, eroded by the instinct of survival. Lucine looks away, choosing instead to count the sacks of bulgur in their cart. If they eat only a handful a day, they can survive for a week, maybe more.

The landscape unfolding before them is a glorious reminder of lighter days. The rolling hills are like yards of amber and jade silk draped over a voluptuous body. Patches of purple flowers decorate the tops of rounded peaks, and a carpet of honey-colored grass covers most of the earth, so the marchers are no longer immersed in dust. The farmers among them agree that where there is grass, there is irrigation and possibly a village or town.

“It is the road to Kangal,” says Arsineh, the butcher’s wife, pressing a palm to her swollen belly. She speaks of the large family she has there, of their wealth and generosity. This lifts the spirit of all those within hearing distance and they pass the good news down the long line of marchers. Perhaps water and warm food will be available for them there. Some dream of a khan where beds of straw and hay might be found. Others ready their hidden coins for bribing and a bit of trade at the local bazaar. But instead of following the main route into the town, the gendarmes lead them into the hills outside its periphery. The road to Kangal disappears like a tight seam in the landscape.

The deportees’ spirits sink to a new low. Lucine looks down at her book. She cracks it open and, hoping for comfort, begins deciphering the English words. There are words about spreading God’s word to the four corners of the world, letters and short articles about different schools where his message is taught, alongside algebra and home economics. She hopes the people who wrote the book, the same ones who sent Miss Graffam, will soon send food and water.

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