Memorial Day

"But to me, he didn’t seem like a threatening monster or lunatic who’d fought in both world wars—volunteering to 'kill the Krauts' both times, first as a teenage runaway, the second as a volunteer nearing forty, out too late with his drinking buddies and willing to serve abroad despite three children already and one on the way. I was just a 7-year-old kid excited to see Grandpa, and he seemed like a nice old man. To win us over, he bought gifts, and I can’t remember what mine was, but for my sister, he bought a two-foot-long, plastic baby doll. It was for an age range years below my sister’s, and nothing at all she’d play with, but you could tell he was trying to play the good grandparent despite any talent for the role."

Sachsenhausen in 1942

"Both Uncle Ilyas and his son Paul died in Sachsenhausen in 1942. The cause of Uncle Ilyas's death is not recorded but from the memoir of an inmate who survived, it is known that the son of the black singer who voluntarily entered the camp to be with his father was shot trying to escape.

"So what we can know for sure, Ilyas told his parents, is that someone loved Uncle Ilyas enough to follow him to certain death in a concentration camp in order to keep him company."

~~ from Afterlives by Abdulrazak Gurnah

The Chinaman

"'That other store, that belongs to the Chinaman.' [Khalifa] pointed to the other detached property. 'He keeps dried shark fin and sea cucumber and vipusa in there — you know, rhino horn — and those other things they like in China. He keeps them in there and then every few months, when he has enough, he loads it all on to a ship and sends it off to Hong Kong. I don't think it's legal but he knows how to stay out of trouble and how to keep the Customs boys happy. They like those things in China, to make their zub hard. He never rests, that Chinaman, nor does he let any of his family rest. Have you seen his house? There are trays of noodles drying in the backyard, flocks of ducks waddling about in the mud in front, his grocery kiosk is open from dawn until late at night . . . and all the time he is dressed in shorts and a singlet like a labourer, working every hour of the day and night. Have you heard him speak? He sounds just like you and me . . . none of that fong fong fong you expect from a Chinaman. And all his children are the same. If you listen to them speak with your eyes closed, you'd never guess that you were listening to a Chinaman. Have you heard them speak?'"

~~ from Afterlives by Abdulrazak Gurnah

the askari

"They made slow progress despite the officers' shouting and their canes. There was little respite from the under-officers' blows, as the ombasha and the shaush seem to have lost their minds too, goaded into worse ferocity by the Feldwebel. After a while the march settled into a reluctant shuffle despite the best efforts of the tiring under-officers. They stopped often, to rest or to adjust loads, and at every stop there were grumbles and scowling looks. They were not spared the usual perils of the march — the bites and the heat — the intermittent heavy rain, the aching feet from walking in worn-out boots, the exhaustion. All these were even more intolerable to the askari than usual now that they were forced to do menial work. When they finally stopped to make camp in the late afternoon, there was a tense expectation of trouble."

~~ from Afterlives by Abdulrazak Gurnah