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he realized at that moment that there was a man behind him, a tough-looking Nigerian man. Saeed had
heard that this man had a gun, though he could not see it on him, but many of the migrants in dark
London had taken to carrying knives and other weapons, being as they were in a state of siege, and
liable to be attacked by government forces at any time, or in some cases being predisposed to
carrying weapons, having done it where they came from, and so continuing to do it here, which Saeed
suspected was the case with this man.
Saeed wanted to run but had nowhere to run to, and tried to hide his panic, but then the woman in
the leather jacket removed her foot from the wall, and there was space for Saeed to pass, and so he
squeezed through, brushing her body with his, and feeling emasculated as he did so, and when he was
alone in his and Nadia’s room he sat on the bed and his heart was racing and he wanted to shout and
to huddle in a corner but of course he did neither.
• • •
AROUND A BEND, on Vicarage Gate, was a house known to be a house of people from his country.
Saeed began to spend more time there, drawn by the familiar languages and accents and the familiar
smell of the cooking. One afternoon he was there at prayer time, and he joined his fellow countrymen
in prayer in the back garden, under a blue sky that seemed shockingly blue, like the sky of another
world, absent the airborne dust of the city where he had spent his entire life, and also peering out into
space from a higher latitude, a different perch on the spinning Earth, nearer its pole than its equator,
and so glimpsing the void from a different angle, a bluer angle, and as he prayed he felt praying was
different here, somehow, in the garden of this house, with these men. It made him feel part of
something, not just something spiritual, but something human, part of this group, and for a wrenchingly
painful second he thought of his father, and then a bearded man with two white marks in the black on
either side of his chin, marks like those of a great cat or wolf, put his arm around Saeed and said
brother would you like some tea.
That day Saeed felt he was really accepted by this house, and he thought he could ask the man with
the white-marked beard if there was space there for him and Nadia, whom he called his wife. The
man said there was always space for a brother and sister, though sadly not a room they could share,
but Saeed could stay with him and some other men on the floor of the living room, provided that is he
did not mind sleeping on the floor, and Nadia could stay upstairs with the women, unfortunately even
he and his own wife were split up in this manner, and they were among the first residents, but it was
the only civilized way to cram as many people into the house as they had managed to do, as was
righteous to do.
When Saeed told Nadia this good news she did not act like it was good news at all.
“Why would we want to move?” she said.
“To be among our own kind,” Saeed answered.
“What makes them our kind?”
“They’re from our country.”
“From the country we used to be from.”
“Yes.” Saeed tried not to sound annoyed.
“We’ve left that place.”
“That doesn’t mean we have no connection.”
“They’re not like me.”
“You haven’t met them.”