Читать книгу At the Edge of Life - Essa Bayoumi - Страница 8

1. At the Edge of Life

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It started as a sunny day of June. It happened in Schwedt, a north-eastern town in Germany. On the border line between Germany and Poland the River Oder flows freely and comfortably, till it meets the Baltic Sea. On that river; Schwedt is located, a rather small but truly magnificent town of nature. Was it a geographical edge that created two different cultures? Or was it a different manifestation of the power of life?

He started from Garten Street, taking the direction to the river side through Berliner Street. The beauty of the town was unfolding to him with each step. The flowers with glowing colors of red, violet and white were distributed all along. Both sides of the road were surrounded by the rich greenness of the thick and tall trees until the blueness of the water, stretched in front of him, started confessing the glory of the river.

The pleasant smell of the air, he breathed, was mixed with quietness he never felt before. He selected a bench out of many and sat; sinking in a world he created, at the edge between reality and fantasy. The sky expressed full agreement with his view.

Individual Baltic seagulls were flying around him or riding the water surface next to a group of swimming ducks. Each one was minding its own interest, and he tried to do that too. He opened his book where he stopped and resumed reading. He felt belonging to the same world. It was a book about Life on the Edge.

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One hour passed while he was fascinating his mind with quantum definition of biological compass. The authors Jim Al-Khalili and Johnjoe McFadden were trying to explore how robins find their destination thousands of miles away whether at day or night over land or sea.

He noticed that all the chairs and benches around him were occupied by people; mostly elder couples enjoying the warmness and beauty of the day. That is except one lady who was already sitting on the other end of his bench. Maybe she preferred the river view from that side, where the sense of time was ignored.

He seemed so taken by his reading to notice her, taking her seat on his bench. She was in her fifties, wearing not much make up to conceal slight wrinkles around her tight lips and left eye. That was what a quick look to his right side interpreted. His instantaneous memory reflected her dark brown dress that did not fit her complexion; but probably her mood. A small black bag was laid next to her. Her eyes were fixed at the water surface.

After few minutes her hand raised to her face and wiped something off her eyes. Was she crying?

She was opening her bag when their eyes met. He felt embarrassed and quickly shifted his attention to his book when her voice reached him: ”I am sorry to disturb you”.

He felt the warmness of her voice communicated in the same moment through her eyes as an electron being found in two positions simultaneously; what quantum scientists call superposition. He also felt her sadness; trying to reach out despite her resistance to let it go.

“It is a lovely day, I am happy to share it with everyone, humans, birds, flowers…” he said.

Some seconds passed before she encouraged herself to say, “I forgot to water my flowers yesterday. In the mid of night, I recalled and became panicked they might die. I went out in the darkness and showered them with water. I am not sure they will survive. They are too delicate”.

“Is that why you feel sad?” he could not stop himself from asking her.

Some minutes passed before her voice reached him again: “My husband died few days ago, the flowers are my life connection. Do you think they will survive?”

“Not only with water your connection to life survives”, he said, while he looked to the many flowers beautifully surrounding the place. “Sadness comes from life not from death. How we feel sad for what we don’t know?” he added.

“Death takes our hope. My husband lasted on the sick bed for years. With all the pain he suffered, there was still some hope. Now, there is no pain and no hope either.” She spoke.

He was not prepared for such thoughts at that beautiful day, but the dark-colored clothes she was wearing gave him the warning. The lady seemed lonely and in despair to talk her feelings.

He tried to console her by saying,” life is an individual task, look to this faraway swimming duck. It took its way across the river all alone”.

“Maybe human race is the weakest of living forms except for the mind. The flowers, I forgot to attend, might perish but they will feel no sorrow”, she reflected.

“Science is still unable to explain our consciousness which proves your point”, he noted.

She seemed lost in her thoughts. Few more minutes passed in silence. He was holding his book to resume reading then her voice came penetrating his world once more.

She said,” I spent very good years with Hans, we did everything we wanted to do as a couple. We travelled the world and had a good fun, until he got ill. That was not planned”.

She was following a flying seagull with her eyes while the past was sadly flying in her consciousness.

“He was not a demanding patient and took it as part of his life deal. He believed that our existence is eternal although in constant change. I miss him already very much”, she added.

The woman was really in agony despite her attempts to show self-control.

“The historian Yuval Noah Harari anticipated that Man will achieve immortality in the near future and becomes what he named Homo Deus; he means the Man who is his own God. Would that solve the problem? I think, death is part of the solution not part of a problem. Man does not accept the world he found himself in, and tries to be different although everything around him tells the same story once and again in many versions and limitless ways. We should learn from the ducks and seagulls, from every flower and tree; that we are not different.” He said assuming she was not listening to him.

He was shocked when he heard her saying,” If the death is part of the solution, then committing suicide is a way out”.

“Have you seen ever a tree commits suicide or a duck drowns itself? We don’t come to life by our own will, similarly our departure, as long as we keep consistency”, he immediately responded.

Now, he felt they belong to two different worlds. He noticed a mobile ice-cream van just parked not far from where they sat. He put his book on the bench between them, and excused himself for a minute and headed towards the van. There was a bunch of kids already queued, so he stood waiting for his turn. After some minutes, he came back to where he left her, carrying two packs of nice ice cream. She was gone. His book “Life on the Edge” which he left on the bench has also disappeared.

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He took his way back to “Andersen hotel” where he stayed. Without the book in his hand, he felt strange, like something was missing. The roads were almost empty while crowds of heavy clouds were gathering in the sky; a warning of rain. A sudden weather change was not unusual at that time of the year. He did not carry his umbrella but few more steps and he will be in his room.

He entered his room with a heavy mind that occupied his morning. In the room he found his wife waiting for him. She did not inform him of her coming. She even did not know where he stayed. His surprise was beyond explanation when he spotted his missing book on the table next to her.