Escape From Bleeding Paradise
We were always an adventurous bunch. No matter which month of the year, you will see us with our big duffle bags and small rucksacks in the terminal waiting for a lift. Our passports, renewed every year because they just kept getting filled with stamps and visas, had seen sunlight more than our school books had. In fact, mom and dad tied their heartstrings together on the mesmerising beach in Hawaii eighteen years ago. It is not every day that you get to see a family with parents who exchanged rings halfway across the world from where they live, their first child born in a Chinese hospital, the next in an American one and later on in a Swedish one. The world has been my childhood, my playground and my home.
From being three feet six inches to becoming five feet ten, I had spent countless hours in the sky, soaring past oceans and continents, one sleepless night after the other. Sometimes I envy children that get to go to school every morning, and to a lovely meal in the evening back home. Through their eyes though, they would definitely want to switch lives with me. I mean, who would rather not spend most of their time on beaches and lagoons? Mom and dad had been travelling long before they met, in fact, they crossed paths on their jobs when they were working in Hanoi as travel vloggers. Eighteen years later, our family now owns the most subscribed channel on YouTube, raking in millions each month while shooting a couple of shows for Netflix at the same time.
Freddy, Chloe and I have been their assistants wherever they head to, carrying cameras, equipment, water bottles and bags. Chloe, being the youngest of them all, has always had a hard time understanding why her family is always on the go. Her two brothers though have had a hard time explaining to her as well. The last time we heard her ask that, was when her question got interrupted by an IED. Yeah, the one that went boom.
We had filled our red booklets with almost all the stamps that exist in the world’s largest and smallest airports, but there was only one place that we agreed to stay away from. A place originally named the gem of Asia, where everyone had it as a destination on the top of their bucket list. It sounds like a place travel vloggers would have sunken their feet into more than anywhere else, but why haven’t we been there?
The country, only accessible from a neighbouring one by land, was a nest for extremists, the cruellest of them all, hiding in tunnels they built, away from the crippling government that was also involved in a power grabbing hustle in the region. Before it all collapsed, the region was a definite hotspot for tourists, being home to over ten World Heritage Sites and countless international travel events, but the inhumane regime Al-Munawal was spearheading, blew the land into an age of darkness.
Now, how did we come to such a gruesome place? Well, we did not. We did head next door though. Just across the borders from where Al-Munawal was in power, is a much more developed city, Kiraq. It shares a few of the World Heritage sites at the time on top of one of the Wonders of the World. There we were in the middle of nowhere surrounded by nothing but sand, at least, along the journey before we reached the enchanted Emerald City, Madinat Alzamard they call it.
It was magnificent. Looking out the window, the city was glowing with its heritage sites and a natural paradise it certainly was, like the Disney castles that shimmer with magic. Only a mile away, we looked at each other in excitement and relief, being able to arrive safely after a 6-hour drive by dad’s old friend Hamza. We only had a four-day journey planned out before we headed back, so there was little time to lose in our rather cosy rooms.
Day one it was, and we were already in the jeep heading to the Seven Stones. It showcases how magical the Emerald City is, with seven one-storey tall stones placed neatly after one another as if they were lining up. No one in the existence of mankind could shed light on how the stones got there, or what made the stones line up so perfectly. In fact, we were right on time to see the Midday Shine. Only at noon, the sun lines up exactly parallel to the seven stones, and shine its light through the gaps, forming a spectacular pattern on the ground, one that was worth travelling for just to be able to enjoy the phenomenon.
Dusk crept up behind the mountains so we got our equipment back into our bags and headed for dinner. No matter where we headed to, we would always try to live a local’s life by heading to places where they would go for their meals, and not to fancy restaurants that cost a pretty penny because local hotspots would be where the authentic flavours tingle our taste buds. We went to a few hole-in-the-wall spots to shoot the food segment of our show. We had a great time trying out local delicacies, like the flavourful Arabian-influenced Kabsa and Roz Bukhari. I must say, having been to so many places, the food that I had tasted across the five oceans, is the most memorable part of all the trips.
A tiring day exploring the enchanted city and we were crashing heads down into our pillows back in the hotel. Bright and early in the morning, we got ourselves ready for the Jananusa festival held in the heart of the city. Every year, locals would gather there to spread the love and enjoy the day together to appreciate the peace that has been graced upon their land. Before we arrived, tables filled with trays of food right up to the edges were ready to welcome the hungry morning crowd. Everyone was fresh and cheerful, in their festive clothes ready to indulge in the steaming hot food.
We found ourselves an old wooden table that had a bowl of Bukhari Rice already placed in the centre waiting for our growling stomachs. We settled down and started munching on breakfast, delivering every bite of rich Arabian flavours down our food hatches. After getting a few scenes done, we switched the cameras off to have some family time. Mom and dad were asking us what we thought about the trip and not too long later they dragged us into talking about school, as always. We travelled so much that we did not stay put in classes for long, so we would often stay back for remedial classes and long summer classes.
Remember when the IED interrupted Chloe’s question? It was right about now. BOOM! Rocks were flying in the air and even nicked dad in the forehead. Instinctively, we got under the table to hide from the panicking crowd and Freddy started rolling the entire commotion on film. We heard bursts of faint shouting coming from all directions as the crowd was evacuating the area. We all wanted to escape as well but dad reassured us that it would be fine under the table, and sure he was. The shouting and cries got louder and louder as it soon got chased by gunfire.
A pleasant morning with festive music blasting in the air turned into darkness in a flash. The initially bright and blue sky was now covered in smoke and horror, not even a tint of sunshine could creep its way through the madness. Soon, I saw a familiar symbol zoom past me. It was on the back of one of the men holding a rifle, and at that moment, I knew exactly what was happening. Before the trip, mom showed me an article about the Ghanazi, one of the fighting factions against the Al-Munawal government. It dawned upon me that they were bringing the fight to Kiraq, taking advantage of Jananusa happening that weekend. They knew people around town would gather at the town hall, and it would be the most strategic moment to pounce onto the public.
It was so loud that communication by voice was nearly impossible. With a few swift hand signals, I prompted them to move into an alley that was hidden from the main street, slightly safer than dodging under a wobbly table. We all went in one by one and mom was the last, because she had to pick herself up after carelessly slipping onto the ground. Right when she was safe from the streets, a fighter grabbed her on the arm and dragged her out. Dad and I were tugging mom away from the aggressor but mercifully, a brave woman knocked out the attacker from the back and went on to lead us deeper into the alley. Only pointing directions and using simple signals to instruct us through the dark and awfully filthy alley, we realised that she was a mute.
On the other end of the alley was much quieter, where the post office and saloon were. Although there were people in the midst of escaping along the street, the commotion from the town hall had not spread yet. Well, not until just half a minute later when jeeps filled with armed men in the back roamed across the street in full speed, heading for the town hall. The mute woman was kind enough to show us the way into the saloon, to conceal ourselves from the terrorists. In there, her pictures were hung neatly on the wall, to reveal that she was the owner of the saloon. Mom, oblivious to the situation, grabbed a notepad and started writing down her questions.
The mute woman, who greeted back by writing her name Marisha on the following sheet, elucidated the matter to her about the Ghanazi’s arrival. In her somewhat broken English, we could grasp enthralling information that she had expected their arrival a few days before the attack. Her son, working as a journalist told her that he received a tip-off about a potential attack on civilians. Dad and Freddy were patching up beside us as they were hit by debris and cut by pointy stones. “You go the embassy office from your country. You can be saved there,” she tried to advise us, writing word by word on the notepad.
We knew getting to the embassy was our only choice. We could hear louder and louder sounds, more and more gunfire, and staying put for a minute more would be about a life or death situation. Without hesitating, dad showed her our passports and she gave us a smile. The embassy was just two blocks away from the saloon. We immediately picked ourselves up and got out through the back door. A disaster it was. There were already civilians lying motionless on the ground, blood stains on the sandy road and police sirens wailing, echoing across the street. I immediately masked Chloe’s eyes from the gruesome scene. Had she seen the tragic sight, she would have had nightmares for a long, long time.
Two blocks later, covered in sweat and blood from the cuts, we were lost for words when we saw the tigers. The two tigers high up on the building, and the waving moon and star donning the words “Embassy of Malaysia”. Flashing our red booklets to the guards, I had never been happier to see a gate open. We walked into the embassy with pride and relief, after we hugged Marisha goodbye. She was our saviour, a brave and selfless woman.
The Nineteenth of June, three years later, we sat on the patio watching our escape. Freddy was quick enough to draw the memory card out of the slot before he abandoned the camera in the alley. Chloe, fourteen now, no longer wants to know why we were travelling, she now wants to know where we are heading next.
