An Allegory of Stones [Part 2] | novella
Jov finds himself in the midst of the resistance to liberate Al-Jabr, learning more about their mysterious leader. But as his expertise becomes increasingly useful to them, he wonders: At what cost?
ĪÎ.
Jov would soon learn about the resistance that he had been on the periphery of for thirty years.
“Do we have a name?” Jov asked, sitting in the canteen that afternoon, eating from a communal vat of shorbat freikeh. As he lapped up the soup, he contemplated whether or not he would return to his flat for the night.
“We?” the youth in glasses asked, while the table of boys burst into uproarious laughter. “Ha! We? You are one of us now, ah?”
This youth – whom Jov came to know as Jədediāh – had been a staple vagabond in the neighborhood. A supplier of hashish to some, a nuisance to many. He was no different from much of the youth in Al-Jabr, disillusioned with the fractalled life afforded to them.
“No, no,” Jov protested. “I-I…”
“Don’t worry,” Jədediāh said, placing his hand on Jov’s shoulder. “There is no ‘us’ and ‘them’. Civilians or resistance. We are all the same. Surviving…”
Jədediāh adjusted his thick glasses and swept the table with his gaze. As if to say he was addressing all of them now.
“I’m a bread-maker. You are a mechanic,” he said, pointing to one of the boys, then continued down the line. “You are a glassblower, yeah? And you care for your grandmother.” The others offered their preoccupations with curt clarity. “You see?” Jədediāh turned to Jov again. “We all serve our communities. In one way or another.”
Jov’s bias had been that these boys who became freedom fighters, Jədediāh included, were homeless. Untouchables. Good-for-nothings. Jov often wondered where they slept at night.
Now he knew.
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