El Hamem

It is hot, too hot, I cannot breathe. The steam is everywhere, so thick I cannot see anything. Only shadows moving, like ghosts walking past me, so close, but I cannot see their faces. My chest feels heavy, my eyes want to close, I am still sleepy but I am afraid.

I look down. The water runs over my feet, warm at first then gone too fast. The floor is old, broken, slippery, it moves under me like it wants me to fall. I hold my bucket tight. I need warm water for Baba, so he can finish washing me, but I cannot even stand. I think I will wear the wooden flip-flops, maybe they will help. But they make me slower, they make me stumble.

How can the floor be so dirty when water touches it all the time. The moment the warm water leaves me I feel cold again.

I step outside the steam room. My eyes open wider but the dizziness is worse. No one is here. Not a single person. But the voices are everywhere. So many people talking, whispering, shouting, all at once. I rub my eyes, I blink, nothing changes. The voices do not stop. Water splashes across the tiles again, touching me, then disappearing. The cold crawls up my legs.

The hallway is darker than before. The light is broken, always broken. That hallway is the one I fear the most. It goes to the bathrooms, the holes in the ground, the smell of poop, strong and dirty, I smell it from here. Aziz told me once he saw rats there, big rats, and I believe him. I pray one does not come now.

I hear coughing. So close. Too close. Water drips from above, slow, steady, like it is counting. My heart beats faster. My bucket hits the wall and the sound is like thunder in the empty space. I jump.

I find the washing room. The steam is here too. I dip the bucket. The water is cold. Why is it cold. The rain outside beats louder and louder. If I wash with this water I will get sick. I will take it anyway. Baba will understand.

I pick it up. I turn to the hallway again. Where is everyone. Where did they go. The voices come back. So many voices, too many voices. I hear Baba, coughing, laughing, calling me. I put the bucket down. The voices stop.

I look up. The ceiling is green, the mold alive, growing, dripping on me, each drop colder than the last. Something moves in the shadows. I feel someone behind me. I spin. Nothing. Empty.

Baba. Baba. Where are you. Please answer. Please.

The steam grows thicker. My chest is burning. I cannot breathe. I cannot see. I cannot stay here. I run. I throw away the flip-flops. My feet cut on the floor. Blood mixes with the dirty water. I wipe my tears but I cannot stop them. The hallway is darker, darker, maybe the hamam is closing.

I push open another wooden door. My hands slip, the wood is wet, rotten. My shoulder hurts. The sink is open, the water rushing out, flooding the ground, icy cold. I hear voices again. Loud, too loud, all around me. I knock on the wall. Baba, Baba, I am here. No one answers. The voices vanish again.

I step back. The hallway is black. I see someone inside the steam room. Baba, is it you. I push forward. The steam clears. The room is empty. But the sound begins again. The flip-flops. Loud, louder, slapping the tiles, running, chasing. My chest is on fire. I cannot breathe.

I go back inside the steam room. The steam closes on me. It is so thick, I feel it inside my throat. The noises are everywhere. The flip-flops slapping, hundreds of them, running in circles. People shouting, screaming, laughing, crying. So loud, so loud I cannot hear my own thoughts. I close my eyes. I close my ears.

And then, silence.

I open my eyes. The steam room is full. A thousand people, maybe more, crammed into the dark room. The air is thick. Water runs across my feet. Cold, colder than before. Everyone is staring at me. Every face turned to me.

There is no door behind me. Only the wall.

They are coming closer. All of them. Faces staring, eyes empty, mouths opening. They scream, all of them, screaming so loud my bones shake.

I cannot breathe. I see nothing. I feel nothing.

I am nothing.

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