The Last Preference

“I’m going to the U.S.,” repeated Halima for the thousandth time. “I already speak good English, and I’ve travelled to many places unlike you country people. Do you know what a croissant is?” Across the room, Salma rolls her eyes and tugs at Sifan whose head is in the sky.

“That cloud looks like a cow.”

“Abo, pita bread is not that bad when you think about it,” responds Salma, half-heartedly.

“Can you eat bread forever?” Sifan sits upright finally. “Do you know what a croissant is? I’m sure it’s delicious.”

Halima gets up from her chair and walks into the sunny streets of Cairo. She can’t sit around the other girls from Ethiopia for too long. She doesn’t want them to rub off on her. She wanders the streets looking for anything new, anything that will expand her mind.

“Al-moos-taq-bal-la-naa.” Halima reads the Arabic graffiti on the apartment wall slowly, squatting outside, proud that she can read it. As she rises, two Oromo friends who everyone in the neighbourhood bets are secretly a couple, approach her, and ask for her help filling out a form.

“Sister, can you help us?”

“Where are you going?” asks Halima.

“Maybe London. My brother went to Europe. He said it’s good over there.”

“Not better than America. I’m going to the U.S.”

“How sister?”

“I just know it.” After completing the form, they take Halima to a nearby shop for fresh samosas. The first bite burns her tongue, but she laughs it off, savouring the crisp pastry and spiced filling while sitting on the street kerb. It’s a rare treat, one Halima will surely brag about when she sees the girls later.

Outside an embassy, the girls in her building have gathered looking for information on visas. Halima’s about to mention the samosa she had earlier when a white man approaches them in a neat black suit and green tie with yellow stripes. He takes a kerchief from his breast pocket and wipes his forehead. “How can you manage this heat?” he mutters to himself.

“It’s not bad. You don’t get sun like this in the U.S.?” asks Halima. The man’s startled by her response and her English.

“I’m not from the U.S. I’m from Australia. And you know what, we do get a couple hot weeks like this at most.”

“Hmmm, Australia…” All Halima knows about Australia is that it’s a continent and a country, and there are kangaroos. If she had to describe anything more she would be too scared to embarrass herself.

“Your English is very good. Do these girls speak English too?”

“No, just me,” replies Halima, cheekily.

“Can you help me translate to them then?” The man proceeds to explain to the group that Australia is now providing visas and describes the process to come to Australia. The information is taken with hesitation. Halima describes what he’s saying to the group in the best she can, skipping the parts she thinks is of no use to them. But no one seems to be interested, and the man can tell. “Why don’t you apply? You’re already at an advantage, knowing English. You’ll fit right in.”

“Sorry, I’m going to the U.S.,

The United States of America.”

Back in the living room of the shared apartment, girls from adjacent rooms in the building have come to hang out. “What’s in Australia?” asks Salma.

“As long as there’s work and food, I would go,” replies Sifan, sighing in the corner of the room.

“No, don’t be stupid. Who do you know that went there?” asks Enas.

“And it’s so far,” adds Salma.

“And they have dangerous snakes and spiders,” adds Rahma. She turns to Halima, who’s a lot quieter than usual. “Would you go?”

“No, I’m going to the U.S. I told you already.”

Before the midday sun, the Oromo couple wait for Halima at the foot of her building. They asked Sifan to get the Harari girl from her room. Everyone knows Halima loves to translate for others; it makes her feel smart.

She follows the two friends into an embassy where they wait outside an office in a part of the building she’s never been to before. “Sister, can you read over this form one more time?” She checks the form, and everything seems to be fine. After a moment, the Australian man from outside the embassy opens the door and their eyes meet. “Hey, let’s have a chat for a second. What do you say?” Halima enters his office and takes a seat. “There’s a flight from Cairo leaving soon for Australia. I think you’d like it there. Why don’t you apply?” Halima stays silent. “What’re you looking for?”

“I want to be a doctor.”

“You could be one in Australia.”