The Nature of Blood Read Online Free

planning, no hope for survival. No work. Merely death. And waiting. I have spent most of the past four months on my cot trying to sleep. No work. And here, without community, without routine, only the strongest can survive. Every day I have stared death in the face. To become weak is to disappear. And eventually I felt myself becoming indifferent. Nothing bothered me any more. Those of us who have lasted until the arrival of these Englishmen, we have forgotten how to think of tomorrow. On this first night, I try to channel a course in my mind which might lead to the future. But it is not easy. I simply cling to the image of my sister.
    The sun rises, gloriously ignorant of the fact that a new day is not necessarily a good day. But perhaps today it will be warm. I now try to imagine ways in which I might prolong my life. In future, I must not gorge myself. I must drink only clean water. I must get in line to wash. I am acting as though I have already discovered a routine. As though I want to survive. I remind myself that this sunrise has already happened in some other place. And later, our sunset will be somebody else's sunrise. I look to the sky, where fully rigged clouds are already steering themselves towards some other destination.
    He is approaching me from the side. I cannot see him, for I am sitting outside the hut and resting my back up against the wall. I can, however, hear him. My head is tilted slightly into the sun and my eyes are closed against the glare. I do not wish to see anything or anybody. I hear bulldozers. Too many bodies for bare hands. These Englishmen are learning to recognize the moment of death. When the lice crawl out of the hair and walk boldly about the forehead. That is death.
    'Feeling any better today?'
    I recognize the voice, but I do not open my eyes.
    'Thank you,' I say.
    There is a long silence, which I imagine will be resolved only if I turn to look at this man. But I decide to linger a while and choose not to turn. I do not hear him move off, so I assume that he is still here. And now, again, he speaks.
    'More chocolate? I can get you some. Or something else?'
    I open my eyes and turn to look at him. I cannot speak without exposing my ugly teeth.
    'No chocolate.'
    'Yes, I know,' he says. 'Some of the lads feel bad, but they gave it to you only because you asked. They didn't mean any harm.'
    I wonder why he hasn't yet commented on my English. It's not too bad. Not everybody speaks English.
    'Mind if I sit for a minute? I've got a break.'
    He squats awkwardly next to me, then he lowers himself more purposefully to the earth.
    'Where are you from?'
    I lower my head, for now I'm anxious. I want this conversation to be over.
    'Do you not want to talk? I can leave you by yourself, you know.'
    'No,' I say. I have spoken too quickly, so I try to make up for my haste. 'My English is not very good.'
    He laughs now.
    'Your English is fine. I'm Gerry. From London.'
    'Hello, Gerry.'
    Already I have progressed too far.
    'Hello,' he laughs. 'What's your name?'
    This is enough. Gerry does not understand. I cannot possibly travel at the speed of this Gerry.
    I stand under an open-air shower, naked in front of these men's eyes. But I do not feel like a woman, and I am sure that they do not regard me as one. The water is ice-cold, but no matter. It occurs to me that it will be years before I once more know what it means to feel clean. This first shower could last a week and still it would not suffice. I step clear of the water and a nurse empties powder all over my body. I am handed a fresh blanket which I drape around my shoulders. A doctor inspects my tufts of hair. A nurse cuts them off. Again, a factory line. Again, we are being processed. But this time for life. (Apparently, I weigh sixty pounds.) They give me women's clothing. I look around, but I cannot see Gerry. For some reason, I am sure that he can see me. I am sure that, somewhere in this vast camp, Gerry is looking on with thoughts circling in