Ferenc T. Tamás: Usama's family

I had to take an exam in Budapest a couple of years ago. The exam was hard enough because of the hard material, moreover I didn’t want for a moment this in my late forties. The exam was at East Railway Station, Budapest, one of the brilliant hotels there. We started in the morning, around half past nine, and then after 11 there was a break of an hour and a half. We could go out to breathe a little and get some lunch. Leaving the air-conditioned hotel, the hot air hit my chest. We went to the convenience store nearby for some chocolate replenishment when we saw a couple of people sitting in front of the shop.

It was August 2015. It was full of refugees from the East Railway Station and its environs.

Sitting on the edge of a small flower stand in front of the store was an approx. a father my age, holding a 2-3 year old baby girl. Next to him sat a woman, perhaps his wife. A 5-6 year old form of a little boy resting wearily on his lap. They didn’t look like a tramp, but they were apparently very tired. The man clutched his wallet and explained something softly to the woman in Arabic. The man turned the wallet over, but nothing fell out of it. They ran out of money.
Coming to them, I asked in English if I could help with anything. The man replied in perfect English that he wanted to ask the kids for some milk, if it’s not a big deal. Maybe some bread, too. But if the latter doesn't get in, that's okay either.
Without a word, we went into the store and bought 3 liters of UHT milk, 1 loaf of seeded bread, some chocolate and a little orange - for them. After coming out, I handed the little package to the man. He had no word of surprise.
He unpacked the milk on the first move and drank the little girl, then the boy came. Afterwards, he took a big sip, and in the end he drank a little too. Then he unwrapped the bread, and then the children slowly began to snack. They ate carefully, only with small bites.

He said that unfortunately they absolutely ran out of money and did not dare to ask anyone. That’s when we came and did a miracle with them. He wanted to thank us for our good deeds, but that was impossible then and there. In return, all I asked was to tell you a little bit about yourself. His name was Usama and they came from Syria. He also said the name of a city, but I didn't understand it. He worked as a water-related engineer - I didn’t understand the term he used. He was still fluent in English at university. Unfortunately, there were fierce fighting in his beloved city. They tried to spare the kids this, but it didn’t really work out. They were preparing for Usama’s son’s 5th birthday when an artillery exploding shrapnel grenade found their house full. Usama's son died in his father's arms - a huge piece of shrapnel stood in his back. The six-month-old pregnant wife was torn apart by the hit. There was nothing left of her. He buried his loved ones under the ruins of their house, as he knew.

With very big sighs, he continued difficulty.

The explosion completely dismantled their little house, leaving only ruins. Unfortunately, their neighbor’s house also suffered from the hit. The neighbor’s wife and two children were playing outside in the yard, so they escaped the bomb with only a few scratches. The woman lost her husband while the children lost their father. They didn't have anything left. Not even a photo of their late loved ones.
Usama collected two pairs of children's shoes among the ruins of his late house and then came home in fours. In total, these two pairs of shoes were remembered for his children - nothing else!
- So, this family…? - I asked.
- Yes. - he replied softly. - They're my neighbors. Amena was a teacher and her husband was an economic computer scientist.
- But how do you cope without crying?
- My tears have remained in Syria.
- My condolences!
- Thank you.
- What's next?
- I do not know. We are just looking for peace.
I wanted to give him some money, but Usama refused with thanks. He can’t thank him for the many donations he’s received here - from us. By no means dare to accept money. That would be too much! Thanks for the milk, for the bread, and for the other delicacies. Carefully timed for days will be enough for four of them. Until then, they go on - to seek peace.
- And your family? I asked uncertainly.
- They're my family now.
- God be with you! I said goodbye, holding out my hand.
- “Maa aas salama!” Let peace be with you. - We shook hands and said goodbye. I had to hurry back to the hotel for the exam.


Several years have passed, but this memory does not fade. I still see Usama and his family. Sometimes, on quiet, starry nights, I think about what to do with them.

Usama, find what you are looking for. Let peace be with you!



Ferenc T. Tamás, April 2018