Wednesday, November 28, 2012

I will survive...


    It didn't work out. It had been nearly three months what Jenny moved to Lisa's house and Saranda from time to time came to visit her and now she stayed there overnight. Her first sleep-over, she thought  sleepily watching midday air still burning outside. Jenny and her flattery girlfriends screaming in front of some horror movie gulping down chips and coke.

   "How was it, party girl?" Lisa asked driving her back home: "And you wear your scarf, that will make your mum happy, oh, Ilja stop playing with that radio, it's already broken," she looked crossly at the red head boy, who kept turning on the music.

   "She urged me to do it but I would have done so anyway on this occasion, not because of my religion as you would think, but to show your niece and girls something least I didn't need to worry about the hair style."

   "Good on you, lass, I bet you shattered them from their self indulgence." Lisa chuckled as she turned on the last roundabout towards their street: "I hope they haven't been nasty to you?"

    "Is that Dardon's house?" Ilja kept jumping of his seat.

    "The one on the end," Saranda pointed on the right, then catching Lisa's cheeky wink she smiled: "Not really, there is no such a difference between us, you know, and some horror movies are pretty cool, good Dad was not there, but..."

Lisa chuckled again. And Ilja turned around and pulled jokingly one end of her scarf.

    "Stop, Ilja," she slapped his hand and he turned back laughingly, looking back at Lisa she said: "Anyway I am not going to wear a scarf once I finish the College, Mum didn't wear it until we came here."

Lisa didn't answer.

The road stretched before them and the deserted front yard hazed in the shimmering sun.

   "Which one did you say it was?" Ilja looked at Saranda impatiently.

   "Pick one, they look the same anyway," she grimaced at him happy to return his naughtiness. She found as annoying as her brother. They found each other she thought annoyed.

Suddenly Sarand caught her favourite song on the radio and pointed on Ilja to turn it on. "I will survive..." she hummed for herself and LIsa soon joined with her deep baritone. Ilja joined in with his fancy dancing pretending to be a drug queen.

    "I bet your Dad would not like that," Lisa winked at her when the song finished.

    "Do you think I will survive that censorship?" Saranda lifted her chin and tried to grin back.

    "You're already your own person, you will survive everything." Lisa smiled at her encouragingly when she stopped the car in front of her house.

   "Hey, Ilja, look, a war in Afganistan," Dardon turned to them from TV, when they entered the living room.

    "Brrrm, these machine guns our Serbs used to..." Ilja pretended to shoot.

    "Yes, you bastard, on our people they shoot," Dardon jumped on him and they both fell on the floor hitting each other with their fists.

    "Stop you two, you should be ashamed of yourself, you are both Australians," Lisa caught their arms trying to avoid their fists btu Dardon's swinging hand landed jsut below her eye: "Auch."

     "Ooops, I am so sorry Lisa, " Dardon stopped as a frozen and Ilja followed his example.

     "What's going on?" Dad appeared in the doorway coming back from Mosque.

     "I have been caught in a war, I believe," Lisa sighed and winked at Dardon who rushed to her with a wet towel: "Off you go boys, go and play outside, as I am not ready for another blow." And they disappeared through the back door before she finished the sentence.

     "Look at that," Lisa pointed on the TV showing women covered from head to toe in their burgas. Dad sat and watched the images without saying anything. Lisa secretly smiled at Saranda as she joined him on the sofa and continued in her conversation: "You have to admit, that these women are oppessed and that mem can be at fault."

Saranda sat there too in the corner curious on Dad's response.

     "Without doubt, Lisa, but this had nothing to do with Islam's teaching," her Dad sighed watching Taliban's guerrillas, "such people are influenced by their culture and their way of thinking, not because they are true Muslims."

     "Do you sympathise with them?" Lisa asked pointing at the fighters: "On the end, they are just protecting their homeland against another power."

    "They are involved in terrorism, how can I sympathise with them?" He looked up at Lisa waiting for answer, when she burst out laughing: "Saranda, your Dad is too clever for me, where is your Mum?"

     "I think, she is with Victor, it's time for his nap," Saranda stood up and looked at Dad: "Can I go and use Internet, I want to check up if there is a message from Tri."

Dad nodded without taking his eyes from the images of fighting. Lisa left the sofa too and tiptoed through the corridor: "I am going to check on your Mum, it is time for our English lessons." She winked on passing Saranda as she quietly opened the door on Victor's room.

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