Sami Quotes in The Beekeeper of Aleppo
“We have to go, Afra,” I said.
“I’ve already told you. No.”
“If we stay—”
“If we stay, we’ll die,” she said.
“Exactly.”
“Exactly.” Her eyes were open and blank now.
“You’re waiting for a bomb to hit us. If you want it to happen, it will never happen.”
“Then I’ll stop waiting. I won’t leave him.”
“There’ll be no bombs there,” he’d said, “and the houses won’t break like these do.” I wasn’t sure if he’d meant the Lego houses or the real houses, and then it saddened me when I realized that Sami had been born into a world where everything could break. Real houses crumbled, fell apart. Nothing was solid in Sami’s world. And yet somehow he was trying to imagine a place where buildings didn’t fall down around him.
“[…]sometimes our bodies can find ways to cope when we are faced with things that are too much for us to bear. You saw your son die, Mrs. Ibrahim, and maybe something in you had to shut down.”
“I’m building a house!” he says. “When we go to England we will live in this house. This house won’t break like these do.”
I remember now. I remember him lying in bed, afraid of the bombs, and how I had given him an old bronze key that once opened a shed at the apiaries. I had tucked it beneath his pillow so that he could feel that somewhere in all the ruins there was a place where he could be safe.
Sami Quotes in The Beekeeper of Aleppo
“We have to go, Afra,” I said.
“I’ve already told you. No.”
“If we stay—”
“If we stay, we’ll die,” she said.
“Exactly.”
“Exactly.” Her eyes were open and blank now.
“You’re waiting for a bomb to hit us. If you want it to happen, it will never happen.”
“Then I’ll stop waiting. I won’t leave him.”
“There’ll be no bombs there,” he’d said, “and the houses won’t break like these do.” I wasn’t sure if he’d meant the Lego houses or the real houses, and then it saddened me when I realized that Sami had been born into a world where everything could break. Real houses crumbled, fell apart. Nothing was solid in Sami’s world. And yet somehow he was trying to imagine a place where buildings didn’t fall down around him.
“[…]sometimes our bodies can find ways to cope when we are faced with things that are too much for us to bear. You saw your son die, Mrs. Ibrahim, and maybe something in you had to shut down.”
“I’m building a house!” he says. “When we go to England we will live in this house. This house won’t break like these do.”
I remember now. I remember him lying in bed, afraid of the bombs, and how I had given him an old bronze key that once opened a shed at the apiaries. I had tucked it beneath his pillow so that he could feel that somewhere in all the ruins there was a place where he could be safe.