SEARCH

by

M. Niaraki

“…We have fortune and disaster because we have a body. 
When we have no body, how can fortune or disaster befall us?”
Tao Te Ching*

The sun was hot. Ruthless and burning. We were driving in an old army vehicle towards the site of the chemical bombardment. Reportedly, the enemy used airplanes and gun shells to cover a vast plain with chemicals. Oily, poisonous chemicals that stick to the earth, penetrate inside and destroy the land for years. We were not very well equipped for this mission. Moreover, we did not know what we should expect even after a week of preliminary inspection. We have already passed the boundary signs of the marked zone and were heading towards the main site of our mission.

The team was composed of a volunteer guide who was part of the irregular army, a soldier, the sergeant and me.  No one was talking.  The sun was burning, and we were looking for a minor sign of life: a tree, a pond, a brook.  But nothing could be seen.  The plain looked dead.  We could see some hills in the distant.  The main site of the bombardment was somewhere in between those hills.  The sergeant was showing me the area on his nearly torn-out map.  The guide was playing with his anti-gas mask.  The soldier was looking outside, absorbed in his dreams.  

I was driving fast and restless.  Suddenly, I saw some green spot in the distance; some trees.  I drove recklessly towards the spot.  The sergeant was shocked by the speed.

-Where are we heading, sir, he asked anxiously.

-Not to the hell for sure, as you can see, I replied with anger in my voice, pointing to the trees in the distance.

***

We had no idea about the scale of contamination.  All the information we had was about some dense smoke over the area, dead bodies of animals, and immense illogical horror!  Horror was inseparable from the event.  One could imagine scenes of blindness and pain, bodies dragged on the ground in search of relief, unintelligible cries, disappointment, begging for water, pain and pain.  We were after the dead, after the lifeless, after the decaying bodies.  All of us were expecting horrible scenes.  And why we?  Why we should be chosen for the mission?  Why we should see things that everyone else was trying to escape from.   My mind was asking questions and questions.  Questions with no answer.  I was not listening to what the sergeant was telling me.  I was just looking at him blankly.  He was asking something. He was telling me that we should stay by the tree for the night.  That early morning is the best time for searching the area.  That at least we have water by the tree.  That he hates the mission.  That he is terrified by what we are going to see.  His talk was no relief to me.  But it did not add to my burden of barren thoughts.  I was not much moved by what he was saying.  I could only hear myself saying: fine, do what you think is best.  That was all.  But what was the best?!

***

The young volunteer was finishing his prayer.  A dim light was appearing in horizon.

-Bless you, I said.  The youngster thanked me.  He then opened his little worn-out Koran. Recited some and looked towards the sun appearing from behind the shaggy hills.

-Are you reading about Sun, the brilliant Sun, the all merciful Sun, I asked with a hidden curiosity.

-No, just about expansion of chest, about putting away the burden of sorrow, he answered shyly in a sad tone.

-Are you sad? I asked with no sign of sympathy in my voice.  My voice was ruthless and frightening, and I could see signs of fear and distrust in the young man.

-A bit, he answered briefly.

The sergeant was pulling himself together, yawning and swearing.

-A bloody hot day sir, just the beginning, the sergeant expressed with a tinge of exhaustion in his voice, and continued, shall we begin the search sir?

-Searching what, and searching where? I answered with signs of disgust in my voice.

The two of us, the sergeant and I had a brief surveying of the area.  We did not detect any sign of life in the vast burning plain.  

-We should proceed further, beyond those hills in the distant.  Hell is still generously waiting for us, I said, pointing my right hand towards the distant hills.

***

We continued our drive. By noon, we reached a group of barren dusty hills.  The sergeant chose a place to stay among the hills.  I was looking at the sky.  I could see a huge raven flying overhead.  The raven was unusually big.  I was following its shadow on the ground.  Both soldiers noticed the raven, and I could see that they are uneasy about it.  The sergeant was the last to notice it.

-Corpses fellows, corpses.  We are invited to the feast.  I think we’d be able to smell better in night.  Make yourself ready boys, the sergeant expressed with a deep grin on his sun burnt face. 

No one said a thing.  The communication soldier was nervously playing with his wireless deck.  The volunteer was whispering something.  I was looking at the raven, but I could not see it clearly.  The sun was too strong.  I felt that a deep and hidden wound is opened.  I clenched my teeth.  I felt an instant urge to escape. To escape not only from that place, but from earth.  The merciful mother Earth.  I envied the raven, as I could not fly.  I wanted to disappear at once.  

I heard the sergeant telling the soldiers to prepare the tents.  We had two tents for four of us.  We spent the rest of the day in our tents.  I shared the tent with sergeant.  During night he normally slept outside, under the starry sky, and I kept walking by the tents till an hour or two after midnight.  

That night all of us could smell the dead.  I told sergeant not to bother the soldiers with night search.

-We’ll do the preliminary search ourselves.  We can spare them the initial horror, I whispered.  Sergeant agreed by nodding his head.

-How about an hour after midnight sir, he said, we have the full moonlight, and lots of wandering ghosts to lead us sir, he continued with a chilling smile.

We were eating dinner that I heard a cry. Howling out of pain, out of horror.  It was not a human.  I wondered, and asked what it could be.

-It can be a wounded animal sir, a jackal or a dog.  It is near.  Let’s go and see, sergeant said, with an unusual expression on his face.  He took his rifle and went towards the direction of the sound. I thought he was moved by something.  Was it the feeling of pain in the wounded animal?  Then I looked at the volunteer’s face lightened by the small kerosene lamp.  I saw his lips moving.  Was he praying, was he scared, was he thinking of going with sergeant?  I could still see the moving shadow of sergeant.  I jumped on my feet and shouted:

-Wait sergeant.  Let me go with you. 

***

-It’s wounded sir. Dying, the sergeant cried.  

It was a dog.  A white shepherd dog.  No fresh blood, but some dark stains.  The animal’s eyes were wide open, looking at us.  The sergeant was keeping the dog’s head in his lap, caressing it with unexpected tenderness.  

-Don’t touch it much serge.  It can be chemically contaminated, I said while approaching them.  I kneeled by them, and felt the animal’s breath on my wrist.  I examined the animal’s body with my gloved hands under a small torch.  Under animal’s soft short hair, I could touch a few bumps, painful blisters.

-Poisonous gas with high possibility, the area is contaminated.  And you are contaminated too serge.  You should change and wash yourself, otherwise you’ll have blister as soon as the acid begins to eat your skin and flesh.  We should check the area tonight, all night, and I’m afraid we need the young boys for the search, I said, looking at sergeant and animal.  He was silent, then gathered a few stones, laid the dog’s head on them, and shot at the back of animal’s head with his rifle, avoiding its look.  The dog’s eyes were closed, and its nozzle was wet.  The sergeant sighed, and spat while turning his eyes from the dead animal.

***

We did not begin the search till dawn.  The sun was emerging slowly but steadily.  I could not sleep during the night.  Images of the wounded, painful animal was haunting me.  I felt that my mind is going to pieces.  My heart was bleeding with pain.  I wanted to shout, and cry.  The dying devastated animal; the eyes begging us not to leave it in pain; the sergeant’s distorted face and blank eyes.  In my mind, I was touching the dead animal’s wound, the space opened by the bullet in its skull. The wound seemed endless.  I tried to reach its bottom.  I was dipped in blood, in dark red blood.  My hands were covered with blood.  All my body was shaking with rage, with disappointment, with fever.  I heard a voice in my delirium.  This was from outside, somewhere in the distant.  The voice was getting closer and closer.  I opened my eyes.  The sergeant was shaking me.

-Sir, you are dipped in sweat.  Are you all right?  Did you have a bad dream?  I think we should go for search before it becomes too hot, the sergeant almost whispered, I’ll go wake up the boys.

I took his hand and pulled him towards me forcefully.  He did not seem surprised.  He looked at me with his blooded eyes, and calmly pulled himself apart.  I rose on my hands and looked at the horizon.  It was colourful.  The light was giving shape to the dead scenery around us.  

In half an hour we were heading for the plain ahead of us, equipped with masks, rubber gloves and two stretchers.  I was telling the soldier and the volunteer not to touch anything, and inform the sergeant or me if they ran into something unusual.

-Everything here is unusual sir, tell them to inform us if they saw dead deformed corpses, animals excluded, the sergeant said with a bitter smile, and no visible sarcasm in his tone, I don’t want to see any more of those innocent poor animals.  It’s easier for me to shoot a bullet in a bloody man’s skull than seeing the pain in a defenseless animal.  At least we human bastards think we know why we are here, and why we are dying.

He was visibly shaking.  I always thought of him as an easygoing vulgar fellow.  But at that special moment I was looking at his hidden face. He was not exaggerating in what he was saying.  All seemed true.

Within few minutes we ran into a deep well, and a few meters from this well we saw the remains of two human bodies.  Their mouths were open; and their eyes were dried in their eye sockets; their body was decaying with an intolerable smell.  Sun was helping the bodies to dry faster.  I saw the signs of terror in the soldiers’ eyes.  Their faces were pale, and agonized.  And to my surprise I felt an unusual calmness inside. 

***

-Count them man.  Write it down. That’s why you are here. Don’t stand there daydreaming.  This is our ugly life.  It stinks. You are smelling us, not these happy corpses, the sergeant was telling the horrified young volunteer.

-Leave him serge.  I’ll take care of the statistics. We are only beginning, I said calmly.

The sergeant shook his head understandingly, and turned his face towards a newly found body.  He picked up the dead man’s identification plate.  The white piece of metal was shining in the sun.

-Only a number, that’s what remained.  I even can’t know his name.  Look at him.  He died of thirst, not chemicals or bullet.  He is a volunteer, seventeen or eighteen.  A student perhaps, the sergeant said with a deep sadness in his voice, and a compassionate look at the soldier and the volunteer standing by the corpse. They say all these dead men are martyrs.  Indeed, they are; these innocent youngsters.  But it’s so damn dirty and disgusting to talk about a dead man in cold blood, praising him for his valor, forgetting the agony of death in his eyes.  I hate those motherfuckers, those leeches, those bloody bastard preachers of death. The sergeant continued in rage, filled with sympathy for the dead.

We continued our search. It was so hot.  The sun was scorching our skin. The sergeant and I were finding the corpses, putting a little red flag beside them, and the soldier and volunteer were searching the dead bodies to find little pieces that might be of some value to their families.  I warned them several times to be careful.  They had a piece of cloth on their mouth and nose.  They were not wearing masks. It was intolerable to put on masks for more than a few minutes. For each body they had a little plastic bag, filled with the identification plate and anything they could find on the body.  They stuck a number on the corpse and gave the same number to the bag. Then we carried the corpse to a spot near the well.  Everything within a radius of four hundred meters was carried there in stretchers. Some bodies were falling apart.  We had to carry them part by part.  We were not talking to each other, even not showing emotions after a while.  Until noon the designated area was cleaned, and seven corpses were piled near the well.  This was all we could find. Most of the bodies were dried but greasy as the fat under the skin was melting out.  We then returned to our camp, and the dead spent another night under the open sky.

***

We were sitting on a pile of dirt near the camp.  The soldier was dozing, and the volunteer was staring at the brilliant night sky.  The stars were shining with all might and glory, as if God was smiling on earth and on us.  The sergeant was peeling off potatoes and water was boiling in a pot.  We had tried to hide the light of the flame as much as we could, but none of us was thinking about danger anymore.  Our hearts were aching with pain, our limbs were tired and our hands had all sorts of scars on them.  We were listening to the sergeant’s whispering sound.  He was singing a song.  His voice was faint. 

-Hey serge, let us hear what you are singing, I shouted in a playful tone.  The soldier became attentive and looked at me.  The volunteer showed signs of interest and turned his head from the sky.  I thought I was seeing him touching something in his pocket.  I was only able to see shadows.  The fire was lightening the sergeant’s face up.  He began to smile, and then laughed.  

-It’s my little vulgar song sir.  It doesn’t worth hearing.  You’ll be scared to hear my voice.  Believe me it’s a risky business, the sergeant said in a loud voice.

-A risky business?!  What are you talking about? I said, with a tinge of surprise in my voice.

-The risk is that we may disturb the dead, and then they’ll come haunting us, he exclaimed sarcastically in a harsh voice.  

But we took him seriously.  After seeing all those deformed corpses under the burning sun, we could never imagine them to exist in darkness.  We were forgetting them, as if we never saw them.  We wanted to be blind, to avoid the death, and to seek life in darkness.  We were appreciating the darkness and silence.  After what we heard from sergeant, we could no more deny the presence of the dead bodies around us.  All of us, dead or alive, animal or human were part of the earth, silenced, tortured and burnt down.  Life was fleeing from us.  We were desperately running after Life.  The piece of earth that we were bound to was burying us both, the dead and the living.  I could feel the breeze.  It was carrying a message.  And in the dark I saw the shadow of volunteer, holding a short pipe in his hand.  He took the pipe to his lips.  Then we heard a voice, a melody.  So that’s what it was, the pipe was a “ney”, and the volunteer was playing it.  We were listening to that eternal music.  He played it so well.  I was observing the sky melting, as if the stars were moving, and approaching the earth.  I was horrified, and then filled with an immense wild pleasure.  My heart was being torn to pieces and carried away.  I felt burning fevered tears on my face.  Suddenly, I could feel the monstrous pain hovering above us.  A sense of total loss, a sense of detachment and numbness was on one side, breaking the heaven and earth apart.  On the other side were stars and ney, playful, blinking and gay.  They were uniting the fragments; they were binding the separated.  That was incredible.  The music was penetrating and sad in the beginning, tuned to the movement of stars.  Then it changed and became lighter and lighter.  I reached the volunteer; he looked at me smilingly.  I could not hold myself anymore, and cried vehemently.  Then, I felt a hand on my shoulder.  The sergeant was telling something to me.

-I’ll sing a happy song now, sir.  My voice is not good, but I still have the fire inside, he whispered in my ear.

***

The daybreak was nearing.  I was on vigil.  I let the volunteer sleep.  He was smiling in his sleep.  His face was lightened by moonlight.  I looked at him for a while, and then walking towards the foot of the hill took my compass out of my pocket.  I hesitated, and took a steep path to the top of the hill.  All was silent.  I was standing there on the top of the hill looking at the vast landscape in front of me.  The plain was covered with a silky gray carpet.  I touched my face, and my eyes.  My eyes were burning.  I looked at the compass, and tried to remember the coordinates of the spot. Towards west, towards east, I was repeating the words in my mind.  Sun is hidden somewhere, I heard myself repeating.  I was overcome by a deep grief. A grief devouring the soul.

***

The search was coming to end.  The headquarters wanted us back.  They sent three lorries to pick up the corpses and some equipment.  Lorry drivers, soldiers or non-commissioned officers themselves, were looking at corpses, put in dark green plastic bags, with fear and disgust.  We were counting the corpses.

-Total of thirty-seven.  A good clean number, the sergeant said with a faint smile on his face.  His lips were not opened, and I could see an inexplicable sadness in his sleepless eyes.  He then asked the supervising sergeant to sign the list filled with identification numbers of the dead.  

One of the drivers was accompanied by a soldier- a thin small youngster with a dark complexion.  He was from a small town in the southeastern province.  He looked gloomy and terrified.  I asked him how long he had been in the front line.

-Six months sir, he answered shyly.  

-Have you been back home since then? I asked.

-No, sir, but I’ll go back soon for a visit. It’s far, sir.  It takes about a day and a half to two days to get there, he answered more curiously as if encouraged by my interest in his hometown.

-All right.  They are ready to go sir, the sergeant interrupted.

We shook hands, and I wished them well.  The small soldier shook my hand firmly.  I tapped him on the shoulder.

***

We were to stay in the area for another forty-eight hours, to look for more bodies and estimate the size of the contaminated area.  After spending two weeks in the area, we realized that the field was not as contaminated as expected.  We found no one alive and no more corpses.  All of the recovered thirty-seven bodies had been dead long before we discovered them.  Many of them had died of thirst rather than exposure to chemicals.  Some died of drinking too much water. Their bowels were burst open.  

There were a few deep wells in the area, which had been used by nomads and villagers once lived there.  We were sitting beside one of those wells.  It was the first evening since our dead companions had left us.  There was a sense of nostalgic relief in the air. Our companions had departed, and we were feeling the void they left behind.

The sergeant was preparing some food on a kerosene heater.  A small fire was burning under the teapot. The volunteer and communication soldiers were sitting near the small fire and whispering something.  I noticed the communication soldier, as if I was seeing him for the first time. His face was partly lit by the fire.  He was about nineteen, thin and tall, shy and mostly silent.  They noticed me and smiled faintly.  I sat on the dirt beside the fire, replying to them with a smile.  We were silent, looking at the small fire.  The water was boiling in the pot.  

-What are you thinking about? I asked the communication soldier, trying to open a conversation, About home? Family, sweetheart, friend?

-No, sir.  I am just looking at the fire and seeing all those dead faces burning and falling apart, he answered calmly.  I was taken by his tone of voice.  It was like a wave, a silent huge wave in the middle of the sea.  It was fearful, but calm.  His words were attached to  what he was seeing, as was flesh attached to bone.  I saw through his words.  All was calm and serene. As was his tone of voice and as was the small fire.

-Dead are dead.  We see them, but they are no more with us.  Their image can haunt us for the rest of our lives and destroy us.  We should value our life. We are alive and not dead.  The simple fact is that we can still see, feel and think.  We can imagine.  The dead cannot imagine, I was almost shouting these words in a vibrant mood.  I could feel myself overwhelmed with long hidden emotions.  I was shaking all over, trying to show what I feel inside, deep inside.  In the meanwhile, I was discovering a living force deep within me.  I was not escaping death, but trying to face it with all my senses opened.  I felt myself opened. 

Neither of the soldiers seemed surprised.  The volunteer was smiling.  He whispered some words, as if he was praying.

-What? I can’t hear you, I cried loudly.  I could hear nothing.  Silence.  Why am I shouting as if from the bottom of a well, I was asking myself.  Bottom of the well. The well. Well, I was repeating to myself.  I realized that I was not there at that moment.  I was deep within me, deep in the bottom of the well.  I wanted someone to hear me, and I thought no one was near.  I couldn’t hear anything.

-Are you fine, captain sir. 

I recognized the sergeant’s voice.  I was back.  Sitting by the fire.

-Oh, yes.  How about dinner, serge, I said smilingly.

-In a few minutes.  This can be my masterpiece.  All will appreciate my cooking.  It’s like finding jewel in the middle of no man’s land, he cried loudly.  He had music in his voice.  

-Jewel can upset the stomach serge, the volunteer said laughingly.  

We were uplifted, laughing and making noise.  Then we heard a howling sound.

-Jackals? No. A stray hungry dog perhaps. It’s near. Let’s invite him to our feast.  Come with me young man, the sergeant said, inviting the communication soldier to join him in the search for animal. They soon disappeared in dark.   

We waited for them, but not for long.  They came back soon, followed by a thin bony dog.  The dog was dirty and white. 

-He gladly accepted the invitation, after asking about the menu, the sergeant said, leading the dog to our place by the small fire.  The soldier was giving some leftover bread to the dog.  The animal was devouring the bread.

-Wait and see my friend.  You won’t forget my food, the sergeant was telling the dog.

-And we won’t either, I believe, the communication soldier said, and we all laughed.

The food was surprisingly good, and we ate a lot. Then we sat by the fire, drank tea and listened to the strange stories the sergeant was telling us.  He was not the only speaker.  All of us talked, and most of the words were light and unburdened.  The dog was feeling secure, lying by the sergeant’s feet near the fire. Those were happy hours.

***

I was woken up by the sound of prayer from radio.  Through the dim light of sun, I saw the volunteer sitting on the nearby hill.  It was just before the sunrise.  I felt tired, and restless.  A deep melancholy was in the air.  I thought about the night before.  I could rarely remember about the events of the past two weeks.  It all looked like a forgotten dream.  I was listening to the dawn prayer, watching the volunteer putting his forehead on the bare ground.  Beyond the hill was the battleground of death and disaster, of bodies torn apart, of dreams shattered. I pulled the blanket over my face.  I wanted to cover my mind, soul, thoughts.  I didn’t want to see the sun again.  The sound of the prayer was coming through the blanket.  Then, the tick-tock of the clock.  Then the “Azaan”, declaring the beginning of the day.  For me the day was only the continuance of the night before.  I didn’t want to see the light.

-God bless you.  Pray for my damned soul too.

This was the sergeant, shouting aloud, washing his face with water from his canister.  

-Oh God.  Now everything is finished.  The search mission, the stench.  The corpses are gone, and we are still here.  Soon we’ll have poppies in this plain.  Red, majestic poppies.  Spring will come.  The blood and pain will be forgotten. We’re going today.  Going somewhere.  Somewhere far.  Far from here, the sergeant was talking loudly, his voice breaking in the intervals.  He was caressing the dog.  The dog’s eyes were half closed.

I pulled the blanket aside, jumped on my feet, stood up and looked at the sergeant.  He was now sitting near the dog, playing with his soft hair.  He was sobbing.  I went near him.  Put my right hand on his left shoulder.

-Who will take care of this poor dog, captain?  When we’re gone, he will remain with the whole horror of this damned place, with all the ghosts and goblins, with all the devils on this bloody land, with all stench, with death.  Death will tear him apart.  Sadness will devour him.  God may not save him.  God may not look at him.  God may have forgotten him.  Ah, how, how, how…how can I leave him here? the sergeant was looking at me with tear-filled eyes.  Sleepless eyes.  Painful eyes.

-We’ll take him serge.  We’ll take him, I said, with a cold voice.  I was shivering inside.  I was crying inside, calling God, asking for help and mercy.  I was asking God to have mercy on us, all of us, dead or alive.

The rest of day was spent on packing.  We were in no hurry.  We drove slowly.  The radio was on.  No one was talking.  The road was rough and bumpy.  Dark clouds were covering the sky.  Suddenly, the dog jumped on the sergeant’s lap.  The side window was open.  The dog was pushing his nose into the air, into the breeze.  He began to bark.

-The breeze, sir.  The breeze.  Our good friend smells the rain.  The rain…grass will grow fast after the rain, the poppies…, the sergeant was shouting with excitement and ecstasy in his voice.  He was laughing loud.  His big laughing and the dog’s barking were inseparable now.  I smiled, and turned towards the back seat.  The soldier and the volunteer were smiling.  It was beginning to rain.  Small fresh drops of rain.

***

*  From Tao Te Ching, Lao Tzu; English translation of Richard Wilhelm’s German translation.

QUOTE AS:
M. Niaraki. Search. The Living Commons Collective Magazine. N.3, September 2025. p. 143-155