The Beekeeper of Aleppo

Having crossed the river to Turkey, the refugees crawled for a while in the dust, then walked through fields for hours in the cold. They passed through a village where the fearful residents gave them water, food and blankets. They then arrived at a dirty, makeshift camp of tents and received some food. Nuri met Elias, a man from Syria who had lost his wife and daughter but was determined to find a smuggler to take himself and the couple further, which he arranged by the next morning.

In Istanbul, Nuri and Afra slept with other refugees in a smugglers’ flat, waiting for the weather to be good enough for the crossing to Greece. Nuri met a boy of about Sami’s age, who seemed to be alone. The boy’s name was Mohammed. He was fearful of the upcoming journey across the sea but had faith in Allah, except when recalling how he had seen several boys being shot. His father had given him a key to a house, but there was no house. Nuri started to feel responsible for Mohammed.

Walking around the neighborhood in Istanbul, Nuri noticed how refugees, like the street dogs and cats, all sat around waiting. He thought of how Sami and Afra would have liked the shops, but Afra refused to go out, and seemed to be stuck in her memories. Nuri and Elias got work cleaning cars to pass the time and earn a little money. Nuri decided to check for emails from Mustafa and found he had received three. One was from a camp in Macedonia, the next from a camp in Serbia. In both places, Mustafa described the suffering he was witnessing and the poor conditions. He was himself feeling very low, tired and trapped in hell, but still determined to reach the UK and Dahab. The third was from a youth hostel in the cold mountains of Germany. Mustafa was hoping to reach France. Nuri sent Mustafa a reply. Then he went back to the B&B and gave Mohammed some small gifts which he had found, which Mohammed loved. Nuri realized the boy was truly alone. Elias told Nuri he would stay in Istanbul, as he had travelled far enough.

In England, Afra finds flowers instead of the keys that Nuri thought he had picked from the tree. She is momentarily happy when she thinks he has given her a gift.

The social worker visits them again. Nuri is impressed by her efficient manner as she tells him he can take Afra to the doctor and that their interview will be soon. Nuri helps clean the boarding house and gets a glimpse into other residents’ lives, including the Moroccan man’s family photos, which make him sad. He goes for a walk and buys drawing materials for Afra. Returning to the B&B, he finds the Moroccan man has bought some plants for the bee. Nuri asks him why he is there, in England. The man eventually tells him he has been separated from his family who are in another hostel. Nuri goes to the garden and sits down and listens to the sounds of the waves.

This section starts as the refugees, now forty in number, waited at night on the shore, three hours from Istanbul. They all knew that the previous night a migrant boat had capsized. Mohammed held Nuri’s hand and told him how scared he was, until Nuri made him laugh. A woman seeing them said she had lost her son, too: “I know what it’s like. The void. It’s black like the sea” (121). They all got onto the boat and set out. Mohammed fell asleep on Nuri’s shoulder. Nuri dreamt of tragic images, and when he woke up the waves were bigger, and the boat was taking on water. Some men jumped out into the darkness, and then Nuri realized Mohammed was gone. He jumped into the water to look for him, but the boy was eventually pulled back into the boat. Nuri and the other men stayed in the water, and he started to feel numb. The passengers flashed their torches, “like prayers” (127) until a boat appeared.

Nuri wakes up in the garden of the B&B again, and the Moroccan man takes him to Afra. Nuri goes to the doctor’s surgery, on the way passing the children’s sandpit and a sunbathing woman who politely asks him to get out of her light. He reflects on how he does not like the British with their politeness, queues and neat houses and gardens. At the GP’s surgery, the receptionist says she cannot register him, as his letter does not show his address. Nuri cites the NHS guidelines, but the woman apologizes and says, “That’s our policy” (132). Nuri’s mind is taken back to the war, and he collapses. The receptionist helps him recover. He goes home and Afra asks him to hold her. He lets her hold him, and feels her love, while his own sadness is acute. However, he will not hold her. He dreams of a fire.

The fire was one made from driftwood on the beach on the Greek island of Farmakonisi. Nuri, Afra and Mohammed sat with other refugees, warming themselves in the dawn. Mohammed talked about his mother and held onto Afra’s hand tightly. He asked Nuri to tell him a story to help him sleep. Nuri told him a tale of a Brass City, which was beautiful but empty because all its kings had been blind “in one way or another, so they left it full of riches and devoid of life” (141). Mohammed commented on how sad the story was and that it was “Like back home” (141). The smoke from the fire reminded Nuri of the smoke he and Mustafa had used to calm the bees in their hives. He thought about how they built up the hives and employed workers whom Mustafa would cook for, proud and grateful for what they had achieved. Yet Nuri had always sensed his insecurity—the result of losing his mother as a child.

Back in the B&B the following morning, Nuri sees the young man from the Ivory Coast, Diomande, without his T-shirt and notices deformities on his back, which Nuri thinks of as wings. Diomande tells him how he had had to help his family since his father died. He has hope for a new life in the UK but is also affected by the social worker’s worry. Nuri watches as the refugees play Hangman together and he thinks about how intelligent the Afghan woman is. He falls asleep and when he wakes at 3 am, Mohammed is there. They go outside to the garden. Mohammed tells him there is a key in the landlady’s garden next door. Nuri climbs into the garden, finds the key and takes it to bed. Mohammed has disappeared. Nuri falls asleep to the sound of waves.

Nuri, Afra and Mohammed arrived on the island of Leros, and were given accommodation in a camp run by an NGO in an ex-leper colony. The camp was full of refugees from several countries, all waiting for papers to be able to move on into Europe. Nuri registered Mohammed with Sami’s passport, saying he was their son. Sharing cabins with other families, Nuri felt lost and was plagued by memories of Sami. At night, he overheard a sad conversation about a lost mother, and sounds of violence outside.

In the morning, Nuri explored the now-lively camp and got some clothes for Afra and Mohammed. However, he had not seen the boy that morning and assumed he was out playing. He started to look around the island for him, asking people if they had seen his son. At an Internet café, he found messages from Dahab and then Mustafa, who had finally reached the UK. Mustafa encouraged Nuri to keep going and join them, calling Nuri his brother. This took Nuri back to memories of Mustafa and the bees, and their close friendship. He returned to the camp but discovered that Mohammed had still not returned. Searching for him in the streets, Nuri found an octopus hanging out to dry and took it back for Afra to enjoy. Afra did not seem concerned about Mohammed. Nuri went out at night to look for him again.

The next day, in the children’s section of the old asylum, Nuri was given pencils for Mohammed, but still could not find him. Nuri gave the drawing materials to Afra, and she drew a picture of a tree from her imagination. After a couple of days, Nuri, Afra and Mohammed’s permission to leave for Athens was granted. Nuri did not tell Afra as he wanted to wait for Mohammed. The boy never returned, and after a month, Nuri decided they had to leave as Afra was suffering from a fever and delirium. Nuri bought the ferry tickets and wrote a letter to Mohammed, leaving it in the cabin, with money for him to try and reach them. Afra and Nuri left the island and Mohammed behind, with Nuri calling Mohammed “the lost boy who was never mine” (185).