“Baby are you down, down, down, down, down... Even if the skies are falling down...”

The music is blasting from the stereo system, yet unable to drown out the sound of the exhaust. Omar loves it. It’s one of the most enjoyable things about driving -the sound of it. It gives him presence; it makes people look at him. He could pass as a race car driver, with his mirrored glasses on, the collar on his shirt unfolded, the bottom of his car just above the road. The road - his home, his territory. If he’d had the support that Lewis had, he could be up there right now, without a doubt. Omar has got the passion, he’s got the talent. At age 19, he could already be on his way to winning a championship.

But the roads of Bahrain will have to do as a showcase for his abilities - his agility, quick reactions, his focus. Like the “Transporter”. 

“Yes, I’m coming. We’re on our way. Don’t worry; we will be there in 15 minutes. You know how it is with Ameena, it’s impossible to get her out on time! Ameena, stop it! Stop playing with the A/C! ...Look, I’ve got to go, I’ll see you in a bit, OK? Bye.”  End call.

Retrieve. “Alright, I’m back. So, where did you end up going?... Ohhh, he’s really trying to impress you, isn’t he? ... Yeah, I heard, I’ve never been there myself, but I heard it was beautiful...”

-“Mommy, I’ve got to pee!”

“Just hold on, Dawud, we will be there in 5 minutes, okay? Can you hold on for mommy? Okay? Big boy! Very good!... So anyways, I hope it works out, he sounds great... How long has he been a senior consultant for?... Wow! Are you sure he’s still in his early thirties? Ameena, please, you’re going to make us all boil to death in here! Listen to me! Just leave it!... God, she’s driving me crazy! Is Noor like this? She seems like a much calmer child to me, not like Ms. Hyper here! So when are you gonna see each other again?... No, no, don’t rush it. Trust me, let him wait, let him get nervous. I gave in to Saadiq way too quickly, and I regretted it very soon after our marriage. He actually said to me that he had gotten me “pretty easily”! He didn’t think anything of it –of course- but I couldn’t believe it! It’s not right for him to say this, but I realize it also wasn’t right for me to just give in to my overwhelming feelings like I did, and say yes to him before he’d even asked! ... Seriously! That’s what happened! I just couldn’t wait. And, you know what? At the time, I thought it was totally romantic.” 

“Clouds filled with stars cover your sky, And I hope it rains, You’re the perfect lullaby, What kind of dream is this...”

When Omar drives, he’s in someone else’s shoes, leading someone else’s life. That’s why he prefers to drive alone. The fact that his friends always mess up the interior of his car and leave a bunch of garbage in it may also play a role.

But mainly, it’s the rush that he doesn’t want to share; the adrenaline that comes with taking control of such a powerful machine. It starts at around 140 km/h. His heart races, his grip is steady on the steering wheel, his eyes locked on the road. As he pushes the pedal further down, he feels like a man. He feels alive.

“Oh, yes... what on earth was she thinking? I mean, look at him, he just screams trouble! He really does. You can already see from the look on his face that he’s a player. How could she ever think he’d be faithful to her? ... Oh shit, Aaliya, Dawud stay down!... Oh okay, they’re taking a left turn... Sorry, the cops just passed us and looked straight into our car. But it seems they don’t care about children sitting all over the car without their seatbelts on. Anyways, ... you know, I think she’s expecting a child from him!... Yes! You didn’t hear that? I saw pictures of her with a tiny, little bump. That’s the thing when you’re so skinny, a little bump at 3 months will show right away...”

-“Mommy, I’m bored. I wanna watch cartoons!”

“Yes, darling, you can watch cartoons at your Grandma’s, okay? I’m sure she has one set up for you already. We’ll be there in 5 minutes...”

-“But you said that 5 minutes ago!”

“What do you want me to do? I also wish I could fly, but I can’t! Look at the traffic! This is the Diplomatic Area, sweetie, you’d better get used to it. Because by the time you’re old enough to drive, I bet it’ll be even worse! That’s because these idiots just don’t know how to plan. And besides, they don’t care. They really don’t. What the... Hello?! Do you see me? I’m here in MY lane!! Jerk! ... Aaliya, are you there? Yeah, sorry, I’m back again, the roads are crazy and my kids are getting impatient... No, no, don’t worry, it’s fine. That’s the great thing about driving automatic, you practically have a spare hand to do other things with...”.

A young mother of two has got to multitask if she wants to get anything done. The kids are just too demanding, and are home from school and nursery much too early. Life is tough. There’s hardly any rest, any quiet moments. At least Naseema has her friends. People she connects with, people she loves to talk to, people she can share anything with. People who understand her. When the stress of marriage or the load of chores weighs down heavily on her, she can leave it all behind in a chat with her girlfriends. They remind her to see the positive, encourage her to take good care of herself. Although Naseema’s friends are all very different and lead different lifestyles, she connects with all of them. And they all have different things to teach her. After all, she is constantly trying to improve. She wants to be a better mother, a more dedicated wife, she’d give anything to lose those 10 kilos and has promised herself to return to school one day, when the time is right. She wants to be more aware, more mindful. She knows she can get distracted very easily, and it makes life very difficult at times. But she doesn’t want to miss out on life. She just doesn’t want to miss out. 

“Someone like you, And all you know, And how you speak...”

“Use somebody”. Maybe. Maybe he could use somebody, too. He tries not to think about it too much. There are lots of girls out there, many of whom are attracted to him. After all, he takes good care of himself. His hair slick, his goatee neat, shoes polished. When he passes girls they inevitably pick up the scent of his tantalizing cologne. He loves the attention he gets from them. But he refuses to fall. He refuses to fall for anyone. He’s not the type to become infatuated, and frankly girls these days just ask too much. They expect 150% at the very least. They want to be independent, yet they want to control you, and own you and everything you possess. There have only been 2 females on the passenger seat of this car, 1 of whom is his mother. The other was Shereen. It’s the closest he ever got to falling.

“I’ve been roaming around, Always looking down, And all I see…”

Omar is not scared of anyone. He’s not weak. Even when his own father used to put him in his place with his fist when he was younger, he never cried. He’s just not the type. 

“Oh, it sent chills down my spine. I swear. I couldn’t take it. I watched half the movie with my hands in front of my eyes. No, he didn’t. He didn’t comfort me at all, he actually found it amusing. You know how he is. He’s always above and beyond everyone. I’m still angry about how he just decided to spend almost all of our savings on the treatment for his mother... Yes, I know, I understand she needs it and I’m not saying she shouldn’t receive any treatment. But come one, she’s got 5 freaking children!! And Saadiq isn’t even the eldest! So why is he paying for it? ... Well, in that case he should have a talk with them, shouldn’t he? They have to understand that their mother needs medical treatment if she wants to live a somewhat normal life, and they really should all extend a hand, shouldn’t they? Assuming they care about their mother and actually want to keep her... Sorry, but that family is such a mystery to me sometimes. Everyone just seems to be out for themselves. The parents don’t have a clue what’s going on with their kids. Yet I bet they’re happy with themselves when they go to sleep at night, not knowing, not even wondering why their youngest daughter keeps getting thinner and thinner. What to do? I can’t save the world... Of course you wouldn’t understand that. Your family is perfect... Yes, it is! I mean it. You guys are so deeply connected and genuinely concerned about one another, it’s really…remarkable. I really hope our family will be like that when the kids grow up... Yeah, it’s true... They’re never too young to start. I know, I know, I do want to set a good example. Oh wait, my battery is dying, let me plug it into the lighter... Ameena, give me that cord please... Alright, yes... connection, really important. Really important. Because... you want to feel like someone cares, right? You don’t just want to hear it, you want to see it in their eyes, see it in their actions. It’s very rare. You’re very lucky, Aaliya, very lucky. Because most of the time, either no one gives a crap –openly- or they act as if they do. You get those people who pretend to respect their parents and then they go and call them the most terrible things behind their backs! Or those who pretend to uphold family values and then turn around and throw it all away along with their future. I wonder what’s the secret? How do you do it? How do you guys manage to be so perfect?” 

If there is one thing he could do differently, Omar would insist on taking the opportunity to race professionally.

His parents forbade him. He had a once in a lifetime opportunity, and they just blew it for him. How often do you meet a scout? How often do you get a chance to exhibit your talent? How many people actually manage to impress somebody like that? Someone with influence, someone who can make a decision, a decision that will change your life - a decision that will take you from one world and put you in a completely different one. Not many Bahrainis get that chance, that’s for sure. He would’ve done his country proud; he would’ve put it on the map. He would’ve shown his parents what an exceptional son they have. Instead, they are content with the presumption that their little Omar is a quiet but skilled car mechanic.  He could’ve made it. He knows it. He would’ve made it.

“Racing? Have you lost your mind?? Is this how I raised you? To go out and act like an idiot and risk your life for nothing? You’re not even transporting people, or saving anyone! You’re just driving around in a bloody circle!! This is what you want to do with your life??”

Yes, it is. But he didn’t get a chance to say that. His father was already being led out of the room by his appeasing wife, who thought she was doing everyone a great favor by breaking up the discussion.

The decision was made, the verdict delivered. That was it.

He started smoking. He didn’t even think about it, he just did. He had always been very strong, very resistant to what he considered detrimental and unnecessary, but after hearing how little his parents cared about his wishes and his passion, he just didn’t care anymore about theirs.  It wasn’t fair. It had all blown up in smoke, so he might as well drown in it. He didn’t care. 

-“Mommy, the car is wet!”

“Oh, nooo! No! Dawood!! Oh no, Dawud we were almost there! Why did you...”

-“I couldn’t hold it, mommy, sorry... I’m sorry, mommy”.

“It’s okay, darling, don’t cry... don’t cry. We’ll be there now and mommy will change you, okay? Sit back down please. Just… sit next to it!  Dawud, please! Sit down!... He’s wet himself. Yeah, he still has a hard time holding it when we’re out, but he’s gotta learn how to. I just wish he didn’t learn this way. Ameena was much quicker getting out of nappies. She started much earlier and it was never really a problem with her. We kind of did it cold turkey, and she just went with it... Yes, I heard that too. And also, I guess every child is different. Are you thinking about a second one yet?... Yeah, I know. Then again, how much more damage can it do to your body, after the changes it went through during the last pregnancy? At least, that’s what I thought when I got pregnant again, “It can’t really get much worse than that”. ...No, he doesn’t seem to mind. I mean, he never said anything... I don’t know. We’re not the kind of couple that has given up completely, but honestly we also don’t make a huge effort. I do kind of feel like he... notices me less. And I do feel that the kids get much more attention from him than I do… You know how they always say what goes on outside of bed has such a huge impact on what goes on inside the bed? I can definitely feel that. Our relationship has become kind of static. There’s not the kind of spark that used to be there, and Saadiq really can’t even show me the same enthusiasm he shows Ameena and Dawud. It’s kind of sad, actually. For instance, he’ll be like “Hello, my little angels, come here, give me a kiss, oh, I missed you...”, and he goes on and on, and then he’ll turn to me and be like, literally in the lowest, most lifeless voice, “Hey Honey, how are you, what’s for food?” I say “lifeless voice”, it sounds strange but maybe... yeah, maybe you know what I mean. There’s just nothing in the voice, really. There’s nothing there.” 

He could’ve had it all. Money, fame, status. His family would not have had to worry about anything ever again. Ever. And maybe Shereen would have chosen him. Maybe she would have longed for him like he had longed for her. Maybe he would not have had to see her with someone else.  

“But I don’t want anyone else.  I really don’t. I’m still in love with my husband, just... in a different way. And also, I’d be much too scared to get lonely. And to lose my children. And just drown in misery... I mean, where would I go?... Oh no, I couldn’t. I think I’d forgive him the gravest mistakes. And even if I couldn’t forgive, I would pretend.” 

But what good is all this? It’s over. It’s too late now. And he will never be able to mention it to his parents. They’re his parents. They don’t want to be confronted by their children. The children they raised, they fed, they provided with shelter. Omar ought to be forever grateful. And being grateful, to his parents, means never talking back, never showing anything but contentment. Genuine or not. 

“We have something real. I know we do. It’s there somewhere. And yes, I do envy his freedom. But then again, it could be so much worse... Dawud, sit down! Sit down, Mommy’s going to speed up now. We’ll soon be with Grandma and Grandpa, okay? Buckle up, please. Ameena, the same goes for you, keep your head inside.” 

No one cares about his feelings. No one cares. He can’t think of a single person that genuinely cares about him. Everyone’s so selfish in this rotten world. Tell me crushing your child’s dream is not selfish! He never even saw his son race! He didn’t even know what he was talking about! He didn’t know what he was missing. Let everyone witness what Omar can do. No one on these roads can control his vehicle like Omar can. No one has the kind of love affair with speed that Omar has.

Zigzag inbetween cars, in and out of lanes, speed up, slow down -due to some timid idiot who belongs on the bus- accelerate. Hear the engine, feel the movement of the car. Savor it. Leave them all behind. Let them fade in the rear view mirror. 

“Alright, sure, no problem. Take care, and keep me updated, alright? … Okay, bye.” End call. Search in contacts. 

Move! I’m flashing you for a reason, man, move! I’m telling you, get out of my lane, ‘cause I am NOT switching! You think I’m playing?? 

“Gosh! Are you slow! You do not even belong on the…”

The impact is so sudden and so powerful that it takes her breath instantly. Her ’98 Sunny crashes into the massive truck before spinning around and being pushed through the barrier, tumbling down into the desert. The red Mazda bounces off, and although slightly throttled, continues to shoot across the highway at an incredible speed while flipping over, barely missing the Prado that had been holding him up in the left lane. 

By the time others pull over to come for help, Omar has lost conscience. His airbags activated, he lies in the front seat of his wrecked car bleeding profusely.

Other cars pull over seeing the rupture in the barrier caused by the Nissan. Some helpers rush towards the car, while others stand in shock at the sight of the little girl lying on the ground, limbs twisted and lifeless. The Sunny has been crushed completely. No passengers can be seen from afar. As the crowd approaches, they see the driver stuck in her seat. A small boy is lying inbetween the front seats. There is no movement, no reaction to the outcries.

One of the men launches an attempt to get to the boy after seeing him move his head. He shouts and tries with all his strength to open the door, tries to reach through the smashed window past the inclined seat which is blocking it. It’s futile. Despite the many hands trying to reach the boy, he is left there with his eyes half shut and his body bleeding and broken.

The ambulance arrives 17 minutes after receiving the call, having been prevented from moving through traffic by either clueless or stubborn drivers. It arrives too late. Dawud has stopped breathing. All three members of the young family die at the scene of the accident.

Omar is put on Intensive Care. He recovers after a few days, although he wishes he didn’t. He wishes it had been him. No, he wishes it had never happened. He doesn’t speak. Not to his family or to any other visitors once they’re allowed.

The papers informed the people of Bahrain of this tragic event by granting it front page status and illustrating it with snapshots of the crushed cars, plus those of dying and dead passengers being carried off on ambulance beds. They have now moved on to other sensational stories, although they do give the odd update on the state of Omar’s health and predictions for the impending lawsuit, which will be watched closely.

None of it means anything to Omar. He is paralyzed by the fact that he took those lives.  How will he ever be able to live with this? And why should he? It is still beyond him how it happened. She couldn’t have given a signal, she couldn’t have looked in her mirrors, she would’ve seen him coming. But none of that matters now. She’s dead, and so are her kids. How will her husband cope? Omar doesn’t have the strength to face him. Not right now.

He turns his head to look outside. It’s a clear day. Blue skies, bright sunshine, just like any other day. For some people out there, he fathoms, this will be a day just like any other day. For others, this will be the day they’ll never forget. And yet for others, this will be their last.