The Unbearable Odourlessness of Volatile and Colourless Liquids

von Marcus Krug

 

Mama used to say that sometimes a bad smell is better than a good one. Or none, at all, she might have added recently. And then Baba would have argued in favour of good smells, and said that he very much likes Mama’s new perfume. And I would have said that I like her new cologne, also. And then Mama would have smiled, come over to Baba and me and hugged the two of us very tightly.

With the three of us so close together, Baba would also have whispered into the warm and closed space between us, that Mama’s perfume is one of the very good good smells.

I remember one day out on my grandparents’ farm, when Bassam, one of my annoying cousins, came in from the barn and smelled like the goats he had been tending the whole day. Everybody in the kitchen was complaining about the stink he had brought into the house. I also remember that my fragile aunt Lilia had almost fainted. But uncle Amin had laughed so hard, that tears were running down his rosy cheeks.

Back then, Mama just winked at me, squeezed my little nose and said, “Remember, this is a bad bad smell.”, then she laughed.

And then there was that one night, not so long ago, when Akilah, the eldest of my cousins, had smoked one last cigarette by her window after she had come home from a night out. The ember must apparently have fallen onto the old rug and set it on fire while she was fast asleep. Only our old dog Zahid had smelled the smoke and woke the whole house with his barking. He had even tried to pull Akilah out of her bed by her hand that was dangling out from under the heavy duvet.

After everybody was safe and sound and the fire was put out, Mama had said to me that this probably was one of the very rare occasions of a good bad smell.

 

However, this morning around six o’clock, I was woken by a few big thuds somewhere close to our house. Everyone was still asleep when I got up and walked around in the house with sleepy eyes. Since there wasn’t anything unusual going on, I went back to bed.

But then, suddenly, I woke up again. My head was aching. And my eyes wouldn’t want to see any colours no more. Also, I was feeling drowsy, had a runny nose and difficulties breathing. Something very strange was going on.

And then everything happened super quick.

Out in the hallway, I saw that all the windows were broken. And Bassam was dragging his older sister Akilah out of her room. Froth was coming out of her mouth, and her body was shivering. Bassam suddenly passed out and fell, with his sister on this shoulder, down the stairs. From the upper landing, I also saw aunt Lilia’s small frame buried under uncle Amin’s big body.

I ran downstairs to look for Mama and Baba. They were both still in their bedroom. Baba was sitting upright with puke all over his shaking body. Mama was leaning to one side, drooling out of her twisted mouth, and her body was twitching and jerking. My eyes were burning even more down there, so I wrapped my sweaty pyjama top around my head and jumped up onto the bed and tried to push and pull Mama and Baba off the bed.

But then, out of nowhere, Zahid came flying, kicked me off the bed, and wouldn’t let me anywhere near it again. He was growling and baring his pointy yellow teeth. Zahid pushed me further back and out into the hallway, towards the big door of the entrance.

Suddenly, something smashed through the door. The two wings flew wide open. A fire hose was spewing water all over the place. And then someone put one of those plastic things with fresh air coming out over my mouth and nose, grabbed me by my thin arms and dragged me out into the open where they emptied buckets of water over me. To rinse the poison off, as they said.

Later in the evening, the men who rescued me, were talking about an attack with bombs, and that there was something called nerve gas in them.

I feel happy sad. They say that this is because I am still in shock. Can you believe this?! Not even old Zahid got out!

But tomorrow grandpa is coming to pick me up from here. I am going to live with grandma and him in the countryside. I think this is going to be fun, because I don’t really mind the smelly goats, at all.

I keep thinking of Mama a lot. Somehow, I have the feeling that if she was still here with me, she would probably have agreed with me that the wicked gas from the morning has had a super bad good smell.