Bunny

by: Khabat Rasouli

Translator: Ata miraki

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 My wife said let’s call her Bunny. I said okay, let’s call her Bunny.

Bunny was the size of my palm. Soft, hairy and black. I said I hope he will forget the duckling. my wife said she hopes Erbil too. I don’t know why I didn’t like that. Maybe it’s just because I still love Kurdistan.

I felt like Bunny’s name was taken from it. We have to adapt to this forced migration. We have to learn to eat pizza and sleep in the subway and to be disconnected like foreigners.

Now whatever I say is about five years ago. never thought we would stay in Turkey for five years. Now after five years we have become accustomed to eating Kunefe and Etli Ekmek and Pide instead of pizza and we drink black tea without sugar. I was the first one, my eyes went red. nights at bedtime, both my eyes’ sockets were full of tears. I would wake up every few minutes to empty my eyes. then my son and my wife would do the same.

I went to a pharmacy and stared into the pharmacist’s eyes. He said something. I pointed at my eyes with my hand. showed him with my finger that there are tears streaming down my face uninterruptedly. He gave me an eye drop. “I guess all the problems are because of Bunny at this home. I’ve seen Bunny’s poops everywhere. When we got him out of the cage, put him on our lap and cuddled her, she would piss on us, this is also because of her.” My wife said again. “what to do with her?” I said “We’ll release her in nature,” she said “Wouldn’t he ask what happened to Bunny?” ” It’s not too hard to fool a four-year-old boy,” she said.