The Move-out

I’ve been laughing a lot these past few days. Not for any other reason than the absurdity of my situation. Dad said that he has been very pleased that this time I decided to stay in Europe, where it’s safe and secure. Hah! I’ve travelled and lived in the Americas and in Asia, but the moment I settle in another European country I face the most threatening situation so far. There you see, you can live most peacefully in a country with serious insecurity and the misfortunes can find you anywhere, even when you feel most at ease.

Thursday was supposed to be my move-out day. The plans changed and I asked if I could stay with Mhamed Thursday night as well, and then on Friday morning I’d go. Okay, yes, sure. We had also agreed earlier that because I only lived in the apartment for one month, that he would return me the 320€ I paid extra. Having little confidence in that he actually would return my money, I had seriously a plan of taking his small flat screen TV as a deposit. I know that that would most likely be regarded as theft but what wouldn’t a young woman do if she's short on money and has no guarantee of payment?

I had packed some of my things earlier so that I would take them to the office and avoid carrying a very heavy suitcase. On Thursday morning I was leaving for work with my smaller bag. Mhamed strongly urged me, almost commanded me to take my computer with me. The little I was able to make out of his talk was that somebody was coming to the apartment and that he didn’t want any trouble for me. That’s when I packed everything of the slightest value in my bag and left the apartment, hoping that I would be reunited with the rest of my stuff in the near future.

Later the same day I returned home. Mhamed hadn’t answered my text messages (he knows how to read and send messages now), so I was a bit worried if he would be home. He was. When he opened the front door, what I saw was a huge pile of suitcases, a tense Mhamed and my own suitcase by the door. I asked what was going on. Mhamed, in an almost angry way, said that everything’s finished and that I have to go now. As evidence of that he wasn't joking, he pointed at my suitcase and said that he had packed all my things already and that there was nothing in my room anymore. Quite determined I made my way to my room and the kitchen to see if it was true. Yes, all my cupboards and closets were empty and it seemed that everything, even my underwear and my dirty clothes, were in the bags by the front door.

Also Mhamed's room was fairly empty. All the books, the computer, everything except for the furniture was gone or in the suitcases. Mhamed was leaving the apartment as well. It seemed unclear even for him where he would go but next week he would maybe have a chance to stay at the psychiatric department outside Brussels (did I tell you about that he has regular appointments with a psychiatrist?).

In his very confusing and illogical way of speaking he told me that his sister was sitting in jail at the moment for something that had to do with drugs, I think. Apparently it was the police that had come today to the apartment, taking possession of his things for unpaid debts. He would meet the police on Friday again. Mhamed also said that there were drugs in the apartment but it remained unclear if the police had found it. (Here I have to bring forth my suspicion of the “police” actually being some gang, a Moroccan gangster or something of that sort.).

So, there was no TV to claim my own nor time to take one last photo of my dear flatmate. Mhamed was very persistent with me leaving and carried half of my things out on the street. He kept repeating that he’ll never again do this cohabitation because he didn’t want me in trouble for things that he’s doing. This part I actually believed. So, there I stood, 9 o’clock in the evening, with 4 bags, alone and laughing at what just had happened. This was probably the fastest move-out I’d ever had. I didn’t even have to pack myself! Fate had apparently decided that things should go smooth, because a few hours earlier an intern at my workplace had at her own initiative said that I could stay with her for the night if things went bad. Well, they did, so I called my savior and got a taxi to her place. There I got a warm welcome, tea, a bed and a person who listened to my version of the evening’s events.

As I said in the beginning, this has been mainly funny for me. People who have heard about my misfortunes have commented that I seem surprisingly calm and relaxed. It’s actually quite simple to take things lightly when both my body and my possessions remain intact (well, to some extent at least). Mhamed did not want no harm to me nor did I feel at danger at any moment. Now it remains to be seen what the next chapter with Mhamed contains.