Scene 02
Maryam threw herself onto her father’s chest and burst into tears, sobbing loudly and bitterly, crying out:– Baba… why did you leave us alone? Baba, say hello to Mama… we’ll miss you so much… kind and generous soul.
Neighbors began to pour into the house, followed by the neighborhood children. Soon, everyone was weeping and lamenting.
As for Boutros, he stood frozen, still shocked by his father’s final words before he breathed his last. A wave of dizziness hit him, his face turned pale, and he collapsed unconscious.
People rushed toward him as voices rose around the room:
– Bring some water!
– Call the doctor, quickly!
– Get the car!
– Everyone outside… let us breathe!
Boutros lay on the floor, drifting in and out of consciousness, hearing their voices fade in and out. When someone sprinkled water on his face, he slowly opened his eyes, looked around, and weakly pointed at a glass of water, whispering:
– I want some water…
The room gradually quieted down. Maryam then asked everyone to step outside.
The courtyard of the house filled with people. Suddenly, the priest entered hastily, accompanied by a young deacon carrying an incense burner.
Boutros tried to stand up to greet the priest, but Maryam held his hand and stopped him. He simply nodded in greeting. His face was pale, his eyes sunken.
Maryam leaned toward him and whispered:
– Stay strong, Boutros… the world isn’t going to end… I know you’re strong… your father’s time has come… may God have mercy on him… everything will be alright.
Boutros gave her a silent look, but her words gave his heart a small measure of strength. He whispered to himself:
– She’s right… the world isn’t going to end.
The priest approached Shabo’s body, recited a few prayers over him, then traced the sign of the cross on his forehead. He turned to Maryam and Boutros and said:
– I’ve already informed the church youth. They’ll bring the casket. We need to bury him before sunset. May God have mercy on him… he was a faithful and kind man. His place is in heaven.
He excused himself and left quickly with the deacon.
Montage: Slow fade to black.
Silent shots with music:
• A coffin inside the church surrounded by the family.
• A car convoy heading toward the cemetery.
• The burial moment.
• Family and friends gathered in the church hall offering condolences.
Montage: Slow fade to black.
The wall clock in the late man’s house shows 10:15 p.m. Its steady ticking fills the quiet room. The camera slowly pans to reveal Boutros’ sorrowful face, staring at the ground, lost in thought. He lifts his head and looks at Maryam as if asking her with his eyes: “Did you tell George?”
Maryam turns toward her husband George and says:
– George… please, take Gabriel and go home. I’ll come shortly.
George stands, embraces Boutros and says:
– May God rest his soul… he was like a father to us all… stay strong, Boutros… this is life.
He holds his son’s hand and leaves the room. Maryam closes the door behind him and sits down on the earthen bench beside her brother. She speaks softly but firmly:
– Boutros… listen to me carefully… Baba is gone… may God have mercy on him… we have to keep standing tall. People will come tomorrow to offer their condolences, and after that we’ll talk about your story. I wrote down some things in my notebook… the late father told me about them… and I always told him not to tell you the truth… what’s gone is gone… but I don’t know why he changed his mind lately.
She paused for a moment, took a deep breath, then continued:
– But now… open the pouch and let’s see what’s inside.
Boutros remained silent, his head bowed. He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pouch. Maryam held her breath. He tore off the tape and carefully opened it.
He took out a small wooden cross with his name “Boutros” engraved on it in Syriac. He kissed it and placed it beside him.
Then he pulled out an old yellowed folded paper. He unfolded it gently. It was written in beautiful Syriac script. Maryam tried to read it but understood little, while George, who had returned to hear the story, read it more fluently. The letter said:
I hid the *Beth Kazo* of the church inside a clay jar… wrapped it with goatskin, nylon, and red clay so the rain wouldn’t damage it.
I buried the *Beth Kazo* east of the church, 30 steps from the wall, toward the big tree. I entrusted it to Our Lady Mary to protect it until the bearer of this letter finds it.
If it is found, build a Syriac Orthodox church anywhere in the world.
I distributed 3 copies of this letter to people I trust, and a fourth one inside the jar.
I free my soul before God.
Priest Barsomo Dbe Malki Hanno – May 18, 1914
Maryam’s eyes lit up as she said:
– You know, Boutros… five years ago I asked Father what “Beth Kazo” means… do you know what he said?
Boutros, eager to hear the rest of the story, asked excitedly:
– What did he say?
– He said it has many meanings… but one of them in Arabic is “treasure.”
Boutros jumped to his feet, excitement shining in his eyes:
– Treasure?! That makes a lot of sense… how else could we build a church?! Come here, sister… let me kiss your head.
Maryam tilted her head toward him, and Boutros kissed her forehead.
--- End of Scene 02 ---