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Travelogues
Not far from the Western Wall is the Shuk (the "flea" market", where nary a flea is to be bartered in). The stalls of the market are roughly divided into the "Jewish half" and the "Arab half". That division is rough indeed. In reality, Jews' and Arabs' stalls are often situated one next to the other, selling similar goods. Both make a living from tourists, Israeli and foreign, who come to Yerushalayaim and also from residents looking for a good deal on something one doesn't find in ordinary stores - a special present for someone perhaps, a rug for the winter or a nargilah and the dried fruits and spices which are smoked in the nargilah. The Jewish and Arab owners of the stalls make coffee for one another in the back of their stalls to get them through sun-up to sun-down work days. They share one another's economic good fortune, and bad. At the end of the "Arab" shuk is the casbah. Upon unknowingly stumbling into the casbah, in the heart of the Arab Quarter of Yerushalayim, many years ago I was initially afraid. Noting my trepidation, I was invited to sit and join the old-timers of Yerushalayim, Arab and Jewish alike, who sat and sit, to this day, in the small restaurants over cups of rich Turkish coffee and plates of hummus and olive oil with warm pitah bread, whiling the hours away playing backgammon. One evening when my husband went out for evening prayers I turned on the television in our hotel room. There was a live broadcast on the site of an act of terrorism. It was eerie to see the very same sky in the background of the live TV broadcast and from my hotel window. "My husband, where is he?!!!" my head began to spin, my heart to pound. I went to the telephone and called room service. "Where", I asked, "was that shooting?." "Not in this area, Madame," was the polite and understanding answer I received from the Arab concierge. Looking out the window of the hotel I saw that the traffic, mostly workers returning from work, flowed as usual. As usual…Yerushalayim is determined to be known for its learning and cultural centers, its bistros and its magnificent views, its many houses of prayer - and yet to be a normal place to live in for its residents. The skyline is so very beautiful in Yerushalayim. Dominating the view is the dome of the Al Aksa Mosque. The magnificence of the Mosque pays tribute to the loving devotion with which it was planned and so painstakingly built. I have gone up to the courtyard of the Al Aksa Mosque and seen the men performing the necessary ablutions all Moslem men must perform before entering a Mosque. I have spoken to those men and did not hide my appreciation for the beauty of Al Aksa from them. "But, why should it stand on the Temple Mount?" I ask myself every time I have seen it. It does not belong in Yerushalayim at all. So beautiful is the Al Aksa Mosque - so very imposing a structure it is. The next morning I was to learn that the shooting on the bus was aimed at teen-age school girls on their way home from classes. I was also to learn that the Arab waiter in the dining room of the hotel was just as concerned about the influence of Western culture on his teen-age children as we are and having lived in Israel for so many generations, his family is no less 'Israeli' (whatever that means exactly) than we. It is the young people in Jerusalem who most commanded by admiration and respect. Due to the fact that there are so many institutions of higher learning in Yerushalayim, most of the young people look like students, even if they're not. At the Hebrew University itself the young people sit in groups on the grass (weather permitting) and speak animatedly about the big and little things of which students speak. Couples hold hands and give one another a quick peck when they separate, each to his/her own course. They dress in jeans, but there is an air of easy self-respect about them. There is also an air of determination about them. They are determined to live as normal a life as circumstances will allow. Their determination to live is iron-willed, but not militant. Like the hardy plants which push their way through the cracks in the stones of the Western Wall, they live and grow and will continue to do so as long as the God of Israel gives them time to. In the evening the youngsters come to the reasonably priced eateries, which are still popular with that age group, and sit and laugh over a glass of wine or a cup of cappuccino. They are lovely. They, the young women as well as the young men, are Israeli's soldiers. It boggles the mind and wrenches the heart. The real Yerushalayim, the Yerushalayim which only the Israelis know, is very unlike its media image. It is at once much more mundane and somehow much, much greater. –
Doreen Dotan |
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