Part 6 (2/2)
He was completely out of breath. When he saw Schamah and her mother, he excitedly called out: ”So, what the Donkey Driver told me is true! Instead of riding straight to your host's house, you first stopped off here. But why are you staying here longer? Why didn't you travel directly towards Bethany, following the Hinnom Valley, just like I told the Donkey Driver to do?” He was coming close to revealing his other ident.i.ty. I placed my hand on his s.h.i.+rt collar and brought him into the adjoining room: ”I believe it's best that Schamah and her mother don't know that you and the Donkey Driver secretly instigated this part of their visit to Jerusalem. Are you now ready to tell everything?”
He seemed startled: ”Allah, Allah! You're right-that was dumb of me! Still, put yourself in my shoes, Effendi. There I was with all of my Lions, Elephants, Hippos, and Whales, standing near the Pool of Siloam as we waited for Schamah. We were all set to provide a festive, multi-stage-parade as we escorted her to Bethany-”
”With the Hippos and Elephants?”
”Yes, of course!” he nodded. ”I called them all together, because I wanted them to help me welcome my new friend with a grand reception. They all wore their best costumes. We had decorated the entire neighborhood with flowers. We even took branches and swept the streets of the parade route. Upon her arrival, we had all planned to bow at the same time. Next, Firdusi was going to recite a poem.
Thereafter, it would be my turn to give a good speech in her honor.
Following this, there would be more bows, along with a song that included both singing and blowing our horns. Busiri's poem would come next. Finally, there would be a triumphant bellowing 'Huzzah!' At this point, our festive procession would begin to move-half of us ahead and half trailing. I would be riding between Schamah and her mother, leading both of their donkeys.”
I laughed as I exclaimed, ”Yes, you planned a delightful surprise!”
”You're right. Now, imagine how we waited for hours, yet no one came. When Schamah and her mother separated from the Donkey Driver and rode here to your door instead of taking the pre-arranged route, we agreed to modify our plan. Since this thought came to the Driver later on, it was just a few minutes ago that I realized how I might find them waiting here at your place. I hurried here to urge you to come right away-I don't want my Lions and Whales to lose patience!”
It made me sad to know that I had to dampen his enthusiasm, but I couldn't do otherwise-I had to follow through. I shared my reasons regarding why such a grand greeting would be impossible. Think. This would not befit a Christian pilgrim whose inner nature is humble and modest. Likewise, consider her reaction to hearing Islamic poems and the bellowing whoops of your triumphant reception.
He understood enough to see my point of view: ”Good, Effendi.
So, let's omit those things, but do this instead. Do you know ”The Song of Bethany,” telling how Jesus came to visit his siblings?”
”No.”
”Alright, you'll soon hear that song. Are you now planning to take the road towards the Hinnom Valley and the Pool of Siloam?”
”Yes, my wife will likely take a photograph there.”
”Good, that works. Please travel slowly. As for me, I'll rush on ahead of you.”
I wanted to admonish him not to do anything inappropriate, but he waved me off as he hurriedly left in a cloud of dust. We followed him; and just as I thought, my wife reminded me to bring along the camera. She wanted to take a few pictures at the Pool of Siloam and a couple of photos in Bethany.
The purpose of this story is not to describe Jerusalem and its surroundings. For that, I'll let the path of our journey speak for itself. My wife's photographs clearly show the location and the appearance of the Pool of Siloam. In that photo, I'm not dressed like an Arab; instead, I'm wearing European clothes and a safari hat on my head. This partially explains the picture. According to The Book of John, Chapter 9: 7, it was here that Christ healed the man who was born blind.
When we arrived, we saw that no one else was there. I was glad about that. The solitude and stillness matched the moods that we found ourselves in. As we rode along, we limited ourselves to earnest conversations. Little Schamah acted like a lovely inner beam of suns.h.i.+ne that cast its light on our serious-minded subjects. The widow focused on the goal of her journey. One ceaseless, important question quaked inside of her: ”Would her pilgrimage be favorably fulfilled, or not?” As for us and what we already knew, we eagerly held onto our high expectations that the moment of decision would soon come.
My wife wanted to have her picture taken with Schamah, but today the child did not trust the dark, dangling three-dimensional camera-so, she declined. I alone would have my picture taken beside the Pool. After the camera clicked and before we left the site, she took one last, close look, as if to memorize this part of our trip.
Suddenly, the boys surprised us from the right and to the left, both from above and below, practically from all sides and from all heights where they had hidden themselves behind the rocks. They were singing a peculiar, two-part song in the Arabic language. It was ”The Song of Bethany,” when Jesus was on his way to visit brothers and sisters, stopping along the way to heal the sick at the Pool of Siloam.
Picture our inner moods and the outer backdrop of the scenery; all of this seemed to be waiting for us. Here too, we were completely amazed when we heard the profoundly deep and strangely stirring ”Song of Christ.” That song left a lasting impression on us, one that almost brought us to our knees as we intently listened. Neither breath nor foot moved. The singers remained concealed in their hiding-places- they had a good stage director. From this moment on, I never doubted that our lad had been born with a natural talent for art.
From the Pool, we traveled toward Cedron, the brook that flows between Jerusalem and the Mount of Olives. We also wanted to see the so-called upper bridge at Gethsemane. On our way to Bethany, we pa.s.sed by the Jewish burial grounds. Just outside the village, Thar stood all alone. He was waiting for our arrival, so he greeted us.
Very softly, he asked me this question: ”Have you seen them?”
”Whom?”
”The singers. They antic.i.p.ated the time it would take for you to make the trip to Gethsemane, all in order to be here to sing for you once more. Come! I'll lead you to Abd en Nom; you'll want to see the living quarters that we've already reserved for Schamah. After that, we'll go to Lazarus' Tomb, and there you can take a photograph.
He took Schamah by the hand as they went on ahead of us. Abd en Nom's house was located near the site of Lazarus' Grave. The owner of the house stepped outside, bowing respectfully low as he greeted us.
His two sons were there, both of whom we recognized from Thar's description of them: ”the largest Whale that we have and the strongest Hippo that ever was.” Both of them gave us an inspiring impression that they were quite friendly. The little guest house certainly appeared to be clean and cozy. It looked as if the guests would be very satisfied with their accommodations here. When we stepped inside, we saw that we had guessed correctly. Regarding the two rooms prepared for Schamah and her mother, the furnis.h.i.+ngs were so perfectly arranged that nothing more could be wished for. Besides all this, the rooms were decorated with flowers and palm branches that no doubt were part of the festive parade that Thar had planned.
Secretively, the lad gave me this explanation: ”Since I had to hurry so much, everything here had to be put in place very quickly.”
”Well now, where did you find all of the heroes?”
”Right away, you'll hear them.” With these words, he went to the door and motioned to someone outside. Immediately, there arose a triumphant whoop that was at least fifty to sixty voices strong. The pitch and tone of this cheer were so shocking and unnatural, that all of this noise could not have come from real lions, elephants, hippos, and whales. ”May Allah have mercy on you!” I called out. ”That's enough. Please stop!”
When he beckoned with his hand, everything quieted down. Still, we couldn't see where these ”beasts” were hidden away. ”That completes it,” he said. ”Just one last time, I had to let them blare. Now they've had their way, so they won't do it again. Well now, do we want to visit Lazarus' Grave where you can take some photos?”
We all agreed to go, because the sun was already beginning to sink; if we waited any longer, we wouldn't have enough daylight for a good picture. Thar and Schamah ran on ahead, but her mother asked to stay behind. Before it grew dark, she wanted to be sure that their rooms were ready for night time. Her request was such a natural one, that we fully understood her wish to remain at the house. So we went on without her and soon caught up with the children. We positioned the camera so that it was pointed toward the entrance of the tomb. As far as we knew, no one was inside.
From behind a door inside the cave, out stepped the official attendant, waving his arms in the air and shouting at us: ”Not now!
Not now! Now it is forbidden, because a Muslim is inside, a Follower of the Prophet!” Click! He was too late; my wife had just snapped the camera's shutter. In spite of our disobedience of his orders, we were thankful to have a good picture that ill.u.s.trates this part of my narrative. Just as we were putting the camera away, we saw the ”Believer of the Prophet” emerge from Lazarus' Tomb. When he recognized us, he happily hurried out to greet us. It was our good friend Mustafa Bustani. ”How fitting and how right it feels that we should meet here!” he said. ”On our way home, let's go through Kafr et Tur, just like we did yesterday.” Turning towards his son, he asked: ”And you too?” When he saw Schamah, he respectfully bowed: ”And who is this small, lovely child?”
With ever-widening glistening eyes, Schamah stood there. Her pet.i.te face beamed with pure happiness. Jumping for joy, she stretched out her tiny arms, begging him to lift her up: ”My Daddy!
My Daddy!” Thrilled to see him, she clapped her hands together and cried out: ”Mother told me so! My Mother said it would happen!”
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