Reminiscence from the Levant: Part Twenty Five – City of Faith
If going from the Israeli side to the Palestinian side was difficult… coming back was more so… the security check grew almost exponentially.
Security is a touchy issue… therefore I will not be judgmental… Israel has been suffering from a worse form of terrorism, so is India… but in its fight against terrorism, we cannot lose sanity… it is just not an option. Countering terrorism is not a battle of bullets, but a matter of building bridges… sometimes, if not always.
The stern voice at the security check point told me to take out my belt, shoes, waist bag, spectacles, and purse… it ordered me to place everything on a crate that was subsequently x-rayed. I could have flashed my identity and slipped away rather unperturbed… but I wanted to see how far the game goes. What I was doing… upon instructions, was quite normal for an average Palestinian… almost automatic. They were subjected to these security checks everyday. My inability to do the same, sans instruction… was my bane. The security officer was sterner.
When I was through the security check… he ordered me to collect all the crates and place them at their original position. The Palestinians are supposed to do this chore for the security guards… I didn’t quite agree- it was his job, not mine- and if he wanted an assistance, he needed some politeness for it. I refused and said- it's your job. He roared, almost trying to browbeat me… I didn’t blink and said enough is enough- out popped my "special identity"… and he was zapped, he said sorry, profusely and mellowed his voice. He had never expected a "somebody" walking past him, this way. I escaped his wrath… because I was somebody, what about those who are not.
Back in New Palm hostel… I sat down with the owner of the Hostel and started talking about his life in general… he told me that he was from a place called Hebron and that people from the place are often considered ill-mannered and ill-tempered and he wants to change this opinion. He was doing a nice job at that, I must say.
While we were talking, a girl joined us… she was a Japanese (I couldn’t quite gather or understand her name… it was perhaps Eeka or something). She has been living in this hostel for last 6-7 months… learning Hebrew on her own… she knew very good Arabic. Upon knowing that I also knew Arabic, she advised that I should try to pick up Hebrew… as much of the linguistic styling of the two languages are same. And then she told me the most magical way to explore the Old City.
She told me to first wander in the old city without any aid or information for three four hours… and feel the transition happening from one zone to another… and then I can reserve a more informed wandering in the old city for the next day. It didn’t make sense, but as it turned out- it is the best way to explore the old city.
The old city is divided in four quarters- the Islamic, the Jewish, the Christian and the Armenian. And the difference in the day to day life is absolutely profound in all these quarters. The dress, the language, the architecture, the attitude, the security… everything changes remarkably. All this happens within a span of a couple of steps. Couple of steps you are in the Islamic heartland… with veils, medieval markets, mosques and Arabic as the language of communication… and a few steps more you are in the Armenian heartland… modern dresses, cafes, beautiful churches, posters of Armenian genocide and some different language being spoken. The only announced transition happens when one tries to go from Islamic part to the Jewish part… security is much stricter.
The Eastern part of Jerusalem has a certain vivacity… which apparently other parts of Jerusalem lack… meandering through the lanes and bylanes of Eastern part was sometimes serendipity. Eeka told me not to miss that in the evening.
After having my lunch, I set out to explore the Old city… this was the first time I was entering the Old city… during this journey… while exploring the old parts of Aleppo, I had seen places which were out of this world… old Hammams, churches, heritage building… I was fascinated with it. Little did I know, that Jerusalem offers something, which nothing can compare or come close to, no place can even think of offering.
Negotiating my way through the busy thoroughfare just outside the Damascus Gate… I entered the Old City.
When I was about to enter… I shivered. I was entering a place that has been the holiest piece of land for three prominent religions of the world. A place that has some 3000 years of history… a place that has been the root cause for continual dog fight between sections of humanity for last 2000 years. The palette does not get bigger than this…
Jerusalem was the last halt of my travels in Levant. The journey that started in the Syrian town of Aleppo, and took me to the Syrian and Jordanian heartland… was culminating at Jerusalem. In different places, I saw monuments replete… all for the cause of Jerusalem… people who fought, who captured, who were vanquished, and who silently suffered for the cause of this city.
When I used to read about Damascus… it was a city of History personified, when I used to read about Cairo… it was a civilization personified… and when I used to read about Jerusalem… it was faith personified.
I was now completing my trilogy.
I stepped inside the Damascus Gate.
Security is a touchy issue… therefore I will not be judgmental… Israel has been suffering from a worse form of terrorism, so is India… but in its fight against terrorism, we cannot lose sanity… it is just not an option. Countering terrorism is not a battle of bullets, but a matter of building bridges… sometimes, if not always.
The stern voice at the security check point told me to take out my belt, shoes, waist bag, spectacles, and purse… it ordered me to place everything on a crate that was subsequently x-rayed. I could have flashed my identity and slipped away rather unperturbed… but I wanted to see how far the game goes. What I was doing… upon instructions, was quite normal for an average Palestinian… almost automatic. They were subjected to these security checks everyday. My inability to do the same, sans instruction… was my bane. The security officer was sterner.
When I was through the security check… he ordered me to collect all the crates and place them at their original position. The Palestinians are supposed to do this chore for the security guards… I didn’t quite agree- it was his job, not mine- and if he wanted an assistance, he needed some politeness for it. I refused and said- it's your job. He roared, almost trying to browbeat me… I didn’t blink and said enough is enough- out popped my "special identity"… and he was zapped, he said sorry, profusely and mellowed his voice. He had never expected a "somebody" walking past him, this way. I escaped his wrath… because I was somebody, what about those who are not.
Back in New Palm hostel… I sat down with the owner of the Hostel and started talking about his life in general… he told me that he was from a place called Hebron and that people from the place are often considered ill-mannered and ill-tempered and he wants to change this opinion. He was doing a nice job at that, I must say.
While we were talking, a girl joined us… she was a Japanese (I couldn’t quite gather or understand her name… it was perhaps Eeka or something). She has been living in this hostel for last 6-7 months… learning Hebrew on her own… she knew very good Arabic. Upon knowing that I also knew Arabic, she advised that I should try to pick up Hebrew… as much of the linguistic styling of the two languages are same. And then she told me the most magical way to explore the Old City.
She told me to first wander in the old city without any aid or information for three four hours… and feel the transition happening from one zone to another… and then I can reserve a more informed wandering in the old city for the next day. It didn’t make sense, but as it turned out- it is the best way to explore the old city.
The old city is divided in four quarters- the Islamic, the Jewish, the Christian and the Armenian. And the difference in the day to day life is absolutely profound in all these quarters. The dress, the language, the architecture, the attitude, the security… everything changes remarkably. All this happens within a span of a couple of steps. Couple of steps you are in the Islamic heartland… with veils, medieval markets, mosques and Arabic as the language of communication… and a few steps more you are in the Armenian heartland… modern dresses, cafes, beautiful churches, posters of Armenian genocide and some different language being spoken. The only announced transition happens when one tries to go from Islamic part to the Jewish part… security is much stricter.
The Eastern part of Jerusalem has a certain vivacity… which apparently other parts of Jerusalem lack… meandering through the lanes and bylanes of Eastern part was sometimes serendipity. Eeka told me not to miss that in the evening.
After having my lunch, I set out to explore the Old city… this was the first time I was entering the Old city… during this journey… while exploring the old parts of Aleppo, I had seen places which were out of this world… old Hammams, churches, heritage building… I was fascinated with it. Little did I know, that Jerusalem offers something, which nothing can compare or come close to, no place can even think of offering.
Negotiating my way through the busy thoroughfare just outside the Damascus Gate… I entered the Old City.
When I was about to enter… I shivered. I was entering a place that has been the holiest piece of land for three prominent religions of the world. A place that has some 3000 years of history… a place that has been the root cause for continual dog fight between sections of humanity for last 2000 years. The palette does not get bigger than this…
Jerusalem was the last halt of my travels in Levant. The journey that started in the Syrian town of Aleppo, and took me to the Syrian and Jordanian heartland… was culminating at Jerusalem. In different places, I saw monuments replete… all for the cause of Jerusalem… people who fought, who captured, who were vanquished, and who silently suffered for the cause of this city.
When I used to read about Damascus… it was a city of History personified, when I used to read about Cairo… it was a civilization personified… and when I used to read about Jerusalem… it was faith personified.
I was now completing my trilogy.
I stepped inside the Damascus Gate.
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