Local Portraits

 

If I were to go again, I would spend more time with locals. But here are a few portraits and experiences.

In Ramadan, Muslims try to complete at least one recitation of the Quran. That is why everywhere you look, people are reading. 

It was really difficult to get a car into the Old City, so you often saw sights like this.

Friends.

The older generation.

Washing for prayer.

Almost everyone from our group met this twelve year old girl, Fatimah Az-Zahra. (Red and black dress. Her mom is in the dark pink scarf.) She was at the mosque every day and had pretty good English. It turns out she was from Gaza City and had received a permit to come to Jerusalem for medical treatment. As far as we could understand, there was something wrong with her kidneys.

I didn't let on that I knew as much Arabic as I did, so I did understand that the adults with her were telling her to ask me for money. She did not ask me. 

Instead, she said, "You are beautiful. Are you married?"

I said, no I wasn't. She made motions toward her ring finger. No, no, I shook my head. "Husband? You have husband?" Nope. 

"How old are you?"

"34."

I was reassured that I looked a mere babe.

My age conveyed to the adults. Sounds of disbelief. Then the aunties prayed for me to get a wonderful husband.

I tell you this story as reassurance. People are the same everywhere. 

We also went to the pharmacy for Claritin and Tylenol. The pharmacy seemed to be open on whim. Mostly it was closed. One day we were lucky to find it open. We went inside to find the old pharmacist nodding to sleep in the back office. 

We shouted a bit: "Ammo, lau samaht." "Uncle, if you please (excuse me)." He jerked awake. As he hobbled around getting the medicine, I noticed a cracked plaque hanging above the register. Massachusetts College of Pharmacy. Class of 1966. 

Yes, he'd gone to America to study before we were born, but he'd had elderly parents and three unmarried sisters so he'd come back. They were all gone now but he had seven children and innumerable grandchildren. 

He used to visit America every few years, but now in his old age, he said he liked to stay at home. When he wanted to get out for a bit, he opened up the pharmacy.

It was sort of dream-like inside that pharmacy, as if the outside world didn't exist. A magical little man, popping out for a bit and then nodding back to sleep once the customers were gone.

I'll leave you with one last story.

A common practice in the Muslim world is saying the durood or sending blessings and peace to the prophet Muhammad. 

I've learned recently that (at least some) Christians do not pray for the dead since death seals your eternal fate. But Muslims believe that eternal fate is not sealed until the final judgement and your deeds that continue to do good in this world after your death continue to count in your favor (good scientific research, ayyyy) as well as people praying for you and then in the end, God's mercy. 

So it is common practice to send prayers for peace and blessings on all of the prophets, particularly the prophet Muhammad. 

In the Arab world, it's used for other purposes as well. A common one is using the phrase to compel concession. In a hostile situation, people will say, "Sallu ala Muhammad! Sallu ala an-Nabi!" "Send blessings upon Muhammad! Send blessings upon the Messenger!" When the other person grumbles, "Allahumma salli ala Muhammad", "Oh Allah, give blessings to Muhammad" he has conceded. Out of respect to the prophet, he will discontinue his side of the disagreement.

In an ironic moment, I saw a disagreement between and Arab and a soldier. As best as I could tell, the Arab was being denied entry into a building. The soldier was saying, "Sallu ala Muhammad! Sallu ala Muhammad!" and the Arab guy finally threw up his hands and said the durood.

One other way it's used is in selling and bartering. We'd pass by little kids manning their parents' dessert stall, making aggressive eye contact and bellowing, "Sallu ala habiiiiiibi Muhammad!" "Send blessings upon my beloved Muhammad!" As far as I could tell, it was a way of making people stop out of respect to the prophet. The trick was to avoid the eye contact, ha.

If I went back, I would talk to more people, hear more stories.