Travel Tales in the Promised Land (Palestine) Part 5

The field for fighting formed four corners: Lions to the north, Hippos to the south, Elephants to the east, and Whales were confined to the west. Schamah sat on the southern side of her throne, where she could easily keep her eyes on everything. Guewerdschina the mule served as her throne, the most protected place that remained on that site. Musicians sat in the corner: a jar-drum, a tambourine, trumpets, and a fipple flute. If Thar were wrestled to the ground, they were supposed to make the loudest possible clamor. With the victory never tipping to their side, the Hebronite musicians had no chance to play their instruments.

They had chosen their strongest athletes. The compet.i.tion's rules were very simple: the loser would be whoever was thrown to the ground in the first three beast- matches. The battle of the Whales would take place in the fountain. The winner had to dunk his opponent, then publicly spew a mouth full of water in his face.

Before the matches began, the Four Heroes of Hebron were asked whether they wanted to withdraw their names from the compet.i.tion.

"For no amount of money!" they replied.

Secretary of State Abdullah then gave the signal for the battle of the Lions to begin. The Lion of Hebron stepped forward. He was the same tall, robust boy who first gave a speech. When he saw all eyes turn towards him, his face took on an overly confident expression.

Thar stood beside us: "Watch carefully! See how quickly this happens. The main thing is to give your enemy no time to think." He then stepped into the ring, bowed to Schamah, and positioned himself squarely in front of his foe. No doubt he had learned this knightly behavior from hearing some legend, or from some fairy tale. Abdullah now clapped his hands three times. In the blink of an eye, it happened. When his opponent hesitated, Thar lunged. He let him come quite close, then sprang to the side as he clenched the boy from behind and completely buckled him under. Just as he had wrestled old Eppstein down to the ground, he firmly held the young Hebron Lion as he called out to the musicians: "Now you can sound your notes of triumph for him!" Of course, they were silent. The loser slowly stood up; with his head lowered, he slinked away.

Next came the Battle of the Elephants. The opponent was a c.u.mbersome guy who seemed to have twice the strength as our boy possessed. With a smile, Thar gave a nod to us. That was a good sign.

He had told us how those in the Elephant Club had to do their trampling in unison. First here, then suddenly over there, he didn't simply take the kid down-he bounced him to the ground. When Abdullah gave the signal, Thar powerfully launched forward, swung himself upward, and simply sprang over that heap of a foe. In an instant, he put his knees upon the boy and called out to the musicians: "Loudly, loudly, now play your song of triumph for him!" All around, stillness reigned.

Only Secretary of State Abdullah angrily called out: "Oh my, two are already down. This is not acceptable. Let our Hippo come forth, and he will stomp him into the ground. The Hippo was a short, thick rascal who was not endowed with muscles, just a lot of fat.

Fearlessly, he rolled his eyes; he had good courage. As the time drew nearer for the start of the match, he put his head down like a runner. Letting out a colossal hoo-ha, the Hebron Monster then lay down on the ground and stretched his legs into the air. He held his head with both hands and bellowed as if someone were planning to roast him on a grill. Thar just stood there erect; with a laugh, he teased the musicians: "You guys don't need to play your drums nor blow your horns, because he's making his own music."

Now the giants of the ocean would show what they could do. The former four sides of the ring now collapsed. Everyone headed to the deep well, wherein the final judgment was supposed to take place.

Thar was the first to arrive at the cistern; he stood ready to descend into the water. The Hebronites came less quickly. Slowest of them all were the Whales. The very last one to arrive was the guy that was supposed to fight with Thar. With a very embarra.s.sed look on his face, he came to the brink of the well, then looked away as he said: "I don't want this job anymore!" Abdullah responded: "You've already accepted the position, so you must go through with it!" As the boy turned and hurried away, he called out: "Not for any amount of money! I'm leaving!"

"So, we must choose someone else!" said Abdullah. From out of the throats of the remaining Whales, this chorus rang out: "You couldn't pay me enough money! I'm going-I'm leaving-I'm out of here!"

One after another, they disappeared, until there were no more to be seen-except one in the distance. Without saying "adieu," the Lions followed those who had already left. In much the same way, the Hippos and the musicians made the same kind of exit. Most of the Elephants ambled off in single file, but some left in twos and threes. Without saying a word or grudgingly waving good-bye, the adults finally rode away.

Thar turned towards Schamah: "Now do you believe that I'm a hero?" She handed him the Canterbury-bells: "From the very beginning, I believed you. You've won, so here are your flowers." He accepted the prize, then he gave the bouquet to my wife, asking her to take care of them; she could do this better than he would.

In the distance, we now saw another considerably large procession, and it looked like it was coming our way. With their sharply trained eyes, our adversaries had already seen this approaching caravan. For that reason, they hurried away. They didn't want their disgrace to be discovered by the incoming crowd. We too no longer had a reason to stay, because the time was drawing nearer for us to move on and keep our appointment to meet Mustafa Bustani.

Schamah's mother said that she and her daughter were headed towards The Oak of Abraham; from there, they wanted to travel to the Russian Hospice and spend the night. The Arabic widow had heard that penniless pilgrims could stay there free-of-charge. Our friendly Donkey Driver declared that the mother and daughter didn't have to walk that distance; since his return to the city would be the same route that they were traveling, they could ride with him.

When Thar heard this, he quietly asked me: "Effendi, do you have a 20 franc coin? Please, give it to me, but don't let anyone see it." I suspected why he wanted the money, so I said "Yes," and secretly slipped him the coin. Schamah and her mother climbed upon one of the mules, and the driver rode upon another. Thar vaulted onto the back of Guewerdschina and said: "I'm riding with you. Once we reach the Oak, I'll walk back. Before my father arrives, I'll be there."

He tugged the dove's tail high into the air-she let out a loud hee-haw and shot down the road. My wife gave the widow our name and our address in Jerusalem and invited her to make every effort to visit us there. We would genuinely and whole-heartedly like to see her and her young daughter. She promised that she would a.s.suredly do her best to visit us. So giving her word, she said good-bye as they rode away and tried to catch up with Thar. My wife and I then took a short walk on the surrounding area, making sure that we avoided any further encounters.

When we reached the rendezvous, Thar was already waiting for us: "They're so very poor. They only know that I was concerned about them and that I wanted to accompany them to the Hospice."

"Do they know your name?" I asked.

"Yes."

"And your father's name?"

"No. You may have heard that the Prophet tells us this: 'Whoever gives to the poor should give everything-only not in the name of his father.' Anyway, I'll see them again in Jerusalem. You can count on that."

Soon thereafter, Mustafa Bustani arrived with the carriage. He was very glad to hear that the local citizens did not harm us nor his son. He shared the fact that there had been several clashes between Muslims and Jews. In light of the fact that he personally was so angry about the rude reception from his business colleague, he had even refused to share a meal with the man. Now, he was hungry. As soon as we climbed in and were once again moving, we brought out the food that we had packed earlier. So, our on-the-go evening meal's setting was atop four rolling wheels.

On the return home, nothing happened that would be important enough to retell. When we reached the Hebron Valley, we once again stopped at the caf,. This time in a much more measured manner, the innkeeper stepped out and asked for our orders. Mustafa Bustani spoke up: "Five cups of coffee!" The drinks were served and sipped. I then pulled out my money pouch: "How much for the five?"

"Exactly one half franc," he answered.

"And the fifteen from forenoon?"

"One and a half francs."

"So, altogether for the twenty?"

"Two francs."

I gave him only two francs-not a fraction of a Turkish piaster more: "Here! Paid in full!" He quickly gripped the money and slipped it into his pocket. This time, he bowed deeply as he sincerely said: "Effendi, I thank you. You are fair as well as wise. May your journey home be a blessed one."

The trip was indeed a blessed one. Mustafa was angry about the fanaticism of his fellow believers; during the entire time, he had no objection to his son's crush on the small Christian girl. When we reached Bethlehem, he took a deep breath and said: "A lot of love and much goodness has come out of this small city, much more than any other large and famous pilgrimage places. Today, I was rightly and starkly reminded of my own zealot's mind-set. What have you ever done to the people of Hebron? Not a thing! Still, they transgressed against you. Such unkindness and injustice! What did my own brother do to me? Nothing. Yet, I banished him, my dear brother. I was much more unloving and far more unjust than the Canaanites of Hebron. Now that evening is finally here, I can tell you that thoughts of him were with me throughout the entire afternoon.

"What was his name?" my wife asked.

"Achmed Bustani. As you heard me say, we still kept the same family name. I now have no greater wish than that he is still alive and that he will find me!"

"Would you really divide your wealth with them?"

"Of course, immediately! It's not only because I promised my dying wife that I would do so-for me, it's a personal necessity. Ever since that dream that I told you about, I've had a very strange feeling about something more that I now must be concerned about as we make our way home. When we were outside of Abraham's Well, it seemed as if some invisible thing accompanied you when you climbed into the carriage-something that took hold of me and now doesn't want to release me again. Perhaps it's nothing more than realizing the wrongs that need to be righted. Yet in a strange sense, I'm not anxious; instead, it makes me feel much more at ease. There's a feeling of contentment. It burrows itself into me-not to torment, but rather to put me at ease. Are you going to laugh at me when I tell you something which you yourselves can not comprehend?"

"To laugh would not even occur to us!" I answered. "Be confident of that!"

"I have the feeling that today I shall again dream of my brother. Isn't that funny?"

"By no means."

"So, you believe that this is possible?"

"Certainly."

"Secretively, what do you think?"

"Oh no! All too often, we men make the mistake of treating completely natural things as if they were mystical. In the course of today's events, the picture of your brother has been shoved into your mind's consciousness. Until now, you have held all of this tightly inside of you, and it's become even more deeply embedded. Hence, it's no wonder, and indeed very understandable, that you would dream about him as you preoccupy yourself with your return home. Whenever we perceive something as wonderful, be certain that in spite of all our experiences, we misguidedly label the obvious things in nature as inconceivably miraculous."

As we now rolled on towards Rachel's Tomb and to the Prophet Elijah's memorial, we soon arrived in Jerusalem-at precisely the moment when nightfall tenderly entered the Holy City. Whatever was intended for me to learn in Hebron, I hadn't yet grasped it. As we would plainly see tomorrow, this here-to-fore unknown would turn out to be quite different and infinitely better. So it seems that life always takes care of things. If we are somehow denied some external, material wish, or if an unexpected grief gets in the way of the joy we were hoping for, our ignorance does not hesitate to quarrel with destiny. That which we were denied on the outside may now become an inner victory. Although this last truth may not be apparent if we oppose it like some kind of enemy, be quite certain that it still knocks on our door. Usually afterwards, we realize that we have gained life's less-valued, quite inexpensive gifts that we so very much long for. Concerning the saddle, this was also true. I was sure about my desire for it, but my wish to own it had to rely upon earlier circ.u.mstances that were directed otherwise. Looking back on those past events, we are most often too short-sighted and impatient to grasp the meaning of these things.

The next morning, we had barely risen and sat down to drink some coffee, when we heard a knock on our door. Who stepped in? It was Thar. European style, he stretched out his hand and greeted us: "Good morning!" We gave him our thanks and approvingly saw how he was fully dressed in fresh, spotlessly pure white clothes. "You are probably surprised, right?" he said. "The colors are no longer stylish. Our lady here first spoke about heroism that is authentic and doesn't need to be painted up. Since then, I've wanted to be a real hero-no artificial coloring. Secondly, you also heard how my new girlfriend Schamah yelled out 'Phooey!' when I wanted to paint my body with bold blue, green, red and yellow colors. What she said to me is worth more than past advice you have offered. I've definitely decided, that in the future, I'll lay aside the superficial paint and only deal with things that don't need artificial coloring. By the way, I'm only here on account of Schamah. If she and I are permitted to drink coffee, why then are your cups bigger than ours?"

He got what he wanted, so he sat down and continued to talk: "Next, I want you to know that as long as Schamah stays in Jerusalem, I'm withdrawing from all four clubs: the Lions, the Elephants, the Hippos, and the Whales. For this mission, I've now dressed in white in order to inform each of the clubs that I may no longer a.s.sociate with beasts-at least for the time being. Schamah is so polite, and if I'm not nice too, then I'll feel ashamed of myself. She said 'Phooey!' much too readily. Well then, you must be aware of the fact that she's coming to Jerusalem today."

"How do you know this?" I asked.

"It is part of the conspiracy."

"So, there is a plot?"

In all seriousness, he nodded and said "Yes."

"Who is doing the plotting?"

"I am."

"With whom?"

"With the Donkey Driver."

"As of yesterday?"

"Yes. For that secret plan, I needed the twenty francs from you.

Here is the money that I borrowed. Thank you." He took two golden ten franc coins out of his pocket and laid them on the table. However, I didn't pick them up-instead, I said: "Before I accept the money, I have to know what it was for. Instead of loaning you the money, I gave it to you."

In earnest, he said: "You're mistaken! I don't beg; I only borrow. Schamah and her mother are poor, very poor. At times, they don't have enough to eat. Without asking anyone, I came to this conclusion. In contrast, I'm rich, and I'm her friend. Thus, without their knowing, I took care of their room and board at the Hospice.

Today, the Donkey Driver is bringing them to Jerusalem-of course, on better animals than they rode yesterday. They still do not know that it was I who paid for these things. When they arrive here, they won't go into the city. Instead, they'll veer to the right, riding into the Valley of Hinnom, then up the Mount of Olives towards Bethany. At that point, they'll meet my friend Abd en Nom.

"Who is Abd en Nom?"

"He is the father of both the greatest Whale in our club and the heaviest Hippo that ever was. He is a host to pilgrims. At the moment, his house is completely empty, so Schamah and her mother have more room than they really need. They'll also have meals there. Of course, Schamah believes that all of this was because the Hospice recommended them. Abd en Nom likes me. I'll be going with him as we make the preparations."

"And you are paying for all of this?"

"Yes, but I ask you not to reveal this to anyone. Schamah and her mother must never know this secret."

"Does your father know?

"No."

"My dear boy, you know this will cost a lot of money!"

He happily laughed as he replied: "I have it."

"From whom?"

As he answered my question, Thar quickly became serious again: "From Mother-before she died. She loaned me the money, and every month, I receive the interest. Since Father is the trustee of her estate, he gives me the money. I'm not permitted to hold onto the money. I'm required to spend it-not on myself, but for poor, old, sick people who find themselves in need. That's the way Mother wanted it, so Father has to allow me to spend it how I wish. He may only counsel me if I use the money in a way that differs from Mother's instructions. That has never happened, because I loved my Mother.

With every piaster that I spend, I think about how she would do the same or otherwise. To be truthful, before I borrowed the money from you, I first had to think about what my Mother would say. Before I went to sleep that night, I asked myself that question. As I awoke early this morning, I knew in my heart that she is in complete agreement-and that she's pleased about Schamah and her mother.

Effendi, will you now take back the money you loaned me?"

"Yes," I answered and slipped the coins into my pocket. In recognition of his soul's goodness, my wife poured him a second cup of coffee. He took a sip, then spoke further: "Seriously, I want to look after her. I would like to be her guide to all of the holy sites, including Bethlehem and anywhere else she wants to visit. Do you know why I would do this?"

"Out of compa.s.sion," my wife said.

"Yes, I too first thought of this. Yet when I reflected on my heart's decision, just as I always do when I think of my Mother, it wasn't a feeling of sympathy. Rather, there was something else.