Zion by Colin Falconer

Zion by Colin Falconer

Author:Colin Falconer [Falconer, Colin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: History, Middle East, Israel & Palestine, Mysteries & Thrillers
ISBN: 9781621250975
Google: SCBJnwEACAAJ
Publisher: Cool Gus Publishing
Published: 2013-10-14T16:00:00+00:00


Sheikh Daoud had aged. The flesh had wasted off him and there were bald patches in his beard and tears in the creases around his eyes. His sons had to help him down from his horse. The old goat will soon stand in the presence of Allah, Zayyad thought. It will take more than a thousand virgins to revive him in Paradise. They say his yard hangs useless between his legs like a water bag hanging off the saddle of a camel. A just reward for living beyond his time and burdening us with his presence longer than is our due.

Zayyad stood at the doorway to greet him, his ceremonial Bedouin sword buckled at his waist for the occasion. They embraced - his body is as light as a child’s, Zayyad thought - and he ushered the old man inside. He was sure he could hear the sheikh’s bones creaking as his sons helped him sit. Soraya and Ramiza fetched sweet mint tea and a silver platter of halwah.

“May your way to my house always be smooth,” Zayyad said.

“A blessing on you also, brother,” the sheikh replied.

“We give thanks to Allah to find you in such strength and vigor.” It is only your sons who are holding you upright!

Sheikh Daoud worked his prayer beads between his fingers. “Thanks be to Him, I rejoice in finding you also in such excellent health. It is legend in all Judea how your sons continue to prosper and their houses increase.”

“Thanks be to Him,” Zayyad said.

The ritual of welcome was, of necessity, long and painstaking, for there were enquiries to be made after the health and fortunes of their many sons and daughters and grandchildren, and praise and thanks duly offered up to God for each.

Finally Sheikh Daoud looked up at the framed photograph of the Mufti that hung on Zayyad’s wall, and rasped, “Praise be to Allah for returning our Mufti to us unharmed.”

Perhaps He just wishes to purge us through suffering, Zayyad thought. “It is indeed a great miracle.”

“He has spoken on radio in Cairo urging us to crush the Zionists and throw every one of them into the sea.”

“Insha’Allah,” Zayyad said, carefully.

“How could His wishes be otherwise? But we must prove ourselves worthy of His help. We must be prepared to sacrifice our blood for an Arab Palestine.”

Easy for you to say, Zayyad thought. You already have one foot through the Gates. “Tell me, brother, where will all this lead us? Will it bring the young men back to the village, will it give our fellaheen their own fields or will they still toil for some city effendi who may one day sell the land again, as they sold it to the Jews? Will an Arab Palestine give us back our old ways?”

“Of course,” Sheikh Daoud said.

May a leprous camel fart in your face! Zayyad thought. May the testicles of all your grandsons shrivel up like currants in the sun and may your granddaughters all give birth to water melons! You



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