chicken,” and that amused him to no end. As we moved through the market, or “souk,” I could feel resentment building as palpably as when you feel a coming storm in the change of desert air.
A few of Joe’s old friends came up to him, nudging him on the hump. Clearly they hadn’t seen the desert recluse in ages. “I’m gonna stay here and tell these guys about my conversion. The Temple Mount is that way and the Wailing Wall is just up there.”
“To the Wailing Wall!” shouted Shalom.
Joe turned back to us and whispered, “Uh-oh, that might’ve been the straw that broke my back.”
The tipping point. A man across the street shouted, “Swine! Devil! You will not go near the Wailing Wall!” Apparently, pigs were associated with devils in ancient lore. Maybe the cloven hooves? I don’t know, but soon there was a growing crowd advancing toward us.
“Jesus…” muttered Tom.
“Wrong word,” Joe said. “Let’s get you out of here!” And we all turned back in the direction we had come. And ran for the desert.
42
NOBEL CAMEL
“To the plane!” Tom yelled. “Let’s blow this clambake!” Four legs are faster than two, and we easily kept ahead of the angry mob, but when Joe got us back to the break in the wall, there was that same crowd of stone throwers loitering on the other side a short distance away, only it had tripled in size and added some adults. Now we were close to being trapped on both sides.
The Muslims started throwing stones again, and the Jews on the other side, thinking they were being attacked, threw stones back at them. Unfortunately, most of the rocks from both sides landed near us. Now it was Tom’s turn to say to me, “It was nice knowin’ ya.”
For the moment, Joe was able to shield us from the fusillade with his bulk and hump, but some hits were drawing blood. Joe looked at me, his eyes as big as mine, and said, “It feels good to be on the side of good now. Good feels good.” He smiled and turned to Shalom. “Whatever I say in the next few minutes—don’t take it personally. The personal is political and the end justifies the means. Up with the workers!”
He rose up. I had no idea what he had in mind. He turned back a last time. “Oh, and when I say ‘run,’ you better run like your ass is on fire.”
“What is wrong with you people?” Joe bellowed, and though the people couldn’t understand him, there is something about an animal in distress that even the stupidest, most prejudiced, most nationalistic human can intuit.
“You Jews inside the fence!” He turned now. “You Muslims outside the fence—why throw stones? You agree so much more than you disagree, but you are blind to your own common ground. You both love the same god and you both hate the same pig!” The stones began to fly at a slower rate now.
“If you cannot come together in love, come together in hate today, against a common enemy, embrace in the brotherhood of pig hatred!”
Shalom muttered, “Say what?” Joe winked at him and spat in his face. “So sorry.”
One Muslim man shouted, “That’s right! You, you dirty Jews, you hate this pig?”
“Can’t stand him,” answered one of the more menacing-looking Jews. “What about you filthy Muslims, you detest swine?”
“They smell,” said the Muslim.
“They’re stupid, lazy, and fat,” said the Jew. One Muslim threw a stone that hit Shalom. Joe held us with his stare. “Not yet,” he said.
A strong-armed descendant of King David and Sandy Koufax slingshot a rock that clipped Shalom again. Joe shouted, “That’s the spirit! Do not attack one another, attack the pig! Man is not the problem! Pig is the problem!”
“I don’t think I like you anymore,” deadpanned a visibly shaken Shalom. “And you weren’t a very good model. You didn’t really look like you smoked. Just sayin’.”
By now the crowd of Jews had spilled through the fence and was met by the crowd of Arabs circling toward them, affording us a
A few of Joe’s old friends came up to him, nudging him on the hump. Clearly they hadn’t seen the desert recluse in ages. “I’m gonna stay here and tell these guys about my conversion. The Temple Mount is that way and the Wailing Wall is just up there.”
“To the Wailing Wall!” shouted Shalom.
Joe turned back to us and whispered, “Uh-oh, that might’ve been the straw that broke my back.”
The tipping point. A man across the street shouted, “Swine! Devil! You will not go near the Wailing Wall!” Apparently, pigs were associated with devils in ancient lore. Maybe the cloven hooves? I don’t know, but soon there was a growing crowd advancing toward us.
“Jesus…” muttered Tom.
“Wrong word,” Joe said. “Let’s get you out of here!” And we all turned back in the direction we had come. And ran for the desert.
42
NOBEL CAMEL
“To the plane!” Tom yelled. “Let’s blow this clambake!” Four legs are faster than two, and we easily kept ahead of the angry mob, but when Joe got us back to the break in the wall, there was that same crowd of stone throwers loitering on the other side a short distance away, only it had tripled in size and added some adults. Now we were close to being trapped on both sides.
The Muslims started throwing stones again, and the Jews on the other side, thinking they were being attacked, threw stones back at them. Unfortunately, most of the rocks from both sides landed near us. Now it was Tom’s turn to say to me, “It was nice knowin’ ya.”
For the moment, Joe was able to shield us from the fusillade with his bulk and hump, but some hits were drawing blood. Joe looked at me, his eyes as big as mine, and said, “It feels good to be on the side of good now. Good feels good.” He smiled and turned to Shalom. “Whatever I say in the next few minutes—don’t take it personally. The personal is political and the end justifies the means. Up with the workers!”
He rose up. I had no idea what he had in mind. He turned back a last time. “Oh, and when I say ‘run,’ you better run like your ass is on fire.”
“What is wrong with you people?” Joe bellowed, and though the people couldn’t understand him, there is something about an animal in distress that even the stupidest, most prejudiced, most nationalistic human can intuit.
“You Jews inside the fence!” He turned now. “You Muslims outside the fence—why throw stones? You agree so much more than you disagree, but you are blind to your own common ground. You both love the same god and you both hate the same pig!” The stones began to fly at a slower rate now.
“If you cannot come together in love, come together in hate today, against a common enemy, embrace in the brotherhood of pig hatred!”
Shalom muttered, “Say what?” Joe winked at him and spat in his face. “So sorry.”
One Muslim man shouted, “That’s right! You, you dirty Jews, you hate this pig?”
“Can’t stand him,” answered one of the more menacing-looking Jews. “What about you filthy Muslims, you detest swine?”
“They smell,” said the Muslim.
“They’re stupid, lazy, and fat,” said the Jew. One Muslim threw a stone that hit Shalom. Joe held us with his stare. “Not yet,” he said.
A strong-armed descendant of King David and Sandy Koufax slingshot a rock that clipped Shalom again. Joe shouted, “That’s the spirit! Do not attack one another, attack the pig! Man is not the problem! Pig is the problem!”
“I don’t think I like you anymore,” deadpanned a visibly shaken Shalom. “And you weren’t a very good model. You didn’t really look like you smoked. Just sayin’.”
By now the crowd of Jews had spilled through the fence and was met by the crowd of Arabs circling toward them, affording us a
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