THE PILGRIMAGE - an epic 30 postings travelogue of a sinner dressed as a pilgrim

You must forgive me. I did not plan to procrastinate so, but between my work and my play, my friends and my family, I have had little time to organise this almanac. But since arriving home from Singapore late Sunday night, I was committed to set up a page about the pilgrimage (umrah haj) I undertook in 2011. You can get there by simply Clicking Here, or going to the astutely named 'THE PILGRIMAGE' on the pages list on the right hand column of the blog.

There is enough to read and see in the thirty specific postings listed in that page, so I shan't trouble you with too many words here.

God bless you!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way 

THE DJINN SPRING - Politics, the Devil and his small 'd' and the Arab Spring

1. The small 'd'

My Lord is not democratic,

So I do not subscribe to

What is not of My Lord,

My Lord is unique

And He does not account

For rights which He bestows not,

Some say it is the Greek,

From where this story began,

But the tale is old,

Much older than the age of this world

To a time and a tale many have forgotten,

When a Djinn of the highest rank

Felt compelled to reject the Lord's command,

Looking at Adam and replying dismissively,

"I will not bow. I am better than he."

.....................

The Big 'D'. That 'Djinn of the highest rank' is of course, as you may already know, the Devil, or Satan or Bezelbub or by any other name that he is known to mankind. God created our common ancient grandfather, and then commanded the whole of creation to prostrate before Adam. And inevitably, Azazil (as he was then known honourably as the first, mightiest and most loyal Djinn of God) in his pride and hubris gazed into Adam, scoffed at the idea of bowing before a puny, weak creature of water and earth, and uttering in disdain, "Ana khairun minhu (I am better than he)". And verily followed the rest of the Djinn Nation in rebellion against God's Word.

Thus arose the very first democratic protest in all of Creation. The 99 Percent against the One. No doubt, media commentators (if they were in existence way back then) would label it 'The Occupy Creation Movement' or 'The Djinn Spring'.

My personal distaste for democracy comes not just from the scriptural lessons, but from real life events that overtakes my otherwise happy days with examples of Man's folly. And how sad when clerics and religious teachers (who really ought to know better) decide to take part in the electoral process and muddy their scholarly cloaks by dragging them through the mud of human politics. Because this is what would happen - they would call unto the population to their most base common denominators - fear, anger, greed and pride.

Yesterday's headline in a local newspaper: "UMNO (the Muslim party in Federal power) heeds the call of PAS (the Muslim party in opposition) to unite to against the Prophet-insulting movie.".This is religious jingoism and the inevitable end when you mix religion and politics.
Why must we ALWAYS play according to someone else's script?
We are led by the nose and we don't even realise it,
thinking ourselves so pious and learned.
*sigh*

My brother, may God bless his soul, said this to me, "Why must we ALWAYS react in anger, with street protests, the burning of flags and blood-curdling cries for vengeance? Why not say, 'How sad we are by the insults towards our beloved Prophet by those who know nothing of him, but lies and prejudices?' We hope they will be rightly-guided, insyaAllah..." 

I don't always agree with my brother, but he is right, I think. May we all be rightly-guided always.

InsyaAllah.

Have a happy insult-free hate-free Sunday, sunshine. It is a beautiful wet drizzly morning here in Kuala Lumpur.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam.

Love will show the Way

The Wedding of Fifi & Khaled - all's well that ends well!

Alhamdulillah, at about 6.15pm yesterday Khaled and Fifi consecrated their marriage vows in a simple Aqad ceremony at the bride's house. Despite the prayers of all involved, the mild afternoon rain turned into a right earnest downpour in the evening. "It is Fifi's tears, bro...," commented Kamarul, "...because she will lose her single status today in the sight of God Almighty, the Prophet Muhammad(pbuh) and Facebook."

As promised, these are some pictures we were able to take last night.

It is about 5.45pm, the hosts are ready, the cameraman is waiting patiently next
to the row of Hantaran (presents from the bride to be exchanged with the groom's
gifts), the youngish Tok Kadi (the religious dude to officiate the Aqad) is here
and in front of him is the two cushions for him to sit facing the groom (when
he arrives, that is)

Finally, Khaled's family arrived suitably wet from the downpour, with his aunties
and female cousins bearing his gifts on traditional dulangs (bronze trays),
consisting of non-traditional presents like an Apple iPad and a Nikon DSLR.

And then... like a dying camel arriving at an Oasis of Love, the groom, attired in his family's
traditional Arabic robes, arrives with a glitter in his eyes and a nervous smile.

"Dig for oil, here!" says the Shaykh.
(Hehehe. Khaled was actually asking where he was suppose to sit)

And a few minutes later, out comes the blushing Fifi from the bridal room carrying
a pretty bouquet of flowers. She will be sitting close by to witness the Aqad ceremony.

The father comes over with some official forms from the Tok Kadi to be signed
by the bride. With a brisk signature Fifi signs off her consent to marriage
and other assorted statutory declarations.

With a single recitation, Khaled completes the Aqad successfully. Sorry, no pictures
as I was behind him and concentrating real hard to listen to his recitation
of the contractual offer and acceptance of his marriage to Fifi. 

At the end, as in all weddings, happy smiles and poses all around.

It was still raining as we left later. There is Kamarul, Heche and Efa waiting for me
in the downpour. I stopped for a while to take this picture and let them get
a little bit more wet, just so I can post this pic on the blog.
I am a dedicated blogger, I am.

Such is life... Boy meets girl. Girl drives boy crazy. They get married.

Have a lovely sabbath, sunshine. We have the official reception to go to this afternoon, then the long drive back to Kuala Lumpur. 

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

A Wedding in Perlis - Pictures tell stories

Fifi's parents love gardening I guess. They have an interesting batch of pink and
orange hibiscus around their little patch of village in Kangar. The red version is
the national flower of Malaysia.

The sinner is in the northern state of Perlis Indera Kayangan, the smallest little state in the Federation of Malaysia and the rice basket of the country. I have not been here for 30 years, I reckon, and am glad to know that things have developed decently, although the old ways are, happily, still the same. As we left our spanking new hotel last night, I was shocked to find a rice combine harvester, ploughing through a paddy field which we did not even noticed were right there in front of the hotel.

I am here for a wedding of two dear friends, Fifi and Syed Khaled, expected to take place this late afternoon after Asr prayers at her house just a five minutes drive from here. The marriage is an interesting amalgamation of Fifi who is a thoroughly Malay girl (with some spots of Siamese heritage I suspect), and Khaled who originates from Arabian stock.

I have misplaced my beloved songkok (traditional black-coloured Malay head gear) during the Eidul Fitri celebrations, and am now rushing to the small city (okay... let's call it a town) of Kangar to look for a replacement. So I can't write much right now. Below are some more pictures I managed to take yesterday.

When we arrived, Fifi the blushing bride was frantically asking us,
"Ooh... take me out! Take me out of my house at least for a while,
I cannot stand anymore of this wedding preparation!" So after telling
her father a bald-faced lie, we headed to Fifi's favourite seafood restaurant
at the jetty in Kuala Perlis. You cannot even see the place from the main road,
and would have to walk down this dark lonely path to find it.
Only the locals knows the place, she says. Wow. Exclusive.

Along rickety and loose planked pier we walked (or is it a jetty?), and pass
through the trees and small houses we arrive at the restaurant, hidden from
prying eyes and with a view of the Straits of Melaka. There were many Muslims
eating, but Fifi had once earlier asked the Chinese proprietor whether the food was
halal (permissable for Muslims). He blustered his reply,
"Waa... Agung pun makan sini! (Even the King have eaten here!)" He he he.

We didn't know what to order, but happily Fifi's relatives were having their dinner
at the next table. So we sought their advice and tested their food before ordering
ours. Yes. Fifi, and by proxy all of us, is quite shameless.

After dinner and incessant calls from her mother to come home, we left happy, satisfied and sleepy. Heche however went to do her best-friend-job and stayed with Fifi to help her with the wedding prep until later into the night.

Now it's 10.50am here in Kangar. And they are waiting for me. Gotta go now, sunshine. See ya later!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

The Legion of Saints in The Age of 'Enlightenment' and 'Renewal' - democracy and the repeated lies of the Arab Spring

The Mawlana

Life begins at 40, they say, so I must be only 2. Hehehe. Life begins at our birth they say, and yea they are not wrong. But my life, your life, our lives is much, much older than that. From our birth, we have in our beings already the past history of mankind, from the creation of Adam and Eve, through the tumultuous events of the past Prophets of God until the arrival upon this Earth, and great was the welcome given unto him because by his birth God has honoured and blessed the world, of the Seal of the Prophets, Master of the Beginning and the End, our most beloved Prophet, Nabi Muhammad ibn Abdullah (pbuh), radiant light of Mercy, perfection upon perfection, the most beautiful rose in the Garden of Creation. Muhammad(pbuh) is the final and complete divine assurance given by God that verily, He has not forsaken us and verily He is most concerned unto his creation with the sublime and all-encompassing attribute as the Most Compassionate (ar-Rahman) and Most Merciful (ar-Rahim).

So how can we say we are young? It makes no sense, even if we are 1 year old or 15. We are only young in experience. So how can we say we are old, for our life stretches from the known history into the known future. The Devil, who is our tireless enemy, has conspired through his arsenal of tricks and traps to disconnect us from this knowledge. And verily, he has succeeded. First through the Renaissance of the West, when he duped people into thinking, “We are young! We are new! We are fresh thinkers! What for we obey the traditions of our forefathers? What for we respect our elders and their silly bumbling ways? King? Who needs a King when we can ALL be Kings?”

146. Old King Louis

Who was it that deposed the King,

And invited the devil(s) in?

Hah! They speak of nations with no thrones,

They speak of republics with no tyranny.

In truth, what have they done

Save only to leave the people

Kingless and unguided

But for the single-minded pursuit of avarice.

Emptying the Bastille

Only to fill her up again.

The hallmark

Of mobs in power.

..........................

They started it.

And we follow. Very smart. 

For the Devil knew that if he wanted to use a people to corrupt others, they themselves must be assured that they are right, that they are the enlightened ones. And the Devil was most arduous in cultivating his ideas amongst the young, the intelligentsia, the soldiers, the politicians and the merchants, breaking down the authority of the Church and the King, until churches and palaces are now mere museums and a showcase for European royalties without authority. Figureheads forced to accept the tyranny of the majority.

PR and Propaganda at its finest.

And once assured of his control, the Devil used the West to spread the Renaissance ideas of corruption, deception and ill-manners under the guise of egalitarianism, liberty and equality, this poison upon the natural human spirit that is called popular democracy. And they found amongst the young Turks and Arabs an eager audience of listeners, ready to uproot the old ways, to topple the Throne of the Shadow of God, to stop calling themselves Ottomans, but now simply Turks! To stop calling themselves Arabs and the Nation of Muhammad but now Iraqis, Jordanians, Egyptians etc… The Devil has reintroduced selfish nationalism and tribalism back into the soul of Islam, when the Prophet himself(pbuh) has cursed it for the hatred and enmity that it sows amongst humanity.

What has happened has happened.

The House of Democracy, Tahrir Square, Egypt.

The House of God, Mecca. Which of this places has God blessed?

The Mawlana of Lefke, Cyprus is calling unto the Nation of Muhammad, and the Believers not to forsake their history. To remember and respect the past, and to seek support from the Prophet Muhammad(pbuh) and unto all His Companions and Saints who are themselves ready and supported by the Light of God. But now people are walking past the Maqams (graves and tombs) of the Saints not knowing or not caring. They don’t even bother to give gracious greetings of salam(peace). Do they think such personages are dead and sleeping in their graves? The saintly dead has hallowed their life and death in the perfection of their Adab (courtly manners and courtesies) while the living walk around with no Adab at all.

What has happened has happened.

You and I know that the dead do not sleep. That death is but a door, a gateway to another place, and verily the blessed Friends of God are more alive than we are. Let us recall our history, for alone we cannot sustain our vigilance against the unending conspiracies of the accursed Devil and his tribe, who sleeps not for even five minutes in their undying hatred for all of Mankind.

God has blessed you, sunshine. For though we are weak and a little pathetic, we are with The Legion of Saints.

Three don't make a Legion, you say? Look with your heart, they reply.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way.

The Mecca of Man

Thy Hallowed House

O’ Lord,

It is not piety that drove me to Thee,

It is not virtues that made me plead to Thee,

It is not faith that led me to Thy Hallowed Sanctuary,

Nor is it patience that allowed me to endure

What Thou has bestowed for me.

O’ Lord,

For Thou knowest best what I hide in my chest

That no other can see, and Thou knowest completely

My selfishness, hubris and vanity.

But as Thou had honoured

The dry arid desert of Mecca

To bear Thy Hallowed House

Honour my dry arid heart

And make me bear Thy name, o' Ahad

And Thy Beloved Prophet, o' Ahmad!

..................

God could have His House built anywhere, but He commanded Prophet Abraham, some 5,000 years ago or more to build it in the middle of the desert of the Arabian Peninsular in the place now known as Mecca. If God was going for accessibility of location, a temperate climate with rich forests and fertile meadows God could have chosen thousands upon thousands of other places. Instead He chose Mecca.

And He could have chosen so many others who are wiser, and more patient, disciplined and stronger than you. But He chose you. Verily, God plans best and the Prophet(pbuh) is His best!

How blessed are you, o' Mecca of Man.

Have a lovely day, sunshine

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

In this Epic you are not an Extra - God the Greatest Writer and His creation that is you

In this picture, the believers are seen besieging the towers of the One Eyed King,
aka the Dajjal aka the AntiChrist. But we reckon the malevolent spirit at
the end of time will give special attention to each and every child
of Adam and Eve. So don't worry about missing the action.
He will come to you.

Like all good epic story, however big the scope of events, World Wars, Famine, Civil Wars, Aliens invading Earth... a good writer would devolve the fundamental issues to a very micro and personal level of the characters in the story, however humble or nondescript they may be - A janitor caught in a firefight with alien monsters from Planet Zorg. A shoe-salesmen saving his daughter from a burning house. Ultimately, the writer draws the audience's attention to the personal and often profound inner struggle of the characters of the piece.

 

The Caliph. 

In these heady days of Middle East crisis (has there ever been a day in the Middle East without some crisis?), the announcement of the new Caliph of Islam, His Majesty King Abdullah II of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, the bitter violent civil war in Sham (Syria) and the Arab Spring, many earnest hearts are looking towards the End of Time sequence, with the coming of the Imam Mahdi and second coming of Jesus, the Prince of Peace. All sorts of fascinating, and often frightening things are prophesied to occur.

Ancestor of the Caliph on a walkabout in Jerusalem some years back.
Shadowed by a Saint.

But much like the writer of epics, God (and let's face it... who is a better writer than He?) has it planned for all of us to play a significant part in the ensuing struggle of Hope vs Despair, Love vs Hate, Truth vs Lies and Humility vs Hubris. No one will be left a bystander in the cosmic movement of events. For however big the stake is, we will all face our own personal Dajjal, our very own personal AntiChrist... and this is how he will come to us -

97. Do I Look Familiar?

Do you think the anti-Christ shall come garbed in black,

With black crows on his shoulders,

And a robe of black on his back?

No.

He shall descend as a man of God,

Calling himself Christ,

And come to you,

As you,

Offering paradise.

O’ self-indulgent one,

Will you be able resist yourself?

....................

So, you have been informed. Follow your conscience, subdue your Ego and your Nafs (base desires), and seek God's protection always. InsyaAllah you will be alright. We wish this for all believers, whatever your faith and however you worship our One Creator.

Amen, sunshine!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Salman and the Best Mirror in all Creation - song and hymn writing in different languages

1. Find a Native Speaker

There is simply no way

For you to write nasyids

And mauluds in another

Language. The best you

Can and ought to do,

Is to find a native speaker

And share a mirror

Together. There is really

No other way to grasp

The nuances and inflection

Of a different nation.

Salman al Farsi knew this,

But he was blessed to find

The Best Mirror of Hijaz

And the Best Mirror of all Creation!

....................

I wish I could understand Arabic, both modern and ancient. Perhaps I shall find time to study, but oh boy, nowadays I am in such a hurry.

Amongst the earlier Grand Shaykhs of the Naqshbandi Order is Salman al Farsi (Salman the Persian), and I am fond of him because he was a non-Arab. When some of the naughtier Companions raised issue that he(Salman) did not belong to any renowned Arab family or clan, the Prophet heard of this and said, "Salman is of my House..."

Thus he was fortunate to find a sympathetic heart, a heart most renowned in kindness, not only in Hijaz, but indeed in all of creation - Muhammad Habibullah(pbuh). Now I am wondering if Salman ever wrote any Arab hymns and songs (nasyid and mawluds) in praise of God and in praise of the Prophet(pbuh)... Or perhaps in his native Persian?

If you know, sunshine... do share with me!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

ISLAM'S CALIPH ON THE THRONE OF JORDAN? - Islam came as a stranger and will come back as a stranger... Therefore give glad tidings to the strangers...

The Noble House

Forgive me o’ Love,

I am only asking what You are asking,

Decrepit and weary, and the meanest of creatures,

I am looking at the Light shining,

After almost a century

Of history in waiting.

God bless the Prophet,

God bless the Master,

God bless the Noble House

And its noble King.

.........................

Almost 100 years ago the mighty Ottoman Caliphate which stood the test of time for 700 years collapsed from the internal and external influences. Thus began the dissolution of an ancient order lasting more than 1,300 years from the time of the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) - beginning with the supreme companions and the four rightly-guided caliphs and through the dynastic manifestations of the Ummayads, the Abbasids, the Fatimids and lastly and most enduring, the Ottomans. Right from the beginning there were disputes and the extent of the reigning Caliph's authority expanded and waned accordingly. But for 1,300 years any Muslim anywhere could at least recognise the final authority of the Caliph, whether it was in Medina, Damascus, Baghdad, Spanish Andalusia, Egypt or Istanbul.

The caliphate appeared to have ended in 1924 when the Young Turks movement, led by the fearsome Kemal Ataturk, abolished the institution of the Caliphate.

About four days ago, a Shaykh based in Lefke, Cyprus has announced and called upon the legal opinions (fatwa) of Muslim clerics the world over to confirm the rightful claim to the Caliphate in the person of His Majesty King Abdullah II, King of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan. Already people are laughing and mocking the pronouncement of such an unlikely personality as the son of the late King Hussain of Jordan. He appears so westernised, so amenable to talks with the Israelis, and his father was a confidante of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, and so... well, how shall we put it politely, not fitting the expected profile of a mighty Caliph. Why, even the wife appears 'progressive' and not traditional. What a shock. What a scandal...

A C.I.A. stooge of the Great Satan, they will say. A traitor to the Arabs and Islam, they will accuse him of being. All this is presently occurring beneath the mainstream media radar. If you google about it there will barely be any coverage now, perhaps one or two muslim on-line forums having a good laugh about it.

The Prophet (pbuh) once said that at the end of times, "Islam came as a stranger and will come back as a stranger... Therefore give glad tidings to the strangers..." Thus I, a hopeless sinner and miscreant, for what it is worth (not a bean, really), am giving glad tidings to this pronouncement, strange as it appears to some Muslims, and to the King of Jordan, whom many will say is a stranger to the throne of the Caliphate, the Amirul-Muqminin of the Nation of Muhammad.

Unlikely? In the history of Islam it has often been the case...
I think God simply don't like being second-guessed.

As far as I am aware, the King of Jordan has not said anything whatsoever. But the Shaykh's pronouncement has already been made and it shall not be withdrawn. Will His Majesty accept? Only time will tell...

And finally, my glad tidings to you, sunshine, on this beautiful morning.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

PostScript - 2nd Posting on the Living Caliph Click Here

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

There Is No Compulsion In Religion, the Carpet Salesman said... in 1300 A.D.

Sometime in 1300 AD (or earlier perhaps), a group of Muslim traders travelled to the Malay Archipelago. These men brought incense, carpets, spices, jewelleries, trinkets, dates, other dried fruits, as well as their belief in one God. It was no plain sailing. To get here they had to resort to desperate measures... especially when there is a storm at sea and a sail is lost. Fortunately they always had one fat Sufi and his baggy pants. So I dreamt, and this was what I drew some years back...

I have no doubt that the travellers were a motley bunch. Some were young and impetuous, others elderly and learned. There were undoubtedly also a smattering of no-gooders, conmen and sinners amongst the crew and traders. On the whole, these intrepid guys found the natives - my ancestors, very charming and not terribly savage. To put it succinctly as one Englishman who came much later observed, 'The people are nature's gentlemen' (kinda vague, I know... but it sounds like a compliment).

The newcomers didn't hardsell their religion which they called Islam. They didn't stand on a barrell and started admonishing and scolding my ancestors for drinking... for pirating... for having almost no sense of punctuality... for dressing less modestly... Well, generally for being themselves. After all, according to these Muslim merchants, there is no compulsion in religion. These Muslims were tolerant and understanding, you see. They are not the judgmental busybodies we have now maligning our society. In Fonzie's term, these guys are what he would call "Cool".

But slowly and surely, they started to become familiar to the natives until finally, they were accepted as a part of the community. Things were coasting along fine this way, until one fateful day, a village elder, chieftan or Raja must have approached the smarter looking of the traders and asked, "Now... Tell me about your religion."

And the rest, as they say, is history.

This is my posting of appreciation to these galant merchants, these lovable rogues and learned saints that sailed into this region and brought with them the Love of the Prophet and the Light of God. They are not like some Muslims these days who cannot even stand the sight of an uncovered woman in the compound of the mosque. For these people, these saints... the world is a mosque, so how can you choose who to prohibit from entering a divine commune with God? They remember and live by the ethos of Muhammad, who was once heard to say...

“This (whole) world was given unto me as a mosque, holy and pure.”

Have a beautiful day, sunshine, and thank you for dropping by my little almanac.

Pax Taufiqa.

I met a man in Jerusalem - Umrah Pilgrimage Part 13

The Old City is a little decrepit and the modern scourge of graffiti decorates some of its walls and tunnels - The common signal of unemployment and disenfranchised youth in any city. In the ancient city of Jerusalem such signs are even more depressing. I see a disconnect between the youth in their standard American ghetto-rap attire and trainers, and the older men dressed in dapper Mediterranean style with their suits and leather shoes. But perhaps the generation gap is only superficial.

Old Jerusalem is always beautiful, and if not, at least mysterious. Where would this tunnel lead me to?

Jabba the Hut used to frequent this coffee shop. So the street was named after him.

I had 3 cups of expressos here. While sipping caffeine, I jotted this note down in my phone (I left my diary in the hotel room) - "Jaber coffee shop, drinking coffee n plain water. So cold dat i have to wear a hat. Everyone drinking coffee n playing cards... Nothing to eat here at all? Earlier prayed zohor at aqsa... Saw d dome of d rock... tel aviv. It must b d sandstone capital of d world. Looks like europe. Amazing green contrast d minute we cross from jordan to israel. No problem at ben gurion airport... Except for some israeli making a ruckus at one passport counter. Beautiful arab school kids just out, and damn if they dont look jewish..."

Seeing me alone, and undoubtedly a non-local (but how?), an elderly gentleman approached me and I invited him for a cuppa. His name was Abu Ayob and lived in a village not far from here. After light banter and another cup of coffee. He invited me to his home, "You can see the Dome and al-Aqsa from my house!" And indeed I could see them when later I found myself sipping tea with sage in his frontyard. To be honest, I was a little worried, going along with a complete stranger in Jerusalem. But I did anyway (what is a holiday, without a little risk). In the bus, the lesser civil crowd chucked a couple of candy wraps at the sinner, but Abu Ayob straighten them out pretty quick. And as I walked with him into his village, I felt good that I had him to escort me. In the bus later, I saw a boy throwing litter at a chicken. What is it about this place and throwing stuff at things/people? Again, I feel that the young people would benefit from an economic growth. But even the shops are selling some electrical products looking at least 5 years pass its sell-by date. It is clear that the continuing stalemate between the arabs and the Israel government is doing them no good.

He has 3 young sons and 2 elder daughters. The youngest, Abdullah was the most curious about the sinner, shyly peeping behind the door at me. I look at his young family (he must have married pretty late) and wondered what the future has in store for them. They appear to be like flotsam and jetsam, adrift in an arbitrary and ancient conflict. But this conflict is not as ancient as it appears to be. Oh no... I know that arabs, christians and jews lived in peace in this blessed land for hundreds of years before. something happened to change this. The effects of the fall of the Ottoman caliphate (I think it is wrong to call it an empire) is still reverberating here, and indeed, all over the world. It is strange, I mused, how even Muslims forget that the Caliphate expired only some 90 odd years ago, when the last Sultan in Istanbul abdicated and the Young Turks took over and banned the turban and made western suits mandatory.

O' Abdullah, where are you climbing to?

My newly found friend took me back to Herod's Gate. He refused, he said, to allow his wife and daughters to work in a Jewish household. And life was tough. "Such is the fate of people living in the vicinity of the Dome of the Rock and al-Aqsa", he said the Prophet once prophesised. Money is never enough too. Well, I am not sure, I thought to myself, that prohibiting your family from working with the jews is the best resolution to the problem. But then, I am not an arab, and I am not born here in Jerusalem. I have not tasted the painful edge under what they would call a foreign occupation. I asked him if the jews rode the bus I was in. No, he said. It is not prohibited, but they never do. It must be exhausting, living in this manner, I thought. And I could see it in the worried lines of his face his constant worry for his family. Many have given up and have migrated to the USA for a better future, becoming doctors and good American citizens. What America has gained, I fear, is an irreplaceable lost to Jerusalem.With that sad thought, I walked slowly back to my hotel, to wait for my group to return from their travel itinerary.

As I jot this down, I am wistful and miss Jerusalem terribly. I hope to visit her, and perhaps make acquaintance with Abu Ayob once again. Have a lovely day, sunshine. If you have not visited Jerusalem, you should. It is both glorious and sad.

Pax Taufiqa.