The White Nile
Sunday.
Church bells.
It is the Christian’s Sabbath in the Holy City of Peace.
We hike to King David’s Tomb. I pay the twenty-five cent fee, borrow a paper cap and am allowed inside to watch the other American tourists watching me.
Next door to David’s Tomb is “The Upper Room” where the Holy Ghost inspired some of Jesus’ students after His untimely departure. The Ghost is still at it up there; a circle of Christians are moaning and swaying with one finger pointing in the air. They chant: “Save me, sweet Jesus!” in English.
On the ground floor of the same building, some men, apparently Jews, are arguing (also in English) and pounding their fists on a big table.
Around the corner is a church built “on the spot where Mary went to sleep”, as they say, and down a nicely landscaped hillside is the “House of Quality” where contemporary craftsmen display their wares. We go down, of course, and I see a gold-and-crystal ring I covet and a small patient fellow blowing glass goblets.
Sunny loans me a book that I read all night in my room: “The White Nile”; it puts my own little adventure into proper perspective.
...
No comments:
Post a Comment