The city, the unending refugee camp

A brief look at Yarmouk, the Palestinian refugee enclave in Damascus, Syria, as told in a sample from my novel The Valley of Kings

They didn’t really sleep much, but still awoke rested and awake and aware, and ready for the day. The night had energized them, to such a level that sleep had practically become redundant. The day brought more sightseeing, more breathing and tasting the more or less unknown spices. Each and every one expanded their senses. Each breath brought new sensations.

They visited Yarmouk, a Palestinian refugee camp turned city.

– They arrived here in 1959, Larry said. – Look, what they’ve done with the place.

It did impress the travelers. They saw a kind-of hybrid, a city, but still a camp, with many impromptu solutions concerning electricity and such, but also hairdressers, restaurants, law firms, doctor’s offices, and everything any given city offered.

– The Nakba in 1948 remains a horrible crime, Fatou said passionately, – and so does everything the zionists have done later. The Palestinians have every right to defend themselves against the colonizers and occupants.

Choirs of agreement followed her statement. It was spread and enhanced through Ted and Liz to the rest of them, and to the other people in the street. They looked wide-eyed at each other.

The travelers, after a bit of deliberation chose a restaurant. A huge sign proudly proclaimed its name.

AMAHL’S KITCHEN

Both guests and employees inside stared at them. One man finally stepped forward to greet the new arrivals.

– We’re quite a bunch, Liz said pleasantly. – Can you accommodate us all?

– We will manage, the man replied with some trouble, subjected to her intense stare. – Please, follow me.

He led them into the back of the restaurant, a part of it clearly not in general use, but with full sets of tables and chairs.

– We use this for private parties, he said, – but if you prefer to be seated in the public area, we can most certainly make that happen, too.

– This is excellent, Ted said. – Most excellent, in fact.

They sat down around the long table. Several flustered waiters and waitresses rushed forward with the menu. Young men and women blushed in Ted and Liz’s close proximity.

– I need to be in the kitchen for a while, the older man said aloud, – but if you wonder about anything, please don’t hesitate to call for me.

– You are Amahl, right? Liz said. – Amahl Farouk?

– I am, he said and straightened, his eyes widening further.

– I am Liz, she said. – With me are Ted, Linda, Fatou, Alia, Anwar, Larry, Jacqueline, Ousman, Assaf…

She went through all the names without breaking stride.

– We’ve heard about you, one of the young women said, – almost all of you and your… exploits.

– Our exploits, Anwar beamed amazed.

– Anyone traveling with the Dragon becomes notorious in their own right, Linda stated.

A cold, hot draft surged through the room.

She looked at the fireeyes with blushing cheeks. Many of the others joined her.

– Shall we take your bags? One asked. – It is no trouble.

Everyone glanced at the large, closed bags. The scent of metal was quite evident.

– We’ll hold on to them, thank you, Ted grinned.

They grinned with him in acknowledgment, more than a bit awkward. The rush back and forth from the kitchen picked up. Eager waiters of both sexes served the initial provisions of food and wine, the first dish of five. There were more blushes when Liz and Ted cast them casual glances.

– A toast, Liz cried, – to us, to our host, to this great place of enduring culture.

They cheered, and they drank.

– We’re getting good at this. Ousman frowned while studying his empty glass. – I’ve lost count over how many toasts we’ve done.

They rewarded his joke with laughter. The house served the second dish.

The new and different taste kept mixing with the spices and the wine. Ted and Liz deliberately held back on their consumption to not encourage the others to go totally overboard. They exchanged happy grins.

– A five dish dinner is always remarkable, Larry frowned. – Each dish is served hot. The various tastes don’t mix, don’t turn into one, singular mass, and they can each be enjoyed in full.

– It is «slow food», Jacqueline mused, – the way it is supposed to be digested.

Amahl paid a visit to the table after a while, very discreet.

– Is everything satisfactory? He asked casually. – Do you enjoy the food?

– We do! Liz said. – The entire meal is a delight.

– I’m so happy to hear that, Amahl beamed. – Thank you!

– I wonder about the key you wear around your neck, Ted said. – That’s from your home in Palestine, right?

It was a very distinct key, large and elaborate, not like any modern version Ted and Liz had seen.

– I’ve carried it since the Nakba, he said. – When I am gone, one of my grandchildren will carry it, and then one of their grandchildren and so on, until our return to what is now colonized and occupied land.

The way he pronounced «return» was very pronounced, too. The fireeyes nodded to themselves.

– We can’t help you right now, Ted said, – but let’s say that solving the Palestine question is on our to do list.

The man cracked in a stunned smile.

– Hearing you commit to it like that is the best of news, he said solemnly.

The boys and girls serving the table turned even more eager in their job.

Everyone else in the restaurant took an interest in the travelers. Ted and Liz sighed and shook their head. They knew the word would spread like wildfire throughout Yarmouk, Damascus and everywhere in the coming hours and

days.

– You did the right thing, Liz said. – We will benefit from this when we start taking an active interest in world affairs.

The fifth (and sixth and seventh) dish was served. More would have followed if they hadn’t put their foot down and politely said no to an extended Palestinian hospitality. They were still served a giant desert.

They exchanged lots of eager handshakes when they finally managed to escape the place.

– Do come again anytime, Amahl stated. – Even in the middle of night.

– We may take you up on that, Ted said. – The first, not the second.

– Don’t discount the second, Liz countered him.

That did make the man laugh, and the fireeyes grinned in relief.

The buzz reached their ears the moment they stepped outside. People rushed to them and shook their hands, and to thank them. They could not help feeling embarrassment.

– Gosh, this is exhausting, Liz gasped.

But they did draw strength from it, to the point of it threatening to become too much. People did get it and showed restraint, to a point.

It followed them in a more modest form as they left Yarmouk, and returned to Damascus «proper». Their notoriety grew further.