a Gentleman in Bethany
In 1993, the Oslo Peace Accords were signed, and in 1994, the Palestinian Authority was established.
This agreement was an important first step in resolving the conflict between Israel and Palestine and achieving peace.
However, tensions still remained in practcally.
especially around the borders of Jerusalem and the West Bank,
which were always heavily guarded.
In particular, to cross from Jerusalem to Palestine, one had to pass over the Mount of Olives.
Jerusalem, being a place where Jews and Palestinians coexisted, was always filled with tension.
It was not easy to find transportation that crossed these boundaries.
To get from Israel to the West Bank, there was a taxi that could be taken for one shekel per person.
Palestinians had to show a small orange card, stand against a wall for a full-body inspection, and only then could they cross and take a taxi.
Sometimes, even foreigners like us had to stand against the wall at that border.
Our family had lived in a place that was a converted warehouse for six months, but now it was time to leave. While looking for a place with cheaper rent,
we decided to find a house in a place called Al-Azaria,
located in the southeastern part of the Mount of Olives,
within the West Bank.
This place was also known to Jews as Bethany.
It was historically famous as the place where Lazarus, who had leprosy, came back to life.
We still didn’t know the area well, and although people said it was peaceful, it wasn’t easy to walk around with children when we constantly saw soldiers carrying guns in the streets. And since we had decided to get a house in the West Bank, I felt even more anxious.
Every morning, before starting any work, my husband and I would pray.
That day, after finishing his prayer, my husband said he felt a strong prompting to visit the shop next door and quickly left, saying he had to check out the gift shop there.
My husband was good at making friends wherever he went, and he knew the man at that shop well. Thinking it was a good idea, I stayed home and began cleaning.
After a while, my husband suddenly came running in, telling me that we needed to go see a house immediately.
Without asking where we were going, I hurriedly dressed and, with the children, followed him.
We hailed a taxi, gave the driver the address, and he quickly looked us over before starting to drive.
As the taxi climbed over the Mount of Olives, my heart began to pound.
Through the window, I could see soldiers and armed guards constantly in my view as we went up the hill.
'We’re really going into Palestinian territory now…'
I thought as I tightly gripped my hands.
“Honey, where are we going? It seems pretty far since we’re climbing up the Mount of Olives.”
“Oh! Honey, something amazing happened.
When I went to see the shopkeeper and asked if he knew of any houses for rent in the West Bank, he was surprised and introduced me to his friend standing right next to him!
That man was the shopkeeper’s friend, and he had come in to ask him to advertise that he was renting out the first floor of his house.
Even more amazingly, he lives in Al-Azaria in the West Bank, so that’s where we’re going now!”
“Where is that exactly?”
“I don’t know either, but let’s go check it out!”
My heart felt heavy, probably because of the stories I had heard from others.
As I thought, “Oh no, we shouldn’t be crossing this mountain... It’s Palestinian territory,” we had already crossed and were heading deeper into the village.
Finally, we arrived in Al-Azaria.
As we entered a narrow alley, the taxi barely squeezed through between small shops that looked like chicken coops.
Turning a corner, a large yard and a sleek three-story house appeared before our eyes.
Our whole family couldn’t hide our amazement.
Standing in front of the door with a smile was a gentleman who welcomed us—it was the landlord.
The landlord, with a bright smile, showed us the first floor.
Seeing our two children, he spoke as if we were already part of his family, saying we would live happily and healthily with his grandchildren.
When we asked about the rent, he said it should be 1,000 dollars.
At that time, of course, the rent in Jewish areas was even more expensive.
However, for us, it was still a lot, so I lowered my head without saying anything.
The gentleman, smiling, seemed to observe us for a while, asking various questions. Then, after a while, he asked how much we thought would be fair.
In my mind, I thought that if we split the rent with the German missionary family we were going to live with, 600 dollars would be manageable.
At that moment, the elderly gentleman spoke loudly,
“Let’s make it 600 dollars. I can’t go any lower.”
Without realizing it, I exclaimed, “Hallelujah!”
The landlord smiled and asked,
“You seem to be Christians.
We are Muslim. Is that okay with you?”
“Our family is fine with that. Are you okay with it, sir?”
“Of course, we are. Now that we live in the same building, let’s be friends. My second son lives in the basement, my eldest son lives on the third floor, and we live on the second floor. We also have lemon trees here, so feel free to pick some when you need them.
They’re fresh and good. Your children are welcome to play in the yard as much as they like. Let’s live well together.”
Just a few days after we had prayed for a house, we found ourselves living with a kind and wonderful gentleman’s family inside the West Bank, where we knew little.
The awkwardness of meeting for the first time quickly disappeared, and they welcomed us like family they had known for years. Though our religions and cultures were different, the warmth shared in that house was peace itself.
Every day, our two children played with Palestinian children in the spacious yard, sometimes arguing, but overall making good friends.
Whenever locals made any comments about our children or family, the gentleman would appear and protect us, always acting as our advocate.
During Ramadan, they would bring us food in the evening, and I would boil eggs and share them on Easter. When their second daughter-in-law gave birth to her fourth child, I went to help, taking care of the children and playing the role of the eldest sister in the family.
Although the country was still fighting due to religious and racial tensions despite the peace agreement, as foreigners,
we were able to live safely in the “dangerous” West Bank,
thanks to the broad tolerance and kindness of a generous gentleman.
