Living Stones (13 page)

But that proved hard, particularly since she couldn’t shake the odd feeling that someone was watching her. A ridiculous thought in such a crowd. She probably just noticed one of the guys in another tour group looking at her.

The next morning, the Shepherds’ Fields just outside Bethlehem appeared smaller than Ashley had envisioned. She walked into several cool open caves in the rocky hillside, escaping the hot sun. Stones and dry grass seemed to blanket the hills overlooking the city.

“So this is the site where the angels terrified the shepherds, Marie.” They walked across the hill where the shepherds probably slept when the angels came. “I wish these dead stones could tell the story of discovering that baby.”

“But Ashley, dead stones endure. And the church buildings they form do tell his story.

After lunch in the air-conditioned hotel, most of the team decided to rest in their cool rooms, Marie included.

“Ashley, I’m going to give in to jet lag. I know you’re supposed to stay up and fight it through until nighttime, but it’s so cool and nice in here.”

Those who wished could take a short trip, only seven miles south
of Bethlehem to Herodion. Herod the Great’s “illusion of grandeur” comprised a palace and fortress built around 20 B.C. They passed the ruins of the palace pools on the flat area, and then walked up the adjoining conical hill rising two hundred feet above the desert floor.

Jim and five others, including Ashley, strode up the steep and narrow rocky road in the heat of the early afternoon. It spiraled upward around the partly man-made cone. Too hot for most tourists, apparently. She saw a lone man behind them, but otherwise no one besides their small group. Ashley remembered Kipling’s assertion that only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the noonday sun.

Coming to a rest plateau with tables and benches, Ashley decided to stop at the small kiosk for a soda. The others of the group kept climbing. “Go ahead,” she said, waving them on. “I’ll meet you at the top.”

She could see the ruins down below on the flat desert outlining multiple rooms and pools. It must have been magnificent. Looking up she glimpsed the man she had noticed before staring at her. He sat with arms folded; a hat and visor shielded his face. She could just see his eyes behind shaded glasses—dead eyes, expressionless, fixed on her. He quickly glanced away. A chill ran up her spine. She sensed something was wrong.

Suddenly Ashley felt like running. She looked around for other tourists. None. Maybe she should stay near the kiosk attendant? Or should she run down to the bus? It would be locked. No, she should find her friends as quickly as possible. They would be only five minutes ahead of her. She had to get away. So she took her drink and started up the narrow road, which spiraled around the cone to the top.

She heard the man get up and walk after her. She picked up her pace, and he sped up as well. Her eyes widened and her hands shook. Ashley started to run uphill. Rounding a corner, she glanced back to see him coming about thirty feet behind. Walking fast. She thought of screaming. Where were they? Another turn in the spiral road. Short of breath, she didn’t know how long she could keep up the pace, still not fully recovered from her wounds

Finally she saw them, walking on the rim of the ruins at the top. Her team. She waved. Should she shout to them? Looking back,
she saw him turn and walk back down the hill. Ashley drew a deep breath and sighed.

The team had moved on, listening to their driver explain the spectacular ruins. Ashley joined them without a word about her panic. She felt rather foolish. The man was probably just another tourist who happened to be behind her, perhaps looking for someone else. Her mind was playing tricks, and she refused to be paranoid. She’d made the promise after the bombing not to let fear get the best of her.

Still, she had trouble concentrating on the driver’s explanation of the complex ruins of baths and pools and courtyards. He pointed to the remains of a synagogue and an underground passageway. Ashley tried to digest what he said, but wanted to get back to the bus. She stayed close to the driver and Jim.

Ashley returned to the hotel, found Marie gone, and sat in their room to collect her thoughts. She rehashed what had happened with the man who seemed to be following her. Coincidence maybe? Probably perfectly normal for him to look at a girl with curiosity and then try to go up to the top but turn back in the heat.

She spoke out loud, “Come on, Ashley, get a grip on yourself. First the church, then the Herodian. This is getting ridiculous. You’re being paranoid.” She refused to let fear ruin her trip.

Soon Ashley became restless. She didn’t like inactivity when she could explore. Four o’clock, no problem. She had several hours before dinner at seven.

Ashley walked north one block, then west crossing Manger Street, making a mental note of her turns so she could find her way back. Across another street busy with cars and taxis, she saw a complex of three one- and two-story buildings and a sign that read “Bethlehem Bible College.” Most signs used English and Arabic. Up on the hill above and off to the east, a large number of elegant apartment towers crowned the top of the hill, contained within a
high wall. Around the perimeter, a highway encircled the complex.

Three blocks north of the Bible College, Ashley approached another wall that blocked her way and that turned ninety degrees to extend along a narrow street. She stopped and stared at it, mouth open. It rose forty feet into the air, concrete, with multiple glassed-in guard towers on top of the wall. She wondered whether it contained a prison right in the middle of Bethlehem. Painted prominently on the wall, she read “Nakba.” Other graffiti read “Shame.” On one section someone had painted a soldier with a gun and a fifteen-foot-long U.S. dollar bill. As she paused to study the wall and read more of the graffiti, a young man approached carrying books. He greeted Ashley in English. “Are you from America?”

“Yeah. I just arrived last night. Do you live here?”

“We live in Beit Jala, a town next to Bethlehem. But I attend the Bible College here.”

“Really? You must be a Palestinian Christian.”

“I am now. But my family is Muslim.”

“Oh, I’d like to chat with you sometime. I want to learn about this part of the world and the people in it. Are there many Christians here?”

“There were thousands in Bethlehem, but many have left.”

“Why is that?”

“Lots of reasons. Like this wall here.” He gestured toward the wall. “We are trapped, since 2002. Many families and young people used to work in the city.”

“You mean Jerusalem?”

“Yes. Now we can’t go. Even people who were born there but live here are not permitted to return to see their families in Jerusalem. Many jobs there are gone to us.”

“What does your father do?”

“Construction—when he can find work. We have seventy percent unemployment. It’s from the wall of separation of people. This one,” he said, glancing up at the wall. “ ‘Apartheid,’ they called it in South Africa.”

Ashley frowned. “I didn’t know that.” She gazed quietly at the tall stranger, reminding her of Najid. “Oh, I have so many questions, but I mustn’t keep you. Just tell me what
Nakba
means. I see it on the
wall here and down there a ways,” Ashley said, pointing to the wall fifty feet down the narrow street.

“It means ‘catastrophe.’ ”

“What is the catastrophe?”

“It’s the tragedy of one government forcing hundreds of thousands of people from their homes and lands. It began in 1948. It’s still going on. I doubt whether you Americans understand what is happening here. I’ve read you refer to the wall as a ‘fence.’ ”

Ashley looked down, shaking her head. “You are probably right. We don’t understand, but that’s one reason I’m here.”

“Good. I’d be happy to talk with you some more. I’ll be back at the college tonight.” He pointed back the way Ashley had walked. “We have a small discussion group to practice our English, and you would be welcome to come.”

“Oh, I’d love to come . . . a . . . I don’t know your name.”

“Gamal. And what is yours?”

“I’m Ashley.”

He didn’t seem inclined to shake hands.

“What time this evening?”

“About eight. Come in the south door. The Bible College is just three blocks south of here. We’ll enjoy having you, a native English speaker as our guest.”

Ashley took the right angle bend with the wall and wandered down the small side street along it, reading the graffiti, much of it in English. The unmanned guard towers continued along the top. She felt uneasy and began reading another painting in large letters: “KNOW” and below that “HOPE.” She pulled out her smartphone to snap a picture of the graffiti, then she noticed someone behind her. Ashley turned quickly to see a large man staring at her, dressed in dark clothes. Her eyes widened. Same guy as on the Herodian. The brim of his cap covered his forehead. Heart pounding, she nodded an acknowledgement of his presence, smiled briefly, and noted his menacing expression. He gazed at her from behind his tinted glasses.

She looked up but could not see a guard in the nearby tower.
The man said nothing and began to walk toward her, right hand in his pants pocket. Ashley’s face drained of blood. She broke out in a sweat. Looking around she saw no one either behind the man or back the way she came. He kept coming, slowly. She trembled.

“OK, OK! What do you want?”

He glanced around silently and up to the guard tower, apparently to confirm they had no company. He drew his hand out of the pocket, revealing a small pistol. Every muscle tensed. She stared at him as he approached. Paralyzed as in a nightmare, she could not run.

“I’ll give you all the money I have!”

He raised the gun, covering the small pistol with his left hand.

Ashley screamed loudly enough to raise the dead. Then, “Oh God, please help!” A taxi she had not noticed coasted to stop just behind the man, and he quickly concealed the gun in his pocket. The taxi door opened to let out three passengers. Ashley ran to the front door of the cab, jumped in the front seat, and slammed the door closed. She tried to catch her breath.

“Please take me to the Bethlehem Inn! Quickly! That man is trying to kill me!”

The car sped away, tires squealing, and Ashley broke into tears. The beginning of her trip of a lifetime, and someone was trying to kill or kidnap her!

The short ride to the hotel took three minutes. She paid the driver and fell into a lobby chair, still breathing deeply. She didn’t want to panic in front of her teammates. Should she call the police? Should she tell Jim Swain? It might jeopardize the team’s schedule if she should be delayed for questioning.

Could it be that the man wanted to rob her and didn’t understand English? Would he have had a partner in a car drive up to kidnap her for ransom, rape, or murder? Did she wander too far off the beaten track for safety? Did he intend to kill her in the open on that side street? Why? No one knew her here. Who would do such a thing?

Ashley calmed herself. She wouldn’t tell anyone of her experience. It would frighten them. Ruin their trip. She would not let the experience spoil hers either, this visit of a lifetime. She’d go to the police. No, she had no evidence and they’d think she was some frightened woman tourist imagining trouble. She wished Najid were here. He would know what to do. He’d protect her. He always seemed so calm and thoughtful. She’d stuff her fears for now and not dwell on the incident. But she would be more careful in the future and not go out alone.

Ashley felt safe in the hotel lobby with others around. The large windows provided lots of light and she could see anyone coming. Despite the danger, she wanted so much to go to Gamal’s group at the college after dinner. If only she had an escort . . . then she opened her eyes and saw Jim Swain walking in the lobby.

She ran to catch Jim. “I had a wonderful chance meeting today with a student from the Bible College. He invited me to join them at their English Club meeting tonight, as a native English speaker. I’d love to go, but it might get a bit late, and I need someone to go with me. Would you be interested? It would be a chance to meet local students who are Christians. It’s at eight.”

“Great idea, Ashley. I’d be delighted to go. I had hoped for a cultural experience like that. We could walk over while it’s still light and take a taxi back. I know where the college is. Let’s meet right after dinner here.”

Ashley could hardly wait. She ambled to the bar to get a Fanta and noticed a young woman with a Muslim head covering, studying. Ashley didn’t want to be alone and needed someone to talk to
besides her fellow tourists. She walked to a chair opposite her and sat down, enjoying her drink. She tried to relax. The girl looked up from her notebook with a smile that lit up her beautiful face.

“You look American. Did you just arrive with a group?” She spoke English well with a charming accent.

Ashley noticed a Bible among her books. “How could you guess? But you’re right. There must be something about Americans. Maybe the way we walk.”