Chapter Three: Jumma and Sabbath!

Finally on the other side of the checkpoint, and on board the mini bus that was going to drive us to Jerusalem, we discovered that it was now 10-15 minutes left before Friday prayers allegedly would start, and there were many high strung people in the bus that drove as fast it could. It took about fifteen minutes, due to traffic and some small roadblocks that were set up on the way to the bus station in East Jerusalem.

The bus stopped around one hundred meters away from the bus stop and then we (me and the rest of the Muslim passengers) started the race to the Mosque, young people running, elderly jogging and the even older walking as fast as they could, finally entering the old city of Jerusalem through the Damascus Gate, and moved on to al-Aqsa, a touristified old town where people were sprinting through the narrow streets to get to the mosque as fast as they could.

As many may know the old city in Jerusalem is crowded with small alleys and streets. Overfilled with street vendors of various kinds, and it is these alleyways that lead you to the entrance to the al-Aqsa compound. I took the first road leading to the mosque and from the beginning of this alley to the entrance of the compound/mosque there is perhaps 150 m. Already 50 m. into the alley I saw people were standing facing Mecca ready for prayer - outside the mosque compound! The people created two rows (saff), with a small passage left open for people to move towards the mosque. After a quick round of are-you-Muslim-what’s-your-name I was pushed on, and I finally entered the mosque from its back right corner. It was packed in there. People were, as I said, standing in the alleyways outside the mosque, and inside the compound there were people everywhere. On the stairs, on the grass, under the trees, on stones, in short, every inch was used to be able to stand and pray. People stood there, with shoes on, almost side by side with women and the only thing that mattered was to get a place to stand. It was packed full, and people had begun to stand up to get ready for prayer when I got in. I tried to get further ahead, basically because I was in the women's area (or there were mostly women there), and because I was totally in the back. When I eventually had to find a saff and get ready for pray, even the famous golden dome that itself is placed a few hundred meters behind the al-Aqsa mosque was ahead of me.

I have previously described Friday prayers in al-Aqsa as great, and recommended all my Muslim friends to experience this. The experience was enhanced further by having to "struggle" and jog with the Palestinians to get there giving it sense of greater accomplishment. Additionally, when you are out in the sun, with people everywhere and put your head on the ground in Sajjda (when people get down on the floor) and you feel the hard rock against your forehead, that alone is enough to make even the devil religious. How many actually were there is absolutely impossible to say. In some of my texts to friends, I said at least 15-20.000, and later increased it to about 50,000. In a report on Friday prayers during Ramadan from last year the journalist talked about estimates of 120,000. In today's newspapers the figure is 200,000! Big enough, at least.

By the way, In the al-Quds (albeit in Arabic that I understand only occasionally) it reported common Friday Prayers just outside the Qalandia checkpoint among those who couldn’t cross it. After the prayer, people got up and stormed toward the exits. I used the opportunity to get closer to mosque and the Dome of the Rock. Then, a second round of Friday Prayers were announced. I joined again, but this time it was a shorter version without the “reading” of the Qur’an. After that I walked around the Dome of the Rock, in other words, the world-famous golden dome that contains the stone Mohammed stood on when he ascended to heaven.

I took my time, perhaps half an hour before I started moving towards the exits. The time was 13.45 local time, and I was supposed to meet my American friends at the Damascus gate at 14.30 ... After standing in a queue for a ten minutes time I realized that the line was for the bathrooms (I apparently missed the W.C. sign) I finally got out of the mosque 13.55 through the so-called cotton market door. A normal walk from there to Damascus Gate usually takes 10 minutes, but not this time. It took me 45 minutes. Perhaps not so strange when 50.000-100.000 people storm into the narrow alleyways middle of the afternoon rush, with its many shops and business was as usual, all heading the same way. It went slowly. Very slowly. The walk to the Metro after a football match is nothing compared to this. On the way people shopped, argued and pushed. A lot of pushing, and the old ladies are the worst pushers. But there is nothing more that you can do, than to be patient and keep walking. Dave and Debbie had found the way into the old town, and I spotted them a few meters in front of me stuck in the same mass of people. Considering that it was around 30 degrees, and that people were fasting, this was a powerful effort of dimensions. I, not fasting, was completely exhausted when I came out at Damascus Gate.

My throat and body completely totally dehydrated, but we managed to wander the few hundred meters from Damascus gate to West Jerusalem, and suddenly we were in any Western European city with it’s cafe life, half empty streets and musicians on corners. It was surreal. After Qalandia and being squeezed among thousands of people to this street life, where there were hardly any people. There were a few hours to the Sabbath, and the shops had begun to close. Not only did the surroundings, like buildings and roads change, but you could see a different kind of people… The wealth was so obvious, and made us sick in the beginning, before we enjoyed the fruits of wealth in the form of a lot of water and a huge lunch. Then, we relaxed for a couple of hours listening to jazz music, before we started to move towards the Wailing Wall to witness the celebration of the Sabbath.

We found ourselves a place that was a reasonable distance from the wall, and just watched different groups doing there prayers in different forms; there was singing, dancing, regular praying in front of the wall and other “stuff”. It was a lot of joy, happiness and celebration in the words real meaning. People were dressed up for celebration. But, by that time, we were so overwhelmed with all the impressions we had had during the day, so we didn’t stay for long. The most odd thing, for me, was to see all the M16s in the crowd, carried by mostly soldiers but also some people in civilian clothes, while celebrating Sabbath. But I have to say, the day, with all its implications hadn’t left me in a good mood, and watching a huge platoon of soldiers, getting ready and marching in to the old city on their way to the Muslim Quarters as the crowd around them got ready for Sabbath, praying, and Muslims on the other side of the Wall for their Iftar didn’t get me in any better mood.

On our way back to Qalandia (it was still closed) I couldn’t think of anything else than how severely important it is for this Holy country to uphold their fundings from the Western world, cause they seriously need to upgrade their security systems. Some of the installations are starting to get old - at least a new paint job.