A Walk Through Jerusalem's Old City
How Jews, Arabs and tourists mingle in Jerusalem's ancient community.
JERUSALEM, Israel, June 30, 2008 -- Throngs of tourists block the narrow alleys of the Old City in Jerusalem, wandering amid brightly colored scarves and dangling beads. Tour groups from all over the world are browsing the shops — a group from Indonesia wears newly bought head scarves, groups from America wear laminated name tags around their necks.
In the nearby Arab Quarter, men sit on chairs by their boutiques, smoking cigarettes and calling out to tourists to encourage them to enter their shops. Judging by what nationalities the tourists appear to be, the merchants try to address the visitors in their native language.
Eyal Kade has worked in a boutique in the Arab quarter for eight years, selling leather shoes and scarves. He said that business — while not great — is better than it was during the second intifada, an Arabic term meaning "shaking off," used to refer to the Palestinian uprising that began in 2000.
Kade said all the stores on his street had been closed for five years since the beginning of the intifada. "The tourists were too scared to come," he told ABC News, "so we had no business."
Now that the tourists are back, Kade said that there can still be problems. "A month ago, three young students were here touring and they were looking at some of the scarves in my shop," he said. "Ten minutes later, the security guard from their group came here and said to them, 'What are you doing? [You're] not allowed to be here!'"
The guard was Israeli, Kade said. "It's the Arab Quarter," Kade explained, "and some Israelis will say that it's not allowed to buy from Arabs, or be careful because Arabs are thieves.
"It's very funny, really," he said with a laugh. "But also a tragedy."
Kade said that one of the Americans in the store did not agree with the Israeli guard. "She told me not to worry, not to be angry," he said. "She said that he was speaking nonsense and that she didn't agree with it."
On the same narrow street, the Arab and Jewish Quarters meet. The Cardo, a road in the Jewish Quarter, is a covered market built with Jerusalem stone. The ambience is less hectic, and the stores are enclosed with glass windowpanes.
Benny Rosen has been working at his art gallery boutique in the Jewish Quarter for 10 years. "When the intifada started, the Arabs promised that half the shops in the Jewish Quarter would close because the Jews don't have the patience to suffer.
"After a couple of years, half of the stores in the Muslim Quarter had closed," he said. "Since then, I have hung three Israeli flags from my shop to show that I'm not moving from here."
For Rosen, this is also a political symbol. "I'm talking in a Zionist sense," he said, "and not just about business."
Rosen's shop is the last along the line of the Cardo, the street of shops in the Jewish Quarter. "My neighbor is an Arab," he said. "Each morning I drink a cup of coffee with him, but we don't talk politics.
"I'm sure that he doesn't want me here but we don't talk about it, and we don't talk about the opposite," he said.
Ahmed Husseini, 42, has lived in the same house in the Old City all his life.
He is part of a long tradition — his family has owned the same house for more than 500 years. But, in comparison to the history of the ancient city, his family's time there is but a speck — the family that lives next door has been there for more than 1,000 years.
"It's a difficult life," he said, "and throughout the time I've lived here, life has gotten harder."
Husseini said that despite the economic reasons that make living in the Old City difficult, life is "beautiful."
"People are close to one another," he said. "There's a certain culture of the Old City. You feel like you're a part of something special."
The desire to have that same "special feeling" is evidently shared by people from abroad, who want to live like Husseini, in a house with 12 rooms and a garden in the Old City.
"Two years ago, someone who identified himself as a Jew came to my house and said that my house was his house," Husseini said. "He said that he had paid $3 million already to buy it.
"We showed him the certificate that proves it has been our house for 500 years and we called the police."
Another man arrived at Husseini's doorstep from New York, bearing a blank check. "He was ready to pay anything I wanted; $10 million would have been OK, I just had to give him my house."
Husseini laughed. "I said to him, 'Go Home,' " he said.
"My heart is here. My life is here in the Old City."