The Holy City
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thought me sufficiently "un-American" to invite me to his
room after my visit to the Dome. It was a large igloo-like stone
guardhouse, next to one of the porticos. Sitting on a colorful
settee, he offered me the choice of bitter Arab coffee or sweetened tea.
After I had gained his confidence, El Ansary proved unusually outspoken. "Look here"—these were the only English
words he knew—"whenever I pray, I pray to Allah to destroy
the Jews. I pray to Allah to punish President Truman because
he has been on the Zionist side. I used to pray against President Roosevelt, a very bad man. Now I pray to Allah that he
destroy Mrs. Roosevelt because she is behaving very badly
toward the Arabs."
"You sound like a Moslem Republican," I said.
"Look here, I pray against them for different reasons.
Against Balfour and his family I pray that Allah confine
them all to hell. The English are like sarratan [cancer]. May
Balfour and Roosevelt take first place in hell. Allah, Allah,
may this be done."
Propriety demanded that I say: "Insh'allah."
Despite his sixty-eight years, the man was as vigorous as an
ox. "Look here, I will fight for Palestine to the last minute of
my life," he said, with eyes blazing. "No Moslem is afraid of
death. If he dies for Palestine that is a satisfying way to die.
His parents are happy he fell in the Jehad". If we cannot win
any other way, all the sheikhs in all the mosques in all the
Arab countries over all the world will climb the minarets, and
call on every Moslem to join the Jehad against the Jew in
Palestine."
I turned the conversation to the Mufti.
"Look here," said El Ansary, "he is of the same blood as
Mohammed. He is respected for his many good deeds. I pray
for the Mufti in all my prayers to Allah."
I thanked Sheikh el Ansary for his courtesy and, according
to decorum, wished him long life and the blessings of Allah
on him, his family, and his heirs. Bowing, I salaamed by plac-