(CHAPTER XXII)
DAS ARABISCHE BURO:
DER GROSSMUFTI
"I am sure you will love America better after you
have finished seeing the Arab countries. If I were
in America I would not leave it even for a second. I
would stay till I grew roots in the ground."
Hayredin, Disillusioned Holy Warrior
"LET'S go see our Yugoslav friends," Stefan said when I met
him at the tavern the next day. Together we walked to the
Sultan Selim Mosque. Its multitude of buildings and pilgrim's
quarters covered several acres; we entered a long, cavernous
series of damp, shabbily furnished rooms, beneath a succession of cupolas. At the end of these brick-lined caves was a
large kitchen. Here I met Hayredin Dubravac, the only one
among the Yugoslav Moslems who spoke English. He was a
short, studious youth, wearing glasses and dressed in a rumpled
white shirt and drab trousers. There was a beaten look about
him.
"Ahh, from Amerika. How glad I am to see an Amerikan!"
Hayredin exclaimed.
"What are you doing in the kitchen?" I asked Hayredin.
"Cooking. This week is my turn to be cook. Again we are
having a hash of macaroni, beans, lentils, onions, and stale