Israel, and Going Home
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humility about it, weatherbeaten and time-worn. It was
patched all over. The red tile roofing was cracked and broken.
It was good to see that the two-hundred-year-old church held
together remarkably well, considering its neglect. I began to
feel at home.
From a Greek refugee family living in a shack on the
grounds, I obtained the key and entered St. Garabed. I thought
it beautiful inside. Within it there were no signs of neglect
or decay. Its pews were neatly painted. The railing enclosing
the choir was highly polished. The altarpieces were immaculate. Two Bibles lay on stands covered with lace. The niche—
where I had been baptized—was covered with an embroidered
curtain. The painting of the Madonna and Child gracing the
altar was radiant. It was late afternoon, and the sun's rays
streaming in from both sides added to the beauty of the little
church. I knelt to pray.
I visited the hammam, or public bath; an enormously large
stone building, with a huge central cupola, resembling a discarded fortress. It was now a refugee shelter. Moss grew on
its walls, and grass covered the roof where the tiles were
broken and covered with earth. The public bath was a village
institution visited at monthly intervals by the well-to-do, and
less frequently by poorer folk. How well I recall those excursions with mother, carrying a picnic basket. Women
brought lunches, and spent the entire day bathing, gossiping,
and eating. The all-day bath had to do for an entire month.
Boys up to seven years of age were permitted to accompany
mothers; from then on they went with their fathers.
I wondered if the furoun, public oven, was still there. We
used to take our roasts and casserole dishes here for baking.
It also served as a bakery. I remembered it painfully, for one
day while watching the baker shift the loaves inside the oven
with his long flat ladle, he accidently whacked me in the eye
and I ran home howling. Yes, the public oven was still there,
and doing business as usual!
I walked along King George boulevard. I could think of