CHAPTER IX

THE LIFE TO-DAY AS ILLUSTRATED BY ACTUAL VILLAGES

Such tourists as have a student’s interest in addition to a desire for mere sightseeing will find the value of their Palestine visit doubled if they will allow some days for visiting villages. If one will go in as quiet and unobtrusive a way as possible, and with the aid of an introduction to some householder of the village, one will be able to learn much. Certain of the missionaries in Jerusalem as elsewhere devote themselves to itinerating among the villages and are fully acquainted with conditions of which it would be well for a novice to be informed. The village of Râm Allâh is one of the most satisfactory places accessible from Jerusalem for the purpose of seeing well-developed Syrian village life. It is ten miles north of Jerusalem and is now reached by an excellent carriage road. It is one mile from the much smaller village of el-Bîreh, which lies on the main carriage road from Jerusalem, northwards toward Nâblus (Shechem). This slight remove from the main line of tourist travel, its considerable size and the superior intelligence of its inhabitants have joined to produce a good, wholesome sample of a native village, neither so metamorphosed as some of the larger places nor so squalid and degenerate as many of the smaller villages.

It was in May, 1901, that the road mentioned was opened up for use from Jerusalem to el-Bîreh, a distance of fifteen kilometers. From the Damascus Gate, where the Bîreh and Râm Allâh carriage owners stand, the route leads out past the Dominican Compound, within which is a church of St. Stephen and a theological school conducted by the eminent French scholars of the order. On the left, opposite, is the large milling property leased for many years by Mr. Bergheim. Next on the left is an olive grove, and a little way farther on the pleasant garden and large square building of the English Church Mission, where the society conducts a collegiate institute. Next on the right, beyond an olive grove, is the costly and well-built compound of the High Church Anglican bishop for Jerusalem and the Near East. On the left opposite are the new school buildings under his auspices. Just beyond the Anglican Compound, at the fountain known as Bîr el-Kelb, a street coming from Herod’s Gate, Jerusalem, intersects the main road. Just up this street a few steps on the left is the entrance to the so-called Tombs of the Kings, one of the places well worth looking at. The next largest building on the right before coming to the minaret is occupied by the community of “The Overcomers.” They control property on both sides of the highway. A little beyond this point the road makes a long loop to the right in order to save a steep climb by the old bridle-path which goes straight on past the houses of some Moslem officials of Jerusalem who prefer the more ample and comfortable liberty of suburban building sites. Here one has a pretty view of the upper part of the Kidron Valley. On up a slight hill and then down a long easy descent, and one is brought to the foot of another steep bridle-path, which the road avoids by another curve to the right toward the Mount of Olives and a loop to the left on to the top of Mount Scopus. From Scopus there is a charming view of Jerusalem. Beginning at the far right (north) of the suburbs, one sees the black, formerly blue, dome of the Abyssinian Church; then to the left the delicate, shapely, blue cupolas of the church in the Russian Compound; then just inside the northwest corner of the city wall, the sharp spire of the Roman Catholic Church, the low black dome of the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the whitish tower of the German Church and the domes, red and blue, of the great synagogues. To the left and farther over is the large dome and symmetrical building of the Ḳubbet eṣ-Ṣakhra (sometimes called the Mosk of Omar) in the southeastern corner of the city. Turning now from the city one will see some six miles northwest of Jerusalem the lofty minaret of Neby Samwîl, on the hill thought to be the Mizpeh of Samuel. This place can be seen from many points of old Judea. The village in the foreground almost due north and by the side of the carriage road is Sha‛fât. The name is thought to be the last two syllables of the name Jehoshaphat. Nearly opposite Sha‛fât some find the site of Nob, the city of the priests of Saul’s time. If one had time to go to the top of the hill between Scopus and the Mount of Olives, where the large buildings are placed, one could see the peculiar formation of the hill-country that leads down back of Jerusalem to Jericho and the Dead Sea. The Dead Sea and the table-land the other side of the Jordan would be visible. In fact, but a few minutes north of Scopus, on the carriage road, one may see the bluish Moab hills looming up in an even line beyond the Jordan River, whose bed is hidden because it lies over three-fifths of a mile lower than the level of this spot though less than twenty miles away. That is a very considerable drop in levels for so short a distance, as one realizes when one goes by carriage from Jerusalem down to Jericho and the Dead Sea. But to return to the village of Sha‛fât already mentioned, one sees beyond it on the right a peculiarly shaped hill with an artificial look about its incised top which is regarded as the site of Gibeah of Saul. Off to the left is the village of Bayt Ḥanînâ. After a long curve or two one begins to descend more swiftly. From this point one can see far to the right on the northeast a prettily situated village on a sharp hilltop. It is eṭ-Ṭayyibeh, of which more later on. To the left as one proceeds appear remains of an old Roman road. It is noticeable all the way from Scopus and from here to el-Bîreh, though at times as now it takes a short cut where the present road makes a curve. The old road intersects the new where the latter crosses the bridge at the bottom of the valley. This bridge is called the half-way bridge between Jerusalem and el-Bîreh. There is a good stream under the bridge in rainy weather. The small village that rises on a hill just beyond the half-way bridge to the north is er-Râm, possibly the Ramah of Samuel, though Râm and Ramah mean simply an elevated site. Just by the left (west) side of the road as one comes opposite the village is an arched ruin. About it are other evidences of decay. After the ruin comes a long level stretch and another little bridge. Along here of an evening one sometimes sees a fox. The village to the left (west) is Ḳulundyeh. To the right (east) runs a path that will take one past er-Râm to Jeba‛, and so to Wâdy Mukhmâs (Michmash) or to ‛Ayn Fâra and the Jordan. At the place where the road bends to the right around the truncated hill of ‛Aṭâra there is a dismantled lime-kiln and a rough donkey path leading off to the left (north). This rude path is the old road to the village of Râm Allâh. It goes to the west of the hill of ‛Aṭâra, while the carriage road goes to the east of it. The carriage road allows one to reach el-Bîreh easily in twenty minutes. It passes between ‛Aṭâra and another hill on the right (east) of it along a pretty stretch of valley. At least it is pretty toward evening, when perhaps one will see a little owl among the rocks. The stream of ‛Ayn Nuṣbeh is trickling or splashing, according to the season, down the side of ‛Aṭâra near a little bridge. One evening I rode out towards this place from Râm Allâh on our saddle animal “Daisy” to meet the carriage. Daisy was very loth to travel away from home, but very glad whenever I turned her head about. The evening was lovely. As the light went out over the hills toward the western sea the changing color on the horizon on the near hills, on the rocks all about, and the quietness cast a spell of peace unique to these surroundings. After the reds had faded out of the soil and rocks, a somber ink color, dark purple, black, came on. A clump of dry brush topping a little watch-tower on a near hill seemed to belong to a farther hill behind it and, as I rode along, to be a human figure moving on that far hill. I met the carriage after dark near ‛Aṭâra and came back in front of it.

At the top of the next long slope one has the vineyards of Râm Allâh on the left and el-Bîreh on the right. The little village of el-Bîreh, rich in shrubbery and the choicest spring for many miles around, lies on a gentle slope facing the south. First among its trees are some figs, then come gardens, walls and the spring with the little domed building. Beyond on the right are the ruins of its ancient khân and then the straggling village houses of stone. Pomegranates, figs, etc., are scattered through the place. The new khân is on the carriage road at the top of the village. The little shanty on the left of the road across from the spring is a sort of coffee khân merely and a lounging place for passers-by. Half-way up the road before it swings to the right towards the new khân with stables, the Râm Allâh road goes off to the left (west) over the rising ground that hides the village from view. It is less than a mile to Râm Allâh, and the path to it traverses a different part of the country from that which is seen on the carriage road. All along the highway one feels that but a few paces anywhere would take one to views of the deep cut of the Jordan Valley and the Dead Sea region, with the ever-enticing blue and hazy line of Moab’s hills beyond. But here is another side of the country of Palestine. This rise in the ground between el-Bîreh and Râm Allâh is on the watershed of Western Palestine. On the outskirts of the village is the land for the Boys’ School, the property of the (American) Friends (Quakers), who for many years have done most significant and practical work in the training of youth.

The inhabitants of Râm Allâh are industrious and thrifty, and most of the village land is under excellent cultivation in choice grape vineyards and orchards of figs and olives. The needs of Râm Allâh are so much in excess of the lands which are legally recorded as belonging to it that its people have bought tracts here and there all about the country. The lands right around the village are so much more valuable as vineyards and orchards than for raising the grains that the farmers have pushed out and acquired these outside fields from the lands of a dozen or more villages as far as ‛Ayn Ḳânyeh, Mukhmâs and Dayr Dîwân. For such outside lands the Râm Allâh people have no government deeds (_kushân_, plural _kuwashîn_), the title resting, so far as the government records are concerned, with the original village owners, and so the taxes are collected from them. But it is perfectly understood among the people in whom the ownership in fact rests, and these actual owners pay the yearly taxes for the land to the former owners. The government collects land taxes directly from Râm Allâh for those lands only which are within Râm Allâh’s legal boundaries, which are much narrower than its acquired boundaries. A kind of private deed suffices as part of the evidence of transfer between the peasants.

On the east of Râm Allâh as one enters the village the legal or, better, original boundary corner is marked by an underground cistern known as Bîr esh-Sherḳeh (The East Cistern). It is on one’s left in approaching the village, some rods before the property of ‛Abdullâh Ṭoṭah, which is on the other or right-hand side. The next house and property are those of ‛Isâ Shaṭâra. Then comes a small vineyard, opposite which is the Ḥarb house on the left. From the top of this building one has a view of the Mediterranean on one side and of the Moab hills on the other. Next on the right is the large monastery property of the Franciscans, on the left the house and chapel of the Church Missionary Society. Then (left) is passed the house of a dumb man, father of a considerable family and owner of a well-cultivated garden plot. He is quite ingenious at a pantomime method of talking and story-telling. His trade is that of roof-mender, which craft is in demand, as the cemented joints between the flat stones of the native roofs have to be kept in good repair against the soaking rains of winter. Next on the left is one of the entrances to the Friends’ Girls’ School property. The particular bit of their land that touches the road here goes in all the neighborhood by the name _el-Khums_, that is, _The Fifth_, because in some past division of the land it represented that fraction of a larger lot. Next by turning the bend to the left one comes into a street about three hundred twenty-five feet long and a trifle less than thirteen feet wide, in which are seven houses on the south (left) side and eight houses on the north (right) side. Among their tenants are four weavers and one dyer. The dyer is a tall, strapping fellow from the north, a Moslem who came to the village in 1901. At that time he was the only Moslem in the place. By a little jog to the left at the end of the street one avoids running into a building which for years has been used by the Friends’ Mission as a primary schoolroom and a Sunday meeting place of the congregation that attends the Friends’ meetings for worship and the Bible School. Nearly opposite this building is the dispensary of the native physician, Dr. Ma‛lûf, a graduate of the College of Medicine in Beirut. Thence one may go southeast to the front entrance of the Girls’ Training Home (Friends’) or west along the main axis of the village, the market street, which is a continuation of the street by which we just entered the village, except for the slight jog to the left in coming down hill. These very jogs, of which many may be seen about the village, are illustrative of a principle, or the lack of one, in the community life. Streets and paths grow up by common consent of the householders, who feel the need of such conveniences for egress or ingress, but they are allowances from private property or, better, communal property. Sometimes a builder finds it convenient to set his house somewhat into the road, thus destroying the alignment of the street. Walls of stone and mortar are permanent structures, and the line cannot be corrected by any legal means.

The main part of the market street runs between the property of the village church on one side (south) and a row of shops and houses on the other (north). There are ten provision shops, five shoe shops and two weaving-rooms along this street. A great deal of local marketing is done in the open street. Here the wheat-laden animals from the country northeast of Râm Allâh bring their burdens. Huge camels, with a back load of clay jars held in a rope net, or carrying sacks of melons or grain, are made to saunter in and kneel. Women with head loads of vegetables, eggs, snails and other food products, and men from Nâblus with ready-made _kinabîz_ and other articles of men’s wear, stand ready for customers. Fruit venders, buyers and sellers from all the villages about are apt to be found here, for Râm Allâh is what might be called a county-seat. Some one from eṭ-Ṭayyibeh or from Kefr Mâlik will come to sell oil or other produce, and buy some necessities, perhaps a pair of shoes, to take home. This main market street of the village is about three hundred feet long (from Dr. Ma‛lûf’s curb to the entrance of the Greek Church yard) and for the most part about fifteen and a half feet wide. About two-thirds of the distance down there opens from it on the right (north) the entrance to the village khân.

Owners of camels, mules or donkeys buy up supplies of oil, dried figs and wheat from the villages and sell them in the village markets, or carry them to Jerusalem and Jaffa. From Jaffa they may bring up rice, sugar, kerosene, oranges and wood to supply the Râm Allâh merchants. Such articles in bulk are very apt to come from the seashore direct, but others are brought out from Jerusalem.

There are something over two scores of shops in Râm Allâh, counting eight shoemakers’, a dozen weavers’ and several butchers’ stands. There are a good many quarriers, stone-masons and stone-dressers, plasterers and roof-menders. Most of the people have work of some kind on the small farming plots, vineyards and orchards. There are a few presses for making the oil and several cisterns for storing it. A few public carriages have been introduced since the opening of the way to Jerusalem for vehicles.

A butcher’s fixtures consist of some iron hooks in the wall at the street side. Sheep have for years been killed right in the streets, the carcasses being hung up against abutting buildings, dressed quickly and divided to waiting customers. Perhaps a little girl is waiting to carry home some scraps in her sleeve. A member of a larger or richer household buys a larger piece, which is held in a scrap of brown paper or, more likely, a vessel brought from home. Sometimes, however, the purchase is carried off as it is. The matter of price is a simple one; it is the same for any part of the creature. Haggling may vary it a trifle, unless the demand for meat on a given day is unusual. Ordinarily the killing of a sheep is deferred until a market for the meat is fairly well assured. The price in Râm Allâh ranges from eight to twelve cents a pound, according to the season of the year and the scarcity of sheep. Goat meat is cheaper. Sometimes beef is offered, but one usually suspects the health of a cow that has been killed and prefers lamb. In Jerusalem fair beef can be obtained, but seldom can it be had in the country.

From a point a little beyond the end of the market proper a street turns to the left (south), passes the back entrance to the Greek Church property and goes off towards the largest village threshing-floor. On this road there are twenty-two houses, one store and one silversmith’s shop. Seven hundred eighty feet along this way is the threshing-floor. Not quite half-way to the threshing-floor is an open space used as a sort of secondary market for such things as would take up too much room in the main street. From the beginning of the threshing-floor one hundred thirty feet onward brings one opposite an interesting place. It is a little sanctuary in a cave and is about a short stone’s throw to the right (west), under a large tree which can be seen from the road.

After passing a few more houses one is well out of town on the road which leads between vineyards towards Baytûnyeh, ‛Ayn ‛Arîk and Ramleh. Most of the vineyards are to the southwest and south of the village. The Khulleh, or valley, at the southwest has the best stretch of vineyard land. Most of the fig-orchards are to the west of the village and most of the olives are on the northwest. Lately some fine vineyards have been made to the northwest near ‛Ayn Miṣbâḥ, and there are some to the northeast around the ‛Audy property and east of the Latin (Franciscan) monastery.

From the watershed Râm Allâh slopes away in a westerly direction, draining towards the Mediterranean. North of the village is a deep valley that heads on the east at the watershed and falls away on the west toward Kefrîyeh. The country falls gradually towards ‛Ayn ‛Arîk to the northwest and to the Balû‛a or sunken meadow, where a winter pond stands near Baytûnyeh to the southwest. To the south, southeast and south-southwest the land rises into hills towards ‛Aṭâra and Khurbet Suwaykeh.

Our first visual impressions of Râm Allâh were received on an afternoon early in April, 1901, before the completion of the carriage road, as we approached it by the old bridle-path already mentioned. By this path Râm Allâh is hidden from sight until one rises to the summit just to the south of the village, where many of the villagers have vineyards planted. Between this hill and the village lies a soft depression which, beginning at the watershed to the east of the village, dips away to the southwest towards the little village of Râfât and beyond, disclosing a beautiful view of ancient Gibeon (el-Jîb) and Mizpeh of Samuel (Neby Samwîl). There the village of Râm Allâh rested partly in the edge of the valley, but mostly spread along the opposite ridge. The gentler rays of the afternoon sun brought out the creamy tints of the stone houses standing in their cubical solidity. Here and there rose a taller building; at the left was the red-tiled roof of the Greek Orthodox Church. But by far the choicest bit of the panorama was the house and grounds of the Friends’ Mission property. The house had one of the rare, tiled roofs evidencing Western influence among the flat and domed structures of the truly Oriental style. The well-constructed stone building was the home of the Girls’ Training Home, a boarding-school for young Syrian women, supported by the New England Yearly Meeting of Friends, and named after two of their honored members, “The Eli and Sybil Jones Mission.” I had seen pictures of the place and so knew it at once, though there was now added the charm of colors. The building sat in sweet Quakerly composure among numerous trees and vines. Tall, pointed cypresses, pines and various fruit trees abounded, which once so delighted the gaze of a little girl in the village that she boldly declared that she knew where heaven was. She thought she had seen it when she looked through the Mission Gate on the well-kept grounds filled with beautiful green. Such gardens could be duplicated all over the country at a small price beyond patience.

Just above the Friends’ grounds is the house owned by the English Church Missionary Society, who make Râm Allâh headquarters for their work in different villages of this region. For more than a quarter of a century the agents of the society had been Mr. and Mrs. George Nyland, who, in their early years, went out from Holland to Egypt as missionaries, but after a few years entered the Church Missionary Society work in Palestine.

The nearest neighbor at the front was the so-called “Old Man at the Gate.” He had earned this title, suggestive of unpleasant nearness, by a certain ability to introduce himself when no one else did so. It was a practise of his to come up through the grounds into the house once or twice each year to ask for an envelope and paper. The sensation was like the imposition of a tax. He assured us of his great friendliness and his usefulness to the Mission. He often spoke of the piece of land near the south gate where the small cistern was as an evidence of his goodness to us, in that he had sold it to us for a very small price, though the traditions of the mission were that he had received a very good price for it. I recollect the way in which one of his sons disappointed us. We had as guests over night some missionaries who depended for their start the next morning at five o’clock on our promise to secure the animals to take them on to Nâblus. We bargained with one of the old man’s sons to provide us a saddled animal and considered our business done, but about nine o’clock that night he came around and calmly repudiated the bargain, demanding better terms. We ought to have been thankful that his impatience to get the better of us had prevented his saving this bit of annoyance until the last moment before starting. As it was, we still had some hours of night to provide ourselves.

Across the street from the schoolyard was a family which some of our people had dubbed “The Clean Family.” Our butcher lived directly in front of us. He was an honest, burly fellow who usually wore a sheepskin coat, wool side in. He had been a friend of the mission inmates for many years and an attendant and helper in the mission congregation. To the north of us were some Protestant natives who were pleasant neighbors, and across the street from them dwelt some English women, mission workers, who gave their time to works of mercy among the women of near-by Moslem villages. We were to become much indebted to them for comfort and society.

Just south of the Friends’ property is the little chapel of the Greek Catholic body which claims a few people of Râm Allâh, and just south of that runs a little path, through the vineyards, called the _Ṭarîḳ el-Majnûny_, _The Road of the Crazy One._ One of the old men told how in former years along that road the oak woods were so thick that a cat could not pass, and that if a piece of bread were dropped from above, the thickness of the foliage would prevent it from reaching the ground. This is interesting as pointing to traditions and to the kind of figures used by the natives in descriptions.

And so our neighborly resources continued. We gratefully acknowledge that the best lesson that we learned during our intimate acquaintance with the village community was that, joined with varying accidents of speech, dress and advantages, human beings are much alike everywhere and possess many admirable traits.

To the westward of Râm Allâh there begins with an abrupt head the Wâdy Ṭarafîdya, which runs nearly north and south and leads to Wâdy el-Kelb. One of the paths to ‛Ayn ‛Arîk bends around it. Just under this path to the eastward, between it and the wâdy, is a little spring, ‛Ayn Ṭarafîdya. Most of the land hereabouts has been purchased by Râm Allâh people of Baytûnyeh, the latter reserving the spring and some olive land. The taxes are paid through Baytûnyeh. Forty-two feet down from ‛Ayn Ṭarafîdya is a reservoir with thick, heavy stone walls, the corners being at the four main points of the compass. The northeast wall is ninety-seven inches thick and the northwest wall sixty-six inches thick. The reservoir is nearly forty feet square. The southeast wall inside is forty feet long and the northeast wall lacks three inches of the same measurement. There is a broken descent into the old dry pool at the west corner. I was here on a soft, gray December morning when the sky was hung with ready clouds. There was a sweet quiet under the olive-trees. The earth was red beneath. The black wet trunks and moss-covered branches showed through the gray-green mantle of the trees like a core through filigree. On one side of the valley the steep wet cliffs were decked with Christmas green. On the other side were terraces holding leafless fig-trees that stretched up their many fingers like candelabra to the mist. Down through the valley were seen round, stone watch-towers with brush tops. Pink daisies, narcissus, the little white and lavender crocuses and creepers were already showing. In the tiny scrub-oaks were twining green leaves.

Wâdy el-Kelb has two heads, the one to the north being called Shayb ed-Dars, the one to the east going by the name Baṭn el-Hawâ. Wâdy el-Kelb and Khullet el-‛Adas are favorite grounds for anemones of various colors. Every little cut or crest of the surface hereabouts has its local name given or continued by the peasants, who spend many hours in these orchards, vineyards and pasture-grounds. The next depression beyond Baṭn el-Hawâ is Wâd Karom Shutâ, which rises in Karom Shutâ and between the two wâdys thrusts out the little headland known as Ḳurnet Mûsâ. Above the Karom Shutâ are the Karûm Senâsil, named from the terraces that characterize the piece of vineyard there.

The burj, or tower, of Râm Allâh is in the southeast of the village near the very high house that is so prominent to one viewing Râm Allâh from the eastern hills. It is said that here was the former stronghold, and that under the place is a powerful spring called ‛Ayn el-Burj. The property over it is owned by Ab ul-Bâbâ, of the tribe of Shaḳara, who, when he built there three or four years ago, found a good cemented canal coming from what was evidently a strong spring. Over the canal was a flat stone covering. The owner filled in the place at night, concealing it with masonry for fear that the government, if aware of such a spring, might open it to the public and he receive less than its value or nothing at all. Here, if the story be true, is the treasure that Râm Allâh lacks to make it a well-watered village. This ‛Ayn el-Burj is said to be the source of the water that flows into the reservoirs near the property of the United Greeks’ (Roman Catholic) Chapel.

The chief fountains about Râm Allâh are known as ‛Ayn Miṣbâḥ (spring of the lamp), ‛Ayn Minjid (spring of help), ‛Ayn Mizrâb (spring of the conduit or channel) and ‛Ayn Umm el-Kerzam. The spring at el-Bîreh, though a mile away, is in frequent use by Râm Allâh people. ‛Ayn el-Ḳaṣr, towards Kefrîyeh and three miles away, is almost too far to be reckoned with the Râm Allâh water supply.

One October afternoon we went to ‛Ayn Minjid, where there is a well-like structure built down into the ground. The little trickling stream of the spring at that time was about as thick as the tendril of a grape-vine. In winter the water rises high up in the well-like reservoir. A child of the neighborhood was once drowned by falling into it over the unprotected edge in the time of full water. Thence we went to the spring of ‛Ayn Mizrâb, where there is a similar well-like place, built up of hewn stone and cemented on the inside, making a shaft, with the spring at the bottom. This spring was even weaker than ‛Ayn Minjid. There was a tiny depression in one side of the bottom which held a little water. Some girls were trying to scrape up some of it with their skin-buckets. The well was fully twelve feet deep. The leather bucket was let down by a rope. The top of the bucket was held open by a stick stretched across its mouth. There was hardly a basin of water in the bottom of the well, and the most skilful casting of the bucket could gather very little. From one side of the well at the bottom was a canal leading out into some vineyards. To ‛Ayn Mizrâb the women are said sometimes to bring their jars at midnight and set them about the fountain, the first one placing a jar thus claiming the right to draw first when it becomes light enough. If the moon is out they can draw water in the moonlight.

When we first reached Râm Allâh the country was suffering an unusual drought. For the preceding thirty days, during which there ought to have fallen some of the heaviest showers of the season, there had been no rain. The natives were praying for it. The country looked parched and brown at the time when it is usually beautifully decked with flowers. Food prices were high and the outlook for the poor was unpromising. Shortly after we arrived a short, sharp shower fell, but no more came until the middle of May, when the unusual again happened and a heavy downpour shut us in a day or two. We had some cool, blustering weather at a time when the hot days are expected and the dry season well begun. In times of such strange climatic anomalies the natives think they see portents of heavenly significance, that possibly the Messiah may be returning. Rain is the great blessing of nature, as fondly looked for as sunny weather is with us.[198]

Slight earthquakes are experienced now and then in Palestine. A severer one than usual came in the early morning of March 30, 1903, about ten minutes before one o’clock. On awakening my first thought was that people outside were trying our door and then shaking it violently. Then the movement seemed to possess the whole room, as if some mighty force were rocking it strongly and persistently. The bed was jostled. It was this persistent shaking, with the continual and uniform rattling of the articles on the wash-stand, that soon brought me to my senses with the exclamation, “It’s an earthquake.” Mrs. Grant was first awakened by the shaking bedstead. Her next thought was that the house walls were falling. We both felt a sense of nausea. I rose and lighted the candle. The floor was well sprinkled with fallen whitewash that had cracked off from the plastering. A few bottles were tipped over in the room. At first I said that it lasted a minute, but shortly after I reduced my estimate to ten seconds, and now I suppose that it must have been but a third of that duration. The rattling on our wash-stand was as uniform as if the things were on a railroad-train. It was a weird and unpleasant though tuneful jar. Mrs. Grant ran into the far part of the house, where were the dormitories of the Girls’ School, and found the girls a little excited but not much frightened. Some of the smaller girls wanted to know what made their beds shake so. One girl said that she thought that Jesus had come. After we had been up a while we heard a wall falling in the vineyards to the southwest of us. In the Boys’ School one boy tumbled out of bed. The teacher had taken a strong dose of quinine the night before and accounted thus for the fact that he slept pretty soundly and was awakened only when the flakes of whitewash from the ceiling fell on his face. One or two boys at the Boys’ School and one girl at the Girls’ School slept right through it all. The woman cook at the Boys’ School was much startled and began to cry out and pray, “My Lord, my Lord, there is no other but thee” (Yâ rubby, yâ rubby, mâfîsh ghayrak).[199] Niḳola, the man on the place, who slept in a little house in the yard, went back and forth to his family who lived in the village to assure himself that they were well. One stone in the gable end of the house where he slept was tumbled to the ground. The well-constructed Girls’ Training Home showed cracks, while in the poorly built Boys’ House, the roof, flooring and walls on the long south side were cracked the entire length. Our neighbor Nyland’s house suffered somewhat, so that afterwards he felt it necessary to bind the walls with iron girders, which were run through the house and clamped on the outside walls at the ends. Other effects were noticed in a morning walk through the village. In the western part of the village the damage seemed greater than in the central or eastern. One small house on the east and several on the west side had lost a wall apiece. These were the so-called _sḳîfeh_ dwellings, or loosely constructed stone huts. In each case the front wall had fallen outward. Quite a number of larger, stronger houses were slightly cracked along a side or on top. One house wall bowed out threateningly. In one fine new house, not quite completed, there were laterally running cracks on the two longer sides of the roof. Word was brought to us that a man in Baytîn was killed by a falling stone from a house.

A large party of Russian pilgrims on their way up through the country, who had been quartered in the village the night of the earthquake, took up the customary march to Nâblus soon after. They always start northward from Râm Allâh before light.

The dominant religious influence in Râm Allâh is the Greek (Orthodox) Church. It is customary all through the near East, the field of the Greek Church, to admit to the chief ecclesiastical positions priests of Greek blood only. The head priest of the Râm Allâh Church was a Cretan who had come to this village in 1899. He spoke the Arabic language but lamely. He was very affable and rather good looking. All Greek priests wear the hair long though they knot it up for convenience. The ordinary dress is a long black gown and rimless, cylindrical black hat. When we called on the priest he conversed courteously and treated us to preserves and coffee. His attendant was a lad from the Greek islands whom he also used as his censer boy at church functions. This head priest goes by the title _raîs_, that is, head-one among the people. He is unmarried, as are all the superior clergy. There are four other priests for the church, who are natives of the place, speak the Arabic language, of course, and are married. The title for such a priest is Khûry. Whenever there is such a one in a family of Syrians the entire family is apt to adopt the word Khûry as a family name. The names of the four khûrys of the Râm Allâh Greek Church during my acquaintance with the village were Ḥanna, Ayûb, Ḳustandy and Salîm. These under priests have most of the intercourse with the people, intermeddle with all sorts of affairs, like any native villager, and are a visible bond between the common and the ecclesiastical life of the village. One of these four, who is reputed to be wealthy, acts as a sort of private banker in his parish, lending money about at the enormous rates which obtain among the peasants. The government rate is nine per cent, but this legal percentage is often more than doubled in practise, while for small, short-time loans the charges mount to huge proportions. One day as I walked out into the village I saw this khûry sitting in front of the dispensary. He had been consulting the physician about some ailment and had received the advice to take a sitz bath, but he lacked the very important aid of a bath-tub. He applied to me, as he saw me, to lend him a bath-tub, but I had nothing of the kind that was portable. He next heard that I was buying some articles for a new boarding-school for boys and suggested that if I bought some of the large copper vessels called ṭunjerehs, one of the variety used for washing clothes would suit his purpose. But again I had to disappoint him, as I told him I was just then short of money and decided to buy only the smaller cooking ṭunjerehs at present. He looked surprised at my confession of temporary poverty, but followed up his lead affably by declaring that I was very welcome to come to his bank. It was some minutes before I saw the line of thought the thrifty fellow was following, that I should borrow money of him (the rate was then about twenty per cent) to buy bathing facilities which he might borrow of me. This will help to illustrate the unembarrassed egotism with which some of the people deal with one after the “heads-I-win, tails-you-lose” order. They are as unimaginative as children in setting your interests at naught and complacently securing all for themselves. And they will do it with all the dramatical touches of idealism and an unselfish air.

The village tradition of the founding of Râm Allâh is told by the peasants as follows: A certain Christian shaykh living in Shôbek, down towards Wâdy Mûsâ, became the father of a little girl. A Moslem shaykh, visiting the father, spoke in a complimentary way of the little child and was courteously answered, as in all cases where praise is bestowed on any possession, whether a new article or a new child, the owner or father usually replying, “It is for you.” So in this case the father replied, “She is for you,” meaning, of course, nothing by it except the usual courtesies. Years passed by and the little baby girl became an attractive maiden, when the Moslem shaykh came and claimed her for his bride. The father protested, but was reminded of the visit of years before and the reply of the father, which had been taken in real earnest by his visitor. Consternation fell on the Christian family at the impending fate of the little daughter claimed by a Moslem. They would rather that the girl should die than marry thus, but they were in no condition to resist the demand. During the night the Christian shaykh took the only course possible, the desperate one of flight to other parts. Accompanied by his four brothers and their families he fled. No members of the large family could be left behind lest vengeance should be executed on them for the disappointment. They journeyed northward and were joined by certain Moslems who also had reasons for seeking a change of home. The two parties traveled together, probably for greater safety. They all came into the country north of Jerusalem and the Christians, being blacksmiths, chose what were then wooded hills, the present site of Râm Allâh, though now there is no growth to evidence the early conditions. The Moslems settled about el-Bîreh. To-day when the Bîreh people laugh at Râm Allâh people and say, “Your fathers must have been foolish not to choose lands near the good Bîreh spring, but over there in that thirsty country,” some of the Râm Allâh people answer, “Our fathers were blacksmiths, and in their days the hills here were covered with woods which supplied them with charcoal.” To-day, as has been noted elsewhere, the largest section of Râm Allâh’s people is called the _Ḥadadeh_, that is, “the blacksmiths.”

Another version of the story has it that the Christians settled at el-Bîreh and the Moslems at Râm Allâh, but because the Christians were blacksmiths they arranged with the Moslems to exchange sites since there was so much material for charcoal around Râm Allâh. If this version could be credited it might help to account for the old mosk in Râm Allâh.[200]

The villagers of Râm Allâh are often hard workers. Their hours of labor are from sunup to sunset. They often sing happily while they are digging the vineyards in lieu of plowing them where the vines are close. Twenty-five cents a day is fair pay for unskilled labor of this sort, though for skilled labor, such as that of a first-class mason and builder, the price may run to a dollar, or a little over. Women and boys work hard for from twelve to fifteen cents a day. From four to eight dollars a month secures a man servant who, if he is a clever one, will do countless services and become almost indispensable. He will try hard to meet the foreigners’ ideas and wishes and improve in his ability to anticipate them.

It does not do to nag and annoy the native helper by too close and nervous application of Western ideals of work, accuracy and punctuality, for one gets oneself into a very unlovely state of nervous irritability and often wears out a really valuable servant by unnecessary trifles of supervision. The peasant is used to a certain ease and generosity of judgment and if wisely watched will accomplish a good deal of work in a very fair way.

One fresh from Europe or America is tempted to supercilious airs, as if everything native to the country were inferior and vastly so. But a longer acquaintance emphasizes the fact that, the world over, our virtues, superiorities and so forth are put on in spots rather than in a consistent through and through grain. And one soon finds plenty of occasion in Palestine to blush for occurrences which must make a sensible native think us a very unlikely set of people to be receiving so many gifts from a kind Providence. The conditions under which they see most foreigners persuade them that lack of money does not exist in America and possibly that it is not very common in Europe. Then, too, they see so many childless married couples, these naturally being the freest to travel, or to undertake missions, that the contradiction of this apparent curse upon us mystifies them. And as to sanity of mind and clearness of religious doctrine or practise, foreigners in Jerusalem must often be on the defensive in order to keep even self-respect.

El-Bîreh, with its eight hundred inhabitants, lies on the southeast side of a curve in the carriage road, fifteen kilometers almost due north from Jerusalem. From it Jerusalem may be seen. North of it on the opposite side of the carriage road is an unusually prominent watch-tower by which el-Bîreh can be located from afar. Local tradition says that Ibrahîm Basha (Pasha) camped near here. The people of el-Bîreh are all Moslems, except one family named Rafîdya, who number about eighty and are related to a household of the same name in Râm Allâh. These Rafîdyas take their name from a town near Nâblus, whence they migrated some years ago when their lot there become unbearable. They are now among the most prosperous dwellers in the village, managing the large new khân, the little store in it and the carriage business that runs a service between el-Bîreh and Jerusalem daily. They worship in the Greek Church in Râm Allâh. One member of the family is being trained in the Greek school in Jerusalem. One goes by the complimentary business epithet of _esh-Shayṭân_ (Satan), equivalent to _clever_. This family, or tribe, dwell in the northern part of the village, not far from the carriage road. Their khân is a typical country caravanserâi. Thousands of people pass it: messengers going up and down the country, village priests or teachers going to Jerusalem to get their monthly pay, sellers and buyers, caravans of wheat carriers from the Haurân, tourists, pilgrims, missionaries, mokaries, camping outfits, mounted Turkish soldiers sent to some village to bring in offenders wanted by the Jerusalem government or to collect taxes.

The chief pride of el-Bîreh is the copious spring of excellent water at the southwest of the village, where the carriage road begins to ascend the hill. The new mudîr of the district in 1903 caused some improvements in masonry to be constructed over the Bîreh fountain. A busy scene can often be observed there. Women and girls come and go, chattering and scolding, eager for the first turn to put a jar under the flow. The women are seen washing on the smooth stones near the spring, pounding with a short stout club the well-soaked garments. The water from the spring at its flood and the rains have gullied the paths hereabouts and left the pebbles like hobnails, so that to walk about the place is like using the stepping-stones of a dry brook.

From a point a little to the east of the fountain a path to the right (south) leads in a few steps under a picturesque little ruin in stone, the inner rim of an arch which spans the path with airy grace. Just beyond it on the right there is a long, low stone building, an old khân in good preservation. There are ruins all about under the trees. Continuing on the left after a turn one comes to an immense old khân in ruin, of which four sections or rooms still remain. It has a quadruple arched roof and fine columns. Masons’ marks are to be seen on some of the heavy old stones and Arab graffiti on others. Some of these scratchings are very good. A horseman lifting a long spear is one of the best. This great khân would still shelter several scores of camels and their loads if inclement weather necessitated a resort to it.

South of the fountain are some old reservoirs built of heavy stone and meant to treasure up the overflowings of the brook in its downward course through the valley from the spring. Further southward of these reservoirs, which are now out of repair, one goes through fig-orchards towards the little Moslem shrine of Shaykh Sâliḥ, around about which one often sees numerous little piles of stones on the tops of the stone walls, reminders of the pious and their petitions to the departed shaykh or wily. The course of the brook from the spring continues down the valley to Wâd es-Suwaynîṭ and thence, by the way of the Wâdy Ḳelt, to the Jordan.

Along the sides of Jebel Ṭawîl, the long ridge to the southeast of el-Bîreh, one sees the walls of a quarry, whence huge blocks must have been taken long ago, as the smooth, unbroken surface remaining measures many yards. Northeast of el-Bîreh the hillsides show similar quarrying.

In the northern part of the village is the ruin of a Crusaders’ Church, one of the better preserved specimens of that kind of building in Palestine. A considerable part of the east end, with its triple apse and most of the north wall, though this latter bulges ominously, are still standing. The south wall, too, is pretty well preserved. A low passage through it leads to the site where the old convent used to be, now the home of a Moslem boys’ school taught by a white turbaned urbane khaṭîb. Several visitors of late years searched in vain for an inscription that M. Clermont Ganneau mentions as having seen. Among the ruins of the church several masons’ marks of the crusading style may be seen on the building stone. The church is some eight centuries old. The cement in these old structures is exceedingly strong. Though the north wall seems in such imminent danger of falling, the earthquake of 1903 did not accomplish its overthrow. Cows and donkeys wander about the weedy interior, and the neighbors spread out there heaps of gathered dung to dry for fuel.

There are many signs of squalor in el-Bîreh. The level of the floor in many of the huts is below the threshold. In fact, a large number of the houses, excluding those of the shaykhs and the Christian tribe of Rafîdya, are of the very old style of sḳîfeh dwellings, a few of which were mentioned in describing Râm Allâh, the style of buildings made with stones bedded in earth, or at best held together by poor mortar and having dirt roofs supported upon heavy boughs. The village, though possessed of wide lands, a good situation on the traffic route of the country and the best spring for many miles around, compares very poorly with Râm Allâh, just twenty minutes away and possessed of none of these advantages. The very marked superiority of the Christian village and its rapid development in the last century is a matter of significant observation. A study of the house structure already suggested in the two villages shows the typical development of village building. There are in Râm Allâh some of the sḳîfeh-huts of the same style and age apparently as the larger number of that kind proportionately in el-Bîreh. Others of this same order were pulled down long ago in Râm Allâh and replaced by houses made with dressed stone and mortar and having rolled dirt roofs, similar to some of the better grade of houses in el-Bîreh to-day. But this kind is already counted inferior in Râm Allâh, where the larger number of dwellings have the heavy, arched, dome roofs of stone, of which there are but few in el-Bîreh. An improvement even upon these is gaining ground in Râm Allâh, and much better houses, having several rooms, modern window openings and paved floors and provided in some cases with cisterns for oil or water, are being constructed by the wealthier villagers. The development of several centuries in highland peasant homes may thus be traced. A significant change in the interior structure is the doing away of the elevated living platform in the room reached by stairs that command the doorway.