Speech to AAUW on 1964 Trip to Middle East

November 9th, 2018

In 1964 I had been working in London, and in April I went on a British tour through LEBANON, SYRIA and JORDAN. It was led by an English archaeologist with a doctorate and background in working on digs at Jericho. Palmyra Qumran (site of the Dead Sea Scrolls), and others.

I’ll focus now mainly on SYRIA, currently in such a troubled state.

A few photos are displayed on the table…..

We’d visited the vast Roman-style site of PALMYRA. Now much of it has been deliberately vandalized or destroyed by ISIS and others.

I’ve thought of my little hotel room in HOMS, a city now in ruins from the Syrian Civil War. It had an antique bed, huge pillows, masses or fresh white linens, laces, ruffles and crochet work. It felt like a Victorian anomaly, when I awakened at dawn to the chant or a Muezzin calling the faithful to prayer.

Our group comprised 13 people, all British except me, traveling in three rickety old cars with local Arab drivers who had a carefree driving style -- “Nothing happens unless it is written”? In other words, a bit rambunctious in city traffic, or barreling up a highway on the wrong side of the road approaching the crest of a hill.

When we got to HOMS in SYRIA on a late afternoon, Bert White pleaded for an extra impromptu run to HAMA, to  see the water wheels. He had been there in the British Army with LAWRENCE of ARABIA’S Arab regiment in FIRST WORLD WAR, and longed to revisit the site. Huge water wheels dating back centuries creak round and round, scooping up water from the Orontes River into an aqueduct above.

So a few of us took off with one of the cars and raced through the desert, passing picturesque mud beehive houses on the way, arriving at RAIVIA as it was growing dusk.

We sat down at a little café terrace next to a water wheel. Bert fell speechless, eyes moist, thinking of his lost youth. The rest of us sat in silence, sipping Arak, sharing his moment. The only sound the creaking of the water wheel.

(Later we learned that HAMA had had a political uprising against the Baathist Regime, a few days after we left. The Syrian Army and Air Force bombed it back into submission.)

Bert’s experience in the Great War was our living link with history. A Turkish soldier had slashed him across the back with a sword. What saved his life was the thick leather Sam Browne Belt of his uniform. (That is like a bandolier, worn diagonally over one shoulder across the back and chest.)

Our tour had begun in towns and cities. When we got to a desert area pausing for a brief stop, a Bedouin tribe came heading toward us. We were apprehensive, but Bert strode out toward them alone with a big smile and outstretched hand. They greeted him warmly, effusively. When he returned to us, we exclaimed at his courage. He explained that you must always exude confidence, and must never show fear. If you are part of an Arab military unit and show fear, they will kill you, because you’d be considered a liability in battle.

Bert was a handsome, hearty chap with a shock of white hair, and a civilian career as a prosperous builder. He also pioneered in designing user-friendly houses especially for seniors, a relatively new idea at the time.

Other interesting people in our group were two Jewish women. Lady Choimonderey and her friend Miss Elliot. Since the tour was to Arab countries which were at that time refusing entry to Jews, the travel company had to request passengers to affirm that they were Christian in order to be allowed in. These two ladies said they were so keen to take the tour that they were willing to falsify their religion in order to be allowed entry.

I didn’t know Lady Cholmondeley’s background at the time, but subsequently learned that she was a member of the Sassoon family, whose forebear was a rich IRAQI Jew with vast trading interests all through the Middle East, India and China. He had been given a title for services rendered to the British Empire and settled in England. She also had a Rothschild in her family tree.

One highlight of SYRIA is the massive Crusader Castle fortress, KRAK DES CHEVALIERS.

The city of DAMASCUS is a high point. It has a large Souk (bazaar) for shopping, and the OMAYYAD MOSQUE with gorgeous Persian rugs that require your changing into floppy slippers to enter.

You’ll also see two grand sarcophagi side by side for the Muslims’ hero leader SALADIN, who defeated the Crusaders, ejecting them out of the Holy Land. One contains his body, the other being a gift from an admirer, Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany.

There is the STREET CALLED STRAIGHT, where Saul of Tarsus, a dedicated Jewish foe of the new Christian religion, experienced a dramatic transformation. He became the follower and apostle of Christ known as St. Paul.

In DAMASCUS I was invited out to dinner by our local guide, a Palestinian who had been dispossessed of his home by the Israeli takeover of Palestine. Fluent in English, he became a guide in Damascus. Good looking, with European facial features, I wondered about possible Crusader genes. He was about half my size--but I was a bit nervous about going out, and made sure our tour manager knew where we were going, so that if anything went wrong he would get the British Consulate on the case!

But it turned out all very staid. He was gentlemanly, and did not hit on me. We had a good dinner, the guide smoked a water pipe, and we watched a belly dancer floor show.

The next day, the two English married women, who must have seen too many romantic old Sheikh movies, sneaked over so their husbands wouldn’t hear, to ask me how the exotic date went! I think they were disappointed, not to hear of a spicy interlude!

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Just a few words about some special experiences at PETRA and AQABA in JORDAN.

In 1964 PETRA, you were roughing it, staying in a barracks-like building, everyone having to share rooms--and beds--with several other people--(imagine the snoring!) Food was tinned stuff like beans heated up on a spirit lamp, which also provided lighting.

Our first sightseeing goal was to climb a rock face to a flat surface on top where a basin had been carved out for the ancient NABATEANS’ child sacrifice rites, slitting the children open so their blood could run down a carved channel. Since I was the youngest in our group, they said I had to go. So I sat down in the basin while another member took pictures of us, the others standing behind me jovially anticipating my slaughter.

The next day four of us chose to take an optional run down to AQABA on our own.

Elderly Mr. Greeves fainted and fell off his horse on our way out of the PETRA SIQ gorge. Being the most agile person, and comfortable with horses, I leapt off my mount, and with the Arab groom got him on again and out to the waiting car.

We took off, speeding through the WADI RUM desert--seen in the LAWRENCE OF ARABIA MOVIE. Our happygo-lucky Arab driver pulled out his bottle of Arak (alcohol content about 63%), waving it about and swilling freely as we raced along. (Arak, based on Anise, like the Greek Ouzo, is meant to be diluted with water.)

Mr. Greeves kept passing out in the car, and I kept shoring him up with old-fashioned smelling salts.

Along the way, we passed a grand Arab in black robes on a camel festooned with fringes and decorations, just like Omar Sharif in the movie!

We stopped at a government outpost, a Beau-Gestelooking, crenellated, mud brick building with a few uniformed police and Jordanian Army soldiers on duty. They welcomed us warmly--all smiles--with Bedouin Tea, containing mint and lots of sugar, served in small glasses in decorative metal holders. They also served us some delicious chocolate candies, part of their celebration in honor or of Mohammed’s ascension into heaven--the Muslim equivalent of Easter.

These refreshments perked up Mr. Greeves, and we proceeded on to AQABA. There was only one small German hotel there, and a sprinkling of German sun-seekers. The people I came with sat on the verandah taking more refreshments, and I rented a German bathing suit for a swim.

Note that there are no ocean waves at AQABA--it is at the tip of a long, narrow pay off the Red Sea--and the water is absolutely still. (That movie segment was filmed at a different location.)

We had lunch, Mr. Greeves recovered, and we drove back to Petra and rejoined our group.

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I loved my long-ago Middle East tour. I’m sad that the region is so filled with strife, but I’m thankful for memories or better days.

Thank you.

Addendum to Speech

At the time in 1964, The Mandelbaum Gate was a powerful symbol of the Israeli takeover of Palestine, including half of Jerusalem.

It was the only way for “non-official traffic,” that is, ordinary travelers, to pass from the Jordanian side, through a “No Man’s Land” -- a concrete and barbed wire barrier -- into the Israeli side. One way only -- no return.

My group tour, focused on history and archaeology, was through LEBANON, SYRIA and JORDAN. At the end of it, a handful of us from my group went independently, separately, through this Gate into ISRAEL, to visit the historic sites.

It was a bit scary, as I went alone -- the first to go through the Gate. The others came a few days later.

(I took this photo from the Israeli side after I’d crossed though.)

The Israeli passport control staff were shrewd enough not to stamp your passport, so that you wouldn’t have trouble if you later wanted to visit other Arab countries.

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Regarding the subject of displaced PALESTINIANS, when my group tour started in BEIRUT, LEBANON, I was entertained by a young woman doctor friend whom I’d known in my London pension, and her parents. They had been dispossessed of their home, a villa in the part of JERUSALEM taken over by Israel, without compensation. Obviously they were not happy about this.

My friend being a doctor, and her father a lawyer, they were affluent enough to have the flat in BEIRUT as well as another in PARIS.

Our tour guide in DAMASCUS, SYRIA, was also a displaced Palestinian, his home and other properties having been taken over by Israel without compensation. He was unhappy about that, but in business suit and tie, and fluent in English, he was able to earn a living as a guide in DAMASCUS.

The subject of having your home seized by Israel without compensation was clearly a painful subject.

A touching example of the sad situation of Israel’s relations with its Arab neighbors was a driver-guide I had on a solo excursion I took in Israel. He said wistfully, “I wish I could see DAMASCUS!” He wanted me to tell him all about it.

The Jordanian side of JERUSALEM was completely taken over by Israel in what is called the “Six Day War” of 1967, and the Mandelbaum Gate demolished.

The United States’ recent recognition of Jerusalem as the capital of Israel has created more Arab resentment of the United States.