Identities In the Night

They had dinner. They still had some food from home, and they bought some Arabic bread, khubz. It was new and interesting for Petra and there was nothing special in it for Ameen. It was strange for Petra how the boy kept the khubz between his fingers, how he ate it. She was looking at his every move. Ameen asked her:

"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"It is interesting how you eat."
"Why? U do not have khubz?""We have, but I am not used to buy it. I eat only shaorma with it."
"But when I will go there, you will let me eat khubz too, right?"

"Of course" – said Petra. "I do know that this is a part of you. I do not want your identity to remain in Irbid. I want you to come with your language, your religion, your culture. I want you to come with everything that belongs to you, everything what is you. Come to me with your sejadah (carpet used for the pray), with Ummi`s rice recety, with your grandmother`s baklawa. Because all these are you."

"See? This is why I love you so much. Because you do not want to change me into European."

"Of course not. Why should I? No matter for how long will you live there, you will never be European. Man can not choose those two things that gives its identity. The mother and the place where he/she born. First we love our mother, no matter who she is, or how she is. Then we meet the world we born into through her. One day we get down from her arms and start our journey to discover the place we live in, then we start to talk the language we learn also from her. This is how our identity is written in the big book of the universe long before we can realize it. This is why you say ummi and I say édesanya. You say donia and I say világ.

"What is the world for you hayaty?" - asked Ameen and took another piece of khubz.

"My world is my mountains. All those little ways that bring me to the top, the sun which comes behind me, the wind that smells differently up there. It is also the city with all its little streets and big boulevards. And all the cars everybody hates. I love them all. I love the old square, the houses which are there for centuries, the medieval entrance called Poarta Schei, because every time I pass under it, it feels like having a walk in time. I love walking on the streets where every piece of dust and every stone is my friend. My world is the sound of church bells, the sound of the piano in the Black Church, the statues in the city, the walking street, I love the musicians who are always there and smile for everybody and sing for everybody. Beside the musicians there is a store where you can buy the best chocolate in the city. And not just the city, but it is the best chocolate in the world. This also belongs to my world. Just like all the hypermarkets, all the malls, and all those people who are there all the time and who are driving me crazy every time they want to pass, with all the things they just bought, right in front of me.

And the stadium...the matches. My favourite football team. Go yellow and black! I was very little when I first went to the stadium with my dad and grandfather. As a child, I enjoyed running between the chairs with my brothers, of course we did not have patience to stay in the same place for two hours. The only problem was when one of the teams had a goal and no matter how hard we asked, they did not want to replay, like we saw on TV. Many years passed, but even now I go with the same joy to the stadium. The spirit from there is very strong, and it is a part of me. And when I was at the match, the team never lost.

But not only these. The graveyard where my grandmother rests, is also my world. The place where she will be forever. My favourite poet is also resting in that place under the trees. Sometimes I just sit in these places and I find myself. And if I find myself, that means that it is a certain part of my life.

Grandmamas cake is also my world, just like her every word, every sentence, every move. When I was little, she was my refugee place. It was very good at both my grandmothers. They always did what I wanted and I was allowed to do all the things I could not at home. They brang me with them for years, and they loved it, because I was not crying for my parents. Never. I learned so many things from them. Things that people usually learn from their grandparents. They tought me to pray, they took me to religion hours, the first stories from the Bible were told me by them. Just like so many fairy tales. The best ones were the invented ones. Where the heroes lived in houses with wafel doors and candy windows."

She stopped and smiled. Ameen saw on her face that she loved telling these things. It was her life, her world, the world she wanted to share with her love, where she wanted to take him. She saw that Ameen finished eating so she started to put the food back to the fridge, and continued.

"And the family. Those who should be the closest to me. But I do not feel like that for so many times. My parents, with who I do not have a normal parent – child relation, and my brothers. I always hated that I was the eldest. Just like that I have no sister, and my brothers, beside the fact that are boys, were always on me. Probably I should tell you the most about this part of my world, but I can not. I will tell you more about this, but not now, OK?"

Ameen did not understand why Petra's face changed, but he knew there was not a good time asking too much. He felt that it was enough holding her hand.

"It is all right hayaty. I know you will tell me everything. And when ever you feel ready, I will be here and listen."

"I know. But I want you to tell me about your world now."

"Hm... My world is different from yours, and much different of how you, Europeans think it is. It may not have so many colors, but it is much more colorful. My world is my people who can not live where its place is, and the way it lived for centuries. My world is the world of the desert, where water is treasure, where the master is the sand, and everybody respects it. We know that from time to time it has to take what belongs to it. And we do not get angry because of this. All we say is that Allah wanted this way. My world is all the Bedouins, their tents, the smell of the goat milk. My world is Jenin, Irbid and Amman. With everything they have. With all the places I go with my friends. All the houses with flat roofs are parts of my world. And the family... Babba`s severe words which are full of care, that look that is only his, the way he tries to get his children on the good way. Ummi`s perfume as her hijab moves. The conversations I have with my brothers about what we saw on TV, Mona's innocence as she enters my room, sits on my bed and tells me to hug her. And above all these, what gives sense to everything, the mosques. The minarets are parts of my soul. As they raise to the sky, they raise to my faith too. And the call for the pray, the one you were afraid of, my dear, it embraces my every days, my holidays and it reminds me five times per day who I really am.

"How can we make one of these two, so different worlds?" - asked Petra.

"I tell you how. You are already a part of my solar system, and even more, you are the center of it. And all the things I just told you, move around you. Because in the last half of year I saw you in the sand, you smiled to me from the Bedouin tents, I felt you flying with the desert wind, you were in Jenin, in Irbid, I saw you once in a bus in Amman, you were with me at the family meals, and from now on every time I will hear the call for pray, I will see you face as you are not afraid of it anymore."

They talked like this till very late. They could not get enough of each others words. They wanted to know everything about the other one. They noticed it was dawn only when the mosques started to scream again.

"Ameen, it is five o`clock." - said Petra surprised.

"Yes."

"Pray."

"What?"

"I would like you to pray. Let us go to a mosque and pray."

"I can pray here too."
"Then do it. Please."

"OK."

He went in the bathroom, washed his hands, legs, face, mouth. Then he came back and started to think.

"What is wrong?" - asked Petra.

"Nothing, I just do not know where Mekka is."

He kept thinking for a few seconds, then he choosed a way and started to pray. It was not sure that Mekka was that way, but if somebody does not know, it is not considered a sin. He kept his hands strangely, said something then got on his knees. He said something again, then put the top of his fingers together, then touched the ground with his head. He did that again, and then got up. Petra was just looking at him and did not understand anything. She also used to pray, but only in herself. She did not get on her knees. She did not understand the ritual the catholics made, how could she understand what Ameen just did? But she wanted to see. She was wondering if he asked something from his god, or just followed the ritual. Ameen finished the pray and smiled to her.

"Thank you my love. I really missed this. You are an angel. - he said. But now it is really the time to sleep a little."

"Yes, we should sleep a little."

They got in the bed and were looking at each other. Petra was caressing his face. He was holding her.

"I always want to fall asleep this way." - said Ameen.

"Me too" – answered Petra in a sad voice and let those two tears flow on her face.

"What is it hayaty?"

"I do not want to loose you."

"Oh, my little, you will not loose me. I am yours. I never loved anybody like I love you. You are everything to me. Hayaty in the full meaning of the word. There is no life for me without you anymore" – he said, put his hand on Petra's chest and continued. "Do you feel this? It is my heart, the one you took from me and now it beats in you. It does not stop, it does not sleep. I live in you just like you live in me. And this is how it is going to be forever and a day.

In a few minutes Ameen was sleeping deeply but Petra could not fall asleep. She just watched him walking between his dreams. Her thoughts did not let her sleep, in her mind she was in Irbid, she crossed the street in front of the house, walked across the Hashemit street, then the University street and went in a little coffeeshop. She orderd a coffee and a croissant and she watched how the students came out from the university, they all had books in their hands. A few came in the little coffeeshop. Boys and girls. A boy and a girl sat beside her. The girls, let us say Sahaar and Samaa wore black hijabs. The boy, let his name be Jamal, jeans and a tshirt. They talked about a Persian poet who has a strange name and wrote a poem abou a girl whose ashes became a cup and people drank from it. They talked about love, and they put the whole universe into four lines of a poet.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" - Samaa asked.

"I am not."

"Yes you are. She was, right Sahaar?"

"Aha."

"Leave her alone girls. She is westic. I can see on her. Europe? Amerika? Maybe Australia? Only those are looking like that." - said Jamal. "They all think that their perfect world is upon ours. That everything is good at them and everything is bad at us. It is all about this, right little girl?"

(Oh my god, what is that he wants from me?)

She was not thinking like this at all. She had no problem with Arabs or anybody else. She was not American, nor Australian, and she was European only geographically.

"What is it? Can you not talk anymore? You think that if our sisters and mothers wear hijabs, they are less or do not worth so much? You think those women who are on the pages of the Playboy are better? Samma, Sahaar, tell her, because as far as I can see, she does not understand."

Petra was almost crying. She did not understand why this boy, whose name means beautiful, was talking like this to her. What he was saying was not beautiful at all. She felt guilty for not being Arabic, for not wearing anything on her head, for wearing some stupid trousers and a purple blouse.

"Stop it Jamal" – Sahaar said. Then she asked Petra`s name, and continued: "you know, we are constient of the fact that our dressing code is strange to you, but it is something absolutely normal for us. Maybe it is not after the trands given by the great fashion houses of Paris, Milano or New York, but I only feel myself as being myself when I wear the hijab. In the mosques it is forbideen to enter without something to cover the head, and there we feel who we really are. We are like Allah wants us to be. That does not mean we do not have the same life that has every woman on every corner of the world. We work, we can get very high positions, there have woman ministers in almost every Arabic country, and the prime minister in Pakistan is also a woman, though the country is Muslim. We make sports just like other women do, just look at the world champion in athletism who came from Bahrain and won the gold medal with covered head.

(Petra did not ask anything, and though she got answer to many of her questions. She knew exactly what Sahaar ment by being themselves. She knew that feeling... Yes, the mountains again... But she did not understand Jamal`s behaviour. Why was he so rude to her? Maybe he had bad experience with westic people. Yes, it has to be that, because Arabs do not talk like that. But there are all kind of people everywhere.)

"See?" - he asked.

"Well, Jamal, I am perfectly constient of all the things I just heard, but I guess you push it a little too far. I did not say anything. Good or bad about your country, religion, you or the women from here. I have no problem with hijab. I know its meaning, but I think that it should be wore only by those women who feel it that way. On the other hand, I am on the side of her majesty Queen Rania al Abdullah, who is covering herself in the mosque, where she goes to pray, but who wears the clothes of famous designers when she is in any meating with the great personalities on earth and she fights for education and human right. What is it Jamal, are you surprised that I know your queen? Maybe in Europe also live some people who are opened to know things about those who are not like them too. You know what your problem is? That you try to put these thoughts into my brain. You think that if the wind blows free in my hair, I was on the pages of man magazines? Or that I come to Jordan only to take a bath in Aqaba? It is not like that. Not like that at all."

On Jamal`s face there was a mixture of anger and surprise.

Ameen opened his eyes and saw that Petra was not sleeping.

"You are up?"

Petra was smiling.

"Guess where have I been. In the University street in Irbid. Then she held her love and whispered: God, how difficult it will be... and how wonderful...

Big Dreams and One Little Song

Every single moment was very important to them. They knew that for them every minute was like a week or a month for others. They wanted to put as much as they could into the time they had. When they called their family to let them know everything was OK, they smiled to each other, they held each others hands, they caressed each other, so every minute, every second could be lived properly. They could not afford to loose these few minutes because they knew that after this week they would give their all just to have one more minute, or even just for half of it. It is almost unbelievable how precious can be an innocent minute when two people get so little of them. We ask somebody spontaneously to wait a minute, then often that minute becomes half of hour or more, and there is no problem, because there and then time has its normal value, not like for these lovers.

Ameen and Petra spent a lot of time at the seaside. At the Marmara Sea the time was one way different. It seemed that it stopped, that was why they loved that place. They were sitting at the seaside on a rock when a dirty Turkish boy went to them with a guitar, started to play on the strings and sing probably a love song. Ameen and Petra did not understand a word, so they just laughed. The boy was very concentrated with his singing. As he finally finished his serenade, Ameen asked him to borrow him the guitar for a few minutes. The boy gave it to him immediately. Ameen pulled his fingers on the strings but the voices were vanished by the sounds of the waves. He did this again and what came out was so beautiful that Petra could not do anything.

"What are you doing my dear?"

"I will play you a song that I wrote for you."

Your smile lays on my hands

Your tears are the stars themselves

The whole world is at my feet

As long as I watch you sleep.

In the darkness my pain screams

I want to touch your angel tears

There is no time, no space for me

The world is just us: you and me

Let me take your sufferance

Let me scream I love you

Let me be your home, your shadow

Let me take care of you.

All those tears are like pearls for me

Like every word that comes from you

Your place is in my arms, always beside me

So let me take care of you.

Let me take your sufferance

Let me scream I love you

Let me be your home, your shadow

Let me take care of you.

I will be your shelter in the rain

All the troubles will be miles away

No matter what, I will stay

Oh girl, we are the same.

Petra could not say anything. She just stood on a rock and let her tears flow and melt into the sea. The sun shined on the guitar strings and Ameens eyes and the girl was just looking at this endless tenderness and happiness that was right there at her feet. Ameens song could not be hears anymore but it was alive in Petra, she did not know then yet, but this song never quit existing in her. She locked in her heart these guitar accords as those embraced the waves. The sounds played in the rhythm of her heart and she kept saying that yes, she wanted this boy to take care of her, she needed him to take care of her, him and nobody else but him.

Ameen gave back the guitar to the Turkish boy and he walked away. They remained at the seaside and let the silence embrace them. They were looking at each other and saw their whole life in each others eyes. Ameen saw as Petra was waiting for him to come home every evening, kissing him as he comes in, then they sit at the table and she asks him how his day was, and when they go to bed, they hold each other. He saw as they play with their children, how they talk to them, how they go to trips, they visit his parents, Petra's parents, how they breath together the fresh air in Petra's mountains and let the wind caress their faces.

Petra saw how Ameen keeps her in his arms every day, how he looks at her as to a treasure, how he brings her flowers or how he simply takes the garbage, or asks her what shirt should he wear. They saw little things what composed their life as a puzzle.

"Ameen, what is that you want very much in life?" - asked Petra.

"You."

'I know. But you already have that. What else do you want very much?"

Ameen looked deep in the sea, his face changed a little, then he said:

"I am Palestinian. You know how my people lives. There is a refugee camp in Irbid too. I go there sometimes, but I become very sad every time I am there. Ill children, invalid grown ups, starvation, dust. This is there. There is no proper medical care, nor enough school. On the faces of the people who live there men can see only desperation. Even the smallest light of hope is gone in the eyes of the people from there. The men stay in front of the so called houses, the eyes of women are always floating in tears, the children are running in the dust. Probably they still hope. But until when? I tell you. Until they realize how small their chances are to live a life what we call a normal life.

Once when I was there, a woman was crying for her dead child. He died because he could not get a vaccine. Because they did not have any for him. Because these people are always on the last place. This is the last day where the medicine will arrive. I wanted so much to tell her something, but I could not. She was the one who talked: „It hurts me so much that my child died. It is like half of my heart is dead, the other half is alive for the boy I still have. But I am glad he does not have to grow up here in this dirty, damned place. I am sure that up there he is much better. Allah takes care of him.” Allah akbar – I told her. It will be different here too. „Mataa? Mataa? Mataa?” - she kept asking. I could not answer that. She saw the pain in my eyes as I stood there and I could not do anything. „Fee aman Allah” - she said, then turned and went away.

Can you imagine how much it hurted me that i could not do anything? It is my people Petra. My blood. I am lucky. But I know that the woman could have been Ummi and the dead boy any of my brothers, or me."

Petra held him tight.

"-Come here" – she said. "I try to understand this. You know, I also live in minority in my country. Of course it is different. But I want you to know that I am beside you in everything, so in this too."

"No Petra, you do not know. I have no idea what is that I or we could do. I do not want you to see that life. It is better if you do not see how dispered and hopeless those people are."

Tears were flowing on Ameen`s face. Petra wanted to tell him something that would have make him feel better but all the thoughts and all the word lost somewhere inside her. She simply just held him, but this was more than enough.

"And you? What is your big dream?" - he asked.

"I want a true home. Warmness, love. Where we can spend peacefully Christmas, Ramadan. I want a big living where I can write. I want to publish a book which could show the world that Islam and Christianity are not enemies. I want an Arabic and a European room in the house. And I want all these at my mountains. I do not want to leave my mountains."

"Petra, you are afraid of moving in my country, is that right? You try to pass over the image given to you and all European people by the western media, but it is not easy, am I right?"

"Yes. I could not live as the laws from they would expect from me. I am a free woman who wants to walk on the streets, talk to people, drive the car, work and dress as I wish."

"Hm..." - smiled Ameen.

"What is it? Why are you laughing?"

"I do not laugh. I just stay silent and smile. I know you Petra. I know what kind of girl you are and believe me, I do not want to stop you in anything. If you want so, i am ready to leave my old life behind and move with you between your mountains."

"Really? We could live there?" - she asked surprised.

"Of course my dear. I do not care where am I as long as you are with me, I do not care where I wake up as long as you are beside me, I do not care what else I see as long as I see your eyes too."

There was an endless peace on Petras face. Disapered even that sparkle little doubt that she still had in the deepest part of her heart. She was perfectly sure that Ameen would do anything for her. She felt that what was between them became stronger. She let him took her in his arms and she looked the waves and did not say anything. They both smiled. There were many thoughts and feelings in their minds and hearts but all these ended in one melody. In the one played by Ameen a few hours ago. Petra was sure that she would let Ameen take care of her. And the boy also knew that. Just like the rocks at the seaside which were watching them.

It Is Not Enough

The next day when Petra opened her eyes, she saw Ameen watching her.

"Good morning my love." - he said.

"For how long are you watching me?"

"A while. You look wonderful when you sleep Like a little baby. I saw on your face that you were somewhere far, so far. I did not want to wake you up."

"What will we do today?"

"What you wish hayaty."

"Then we will stay in the bed all day long." - smiled Petra and kissed Ameen.

Ameens hands started their never ending journey on her body, the girls whispers filled Ameen and the whole room with desire. She was holding, kissing him and let his hands rest on every piece of her body. She was his. She totally gave herself to this boy, to the boy she felt safe with, the one who she loved more than anything else on earth, the one who she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Ameen looked at her as to a treasure, who needs to be protected, although he knew that Petra was strong, and if there is somebody on earth capable to fight in the battle of the worlds, then she would be that person. All of his fears went away when he was with Petra, when he held her, nothing else mattered, he did not even realize anything of what was going on in the world around him, he followed hypnotized his own voice from inside which always sent him to Petra.

They made love. Again and again. It was not enough. They had to catch the months they had to spend separated from each other. There was no time and no space anymore, only the desire that pulled them into each other almost without a break, the endless feelings melted into the rose oil smelled bed, making the atmosphere of the small room even more special. They went beyond the laws of the world outside the room, they proved that it was not true what millions believed, they felt that what was happening with them, was different from what the great civilized western, or the magic eastern world expected from them.

The First Day, The First Night

The sun started to send some rays in the room through the window, that is what Petra noticed. She had no idea what time it was. She looked at her phone, and saw that it was almost 11.

"Ameen, are you sleeping my dear?"

"Mmmmmmmm" – came out of his mouth then he pulled Petra closer. "Come here" – he said.

"Maybe we should get up, don't you think?"

"Why? I have all i need right here."

"I need to drink coffee as soon as possible" – she said and got up to put some water for coffee.

"I want some too." - said Ameen in a sleepy voice.

"You will get some." - smiled Petra to him.

Ameen was just looking at the girl. He could not get enough of her. A stupid act like doing coffee became the most wonderful thing he ever saw. It was not like anything else. Petra's hair got into her face, that made her beautiful. She was the most beautiful for him.

"Here you have." - said Petra and put a cup of coffee in his hands.

"Thank you."

They did not say anything while they were drinking the coffee. Petra got back to bed and was looking nowhere, Ameen was caressing her arms, hands.

"You think I should buy a hijab and wear it here?" - she asked.

"I do not like hijabs. But if you want to wear something like that, a shal would be proper. Young girls wear shals in Irbid too. Iman wears shal too."

"Aha, I see."

"But you do not have to wear anything unless you want, hayaty."

"I know. I will buy a purple shal. But to do this, we should get up and leave this room, don't you think?" - she asked ironically.

As Petra started to get dressed, the call for the pray started again. She started to shiver.

"Ameen, this sound..."

"It is the most amazing sound in the world."

"I am scared of it. I am so scared of it..."

"You do not have to be afraid sweetheart. There is nothing to be afraid of. It is just like your church bells. It calls us to the pray."

"I know, but it starts at the same time from so many directions, and it is so strange."

Ameen held the girl. He felt that she was indeed scared. And he was beside her to get her feel better. And that was what he was doing. In a few minutes, by the time the voices stopped, they left the room.

On the streets of the big city was a big mess. Everybody was buying, carrying something. Men can hardly walk between the street sellers and their buyers. They were in the commercial part of Istanbul called Laleli. This was the place from where comes all what men can buy in the East-European markets. That is why these streets were full of Russians, Bulgarians or Romanians. They did not know which way to go, it was not important to them, so they just walked along a street. On both sides of the street were a lot of shiny shops, full of clothes, shoes and gold.

"I think we should buy a map." - said Petra

"Good idea. Lets find one."

They stopped at a newspaper seller and bought a map. This way they made their job easier, because at least they knew where they were.

They were just a few streets away from the Great Bazaar, so they decided they would go there to buy a shal. The bazaar was huge. It was much larger than what Petra expected, and it was full of things that were new for her. Colored carpets, lamps, gold that melted in the smell of the Turkish sweets. It was other world. She felt like in a fairy tell. The sweets and the rich atmosphere of this Great Bazaar made her feel that way.

For Ameen it was strange the other side of the bazaar and of Turkey generally. He could not understand how can a Muslim country be so European. Why is that no matter how many ALLAH AKBARS the people from here hear, the mosques remain empty, why do they drink alcohol, why and why and why.

"Look Ameen, they sell shals in this shop. Shall we go in?" - asked Petra and pulled Ameen in the shop.

As they entered, the salesman talked very polite with them, and understood quickly that they were not Turkish. They talked a little, everybody said where they were from, then they choose a shal for Petra. They walked a little more in the bazaar, then they went to find the sea.

It did not take long until they found it. They went at the seaside and they walked on the rocks or the sidewalk for hours, they watched the ships and talked. The weather was great. The sun shined into the cold wind of April, the foam of the Marmara sea was shining. The seaside was quite. It did not have anything from the mess of the streets, the king here was the sound of the waves. From the seaside Petra saw the Blue Mosque. She recognized it, as she saw it in pictures. It was huge. It was like it was watching over the sea. But from here too came the same scary sound as from the other mosques. It was the third time Petra heard that sound. It was like the whole city started to scream from time to time, like in a moment everything would have get upside down, and then, after a few minutes everything would have became to normal, and would have remain the sound of the waves or the street sellers.

They spent a long time at the seaside. Petra put the shal and she looked like an Arabic girl. Ameen was proud to walk with her hand in hand, he was watching her, he wanted to memorize every single second, so nothing would be lost from their precious time. Petra was smiling, singing of happiness. They saw the world as being perfect. Everything was beautiful. The dusty, loud streets, the dirty seaside, the strange Turkish people were all so beautiful.

"I think we should eat something." - said Ameen.

"Good idea. I am starving."

"So lets go then."

They walked back in the jungle of the city hand in hand, where people continued selling and buying, although it was late in the afternoon, almost evening. Petra and Ameen bought shaorma and they ate it until they got back to the hotel. Started the call for the last pray of the day, but Petra was not scared anymore. She was smiling and kissing Ameen, and she could not wait to get up in a morning beside Amenn.

"I am tyred." - she said.

"Me too hayaty. We should take a shower and get in the bed."

"Yes."

The bed smelled like the rose oil. Petra took this smell deeply because it was different from what she was used with. Ameen was holding her tightly.

"I love you Ameen" – she said.

"I love you too."

The smell of tea was floating upon the Turkish night, the street cleaners started their work, cars were running on the roads. The mosques went to sleep. But the eyes of the city were open. Thousands of lights mirrored in the washed road, on the houses and the sea. Some boys ate shaorma beside the Great Bazaar, then got lost in the night. There were little lights in every house, hundreds of children were listening to a fairytale, then fell asleep. In the hotel room was love, happiness and peace. Petra and Ameen spent their first night together, and the rainbow of feelings that layed on their face was something that can not be explained.

The First Hours

She came out from the hotel and hurried to the Laleli mosque where he was waiting for her. It was early in the morning, 5 o`clock, and from every minaret begin the „ALLAH AKBAR”, the call for the first pray of the day. Petra got scared. She never heard this sound before, and it was very strange to her. She considered it apocalyptic, so she hurried a little more. She crossed the little street and she could see the mosque. Just one more sidewalk, two corners, and there it was.

"Ameen..."

"Petra..."

And this was all they could say. The girl fell in Ameens arms, she could say nothing, and he held her strong, he could feel her heart beating and melt into his. The time stopped on this street of Istanbul. There was nobody and nothing but them, and the endless happiness they felt. None of them believed yet that it was true, that they hold for real the hand they saw only in pictures. They did not believe that the next week would be truly their, and they could not believe that it was not a dream, but reality.

"I love you very much" – said Ameen

"I love you very very very much too." - answered Petra, she looked in his eyes and kissed him.

The call for the morning pray could not be heard anymore. They lost the notion of time, they had no idea for how long they were there at the corner at the street, they just did not want to let the other one even for a second, because they were afraid that it would end, that they would wake up and the reality would not be what they wanted to be.

Finally, pushed probably by the cold weather of the early morning, they walked to the hotel. This was their first walk. Hand in hand. Together. Just the two of them on the small streets of the giant city. As they entered the hotel room, Ameen took Petra and held her strong again, and he kept saying „hayaty ya habybty ya roohy ya kol shey fe al hayat, bahebek bahebek bahebek” (you are my life, my love, my heart, everything in this life, I love you, I love you, I love you). She understood his words and answered also in Arabic: „ana kman, wallah” (me too, I swear).

Ameen took a little box from his pocket and asked the same question that he did once, just that then he was many miles away, and now the distance between them was only one step.

"I can not live without you. I want to be somebody, but without you I am nobody. The life I had was not life, but since I know you, my sunshine, everything has another perspective. The whole universe is colored. All my life I was just watching, but I did not see, I was blind, but you opened my eyes, and now finally everything is beautiful. Through you. And I do not want this to be different. Never. I brought you these rings because one day I want to start being beside you every evening when you fall asleep and every morning when you wake up. I know it will not be easy, because we come from different words, but will you be beside me in the battle of the two worlds?"

Some tears started their journey on her face. She was shivering. She did not know where to look. All the happiness from the world was in her, this was what she expected, what every girl wanted, it was there in front of her, at her feet. There was the boy who she loved more than anybody on earth, he felt the same, and although now this all was so very strange.

"I do not know..."- and she kept a break long enough for him to get suspicious, his smile gone, and she continued only when he was about to lock the little box. - "...why do you ask from me something that is already yours for so long? Ameen, I am truly yours, I love you very much and I am ready to fight in the war between the worlds beside you."

Ameen took the two little rings from the box, put them on her finger and kissed her.

They could not get enough of each other, the kisses became more and more hot, Petra felt that she was out of herself, she could not realize anything from what was going on around her, she gave herself to Ameens touches, and he caressed her gently on her face, neck, shoulders, and pulled her so close to himself that he could feel her every piece. He felt that Petra was totally his and he did not want that to end. He took the girl and layed her on the bed, then took off his pullover. Petra was shivering of desire, but she did not say a word, she was just looking at her beloved man, and she was thinking that this whole was much more better than she could have ever imagine. She wanted to feel Ameens body, she wanted that just for herself, but she was afraid because of the religion. Ameen is a Muslim, he can not make love before marriage, but then what was this? She kissed him one more time and asked him:

"What are we doing Ameen?"

"I do not know hayaty. I do not know." - answered Amenn. "I want you..."

"I also want you, the question now is if we may do this."

"A do not care about anything. I just want to be one with you." - said Ameen and took off her blouse. The girl looked deeply in his eyes, her body was in fire of desire, then she got courage and took off Ameens t-shirt, she was looking at his naked chest, then she got up and layed her beloved on his back and covered his body with her kisses. Her breath was walking gently on his neck, arms, her long hair on his chest. As she was sitting on him, she wanted him more and more, she took off his jeans, then Ameen her and there they were naked on each other. A small room in the big city was full of love and desire, Ameen got gently into her, he was looking at her to see weather everything was fine. And it was. They were one.

Thousand miles became a step, then that step disappeared too, and there was not just the union of two hearts anymore, but also of two bodies. Europe and Asia melted, as Christianity and the Muslim world. The city with ten million people became a small village, entered in this small room, and the Great Byzantine Wall fell forever. The two worlds not just met but melted together. But above all these became one these two persons, who lived in the last months only through tears and wishes. A girl and a boy. They were endlessly happy, they did not care about anything, but that they were finally in each others arms, and none of them felt guilt for what they just did.

The Boy

He checked his bag again to make sure he had everything he needed, then he went to his mother, hugged her,

kissed her hands and said goodbye. Then to his father and brothers.

„It is not the first time you go to Aqaba, what is this big goodbye?” - his father asked.

„Take care of Ummi and Iman please. Two weeks and I will be back.” - he said and went out.
He did not hurry. He walked with calm steps, stopped and looked back to the house. He could see Iman's shal in the wind for a while, then disappeared all that reminded him of home. The wind got in his hair, played in it a little, he took his bag on his shoulder and smiled.
His name was Ameen, which means honest. This name was proper for him because he was gentle and caring. He paid attention to everybody and everything, to things that others did not even see. He was a student of twenty and something, just like Petra. And dreaming. He was not on this world for so many times, but far far away beyond the stars and the wonder rocks. And for a while his heart was indeed somewhere else, somewhere between Petra's mountains, where the wind was blowing differently, where the words had other meaning, where the whole universe was something else, where life never died just turned into something else, where the eyes saw, not just watched, at least he thought so.
The bus which would take him to Amman was at half past five. From there he would take another bus till Damascus, then another one to Turkey. He looked at his watch. It was only four o`clock. He wanted to hurry the time but he could not so he lit up a cigarette. A man went there and asked a fire then a woman with her baby. Ameen was looking at them, caressed the baby's face, then took a dinar from his pocket and gave it to the woman. She thanked, asked Allah to guide him on his way then they went away. He looked long after them.
He felt guilty for lieing to his family by saying he went to Aqaba. But it was the best this way. He could not say he was going to Turkey to meet the girl who fulfilled his existence for months. He could not say that he would live in the same room with a girl who is a stranger, who is not even a Muslim, but a Christian. His father would have never understood. He hoped that his son would marry Ghadeer, who was a beautiful and very smart girl, who went to the university with Ameen, who wanted to become a doctor and whose family was a very decent one. The girl was nice and quite and a very good Muslim. Her life was like every Muslim girl`s life should be. But Ameen saw in her only a friend with who is good to talk or walk or sit at a coffee, of course with other friends too. But the girl loved him very much. Her every sight was looking for him, he was in her mind all the time, and the pain she felt in her heart showed that she reached a high point of love, when the feeling is so strong that it hurts.
Ameen was talking to her about Petra, and the girl loved him so much that she was happy for him, though she could have kill Petra, who came into their life without shame just like that from one day to another and stole the one who could have been her husband if they remain like they have been.
He lit up his fourth cigarette when the bus arrived. It was full. The driver told him that he could not take him.
"What? It can not be truth. I must go. It is very important."
"I can not let you on the bus. Understand please. I am playing with my job. I have children at home and they need food every day. I can not take the risk. Do you know how hard it is to find a job nowadays? If somebody will catch me, it will probably take years to find another job. I can not do this." - said the driver, then got back to the bus and drove away.
Ameen was looking angry after the bus and throw his bag on the ground. The sign of desperation sat on his face, he was almost crying. He took his phone and wrote a message to Petra and told her that he could not be there before her because the bus did not take him. He planned to be there before her and search for a hotel and prepare the place for their perfect week.
He looked at the program of the buses and walked from here to there. He had to wait another 2 hours for the next bus which would take him from Irbid to Amman. 'It is a distance of 88 kilometers, and still, no buses" – he said to himself while eating a sandwich. Finally he saw himself on a bus going into the night what was just beginning. Everything was grey. He was looking at the houses, then all those disappeared and he was looking far away in the night. Petra was hundreds of kilometers away, but he saw her face smiling at him and whispering „come my love”. He tried to remain still, but his heart was telling him to scream loudly. Thousands of thoughts crossed his head, he was afraid of them, but he was happy in the same time, he felt that he was finally doing the right thing, that although there were persons who does not agree, he was on his way to a difficult but wonderful life.
The bus got into a terminal of the Tabarbour bus station. Ameen got down and lit up another cigarette. There were a lot of smells in the bus station. People sleeping on the benches, everybody was waiting for something. Ameen saw a few young boys and thought that it would be good some company so he went to them and ask them where they wanted to travel.
"Fee al Suriia" – they said. "Fee al Damascus."
"Great. I go there too."
"To visit Syria? Or somebody there?"
"No. I go to Turkey from there" – he said with shining eyes.
"Wow, you are doing a long road. What for?"
"I will meet my love in Istanbul. We never met before. Now is the time."
"Is she a Turkish girl?" - one of them asked while the others were just looking at him.
"No, she is European. We will just meet there."
"Do you really think she will come? God, you are so naive. You better go home and do something useful. The European girls never do what they say. They just want what is good for them. They do not care about anybody else but themselves. And they are not like our girls. You can not make them do anything. They walk free on the streets, they drive cars, dress improperly. Do you need that? A European girl is hell itself. Do you need that?"
"Stop it. Petra is not like this. I know her. She is different, of course she is different, but that is very good. You know, happiness goes sometimes beyond the borders of the Arabic world."

The Girl

She sat on her seat on the bus. It was dark all around. She let the night take her and bring her to the so waited morning. Tears were flowing on her face, but she did not even know why she was crying. No reason, just like that. She had to stay committed to herself, so she cried, like she always did, every day. It was like a cleaning ritual to her, something that she just had to do. "I am totally crazy, out of my mind, mentally ill, hopeless case." - she thought and behind the tears there was a hidden ironic smile.

Her name was Petra. She was twenty and something and she was a student. She was not beautiful, nor ugly. Just like most of people, but although, special. Just like the rest of the world. She loved her mountains, the local football team, rock music, Arabic language and loved him. She could have been me, or she could have been you. But she was not me, and she was not you either.

She was thinking about what most of the great people in history used to say, that there is a journey in everyone`s life, a journey that changes the existence itself, a journey that has to be done in order to understand things that can be strange or difficult to be understood, a journey when a person should find him/herself, when some of the great questions of the universe find answers, or in the contrary, they do not, but perhaps those questions loose the need to be answered. And she knew that this was her journey.

"The last piece of hay... Those who fall out from reality, hold on to this. Half of my last piece of hay are you. The other half does not exist" - she whispered in the night her favourite quote of her favourite poet, and saw the desired face smiling to her, those eyes looking at her and she felt how a certain hand touched her hand.

The bus stopped somewhere in Bulgaria. Everybody got down, so she did too. It was cold. She saw a little shop and went there . There was a woman wearing hijab. Petra stopped and stared at her for a while, the woman asked her if she wanted something in Bulgarian, but the girl understood her body language, smiled and answered in Arabic. "La, shokran" (No, thank you.) "The first sign that I am so close to the other world..." - she said to herself, then went back on the bus.

The passagers were looking strangely at her, or at least that was her feeling. In fact that was her feeling all the time and everywhere. Except when she was on her mountain, between her rocks. That was the place where she could be truly herself, where she became one with the landscape and nature that was surrounding her. That was her world. And now she was going to mix her well known world with another one, the one she knew only from books, movies and his words.

"Words...how much power they can have" - she thought and in the middle of the night, in a strange bus, a foreign country, 700 kilometers from her mountains she started another journey, but this one was an imaginary one. She built again in her mind all the road that she made from a certain day till the one when she woke up and bought a ticket to Istanbul.

It was a cloudy autumn afternoon. Petra was at school, but was not interested on her law course so she kept looking out. She saw her mountain wearing a very nice dress, in so many colors, some clouds that were floating upon it and caressing it gently, and was thinking that winter was close again, when the mountain would be a bride for a few months... She smiled and thought that if this course would be over, she would go for a walk under her beloved rocks.

But suddenly she had to pay attention to what the teacher was talking about because she heard one word that interested her: Islam. "There have been many cases in the Islamic world when women were beated, jailed, or killed with stones. For example in Iran if a woman sais she was raped, she has to have witnesses to prove that. Now just think about that. And go further and imagine what would happen to this woman if she got pregnant. She would certainly be in prison and give birth to her child there and raise her child there. Just because she was a victim but nobody believed her."

Thousands of thoughts crossed Petra`s mind, she got very confused and she could no longer listen to what the teacher was saying. She was angry and sad in the same time. After school she went immediately to an Internet cafe and searched after the Islamic law system. She wanted to convince herself that what she heard on her course was just what the teacher read in a book published probably in America or what she saw on BBC.

She read a lot of horrible things. Of course she knew some of them from the media, but now that she searched, it was much worse. She signed in on a socialize site and searched for Arab persons. Some of them answered her, some of them did not. But there was one person who answered her with a lot of calm and gave her answers she did not expect. He explained her that all these bad things are totally against Islam and that the Quran does not say that women should be treated badly. They talked for hours and when Petra had to go home, she decided to keep in touch with this boy. If he would agree. And he did.

She walked on the streets of the city for a few hours, stopped from time to time and she was thinking about what this stranger told her about Islam. It was against her thoughts and believes. She did not know what the truth was, so she decided to buy a Quran and compare it with the Bible.

In the night she could not sleep. It was strange how she kept thinking of her conversation. Who was this boy? She only knew his name. She did not ask him anything but questions about Islam, especially women in Islam. "Maybe I will never talk to him again. Maybe he thinks I am crazy. Who knows? Anyway, he is just a boy from the other side of the world and told me things I wanted to hear. He is a nobody. Yes. He is a stranger. But then why am I thinking of him? Off... Thank God most of people use less than 5% of their brain. Because if I would use more, I would have to go in a sanatory first hour tomorrow" - she thought while she watched how the raindrops flew on the window.

She remembered how in high school she won a contest with a writing called "The Greatest Noone". She felt like being the greatest noone sometimes, but not now. She had a great aim, that was why she went to a bookstore and bought a Quran. She had to find out if indeed the holy book of Islam and the Bible are against each other, and if not, where are all these misunderstandings coming from. She finished reading the Quran in a few days and although it was a foggy morning in the city, it was very clear in her mind, because she found out that he was right. "I have to find him and apologize for insulting him and his whole society. I ate so many hamburgers and drank so much cola that I thought what most of western people think, that all Arabs are women beaters and terrorists. I have to apologize for my infantile behaviour. I hope he will forgive me" - she was thinking on her way to the same Internet cafe.

She had a message from him: "Go away, I do not want to see you, I do not want to hear anything from you (I knew. I ruined it all again with my big mouth - she was thinking ) - I shouted to my heart when it told me not to think of you anymore". She was laughing. Her face became bright, her eyes were glittering. Excited as she was and happy as she was, Petra wrote him back. And from that foggy morning on, they talked every day.
The connection between them was amazing. They talked for hours every day, they spent many nights telling each other everything. The months passed and they were happy. Petra`s mountain undressed, then it became a bride, as she used to say. They spent together important days like Christmas, like Eid. They talked about evrything. Movies, books, music. Sometimes they had fights, Petra was angry, but the boy always talked to her with so much calm that after a while they both ended up laughing. The first bahebak (I love you) came in December. And followed a lot of other bahebaks and szeretleks. They had little rituals that they did every day. Message early in the morning, late in the night, so it was like going to bed together and waking up beside each other. Or messages before and after every exam they had. And exam chocolats they both ate before these exams.They both found answers they were searching for. And they both dreamed of the day when they could hold each other for real.

"Prepare the passports. We are at the Turkish border" - the busdriver said. 2 more hours and she would be in Istanbul. Thinking of this made her heart beat faster and faster.