Illegal Trip

He could not believe what he was reading. It could not be possible. He was sure that something happened, he just did not want to think that was happening to them. A whole universe crushed in his soul, all that he built inside him started to fall and pieces of it hurted him like hell. The apocalypse was not in Istanbul in their last night there, but at the moment he got her letter. He got blind and crazy. He did not know what to do. He was walking on the lonely streets of Irbid all night asking the same damned question: WHY? He smoked one cigarette after the other and did something he never thought he would do. Bought a beer and drank it. He went home only in the morning. As he entered the house, there was Ummi and Iman. All he could do was to fall at their feet and cry.
The next morning he went out from the house while everybody was still sleeping. He took the bus to Amman, then Damascus, Ankara and Istanbul. It was like a pilgrimage he had to do again. He did not care about anything, he did not talk, he just looked out to nowhere. He was not thinking of anything. His mind was frozen, like his heart, like his whole existence. He did not want to call Petra, or write to her. He loved her too much not to respect her wish. He just hoped she was fine and would also find the happiness she wished him.
When he arrived to Istanbul, after two days, he remembered that his family probably called the police to announce his missing. So he called them and tell them he was alive, just needed a little time alone.
The giant city was empty. He walked on the streets like a homeless. He did not felt the rain that was falling on him, nor hunger or thirst. He stopped at the Laleli mosque, then walked down the seaside. He saw the Blue Mosque, the Bosporus, Hagia Sophia, and none of these meant anything to him anymore. Then he met the boy with the guitar. He recognized Ameen and they talked for a while.
"Mister, I know somebody who can solve everything. Maybe we should talk to him and ask if he could get you in her country."
As Ameen heard these words, he looked up to him for the first time and said:
"At least I would see the mountain... Yes, let`s go to that man."
The man was a mafiot. He wore jeans and had a lot of gold on him. He was disgusting, but Ameen saw in him only hope, the hope that he left in Irbid.
"No problem, no problem." - the man kept saying in a very bad English. "But money, much money."
Ameen gave him all the money he had without thinking.
"Tomorrow morning you to be here 7. Bus go vama and there truck. You hide and go where you want. Back Istanbul after one week. Understand?"
"Yes, I understood, thank you."
The Turkish man said something in his language, but Ameen did not even hear that. All he knew was that the next day he would go forward, and if he would be lucky enough, he would see Petra`s mountain, if not, he would end in jail. Both ways were possible, both ways were the same. He did not care. But he had to try.
The next morning he was at the Turkish man. He got on a bus with others who wanted to cross the border like he did. They were about 10. All men. Dirty, hungry, stinky. The others were full of hope, they wanted to get a chance to go to Europe, where they wanted to earn enough money to do something with their lives. They all had big plans, big dreams. Ameen told them that he did not want to talk, and lit up a cigarette. After 2 hours they were at the border. Another Turkish man was waiting for them there. He put them all in a huge wood box and locked it. They did not have enough space, they were really like sardines in the oil. The Turkish man started its travel, and with every kilometer they made, they all felt closer to a so waited brand new day. After a few hours the truck stopped. They all knew they had to stay calm and not move, not talk. It was at the Bulgarian border. The driver talked to the policeman, some employers checked a few boxes but they did not open the one where the men had been, so after a few more minutes they heard the engine of the truck again and they felt they went forward. 2 of them felt sick from the dark and all the emotions they had. But they had to stay like that. And they all did. The aim was too precious to be ruined like that.
They did not know how many hours passed again when the truck stopped. The driver opened the box and let them out.
"We arrived."
The light hurted Ameen`s eyes, he felt weak. He had nothing but a necklace on his neck. The one Petra gave him in Istanbul. And there he was in her country. The air was indeed different, the landscape too, and of course, the people. He walked on the streets of this city without even knowing where he was. Everybody was talking a strange language, and he felt that everybody was looking at him. Then he remembered that the man from Istanbul gave him a card with a phone number. He called that number and an Arab man answered. They met and Ameen told him his story. He let him sleep at his place and told him how he could get to Petra`s mountain. he told Ameen that it was almost 500 kilometers from there. But he was so determined to see the mountain that he did not care.
"Can you give me some money? I will send it back to you as soon as I arrive home."
"You have to give me something, so I can have a guarantee that I would get my money back." - the man answered.
Ameen was thinking for a while. He had nothing that he could give to him. Then he took his necklace off.
"Take the most precious thing I have. I will send you back the money because I want this necklace back no matter what."
"Deal." - said the man. "Now let`s go to see when is your train."

When the train stopped in the railway station in Petra`s city, it all seemed very familiar to him. He knew exactly where he was and which direction he should follow to get on her mountain. So he just followed his instinct and after 3 hours he was on the top of the mountain. The endless sadness that layed on his face can not be told in words. He just stood there on a rock and watched the city. It was indeed great. He knew he could live there, he was sure they would have have golden minutes, golden years. He wanted to call Petra so much, he wanted to let her know he was there, to tell her to come up and have that kiss. But he did not. He saw what he had to see, he did what he had to do.
He sent her a kiss on the wings of the wind and knew that he reached what he had to reach. There was nothing else he wanted to do. He even thought that he should go to the police station and tell them about how he got there. That way he would have been imprisoned in her country. but then he remembered the others from the truck. He praied for them, praied for Petra and got down from the mountain while the church bells were ringing.

P.S. It Is Over

My dearest Ameen,

As the days pass, I feel I am dieing. The loneliness eats my body, my mind, my soul. Piece by piece. I do not know till when can I continue like this. Every moment we had together is still alive in me, it is like it happens again every day. When I wake up, I smile because I have a message from you on the phone, I write you back and send you a kiss. Then during the day, when I go to school, or I am in the town, I get other messages from you, and I write you back to all of them. I talk to you, people say I am crazy. But I do not care. Then I go home, eat something and tell you bon apetit. Sometimes I make you a cup of tea, not to drink alone. I go and take a bath and imagine that you are here and as the water touches my body, I feel your hands on me. I go to bed late in the night, after we talk again. And I cry till sunrise. My pillow is all wet every day. I hold your t-shirt, I feel your smell on it and say to the walls that I love you.
But this is not life my dear. We have to stop fooling ourselves. We have to face reality. We live in a dream for so long, and although we do not want to wake up, we have to. You have to go on with your life, and I have to go on with mine too. I know it will never be the same, because you live in me, like I live in you, but destroying ourselves and making the people around us be sad by us being sad all the time is not a solution.
We did not have any chance from the very beginning. It was probably a mistake going to Istanbul, meeting, sleeping together. It was a mistake falling in love. It is funny how everybody sais that love is the most important thing on earth, that if you have love in your life, nothing else matters. These are empty words. We have love but no life, so what is the point in this? Before knowing each other we both had defined aims, we both knew that we have to learn and do something with our lives in the place where we belong. You could never feel good here and I could never feel good there either. We said all kind of stupid things to each other, made promises we can not keep.
We do not live in a fairy tale, where they live happily ever after, we live in this damned world that is full of pain, sufferance, war, hate. We found a little island of happiness and we enjoyed it. But now it is time to get on the ship and just go back to the old life we both had. We have to leave them all behind. Everything.
You know, time is a very good doctor, it will solve our problem too. It will not be easy for a while from now on, because we used to depend on each other, but it will pass. I am sure we will both look at the phone many times per day, but there will not be any message, no call, no mail, nothing. And this is how it has to be.
I ask you not to write me anymore, do not try to contact me, it is worthless. I also want you to know, that you are deep in my heart, and your place there can not be taken by anyone. I know that I will never feel the way I felt with you, and you will feel the same. But we have to keep these memories safe in the deepest part of our souls, in a place where nobody and nothing can reach them.
I want to thank you for everything you did for me, and I want to let you know that I will never forget you. All the words i told you were absolutely true, like my feelings. Pure, but immature. We have to grow up, though it hurts, and face the cruel reality around us.
Try to find happiness with somebody else. I hope you will find a girl who will make you happy and fulfill all your dreams. Maybe she is right beside you, just open your eyes and let her enter your heart. And please do not cry. It is not worth crying. I do not deserve any tear from you. I really wish you all the happiness from the world. All the world.

P.S. It has to be over.
Petra

Lonely Mountain, Empty Desert

When Petra went back home, she felt a big emptiness in her heart. She could not find her place.

"I thought that as days pass, life would take its course again, that time would pass again like it used to, that the rocks, mountains, water and the sky would be again like it was, that the walls would give me the same warmness I was used with, that the storms would disappear, that the stars would stop falling just like that, without any reason, that I would have dreams and hopes again, that I would wake up smiling again and I would drink the coffee which would have its old taste, but it hurts me like hell that I have to say that my life flows upside down, time stopped, the rocks, mountains, water and the sky are not like they used to be, that the walls are cold, if I look outside, I see only storms, the stars are falling down, I can not sleep, I do not have dreams or hopes anymore, I forgot how it is to smile, and even that damned coffee does not have the taste it had when I was drinking it with you." - she wrote to her love, but then she deleted, because she did not want to make him sad.

After a week she finally got the strenght to climb the mountain. When she was there, on her place, from where the whole city could be seen, she let her tears flow. And yes, she sent the kiss he promised to Ameen, she was sure he would feel it.
From that day on a deep loneliness got into her heart, a huge hole, and she felt that this would not pass easily, that it would stay and eat her whole existence minute by minute, day by day.
Of course she continued to do all the things she did before Istanbul, but it was not the same anymore. She had memories now, made of flash and blood, memories that were too strong not to let her live normally. She kept dreaming of the day when she would hold Ameen again, when he would kiss her, when they would make all their dreams come true. She knew that until all these would happen, the mountain would no longer be the great place she knew, but an empty amount of rocks, waiting to become to life again.

The first thing Ameen did when he returned home was to make a trip to Petra, the lost city. He got in the car and drove over 400 kilometers without a break. He was in the middle of the desert, in Wadi Rum, a place that is blessed and damned in the same time - he was thinking. The sand was the master there, in fact there was nothing else all around than the sand. Red...full of passion. He whispered some words and hoped that the wind would bring them on the other side of the planet, somewhere, on a mountain, where he knew his love would understand them. He did the trip exactly as Petra asked him to do. He wrote their names in the sand, and he was sure that although the wind would ruin his little piece of art, it would stay there for eternity. Then he went to a Bedouin tent and asked them to let him spend the night there. But he could not sleep. He stood at the entrance, looked at the sky at exactly 10 o`clock, as he did every night. And he felt her for a few minutes, while she was doing the same thing. Then he kept watching the stars, counting them, but there were not enough to count until the sunrise, so he just sat there and talked to Petra, told her about home, his parents, and how much he missed her, how much he wished she would be there, how his life is something else now. He knew that this place would be totally different with her beside him, that every piece of sand would mean something, something else than eternity. She would name them all, find something special in all of them and he knew that her laugh would fulfill the whole desert, making it full of life. Then he remembered their first talk, when Petra was so angry on the whole Arabic world, and the week after that specific talk, a week when he hoped that she would write again. And the first picture she sent to him...that look she had on the top of her mountain. Something was born in his soul when he saw that picture, something he kept feeling ever since, something that teenagers call butterflies in the stomach, and grown ups insanity. Maybe indeed it was a mixture of these two, but what ever it was, he did not want that to end. And the Laleli mosque...where he saw her for the first time, the way the girl fell in his arms and they both wanted time to stop... All these were running through his mind while the night was passing and the first rays of the sun showed. It was amazing, a view that overwhelmed him, and he was asking himself why he was not even interested about seeing all these places before. But he also knew the answer. Because he was not alive. Because the endless life of the empty desert meant nothing to him. But now it did. As he was watching the sunrise, he saw Petra`s face smiling to him, and he knew he did a good job.
He knew he had to go forward, to the lost city of Petra. It is a strange place, full of mysteries. A famous one, full of history known only by the great rocks and buildings made in them. Its color is pink, almost red, and it hides enigmas that could not be explained for centuries. "It is just like my Petra" - Ameen thought. "I understand now why she wants to see this place." It was extremely hot. The sun was up watching over this huge redness, and watching over this boy, who made all this way just to fulfill the wish of another person, who did the same on the top of a mountain somewhere far away, in another country, another continent, another world.

They both knew they were not alone. The connection they had made it possible to be in more places in the same time, they indeed changed their hearts. At that point that was all they could do for the other one, for that great miracle called by them US. And beyond all the sadness they had in their hearts, beyond all the tears they let to flow on their faces, beyond the great desire of being together again, there was hope that made both of them smile. To a better future, another day when they could watch the sunrise together again. And it did not matter where that could happen, they did not care anymore. Because the time was Petra and Ameen, just like the space, just like the world itself.

The Last Night

"I can not believe that we have to leave." - Petra said.
"Do not be sad hayaty. Just think of all we had here. One day we will return and take all we left here. The rocks at the seaside are all witnesses of our perfect week. And you know, no matter how far we will be from each other, we are close. There is no time and space anymore. There is just you and me in the center of the universe. Just think that although we are apart, we are still under the same sky. The same sun is above us every day, and in the night, when you will miss me as much as I will miss you, just look up to the sky, you will see the same stars that I will see. We will look up every night at exactly 10 o`clock, OK? If you do so, you will see me smiling to you, and I will see the same. So do not forget to smile to me, that will help me pass through the grey every days, and I will help you too. We knew from the very beginning that it would not be easy, but we assumed this risk."
"But it will be so hard..." - started to cry Petra.
"Come here hayaty."
He took her in his arms and hoped that she would not see his tears. He tried to stay strong for her, but the pain he felt inside was at least as deep as she felt. It was like the whole world crushed on them, like the apocalypse came that night to Istanbul, it was the end of the world, the end of the life they wanted to live every day. Both of them wanted to freeze the whole existence of the planet so they could stay like that for eternity. But they could not. One thing was sure, they wanted other perfect weeks to fulfill their lives.
"Hayaty, I do not want to spend my last night in Istanbul like this, crying. We have to do something, something that we would both remember. Something crazy."
Petra agreed. It was not worth staying in the hotel and crying. It would be the most stupid thing they could do in their last Turkish night.
So they walked to the seaside. Petra took off the necklace she was wearing and put it on Ameen`s neck. "This will take care of you when I can not." - she said then kissed him.
"I want to dance with you hayaty." - he said.
"So lets. The music is us, the feelings play the greatest melody in our souls, so we can dance."
"It`s such a perfect day, I`m glad I spend it with you, such a perfect day, you just keep me hanging on..." - they were singing one of their songs and danced in the moonlight at the seaside.
They stood there till morning. They made plans all night. They even choosed the furniture for the house they wanted to have, the names for the babies they wished. It was night, dark, so everything was possible. They let themselves fly. And they flied for hours through all their dreams, all their wishes. None of them was sad, but full of life, of things they had to do.
They just stood on a rock and wished this night would never end.
"I will miss your touches, your eyes, the smell of your skin. That specific smell of lily of the valley, the great plant we do not have at home."
"I am glad you do not have it, at least you will not feel that on anybody else." - said ironically Petra and she let Ameen caress her neck, shoulders..
"I will miss everything hayaty."
"I know. Me too. But at least we both found out what were we waiting for and had a chance to decide weather we want this to continue or not.
"This week was the greatest week in my entire life. I never felt so alive before. Everything has another perspective now. It is worth waiting, learning, trying to do something, because no matter what I do, it is no longer for me, but for us."
"Yes, for us and the future we will have together. Ameen, will you do something for me?"
"Sure hayaty, anything."
"You know when I told you about the place I want to see the most on this earth?"
"Of course I know, Petra, the lost city."
"I want you to make a trip there and write our names in the sand. People will not see that forever, but still, it will be there forever and a day. I want you to go to Wadi Rum, to see a sunrise there and while watching it, I want you to think of me, talk to me. Though I will not hear, but I will surely understand. And though I will not see, I will feel us being there. Could you do that?"
"Yes, I will do that. But only if you go on the top of your mountain and send me a kiss on the wings of the wind. From the day when you sent me the picture of you standing on that mountain, I keep dreaming about kissing you there. It is like a hidden wish of mine, which now is not hidden anymore."
"Deal. But in the meantime you may kiss me right here." - said Petra and kissed him.
"I wish we both could tell everybody from home that we had a perfect week. I feel bad for lieing my family about my trip, but in the same time I am so happy I did it. Because this was the only way I could get here and keep you in my arms."
"I know. I also wish I could tell everybody that I was with the love of my life without hearing that all Arabs are terrorists. But it is just the way it is. We have to be patient a little more. In the end there will be nothing anybody could do anyway."
The first rays of the sun started to wake up from the sea. The clock was ticking against them. Ameen`s bus was at 10 o`clock, Petra`s at 14. They went back to the hotel to pack their things. There were many things to be said, but none of them could talk. The pain they felt inside was too strong. They went together to the bus station. Hand in hand but without a word. And then it was the time. Ameen had to go on the bus.
"I do not want you to cry. I will write you from time to time on my way too, OK hayaty? Be strong. You are my supergirl, and supergirls don`t cry."
Petra tried to do as Ameen said but when she saw that his tears were flowing too, she could no longer control herself. He held her one more time and went on the bus.
"I love you till my last breath." - he said before the doors closed.
"Me too..." - she answered.
As the bus reached the corner of the street, it started to rain. It was pouring. And Petra was there in the middle of Istanbul and she let the rain wash her face, her tears, her whole body. She felt like a piece of her heart died. She went across the street, stopped at Laleli mosque, then she went back to the hotel room. She felt Ameen as still being there, started to talk to him, but all she heard was the silence of the walls. She fell on the bed and cried till her head hurt, her eyes hurt, her whole body became weak. The pillow that had Ameen`s smell combined with rose oil was wet from her tears. Finally she lit up a cigarette and started to pack her things.

On The Bosporus

Ameen took Petra to many mosques in Istanbul. In fact in this city there is a mosque at every corner. But the greatest of all is the Blue Mosque. That is what all the people say. So they both wanted to see that before going with the ship down the Bosporus. The building itself is indeed amazing, the six high minarets and the cupola of the mosque shows the power that the Ottoman Empire had. It was built by Sultan Ahmed, finished in 1616, that is why it is known as Sultan Ahmed Mosque too. Its decoration is made of blue mosaic, and when the sun shines on it, it all glitters in a strange blue, which, combined with the blue of the sea, makes it endless. I think the empire of God, the life after is something like that too.
But all she knew about mosques fell into pieces when they entered in the orchard of the great building. All kind of sellers were there, you could have buy anything from books, carpets to baklava or cheap toys for children. It was a huge crowd, all kind of people talking in all the languages of the world. It was a total chaos, the turn of Babel itself.
"What the hell is going on here?" - she asked.
"I do not know, but I do not like it at all."
"Well, if we came till here, at least lets go in ad see what is inside."
They left their shoes at the entrance, where there was a sea formed of shoes. The mosque was full of people, just like the orchard. They saw some locals praying, they were about 20, but the tourists about 200, walking all around the mosque, looking at everything and taking pictures.
"Ameen, look what they do. It is not fair. Some of the women does not have covered arms, covered head. And when a Muslim is praying, nobody has the right to stand in front of him/her, it is like cutting the relation between God and him/her, that is what I read."
"It is true hayaty. This is no longer a mosque, but a park where everybody can do what ever they want. We should go."
"It reminded me of something. You know, we have a holiday one week before Easter, it is when Jesus entered Jerusalem on a donkey and all the people welcomed him with flowers. Then He went in the church what was full of sellers and throw their tables and said: "My father`s house is not a market. Leave." It is the same here. I can not believe how the local authorities let this happen."
"It is all about the money hayaty. All about the money."
"Yes, you are right. We should just leave."


After they were finally out from that crowded bazaar called the Blue Mosque, they walked at the seaside because they wanted to cross the Bosporus. They both had to vanish from their mind all they saw at the mosque. It was a huge profanation of a sacre place. So they were thinking of other things.
"I always wanted to be in two places in the same time. And now it will be possible." - Petra said.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, in the middle of the Bosporus I will be in two places in the same time. I will be in Europe and Asia. It will be exciting."

Ameen smiled. He knew that in Petra`s mind was a huge mess, that she was very concerned about these two worlds she kept talking about. But as he was looking at her, he saw in her eyes that she was not really, truly from the world she said she was from. Her was sure that Petra would keep searching the answers she needed to find, that she would read and know many things even without his help. He felt that he did what he had to do, he made her understand that Islam is not terrorism, and in the same time, he made her understand that he did not want to change her either, did not want her to convert to Islam, he made her understand that for him she was the dream that came true, she was the princess from the fairy tale, she was the true mate. Simple and complicated, dreaming and wondering, as she was.

Petra stopped and looked at him. She had sadness in her eyes. Ameen knew that look, and was sure she would ask something again.
"What is it hayaty? What came into your mind again?"
"You would never go to war, right?"
Ameen smiled and said:
"I know this sentence. Ummi told it to Babba, and almost every Arab woman tells it to their husband. No hayaty, I will not go to any war. I will not put bombs on me and detonate planes, crowded places, kill people. Extremists do that. Shiite Muslims. You know, there are only three countries in the world where Shiite Muslims are in majority. Iran, Bahrain and Iraq. We are calm people. All we want is to live in peace and have normal life. There are people and people all around the world. You know me, you know who I am and what I want. Now can we make your dream come true, and be in two places in the same time?"
"Yes, lets go."

They got in a little ship and started their journey on the Bosporus. It was amazing. The sun was shining above them, they were smiling and their joy and happiness melted into the eternity of the sea. The water was blue and was glittering. Just like their eyes.
"I think we are in the middle now." - Ameen said.

"So we are in Europe and Asia, on my continent and yours. In two worlds in the same time. And we are holding each other. And nothing is happening. It is possible. We can do it. I am sure we can do this forever." - she said and the whole ship, the whole sea and two continents were fulfilled with her laugh.

The Muslim Church

Hagia Sophia. A great object to be visited for all the tourists who go to Istanbul. Hagia Sophia. A place blessed by two gods. Hagia Sophia. An orthodox cathedral. Hagia Sophia. A mosque. Hagia Sophia. A bridge between two continents, two civilizations, between all kind of times of history.
"10 Lira please" - the ticket seller said.
And they entered in the orchard of this famous building. There was the specific place for the cleaning ritual of Muslims, but the building itself, its architecture, its walls were not like in other mosques.
The museum is huge. There is a first level, full of all information about history and all the people that tried to conquer this real fortress. The walls are full of Arab writings. The name of Allah, His Prophet Muhammad, the names of the 18 caliphs and some phrases from the Quran. And there were Christian paintings too. Hidden in the walls, but discovered these times. The mosque is not used for its purpose, nor the church.
Ameen and Petra were fascinated. Ameen read her all the writings in Arabic, Petra told him about the stories from the Bible painted on the walls. And so Prophet Muhammad, Jesus and all his apostles were in one place. And they were all fine. No war, no hate, no racism, no terrorism. The light came in through little painted windows, and the colors of the mosaics were amazing, lightening Jesus` face and the name of Allah.
Ameen and Petra were absolutely sure on that place that nothing was impossible, that they wont have any problems with their religion. They both were very happy and talked only about the Quran and the Bible. And all what these holy books teach us all. In fact what is essential in man`s everyday life is written in the same way in both books, and both try to make a better world, with love and understanding.
After a while Petra started her speech about women in Islam again.
"Hayaty, I thought we discussed this. You told me that in the Bible it is written that women should listen to their husbands, right?"
"Yes."
"So in the Quran is the same. But let me tell you something. As far as I know, there is no place in the Bible where is written that women should be let to learn, right?"
"Yes, I know, but that is old fashioned. It is not like that now. But there is nowhere written that a man can have more than one wife."
"Hayaty, in the times when the Quran was written, there were wars after wars. Many man died on the battlefield. There were a lot of widows with children having nobody to take care of them. That is why it is written that. And it is written that a man could have four wives only if he has enough money and if he can treat them all in the same way."
Petra looked out on the window and Ameen saw that there was something else on her soul too.
"What is it? What are you thinking of?"
"I can not share you."
Ameen started to laugh and held her.
"You do not have to share me with anybody. I do not want anybody else than you. You are the only one for me. This polygamy thing is kind of old fashioned, to use your words. Only for rich Arab sheiks."
He continued laughing until she started to laugh too. She knew it was a stupid sentence. But Petra started it again:
"But I read in the Quran that a man can beat his wife."
"Petra...are you afraid of me? What is it hayaty? We talked about all these. It is written with ifs, ifs and ifs. I could never hurt you. Babba never hurted Ummi. Did not even raised his voice to her. Never. And you know what Prophet Muhammad told once when somebody asked him, who should he love more, the father or the mother? He said. First love your mother. Second love your mother. Third love your mother. Then love your father. What can be more feminist, my amazon? Hm?"
She knew all these things, but she wanted to hear again. They looked around again, then they went out. They took pictures in the orchard and Petra let the wind take her shal off.
"Ameen, this place is amazing. I could get married in this place." - and she laughed.
The boy laughed too. "Watch what you wish bent majnoonah (crazy girl). Do not push it too far because I might ask you to be my wife right here and right now."
They left these words in the orchard of this famous place and went along the crowded streets of the city. They bought shaorma again, ate it in front of the University of Istanbul and they felt that the entire universe was their. They sang all kind of songs from Roxette, Reamonn, Wael Kfoury and others. The sun was shining for them, the people walked for them, they felt that 10 million hearts beated only for them. And these two faces smiled to all these 10 million hearts.

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...