In the mid-’90s, I was a student living in the Palestinian community of Bethlehem on the West Bank. We used to semi-jokingly refer to the part of town I lived in as, “Hamas Central.” At that point in history, Hamas was regarded as a terrorist organization. The environment could get a little intense.
My roommates and I were studying Arabic and would often practice with our neighbors. In the building we lived in, a Bedouin man had a small store. His name was Muhammed.
Muhammed was old. He was a Hajji, the honorific given to someone who had completed his pilgrimage to Mecca. Accordingly, he was respected.
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