A 90-year-old American arrived in Ramallah to pay visits to both the mission and the Holy Land. He was an opulent elderly gentleman who, I heard, used to donate cash contributions to help the mission. As he was frail and suffered from poor eyesight, they rented him a car with a driver from Ramallah and asked me to keep him company during his short trips in the afternoon. In the weekend, they would set him an itinerary for his faraway trips in the Holy Land and also provide us with food and water, insisting that we return at night. This is how I had the opportunity to visit the Dead Sea, Ariha, Amman, Beer Sabee’ and Al-Khalil.

The Beer Sabbe’ visit is still alive in my memory. It was a strenuous and bumpy trip and a very far drive. Luckily, the driver had impeccable knowledge of the Holy Land as he had accompanied many tourists in the area. The day we set out for Beer Sabee’ was a scorching Saturday. Around noon, the heat grew unbearable and I feared that the old American would die in the middle of that dreary desert. Fatigue and sweltering heat wore him out.

We arrived to Beer Sabee’ to find a poverty-stricken town stripped of life and color. Thirst and hunger had exhausted us, so we set out in search of a coffee shop or a motel or a tree whose shade could shield us from the inferno, but to no avail. Flies, dust and hot air! A man, presumably a teacher, who had noticed our perplexity and dire need for rest, stepped closer to the car and said: “I’m the representative of the Scottish mission and I am pleased to invite you in. The missionaries are not around but I can offer you water and a room to rest.” I thanked him dearly and noted that this was all that we needed. He walked us to the school and we were extremely happy to find what we were looking for. That was Beer Sabee’ at the time and those were its rough roads. But I was later informed that the desert stretching between Al-Khalil and Gaza had become a fruitful area suited for growing pineapple.

On the 20th of September, classes ended and the mission’s secretary paid me my dues and my travel expenses. The old American had already rewarded me with 5 Palestinian pounds. I bid farewell to my students and tennis playmates at the Awdeh hotel and returned to Beirut. From there, I headed to Ras El-Matn to see my parents and hand them gifts of incense and olive wood crosses.