Three Daughters: A Novel Read Online Free Page B

After several rainstorms, the pool began to fill and Mustafa knew he had a source of livelihood for himself and his family.
    He put in early crops—cabbage, parsley, peas, onions—and as the weather warmed, added okra, eggplant, cucumbers, squash, and cauliflower. He experimented with tomatoes, which were new to the country but much sought after by the European colonies in Jerusalem. Every two weeks, he added side dressings of the fertilizer he concocted from his cache of refuse. By May he was able to bring his early crop to the Jaffa Gate and sell it alongside those of the other village farmers.
    The plaza outside Jaffa Gate was the busiest spot in all Jerusalem, for here ended the well-traveled road from the ancient port city of Jaffa. Here, diligences—carriages bringing imported necessities and luxuries—discharged their passengers and goods.
    Mustafa fashioned a two-tiered cart with long handles to hold his produce and he and Miriam pushed it the ten miles from Tamleh every Wednesday. The spot they chose was at the foot of Suleiman Street in front of the French Hospital of St. Louis.
    It was the thriving hub of the city. Jaffa Road, though still unpaved, had sidewalks. In just one small stretch, across from the Russian compound, there was a branch of Barclay’s Bank, the Hughes Hotel, a specialty cobbler, and several elegant shops and cafés. The Greek consulate occupied spacious offices atop one building that housed a branch of the Russian post office below.
    Inside the walls, the Holy City was vastly improved in health and respectability as the century drew to a close. Mayor Salim Husseini had laid cobblestones over the winding narrow lanes and instituted regular sweepings, installed lanterns, and hired night watchmen. Camels and donkeys were no longer allowed inside the walls. There was a man hired just to clean the corners where “people laid their waters.” Jaffa Gate was closed at night for safety and those wishing to leave before dawn had to be lowered over the wall by ropes. The fields behind the New Grand Hotel, which previously had been a casual burial ground for countless animal carcasses that putrefied in the sun, were cleared. The mounds of dung and garbage that had threatened health and welfare were diminished. No longer was it necessary to encourage the hyenas to enter at night to eat away at the debris.
    Miriam loved the noise, the confusion, and the color. She watched with interest as Turkish strongmen in sashed pantaloons jockeyed huge pallets laden with bales of cotton and other raw materials through the narrow lanes. Monks and sisters of every sect—Copts, Muslims, Orthodox, Latins, Jews, and Dervishes—crisscrossed the square in and out of the Holy City in a variety of clerical dress. The ever-present hordes of Russian pilgrims in dark penitential clothes swarmed in and out of the Russian compound. Villagers looking to alleviate minor ailments and give themselves a thorough washing visited the baths.
    Overriding everything were the intermittent clouds of dust created by the carriages and animals, for the road outside the walls was still unpaved. With water collected in a cistern from the roofs of the Citadel buildings, municipal workers dampened the ground several times a day.
    Miriam and Mustafa took pleasure in arranging the produce. Crisp okra spikes were laid out like a regiment of sturdy soldiers. Bouquets of parsley were presented in paper cones. Turnips were upended with their rosy points showing over the lip of several large clay bowls. Green beans and peas were kept in the lower tray out of the wilting sun. Cucumbers, midnight green and shimmering with droplets of dew, were laid out in a row along the back. Scallions and young yellow squash, the blossoms still clinging, filled out the colorful assortment. Eggplants were added as they matured, but the jewels of the collection were the tomatoes. Some, weighing almost a pound, formed the base of small pyramids and were quickly grabbed