Well, you all know that my most challenging moment come when I try do decide which books to pack for my travels. So it was also the days before I left for Syria. I have been buying quite a few books from and about Syria lately. Pile them together with the once I already had and it was easy to see that I could not pack them all. Add that the program for our week was filled to the brim already without reading time, and you can ask my why I bothered to pack more than one book.........I don't listen on that ear. Books are more important than clothes and toothbrush, aren't they? And we still had hours on planes and in airports.
Again and again I looked through my books, picked out one, two, three, decided against the first, found another one.........and knew that there was still a book I needed to buy for the trip - Arabian Nights, or 1001 Nights as we call it here in Norway.
The Middle East has a rich tradition of telling stories. A tradition I am afraid we are about to forget in the western world. The author Rafik Schami masters this old art today. He was born in Damascus in 1946 but went into excile in Germany in 1971. Damascus and Syria are still in his heart, and his books are like colourful jewels ready to wear on nights with friends. Arabian Nights.
In the Great Mosque in Damascus a man sat on the floor, the center of a group of people. Women to the left, men to the right. A storyteller I said to myself, and walked closer to get a photo. I imagined myself sitting at his feet, listening to his stories.
"Shia Muslems", the guide told me. "They come here almost every day to listen to religious educations".
One of the books I brouhjt with me, a book I always bring with me when I travel, was The new Testament. Back in my hotel room I sat down close to the feet of Jesus, listening to his stories.
I want to be like Martha. I want to be like Maria (Mary). I want to prepare the meals. I want to sit down near Jesus.
