The stones of Jerusalem

The stones of Jerusalem

Recipes, ingredients, smells and taste are going through her mind as Jasmine walks towards the outdoor market. It is her favorite day of the week, market day. Today she is going to the market with a special mission. Today she will win her man back with the flavors and the smells of their favorite dish, the flavors and the smells that circled around them for so many years and bound them together. Lately his nose doesn’t work anymore and he lost his taste. She is slowly losing him and it is time to win him back.
Their home, the holy city laying glittering in hills of conflict. A city built over a city over a city over a city. A city divided by a big clove to keep some in and some out. Small steep alleys full of antiques, jewelry, food, the smell of spices that fill the air. These stones in the street carried carriages, a million feet, soldier boots, the cross of Jesus. These stones are full of stories, they have seen it all. The stones of the wall are even older, years and years of wishes are whispered to these stones, the surface smoothed by of the hands caressing the surface, begging for miracles. The stone would like to tell them that he is just a stone and can’t help them, but every day again hundreds of people come to feel him and tell their wishes and secrets, it doesn’t matter how hard he screams, they keep coming. He gave up now, he is getting old and absorbs all the letters and words that are whispered to him and he keeps them safe.
This is what Jasmine’s man is doing now more than ever, whispering to the stones of the city. Telling stories, making wishes, asking question, preach his preaches and curse his curses. It is as if the stones had enough of their painful history and give back a bit of the sorrow to the innocent feet that are touching their surface. This time it are the feet of her man that are intoxicated, like gangrene climbing up slowly, strangling out the man she loves and replace him with sorrow. He can’t stop wandering the streets anymore, she sees him walking around, confused and anxious, talking to the stones and swearing to the people that pass him by. He doesn’t come home anymore for dinners. Sometimes she hears him come home in the morning or late at night, sometimes not at all. The city is taking him over, making him into a stone. Tonight she is going to fight back.
The tajine is simmering on the fire, the smell of lamb with plums, honey and cinnamon have filled the house. This recipe is as much a spell as it is a recipe. This recipe made her man fall in love with her, made her parents in-law like her and her children quiet when they were crying. Tender lamb with butter soft plums, crunchy sesamy seeds, flowery sweet honey and her secret ingredient.
She asked him this morning too be home for dinner tonight. She didn’t know if he would come. He looked at her confused and said, I have important things to do. Could you please try to come home for dinner tonight love, I beg you, Jasmin tried again. Begging is for the weak, he replied but not specific to her and he walked out of the door. She was nervous as the clock showed nine, already an hour to late. She looked at the tajine that had served her for so many years and wondered if this was the last meal she prepared in it. For this tajine was their wedding ring. At nine thirty he was standing there again, with the same bewildered look on his face and his clothes looking like a mess over his thin body. She took his hands and led him to the sink, washed his hands and his arms and took of his sweater. Then she led him to the table, sat him on his chair and poured him a glass of red wine. He didn’t talk. Out of nothing he started a loud preach to the chair at his side and cursed the earth, the sky and the chair. His eyes were red and spit flew out of his mouth as he poisoned their life. The words were like knives in her heart, for this wasn’t her man talking but the devil stone that wasn’t welcome at her table. She pushed her tears back and went on singing to the lamb that lay comfortably and warm in the tajine. She sang to the honey and asked it to sweeten her man’s love, she sang to the herbs and asked them to get the stone out of his mind, she sang to the cinnamon to cure his body until at last the tajine was full of love and songs and ready to be served.
She put the big colorful and warm tajine on the table and lifted the top. He was still swearing and cursing the chair as she lifted the lid. A steamy cloud full of spices and smells filled the air around him as he continued screaming and waving his hands in a wild manner to make the chair obey. It was like nothing else in the room existed for him but himself and a cold breeze went by her heart. Than very slowly the mad look in his eyes went away and he was quiet. He looked at the tajine, and then up to his woman, her eyes were filled with tears as for the first time this year, she saw her man conquering the stone that possessed his body and mind. Very slowly she saw the blood flowing back into his veins and entering his heart. She gave him some home made bread and he started to eat. With every bite he took, he transformed more and more back into the man she knew him to be. He ate the entire tajine, stood up, took her hand and led her to the bedroom. They took of their clothes and strangled their naked bodies like two snakes. Tomorrow promised to be a good day for the both of them, a new life, a second chance.