We rounded a corner in the Old City, and came upon the most violent fight. We were walking from Damascus Gate to Jaffa Gate and for a brief stretch needed to go through a residential part of the Arab Quarter. Faith and I had been here before so I was walking it at a brisk pace.
As we rounded the corner a lanky Arab boy, who was chasing another pudgier short boy forcefully jump-kicked him in the gut, and pinned him to the stone wall only a few feet in front of me. The assailing foot pressed swift and hard into the other boy’s stomach. It was the kind of body blow that could do internal damage; even so, the wounded boy’s face was etched with fear more than pain when he frantically brushed passed us. As the frightened boy ran down the street his attacker swiftly turned his focus towards a group of boys behind him, as he went after them he put about thirty feet between him and us.
I’d guess the lanky boy was about ten years old. I’d never imagined seeing a ten year old intimidate me but the unbridled violence in this child and his skillful fighting were equally unfathomable. There was one other close to his size, and both of them were now brandishing sticks. The other boys were all smaller; a couple perhaps my Josiah’s size. The next boy that the lanky boy abused had a cast on his arm; I couldn’t help but wonder if it was from the last fight. The boy with the cast was soon bleeding from the head, but any want to defend the child was quelled by not wanting to bring attention to my own children, who were right behind me. That and it was all happening so fast, with much yelling in Arabic, I could hardly make out what was going on.
I thought seriously about turning back in a big hurry. I doubted I could effectively protect my children should we by some freak chance draw the attention of this child mob. I began to pray under my breath and continued forward, and as I did some man came out and shouted in the direction of the boys, providing a very poor temporary restraint on the violent children.
In one turn we were back in the souqs, surrounded by merchants selling ornate clothing and decorations, orange juice stands selling fresh squeezed juice, cafes selling Arabic coffee, Turkish coffee, or mint tea. With the vast color and noise around us, anything we saw on the previous street would be easy to forget, if it weren’t so unforgettable.
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