The Missing Madonna, Chapter 17 (Part 1) - In the Slums

What are we going to do now? We are in the city but the generous merchants have moved on and we are back to relying on our own non-existent resources. The houses here look small and shabby and get worse as we drop down towards the river. There are a few faces peering from the window openings, but they display no welcome, just a sullen scowl or appearance of indifference. Where can we stay? I thought perhaps if it was a Jewish settlement there might be a synagogue and we could ask a rabbi there for advice or even shelter, but I can see no sign of one, only impoverished dwelling places mostly devoid of people. I’m feeling tired, I want to sit and rest as the sun is scorching down and the dust is choking me. But there are no trees, there is nowhere to sit.

After walking for about a quarter of an hour, the brick and mud built houses peter out and there are tents and open hearths with assortments of pots and pans simmering on open fires, the stench from the smoking ashes mixing with the foul smell of garbage and human excrement. Within sight there is much industrial activity and we run out of road into a general melee of activity, metal and wood construction, a fearful din of banging and scraping and the tortured screech of metal against metal. There are fires burning in strange brick stoves, Joseph says they are kilns where glass is melted and shaped and there are piles of newly made bricks everywhere. The walls of the city are dirty and foul here and there are gaps through to the shoreline, with a few soldiers lolling nonchalantly about looking bored and disgusted at the obvious poverty around them.

I’m feeling low again after the hopes raised by the attention and help of the merchants and I wished that they had stayed with us long enough to see us safely to someone of importance in the Jewish community here whom we could ask for advice. I just don’t see anyone around here. The men seem absent – presumably working somewhere and the women are mainly hidden. There are a few children about, mainly toddlers and dirty young girls meant to be watching them, playing in the refuse that’s lying around. I look at Joseph and raise my eyebrows at him. Where do we go now? We seem to be at the end of the road if you can call it that – there are just the walls and the shoreline of the river in front of us.

I can see Joseph has no idea what to do either. He shrugs his shoulder at me and tells me to wait here while he disappears through the wall in search of someone from whom to take counsel. Joshua is struggling in my arms. He wants to get down and run around, but if I let him he’ll get filthy here, and I can see broken shards of pottery and glass on the ground and I fear he could cut himself dangerously. I can’t see Joseph now. I stand here in the baking sun clasping Joshua tightly. We must stand out and seem lost in this environment, but no-one seems to notice us. I feel lonely and homesick now and miss my friends. It’s several days now since I’ve spoken to anyone other than Joshua and my husband and it’s been hard because I’m used to chattering to my neighbours, Ruth and Rebecca and the other women and girls in our village. Perhaps it’ll be alright when we’ve found somewhere to stop and I can get to know some women of my own age.

After a while I wander off the track looking for some sign of human activity. I think there are movements in some of the tents and inquisitively I peer into one of the open flaps and see the prone body of a woman evidently asleep. I suddenly realise that perhaps people are sleeping in the hottest part of the day and that is why I can see no movement in what looks as though it is a pretty crowded place. Two children come up to me and point at Joshua and say something but I can’t understand what they are saying. I think perhaps they want to play with him, but I’m not sure. They are both naked and tears streak their dirty bodies, flies crawl about their faces. The tiny boy keeps flicking the insects from his eyes but his sister – I assume she is but you can’t tell – just stares at us ignoring the swarm of flies around her face and in her tangled hair. They say something again but getting no comprehensible response from us, they lose interest and wander off and begin clawing stones from the barren earth and throwing them at the wall until one of the soldiers rouses himself and chases them away with what I take to be a few muttered oaths.

When the children have disappeared into the darkness of one of the tents, the soldier saunters over to me and obviously asks me a question but I have no idea of what he means. I shrug my shoulders at him and shake my head and he says something again but louder this time. I still don’t understand him. He calls his colleague over and I think perhaps that this soldier may be able to speak my language but he merely repeats what sounds like the same words. The two soldiers are now close to me and are staring at me. I begin to feel very uncomfortable. The soldiers are whispering among themselves and grinning and one of them puts his hand on my shoulder. I flinch and step back and the second soldier starts ruffling Joshua’s hair and holds out his arms and takes the boy. Joshua lets him, he is fascinated with the man’s helmet and starts tugging at it. The man laughs and starts teasing the boy. The first soldier now comes back to me and starts touching me and suddenly puts a hand on my breast and squeezes and puts his other hand on my bottom and pushes forward as if he means to kiss me. I push backwards. I suddenly realise the danger that I’m in. There is no-one else around and these two Roman soldiers have no shame or fears and could rape me and I would have no defence at all.

I’m petrified. The soldiers begin to laugh and one of them tugs at my shawl and pulls it from my head. My long dark hair falls out and he thrusts his hands into my locks and clasps my head and forces his mouth on mine. I can feel his hand now exploring my bare flesh under my tunic. I want to scream for Joseph but nothing comes from my lips. Then suddenly Joshua howls. I don’t know what the soldier has done to him that he reacts thus, and the sudden noise causes me to jerk backwards and the soldier releases his grip in surprise. I take advantage of the moment and tear myself from his arms and rush to Joshua and grab him from the other soldier. Both soldiers now start laughing at me and I feel hot and flushed with shame. Just at that moment Joseph appears from the gap in the wall and the two soldiers turn their backs on me and walk back to their posts with exaggerated flamboyance as if they are still mocking me.

“What was all that about?”

I can’t answer Joseph, but burst into tears. My husband puts his arm around me, then lifts the still crying Joshua onto his shoulders. I can’t get anything out. I’m shaking with shock and feel sick. I realise that I have a headache, I’m squinting at the sun, I just feel as though I want to crumple up there on the spot. I think Joseph must have guessed at what might have nearly happened and he guides me a little way back from the walls onto the roadway where the simple mud-brick houses begin.

“What happened, Mari? Did they molest you? ……. Did they rape you?” He asks the last question very hesitantly as if he doesn’t want to hear any answer.

No,” I manage between the sobs that are now shaking me. “But I thought they were going to.”

“It’s alright now, Mari. I’m here. I’ll protect you. Don’t be afraid.”

But I am. I’m scared at what is happening to us. In the last twenty four hours we’ve been robbed of everything we own, threatened with a knife and now nearly raped by soldiers. Wouldn’t it have been safer to stay at home? Perhaps we’re only fleeing our imagination and we could be living peacefully in Bethlehem and I’d be just making my way to draw water with Ruth at this very moment with our two boys hopping and skipping alongside us. I look at the sullen houses, poorly constructed and without obvious sign of life. What have we come to? God, is this what you want for us? Is this your will, your protection? Everything has changed so quickly and I’m losing control of my emotions. Please God, please help us. My prayer is silent but very real.

“Have you found out anything useful?” I eventually mutter to Joseph. There is a long silence and he gives me another hug, which I take as a bad omen.

“We’ll be alright, just you see,” he says without much conviction.

“Have you found out anything useful?”

“I found someone who said that I should go down to the jetty a few leagues from that gap in the wall. If I go at sunrise I stand a chance of being hired for the day if a boat has come in that needs loading or unloading. There’s no guarantee mind. However, apparently it’s the best chance of earning any money.”

“Where can we stay? Can we find shelter for the night?”

“I was told that if I can work for a couple of days, I can get a tent for us.”

“And what can we eat?”

Joseph is silent. I try to look as though he’s reassured me, but my face shows everything and I find I’m crying in his arms again. Joshua is looking at me with puzzled eyes. He’s not used to seeing his mother crying.

“Come, let’s see if we can find somewhere in the shade to rest.”

”What shade?”

“If we can find a space behind those shacks over there,” he says pointing to a row of dilapidated hovels to the south of the street, “we can at least rest for a while. I’ll search for something to protect us from the dust and dirt.”

I look askance at where he is pointing. The ground where it is not occupied by other destitute families is stony and refuse strewn. We walk over to what appears to be a small vacant space and Joseph starts to clear away the worst of the rubbish. I stand there with Joshua as if to claim the ground and a few minutes later Joseph returns with a couple of large dead palm leaves which he places on the uneven surface, takes Joshua from me and helps me sit down cross-legged. When we have made ourselves as comfortable as we can Joseph finds a few sticky dates that he picked up last night and which he’s kept in reserve in case we could get no food. I give one to Joshua who chews it and we both take a couple. I watch as my husband carefully puts the remaining couple back into a piece of cloth he’d picked up, dirty and disease ridden I’m sure, but we have little choice.

It is necessary that I clean Joshua’s undercloth – he has been smelling for some time now but I’ve had no chance to attend to him properly. When I get the sodden material off him, I find that it is soiled beyond redemption and I have absolutely nothing I can clean it with and no spare as all our baggage was stolen. I have no option but to discard the foul cloth with the rest of the refuse round us and it’s immediately seized on by a swarm of bloated flies. I try to get up, but Joseph bids me stay and he picks it up gingerly by the edge and carries it away from our immediate environs. I look for something to try to clean up the boy’s reddening bottom – he’ll get sores unless I can remove some of the faeces. I don’t want to use my own clothes or we shall soon be reduced to the outcast state of some of those I’ve seen in this ghastly place. I tear off a couple of fronds from the palm leaf that we’re sitting on and remove the worst of the dirt. I’ll need to go through the wall down to the river sometime to get water to clean him properly but I daren’t go alone as I don’t trust those soldiers and I’m worried if Joseph comes with me that we’ll lose our place here.

We’ve been a long time without water now and my throat is parched and rough. We will need to find a well soon. When the women still asleep in their tents need to go for water, I must follow them. At least I can give Joshua some milk to keep him satisfied, although I don’t like the idea of baring my breasts here publicly and feeding him in full view. The soldiers are not far away and if they come back while I’m feeding Joshua I know they’ll stop and make rude jest of me, if nothing worse. And I don’t want them to provoke Joseph into having to defend me, because they might do him some harm. Joshua seems quite happy having his legs completely free although twice I have to stop him from rubbing his hands in the traces of dirt that I was unable to remove completely. I scoop him up and let him nuzzle my breast and he’s soon sucking vigorously. I realise I need to drink and take some proper food or soon my milk supply will weaken and even dry up.

Joshua is still drinking avidly when an ill-kempt woman emerges from the nearest tent to us, sees us and immediately starts screaming in words I cannot understand but her gestures make her point all too clearly. She obviously wants us out and she comes right up to me and starts bawling right into my face. Joseph stands up and tries to pull her away and she rounds on him and yells at him also. At first I think she is objecting to my feeding Joshua in public, but Joseph murmurs to me that apparently we’ve taken the space of some other member of her family who is working somewhere else and will come back to claim his space shortly. I scramble to my feet and Joshua’s mouth slips from my nipple and he cries in surprise. Then as I’m still clutching him to me, I feel something warm and realise he’s pissing down my skirt and by the time I turn him away from me, my clothing is soiled with his urine. We retreat bedraggled and embarrassed, Joseph just remembering in time to recover the broken palm leaves, and regroup at the edge of the road, the woman still shouting at us words in coarse Greek which Joseph won’t translate for me.

We move off the land adjacent to the street and back towards the wall, then turn along the wall upstream past many families now beginning to stir after their afternoon slumber. Everywhere is occupied. As we pass, we are stared at, but no-one says anything. The looks are one of hostility. We were told that this was a Jewish quarter, but they don’t look like Jews at all. They are just a bunch of outcasts, derelicts, paupers and I feel so out of place. Then of course I realise that I am a pauper too. I look at my soiled clothes, the half naked toddler, Joseph’s face covered in layers of dust and grime. Why should I look down on these people? I am the same as them. Perhaps they too have had similar experiences, disasters as we have had. I cannot afford to be proud now.

Every patch of ground seems to have some rough piece of cloth or makeshift tent on it. We keep walking trying to ignore the eyes following us. At last we find a space. Joseph puts our palm leaves down and looks around as if expecting someone to appear and drive us off again. We are ignored at first. We are full in the sun – there is no shade here whatsoever. I pull the shawl the merchants gave me over my forehead to shade my eyes and put Joshua down. He has been struggling to get down for some time but I didn’t want him to hurt his feet on the rough dirty ground we’ve been traversing. I glance down at myself. I am filthy. My skirt is soiled and smelly though that is scarcely noticeable in this area, a pungent smell of rotting food coming from the river that is just the other side of the wall for the banks now come right up to the city wall, though at this point we have no access to it.

Joshua is already exploring and I want to hold him back to pick him up from the dirt, but I realise it is hopeless. I cannot keep him a prisoner. He has immediately found another child, half naked like himself and they are disappearing into the entrance of a tent where I can just make out the silhouette of a woman. I want to call to him to stop, but realise that it is best for him to make friends. He will not feel the danger and shame of our situation. The pair are lost to sight inside the tent and Joseph is looking for more cast off materials to augment our primitive carpet, but returns empty handed. He sits beside me and puts his arms round my shoulders. Then he traces the tear stains that are veins across my cheeks and kisses me.

“Mari, it doesn’t matter where we are, we still have each other and the lad. We are both dirty and travel-stained, hungry and broke, but I love you. It will get better, I promise that. We’ll rest here tonight, the sun will go down soon and it will cool. I’ll search for work in the morning. We must get some food. And you need to find out where the nearest source of water is.“