Al-Ghuwairiya Neighborhood.. Houses, Memories, and Childhood Evening Gatherings

He said to me as he placed his legendary box in front of me on the table: "It is the scent of mud mixed with straw." Then he took a full breath, as if he were inhaling from the aroma of its ancient fragrance something of the scents of the past.

"Sheikh Hamad's Box," that is what he called it.

Engraved on its wooden lid were the words: "When the wisdom of the elders overcomes the intrigues of people and the superstitions of places, life is born and rises with its people, to become like this neighborhood, Al-Ghuwairiya, and this city, Zarqa."

A dark wooden box, which seemed to be from another time, with eroded edges and a coarse, frayed rope tied around its middle. He dusted it off while saying: "Its age is the age of this city, and specifically the Al-Ghuwairiya neighborhood." He pointed with his hand to the center, crowded with adjacent houses, alleys, people, and the burst of evening bustle in the "Al-Hisba" street, in front of his father's house.

Then he continued: "And do not ask me how the box reached my grandfather and my father, then ended up forgotten in our damp basement... for I do not know." He stared into my face and added: "It mattered only to me, perhaps for its valuable treasures that tell of the neighborhood and the stages of its inception."

The matter seemed intriguing and strange.

He reached out and took from its depths a solid piece of mud mixed with straw, and said: "This is from the first house the Sheikh built." Then he took out a long blue prayer bead string, with smooth beads, and handed me a gray turban that exuded the scents of the past, and a thick, olive-green piece of Turkish velvet fabric.

He opened his hands and said: "These things summarize the story, all of it..!".

The First Paper: Houses of Mud and Reed

Above the peak of the overlook, on Jabal Al-Mughair, and five years after uprooting the giant, frightening tree and filling in the caves and caverns between the Al-Hawouz hill and this overlook, Sheikh "Hamad Al-Ghuwairi" stood sad and confused, casting his gaze that evening across the empty, desolate (wilderness of the plains), and its sand dune extending to the borders of the distant "Al-Ma'aniya" and "Al-Amamra" neighborhoods, and the houses scattered on their edges.

He said to his cousin and constant companion "Rashoud": "We succeeded in filling the caves and uprooting the tree, but we did not succeed in uprooting the awe from people's hearts."

He shook his head in sorrow and continued: "No one will come... who would dare, anyway?"

Rashoud replied: "Superstitions have taken hold of people, and they may need more time to forget them."

The Sheikh answered him sharply: "They were not superstitions, but rather intrigues and malicious rumors."

Then he turned to his companion and said firmly: "By next spring, if no one comes to inhabit the place, I will go myself."

In the spring, the Sheikh, his brothers, and some cousins descended toward the low (wilderness of the plains) and its sand dune, after passing the ruins of Al-Batrawi, Jabal Al-Mughair, and the overlooking "Barrakh" hill, and each of them built a spacious house of mud and reed.

The darkness of the first night in those plains was sharp and different.

Its intensity was broken slightly by the sparse lights of the camps and the reflection of the metal strip of the railway east of the plains.

The neighboring Al-Hawouz hill, with its water tower, brought reassurance, as it blocked the sunset of that day from them and looked over them gently.

As for the south, it was scattered with its pale electric lights, between the relatively distant Al-Ma'aniya and Al-Amamra neighborhoods on one side, and the dark ruins of the market and the Shami and Chechen neighborhoods on the other.

A few weeks passed before some members of the tribe joined them to build similar houses and spaced-out courtyards, to be the first wide sandy alleys in that small residential cluster.

One night during the dark harvest season, a faint shadow moved, which some described as lost at first, then terrifying stories followed about it as they saw it rolling between the houses and courtyards.

Some said: "We are the ones who brought the shadow to us with these alleys."

The shadow standing at the edges of the sand spread panic; it did not move or speak, as if it were a guardian of a buried secret.

Sheikh Hamad saw the darkness of the shadow every evening, thinking it was his own reflection, until he realized that the shadow did not follow his steps, but preceded them. He took out his blue Hijazi prayer beads and began to praise God among the few sleeping houses, and he would devote himself to praising after every sunset until the next morning.

Only two days passed before the shadow faded, then retreated and was defeated, and no one saw it after that.

The Second Paper: The Newcomers

The place expanded as it welcomed new faces; Chechens who brought with them the hardness of the mountains, Palestinians who carried the pain of departure, and men brought by the honor of military service from the north and south of the country.

Sheikh Hamad Al-Ghuwairi was very happy with this relative expansion, despite the slowness, and wished for the place to become at least a semi-neighborhood. He saw the formation of some real dusty alleys, and the only short sandy street that supported the guesthouse, before its end poured into the vast sand lake a few meters from the guesthouse arbor.

Sheikh Hamad persisted in his leisurely passage between the neighborhoods of Al-Amamra and Al-Ma'aniya, and even the market and the Shami neighborhood, without buying anything. Perhaps the Sheikh was harboring a matter, which his companion and cousin Rashoud revealed to the Sheikh's sons one evening.

He saw in every neighborhood adjacent mud shops, wooden doors painted in a pale blue color, boxes of dates, sacks of wheat, coffee, cardamom, wool, ropes, and copper scales hanging from nails.

Men from "Ma'an" and "Karak," perhaps returned from military service, sitting relaxed on the benches of the shops, their faces tanned by the sun, and some of their rifles leaning against the wall. He saw merchants bargaining with the Bedouins coming from the plain: ghee, jameed, butter, wool... in exchange for coffee, henna, and prayer beads. And half-naked children running, with dust flying behind them like a tail of light.

A strange story spread about a woman without feet, who appears suddenly in the narrow alleys, wearing a long black dress, and sliding on the dirt road without walking.

They used to say that she only appears to those who walk alone, that she does not master the art of speaking, and that she is just "the spirit of a woman who died while looking for her son."

Sheikh Hamad had no choice but to cover half of the guesthouse—on the sandy street—with new carpets, and cover its ceiling and walls with olive-green Turkish velvet fabric to make it a prayer hall. Sheikh Hamad sought the help of one of his noble neighbors on the short sandy street to complete the prayer hall, a venerable Chechen Sheikh known as Sheikh "Nour," who memorized the Quran and mastered the craft of wood, blacksmithing, and other works.

A few days after the call to prayer and the collective chanting, the blackness of the terrifying woman evaporated, and no one saw her wandering between the alleys and house courtyards again.

The Third Paper: Renaissance and Development

Night fell early that day, and quickly cast its dark curtains over the "wilderness of the plains."

Sheikh Hamad was surprised by the darkness in the middle of the empty road, as he was returning alone from those neighborhoods on foot after his usual daily trip. He was happy, turning an idea over in his head.

After long months of research and investigation, it was time for him to find it now that it was complete, and nothing remained but to implement it.

He did not wait for the morning; he hurried to his companion and cousin Rashoud and his friend Sheikh Nour as soon as he arrived. By the glow of an oil lamp that dispelled the darkness in the guesthouse, he shared with them his deep vision regarding the future of the neighborhood and this place.

A few weeks later, the short, quiet sandy street was pushing forward with its new craft shops distributed on its sides, to cross the vast sand oasis with unusual strength and bustle: three manual wood carpentry shops (doors, furniture, and construction timber), a large blacksmith shop, and three other shops whose shelves and spaces were burdened with necessary construction supplies (roof beams, concrete reinforcing bars and wires, bags of white lime, paint containers, etc.).

Sheikh Hamad never returned to those neighboring quarters... ever.

This "wilderness of the plains" became a destination for the entire town, after the Sheikh realized that what the town of Zarqa lacked in its quarters and neighborhoods was the craft aspect.

Other new and different lives exploded in that sandy street: customers, merchants, and various transport vehicles, the boundaries of the "wilderness" expanded to the rhythm of their echo.

This rapid transformation from a small, forgotten residential cluster to a large, attractive craft center created many distinct economic and social classes of people, which changed the face of the place.

As a result, the "empty wilderness of the plains" turned into an important neighborhood served by electricity and water overnight, and without passing through the "quarter" stage, most people in the town of Zarqa at that time called it the noble "Al-Ghuwairiya neighborhood."

People exchanged stories during evening gatherings, on the rooftops of houses and at Sheikh Musa's small café at the corner of the sandy street, about terrifying fires that ignited and rose like a volcano after midnight, which people saw in the empty eastern spaces of the neighborhood's wilderness.

Sheikh Rashoud said that day to his cousin Sheikh Hamad Al-Ghuwairi in the municipal council guesthouse: "It seems that intrigues do not die..!".

Sheikh Hamad replied with relief and a clear smile: "The matter is different, they are not malicious intrigues, they are just superstitions that the place spreads among its inhabitants... that is all." Sheikh Hamad was not satisfied with these explanations.

In the evening, in the neighborhood guesthouse, he said to the venerable Chechen Sheikh Nour: "We will demolish the guesthouse and the old prayer hall, and build a large mosque with a minaret, like the other neighborhoods: the Chechen, Shami, and Arab neighborhoods."

A few weeks later, Sheikh Nour was raising the call to prayer with his melodious voice and gray turban, while the green metal sign at the entrance of the new mosque indicated: "Imam Ali bin Abi Talib Mosque," may God honor his face.

The volcanic fire no longer existed, east of the neighborhood.

In short, no one saw or heard of it after that.

Conclusion

Dr. Atallah Al-Ziyoud returned the ancient gray turban to the depths of the box.

He looked at the sprawling city and the evening surge of noise rising from every inch of it as far as the eye could see, and from all directions. With some sorrow, he said to me, tracing a wide panoramic arc: "Sheikh Hamad Al-Ghuwairi died before seeing all this... before seeing the (vast, empty sandy wilderness) transformed into a large, massive neighborhood, its edges stretching to cover every inch of it. He died without seeing how the city's construction surpassed it to the north: the wilderness, Mount Al-Mughayyir, the Refinery neighborhood, and even the outskirts of Al-Hashimiyah."

I shook hands with the doctor that night between the intersection of "Al-Hisba" Street and "Al-Hawouz" Street in the Al-Ghuwairiyah neighborhood.

He returned to his home and work in the capital, and I to my voluntary, distant exile.

We shook hands in the hope of meeting again, then parted without a farewell... exactly as we used to do.

For thirty-five years and more, in the same place.