Star of Bethlehem

Abstract

Star of Bethlehem Sahar Mustafah (bio) (Jerusalem, 1941) "You must always be invisible," the Englishman says. Like the others, Abdul-Razzaq looks to the interpreter. "My brothers," Mansoor kindly begins, "you are neither to be seen nor heard." "Like ghosts," snickers a boy among them. The English butler called Broadleaf raises a sharp eyebrow in silent reprimand. Abdul-Razzaq studies the wiry foreigner with pale blue eyes. His thin white hair is parted down the middle and slicked back. He wears a gray swallow-tailed jacket and stiff white collars. His gestures are quick and measured, delivered with impeccably trimmed and clean fingernails. Abdul-Razzaq's ears burn: his own fingernails are caked with grit, his knuckles gnarled from years of farming. As if reading his mind, Broadleaf commands each of the men to hold out his hands and stare straight ahead. He inspects their fingernails and gives his notes to Mansoor, who quickly translates them before the butler moves to the next man in line. When it is his turn, Abdul-Razzaq straightens his posture, and obediently holds out his hands, dry and ashy from years of working in the sun. He thinks of his wife and two children waiting in the crammed hovel where they are squatting with another family. Inshallah khair, he prays silently as the English butler scowls. "Trim those fingernails and"—he makes a sign as if decapitating a head—"beard must be shaved," he tells Mansoor, who in turn explains it to Abdul-Razzaq. "He may keep his mustache." Abdul-Razzaq nods vigorously. Safiya will not mind this. Broadleaf briskly moves along the line until everyone present has been either dismissed or hired. Three men remain, including Abdul-Razzaq, and the boy. They follow the butler from an anteroom down a narrow corridor. [End Page 163] Abdul-Razzaq's eyes dart about the villa. Tall arched windows illuminate a large liwan where a European sofa and quilted chaise are arranged against a backdrop of blue, green, and yellow geometric tiles accenting walls. There is an odd incongruity running through the villa, like two worlds colliding, their respective objects struggling to find their proper place and coexist. A gold-painted mirror with a floral crest hangs on one wall; opposite are three ebony carvede masks, expressions fierce and regal. Atop a cherrywood console sits a white marble figure with slanted eyes, sitting cross-legged on a small throne, his torso upright, his left arm nestled in his lap while his right hand points downward. Abdul-Razzaq has never beheld such strange things. The men pass three maids also newly hired, and they are set to thoroughly cleaning and water-sweeping the three-story villa. They wear black cotton dresses with collars that bloom into flower petals and starched whitest aprons. On their heads are gleaming white caps concealing their dark hair. One stands on a wooden ladder with pheasant-feather dusters, reaching for brass chandeliers and cast iron sconces. They continue the tour to the servants quarters, where the kitchen is located. When he is permitted to interject, Mansoor continues transmitting Broadleaf's running commentary and directives. "Vice-Admiral James Bernard Wood of His Majesty King George the Sixth's Royal Fleet shall reside in this villa, and it is our honor and duty to serve him and his family as supremely as possible. It is a great hardship to be stationed away from one's beloved homeland." Broadleaf cocks a thin eyebrow. "Thereby it falls upon all of us to ensure the Vice-Admiral's perpetual comfort and pleasure as he fulfills his duty to the Commonwealth." Next to a large pantry, the butler opens a cupboard containing neatly folded black jellabiyas. On their heads they are expected to don a black tarboosh. "Your uniform," Mansoor announces, directing them to each grab their parcel. "At least we are not forced to dress like foreigners in our own country," one man derides. The others, except for Abdul-Razzaq, nervously chuckle. He has yet to relax, his entire body clenched like a fist. As soon as he's handed his uniform, he exhales, eager to return to Safiya with the news. They have thwarted a worse...