The German hospice, Kaiserin Augusta Victoria, lies out on this road. It
is exceedingly well built and untouched by shell fire. Although the Turk
utterly demolished the mosque of Nebi Samwill and shot away its stately
minaret, he turned no gun on this that was German property. Even when
his airmen, flying over Olivet, knew that an enemy signal station had
been set up in the garden of the hospice no shot fell upon it. “This
house,” said Jamil, “is like a German castle on the inside. The tower
was built higher than any tower on the Mount, the trees set out with
care. The picture of the Saviour is painted in the chapel and the
pictures of the Kaiser and the Kaiserin are on the long wall. It was
common talk at the beginning of the war that the Crown Prince should
live here when he became King in Palestine. Now it is the Headquarters
for the British Army.... It is the Will of God!” he added solemnly after
a moment. We took a picture of the hospice with two British Tommies
standing at the gate.
We had to leave our carriage and walk to the point where the Greek
Church tower looks down over the stretch of rugged upland crossed by
many a wadi, over the walled-in level spaces where green things were
growing, over the plains of the Jordan and the Dead Sea so blue in the
distance, away to the far mountains of Moab. It was a wonderful picture
at which one could look for long hours and come back to enjoy again and
again. It was from this point of vantage that the relief workers watched
the taking of Jericho. In the grove we found the “husks that swine did
eat,” lying about on the ground. Jamil picked one of the long brown pods
from the tree and under the pressure of his urging we tasted it. It was
sweeter than sugar cane, nauseatingly sweet. It took no imagination to
understand why one would accept it as food only as a last resort. In
this grove we found the hyssop which the women at the hospice use both
as medicine and for the whitening of their clothes. In a sunny sheltered
spot we found violets, although we were wearing our warmest wraps.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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