Secrets of the Souq

A Palestinian-American Comic Navigates East Jerusalem’s Old City.

By Ray Hanania

On a very windy day, they say that you can stand at the entrance of the ancient Damascus Gate and hear the sinuous whisper of the wind as it rushes through the labyrinth of streets and alleys of the souq, or Arab market, that is the heart of the Old City of East Jerusalem.

People swear the souq has a spirit that beckons them to enter.

Yet inside are the more powerful souls, the vendors who for generations have followed the same routine day in and day out, through peace and through conflict, through plague and through good fortune.

The 40-foot-high wall with ramparts and turrets around the Old City shelters the souq itself. It was built in 1538 by the Muslim conqueror Suleiman the Magnificent upon remnants of the wall that dates back 2,000 years.

The streets of the souq, paved with yellow and brown cobblestones smoothed by centuries of foot and cart traffic, reflect what may have been the original street plan from the fourth century. At that time, Emperor Constantine and his mother Helena, both converts to Christianity, began building memorials to their new religion, including the first Church of the Holy Sepulchre in 335 A.D.

Today you make your way through the narrow passageways and shadowy alleys of this ancient marketplace usually through shoulder-to-shoulder throngs of tourists or locals. They might be there to retrace the steps of Jesus along the Via Dolorosa’s 14 Stations of the Cross, but more than likely they are shopping for souvenirs.

In the souq, the only thing that is important to the 800 or so shop owners and street vendors is to make the sale. It’s the ultimate marketplace where junk and jewels pass from hand to hand, and where tradition is handed down from father to son, over and over again down through the generations.

One of the traditions is haggling. No price is the real price or the final price or the wrong price, and anything can be bought or sold. In these shops are some of the most clever salesmen (and an occasional saleswoman) in the world. And it is the unparalleled excitement of buying, haggling and negotiating a sale in the souq that is the real prize.

Haggling and hard-edged bargaining stand between you and the many glittering silver, gold, Arab embroidery, mother-of-pearl and olive wood objects that cover nearly every possible space in this seemingly never-ending labyrinth. Patience is the key that unlocks the mysteries of this shopper’s haven.

The crenellated Damascus Gate is one of 11 entrances to the Old City. Only seven are open. Steps lead down into a plaza which, during the day is filled with seasonal vendors who carry their wares piled high in crates and boxes, on their shoulders and heads.

All of the gates require you to turn a sharp 90 degrees, a strategy used by conquerors of the past to prevent other invaders from charging into the Old City on horseback. You quickly pass moneychangers and silver and goldsmiths and then turn to the right into a cramped open-air boulevard of more shops and restaurants that continue down a slope of steps and stone ramps.

The air is filled with Arab crooners singing about lost love or about pride in their religion and, five times each day, with the melodious call to prayer of the muezzins from nearby mosques.

Carts of fresh pomegranates, tomatoes, limes, lemons, dates, just-baked bread and large balls of falafel dazzle the eye and perfume the air. Standing on a platform of crushed boxes behind his vegetable cart, a peddler cries out, “talata al-ashara,” three for ten in Arabic. (Ten shekels is worth about U.S. $2.50.) Nearby, men suck on the hubbly bubbly, or sheesha pipes (nargeelas in Arabic), which you can rent as you sit down in a small café to enjoy falafel sandwiches, chicken kabobs, various pastries and thick, bitter Arabian coffee. Nearby, you’ll hear the slapping of heavy chips on shesh besh boards (backgammon) and the arguments in Arabic over who has won.

At the bottom is a junction. To the left is El Wad Street, and on the right is Khan el-Zeit where centuries before, vendors made olive oil from crushed olives. Khan el-Zeit slices through the old city. To the left is the Muslim Quarter. To the right are the Christian and then Armenian Quarters, where the souq spills out into mainly open-air malls that offer many of the same wares. The street name changes, and you soon find yourself in the Jewish Quarter, with its more modern, fixed price and elaborately decorated retail stores.

The store owners love to talk to you. It’s a part of the game of haggling and selling. They’ll probe to find out if you are a Jewish tourist, Christian pilgrim or visitor from any of hundreds of countries. If they think you may be from the most likely places such as Italy, Germany, France, Canada or the United States, they greet you with a hello in each language until you respond.

Once you make eye contact, the sale begins, even if you don’t know you are about to buy something.

About 100 feet into the market is the shop of Said Talhami, filled with silver, brass, tablecloths, dresses and religious icons, including mother-of-pearl inlaid images of “The Last Supper.”

“We’ve had this shop for more than 60 years ago. It’s from my grandfather,” Talhami says in his labored English. “Because the business is so bad and the life tough in Jerusalem, we have to wait outside of the shop and talk to the customers friendly. And to let them come in. And to give them good quality. We be kind to them and give them the real price that will fit the mind. We don’t ask high prices that will make our customers run from our shop.”

Nearly every store owner will invite you to have coffee.

“We invite them to drink coffee for free even if they buy or they don’t buy. We try not to let them leave because there are many other shops. We have an eye; we feel if they want to buy or not. We bargain a little bit. But we don’t offer the coffee to push them to buy, but to make them feel at home. To be friendly. To make them feel we are human beings.”

Talhami concedes that 90 percent of the time when customers accept the coffee and drink with him, he will make a sale. So the offer of coffee is nonstop until you accept or walk out. “We don’t make millions, we live in a bad situation,” he says. “They have closed a circle on us, and no one from the West Bank can come into the city of Jerusalem. We just survive.”

Jocko, in his early 30s, sports a Nike shirt and stands tall behind a decorated pyramid of spices down the path from Talhami’s shop. He welcomes you and gladly explains his own family history as he fills bags of spices for customers. “My great grandfather worked here. My grandfather, my father. And now me.”

He tells us that most of his customers are Jerusalem residents or restaurant owners. Some tourists will buy spices like saffron and za’atar (a mixture of thyme and sesame seeds),  which is an important part of  breakfast for many Arabs. You dip freshly made pieces of flat Syrian bread  into olive oil and then into the za’atar, which clings to the oil. It’s a very tasty morning meal for most.

Farther down as the street approaches the Christian Section,  not far from the Church of the Holy Sepulchre plaza, is the embroidery store of Yasir (Ibn Diab ibn Abdul Rahman). Yasir’s grandfather came from Hebron at the turn of the twentieth century, and Yasir was born in the Jewish Quarter. Years ago, although the quarters of the Old City were identified by religion, the populations were diverse. His shop features handmade embroidery from Bedouins and the Druze, that he hunts down during trips he makes each year to Nablus, Ramallah, Bethlehem and even the Gaza Strip.

“Hello. I can help you. I’ve been here about 20 years. Three generations,” Yasir begins before one even asks. “It’s a hard situation,” he explains. “Two, three days, sometimes, we don’t make our first customer. If you take from me, you will be my first customer.”

One of the most creative greetings I had came at the Jaffa Gate, when a store owner walked up to me with a piece of paper and pencil and asked if I would spell out “grand opening” for him in English so he could make a sign announcing his new store. Once inside his shop, I naively scribbled the words on the paper and then the sell began. The store owner was playing the odds.

Souq Tips

The first price of an item is never the real price. The store owners expect you to counter with a price and begin the haggling.   

You can count on being treated politely and with respect even in response to an insulting offer.The seller will do everything  to get you to up your offer. If you offer too low, the vendor will shrug with a smile, “I can’t do that. Let’s not talk about the sale and just say hello.” That’s what one of them said to me, knowing that I would probably follow with a slightly better offer. “Pretend the talk of price never came up,” he might say if my offer is still too low. “Let’s just be friends.”

You get what you pay for. For example, if you buy an antique cheap, chances are it is not an antique.

Watch the store owner as he places himself between you and the door. All of the stores are very narrow, and most Westerners are not rude enough to push themselves past the shop owner. He will move out of the way for you to leave, but you must persist.

Even when you pay, the sales people will delay you by taking their time making change, which might take longer than the initial sale. The idea is to keep you in the shop because you might see something else you want. Never go there if you are rushed for time. Plan on staying all day.

There is an honor among shopkeepers. They will do their best to encourage you to buy, but they will not steal from you. And despite the headlines about the conflict between the Palestinians and Israelis, Jews and Arabs, a store owner will never speak unkindly of anyone. He will tell you things are rough, but as hard as you push, he will never tell you why. It’s bad for business.

Be aware that official tour guides will discourage you from buying in some of the shops you might want to enter. They lead you to the places that pay them commissions for bringing in tourists. The prices at these stores are usually fixed, and haggling is discouraged.

So don’t be afraid to enter the souq on your own. And by all means take some time to enjoy an offer of coffee or to stop at one of the small eateries for a falafel sandwich, hummus dip, pastries or other delicacies.

Pick up a guidebook to the Old City. My favorite is “Jerusalem & the Holy Land,” published by the London-based DK Publishing (Dorling Kindersley). It’s worth the investment for navigating the souk and beyond.

About the Author

Ray Hanania is an award winning Palestinian-American columnist whose family hails from Jerusalem. Author of eight books and a standup comedian, he uses humor to address conflict. You can find more of his writings at www.hanania.com.