Jan' 22.
'Ibrahim’ is the Arabic form of ‘Abraham’, derived from the Hebrew ‘avhamon’. It means ‘father of many’.
The little man you see before you, with his twinkling eyes and remotely mischievous smile, is indeed a father to many. Not just to his ten children and dozens of grandchildren, his care, kindness, and hospitality make him a father to hundreds around the world.
Ibrahim Abu El Hawa is a Palestinian Arab and Muslim leader born in East Jerusalem. He lives on the Mount of Olives (the very same where Jesus walked), and describes himself as a ‘Peacemaker’. All his life, with no official recognised passport, he has travelled the globe campaigning for peace. Interreligious peace, racial, ethnic, political peace. Peace in Jerusalem. Peace between creeds and individuals. Peace between Israelis and Palestinians. He has shared his simple message with world leaders ranging from Donald Trump to Tony Blair, he is friends with Jerusalem’s Orthodox Jewish Rabbis (pictured in the photograph next to us) and Christian Priests, and the ordinary folk he accommodates for free in his ‘Peace House’ hostel. Ibrahim is a sharp contrast to Jerusalem’s conflict-stricken media image. This chap’s love and affection towards all is truly infectious. His next ‘victims’, as he calls them, happened to be my mother and me.
‘Hey! WELCOME! Where are you from?’.
It was a sunny morning in East Jerusalem, just by Damascus Gate. Having just arrived in the Holy city, we had prayed about meeting locals, being led to the right people and the following moment, we looked up to see this smiling being sporting his bright red Jordanian Keffiyeh scarf. It just went from there. Ibrahim kindly gifted us with some fresh Arabic cardamom coffee and delectable Knafeh pastry. The next day, after a homemade meal at the Peace House, he invited us into his own home, to meet his family. We were overjoyed at this intimate window into another world. We sat with his wife, cousin and sister, three beautiful Palestinian elderly women, who fed us to the brim with mouth-watering Middle Eastern food. I’d often heard of Arabic hospitality being special: I can confirm, the rumours are true.
The room was spacious, strewn with massive carpets. A television played throughout our meal, with a livestream of Mecca. Their English was sparse and my Arabic even sparser, but that didn’t hinder an encounter of deep gratitude and border-shattering friendship. We held hands, hugged profusely, and shared many, many ‘Alhamdullilah’s. When departing, I hugged Ibrahim for the hundredth time. “Thank you, thank you my friend”. He replied: “No, we are not friends, we are family”.
Strangers might just be friends, or family, we haven’t met yet. I think God puts certain people on our paths to inspire us, to touch us. Say hi, give peace and friendship a chance. As Ibrahim remarked to some passing tourists who seemed rather afraid of his friendly greetings: “We won’t eat you!”…
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