The Two Worlds of My Arab Mother

By Frank Maria

"Mother is the name of God on the lips and hearts of little children."

—William Makepeace Thackery

My mother came to America in the early 1900s from Saidnaya, a Syrian village north of Damascus and the site of what I believe is the oldest shrine in Christendom, the Convent of Our Lady of Saidnaya. Thus faith and religion were important to Mary Saba Maria during her life in Syria and in the United States.

Mother's dress in her early days as an immigrant in Lowell, Massachusetts, was strikingly similar to the dress of the Palestinian Arab women we saw briefly on television two years ago before the cameras were banned from Israeli-occupied Palestine. Those women, interposing themselves between their stone-throwing, flag-waving children and the Israeli military occupiers, personify the fierce protectiveness that I remember so clearly in my own mother.

A Shock of Recognition

Watching those scenes, I recall the same shock of recognition I felt in 1967 at poignant news photos of women from the West Bank and Gaza Strip being prodded by the rifles of Israeli soldiers across half-destroyed bridges into Jordan after the 1967 war. As the dispossessed Palestinian mothers clung fiercely to their children, picking their way from girder to girder or trudging along dusty roads in the broiling summer sun, I was reminded of my own mother and her devotion to her family.

This loving and compassionate woman reflected the Middle East before the violent creation of the state of Israel at the expense of the indigenous residents of the area. It was an Arab world where for centuries Arab Muslims, Christians and Jews lived together in cooperation and peace. Mother's life in the United States exemplified traditional tolerance and love of all people regardless of religion or ethnic background. Among her many cherished friends and neighbors were Mrs. Dabillis, Mrs. Dali, Mrs. Mahoney, Mrs. Cohen and others who reflected the cosmopolitan nature of the community. Henry Lampert, a young Jewish neighbor, treated her as he would his own mother, and she took a motherly, almost boastful pride in his success as an entrepreneur.

Later Mother was well aware of the "only in America" and "East meets West" aspects of her early days in the United States.

She loved to tell how, one summer day, she and a group of ladies, all immigrants from Syria, decided to have a picnic lunch on the banks of the Merrimack River near the Pawtucket Falls. Mother and her lady friends, wearing their head scarves, were eating the Middle Eastern salad, "sufsouf" or "taboulehl" which today in America has become a great health staple. It is made of greens, crushed bulgar wheat, and finely chopped tomatoes. Scooped up with grape or lettuce leaves, it makes an ideal summer picnic dish.

While these Syrian-American ladies were enjoying themselves, a kind Irish-American woman passed by and observed "these poor ladies eating grass," as it seemed to her, "because they have no real food." Matching her compassion with action, she went to her nearby home and returned with cheese, meats and milk which she pressed on Mother and her friends. They had not yet learned enough English to explain that their would be benefactor's generosity was misplaced. So, rather than embarrass the kind lady, they reluctantly took the food and thanked her as best they could.

The life and memory of this Arab-American mother has been inspirational to me.

Our home was warm with Arabic hospitality, with its emphasis on feting the guest or visitor. Just as Mother was always the first to visit the sick, the elderly, the lonely and the bereaved, at weddings and celebrations she led in the joy of the occasion.

I remember well her singing and dancing. Whenever there was a Sahra (an evening's social gathering) at the Maria home or elsewhere, when the music began she would inevitably be called upon to join Louis Zaher, a neighbor and friend whose specialty was the sword dance. Mother, flourishing a big kettle cover as a shield, would join him in intricate, graceful folk dance steps that our ancestors had passed down through millenia in the mountain meadows, desert oases, and irrigated plains of the Middle East, where human civilization was born.

Mother's concern about people, and her sense of hospitality, were illustrated in the family's often-told tale of her visit to Lowell General Hospital, two miles from her home.

She went there to visit Mrs. Mahoney, the ailing wife of a police lieutenant. When visiting hours ended, the Lieutenant offered Mother a ride home.

She readily accepted and, although she didn't drive, she confidently directed him to the Irish Acre where she lived. Unfortunately, they entered it through an area with which she was not familiar. Even as she directed the Lieutenant to go this way or that, she began to realize that she did not know how to get from there to the area she knew.

Mother, nevertheless, would not betray her ignorance. After meandering for some time, unable to recognize her surroundings, she finally asked Lieutenant Mahoney to stop at a house she pretended was hers. She thanked him for the ride and, as she got out of the car, asked him in "for a cup of coffee." Fortunately, since she had no idea where she was, Lt. Mahoney did not accept her typically Middle Eastern invitation. After he drove off, Mother wandered around until she found her home, which, thank goodness, was only a few streets away.

"With the Help of God"

Whenever someone told of her adventure, I would ask her, "What would you have done if he had accepted your offer of a cup of coffee?" Mother would always reply, "With the help of God we'd have found a way."

Mother was a loyal member of St. George's Syrian Orthodox Church in Lowell, Massachusetts. I remember the many times I came home and saw a candle burning and Mother in prayer for the health of a loved one or asking for strength and guidance. Then and now the picture of this good woman praying before the Icon of St. Mary bolsters my faith in God and humankind.

The life and memory of this Arab-American mother has been inspirational to me throughout a lifetime of voluntary efforts on behalf of equality, justice and peace in our own country and in the tension-filled Middle East. The benefits for the United States and the world of a just and lasting peace in the Middle East would be tremendous. A more "evenhanded" American policy toward the area, based upon equal respect for Israeli Jews and for the Palestinian Arab Christians and Muslims, would reflect both our American democratic heritage, and the Middle Eastern spiritual heritage represented by my Arab mother.

My prayer on this Mother's Day, therefore, is that the administration of President George Bush will continue to listen to the prayers of all of the mothers of the world!

Frank Maria, a native of Lowell, MA and a resident of Warner, NH, is a longtime religious and Republican party activist.