A Tale Of A Solitary Stroll

I took a walk on a mild winter’s day through the winding streets of an old, old town.

I stopped several times on my solitary stroll next to houses that were built when the town was young.

And as I touched their weathered stones I wondered, as I always do, about all the lives that these walls must have sheltered.

I had so many questions that I wanted to ask:

If I opened this door, where would it lead?

Who lived in this house?

Who drank from this trough?

There are such pretty colours here – was it always like this?

Did people pray at the foot of this cross?

What children played played in this small alley-way? And where are they now?

But these buildings hold on to their secrets too well. I am left to stroll the streets with my questions as companions. Maybe next time, I whisper, you will give me a glimpse of the answers I seek. Perhaps I imagined it, but it seemed to me that the faintest of chuckles accompanied me for the rest of my walk.

---------------------------------------------------0------------------------------------------------------

Believe me, I try, I  really do try not to get carried away but if I had to just recite historical  facts this blog would be too boring, don’t you think? I believe that we all need small doses of fantasy every now and then.

Tradition has it that the area I strolled through used to be a Jewish ghetto prior to their expulsion in 1492. According to an article entitled Jews of Malta on the website Beit Hatfutsot, there is no evidence to support this as the Jews here were free to mingle with the rest of the  population. Some Jewish remains have however been found in the  nearby burial site known as St  Paul’s catacombs, which makes them unique since they are Jewish catacombs within a Christian complex. So there definitely used to be a few families living in  this area in the distant past.

Photographed in the Hal-Bajjada area of Rabat.