DAS ARABISCHE BÜRO: DER GROSSMUFTI
"I am sure you will love America better after you have finished seeing the Arab countries. If I were in America I would not leave it even for a second. I would stay till I grew roots in the ground."
Hayredin, Disillusioned Holy Warrior
"LET'S go see our Yugoslav friends," Stefan said when I met him at the tavern the next day. Together we walked to the Sultan Selim Mosque. Its multitude of buildings and pilgrim's quarters covered several acres; we entered a long, cavernous series of damp, shabbily furnished rooms, beneath a succession of cupolas. At the end of these brick-lined caves was a large kitchen. Here I met Hayredin Dubravac, the only one among the Yugoslav Moslems who spoke English. He was a short, studious youth, wearing glasses and dressed in a rumpled white shirt and drab trousers. There was a beaten look about him.
"Ahh, from Amerika. How glad I am to see an Amerikan!" Hayredin exclaimed.
"What are you doing in the kitchen?" I asked Hayredin.
"Cooking. This week is my turn to be cook. Again we are having a hash of macaroni, beans, lentils, onions, and stale