An Arab, a Jew, and a Truck
Can a moving truck carry hope and bring peace to the Middle East? It happened in the Bronx rather than in the land of Canaan.
August, 2012, Moustafa Soliman, an inspired Egyptian-born Muslim finally published his vision of how powerful, relevant person-to-person relationships can begin not only in the Middle East but also in New York.
In the Bronx a religious odd couple is forced by circumstances to live together. But they become friends and business partners by choice. Ali, a devout Palestinian Muslim and David, an American Orthodox Jew, learn to share a kosher kitchen and recognize their shared humanity.
Their moving company truck’s logo declares: “Moving is our specialty! We’ve been doing it for centuries!”
Their business opens a window to ethnic, religious, and political ironies that instruct and inspire readers.
Sneak Peek:
Chapter 1
Meeting Today, David Goldstein hated his life. If he had followed his heart and ambition rather than his father’s, he wouldn’t be glaring at a phone that refused to ring. If his father had financially supported his business idea of Kosher Deli on Wheels, he’d now be hiring a lawyer instead of studying to be one. With visions of Park Ave dancing in his head, the fantasy life of David Goldstein was interrupted by the sound he’d been waiting for, “Hello,” he answered his interrogator on the other end of the line “Yes, it is a two bedroom. It’s got lots of light. How big? Big enough for two people. One bathroom, yeah, yeah, we share it. It’s got a tub and…hello, hello?”
What do people want for $500? The fourth floor walk-up in a worn-out bland 1960s building was on one of the noisiest streets in the Bronx. Exhaust emissions mixed with cooking from around the globe filtered into the entire apartment building. Today the pronounced smell of duck fat and pungent Asian spices rose from Mr. Chang’s carryout across the street, overtaking every other worldly smell in his compact hot apartment.
Compact, he said to himself, but clean. Clean and near a subway. That should count for something.
It’s been three weeks since his roommate moved out without notice. The call came in the middle of the night and by morning one half of the rent rushed back to Chicago to take care of a father on life support.