As I walk to work I see children in the streets laughing and joking on their way to school. Old ladies dressed in thobes, with their freshly picked herbs and fruit perfectly balanced on their heads as they make their way to Damascus gate to set up. The smell of freshly ground coffee and the freshly baked bread topped with za'tar fills the air. My mind drifts as I listen to the birds chirping. It’s a beautiful day in Jerusalem.


Suddenly I found myself in front of the restaurant. I reach for my keys and begin to unlock the metal door. It squeaks open as I open it just enough to let myself in. I head towards the kitchen and begin making myself a fresh cup of coffee. I let the coffee boil and allow it to create a perfect layer of foam. I pour my coffee then make my way outside. As I’m sitting outside, the shop owners are beginning to show up and start their own morning routines. I say my greetings, finish my coffee and get back to work. I head back to the kitchen and begin prepping for the day. I mix the falafel till the texture is firm but easy enough to work with, then I season the shawarma so much that the seasonings have stained my hands, and chop the vegetables for the salads. Just as I was getting ready to finish, Khaled arrives and begins stacking the shawarma meat on the skewer, securing it with an onion to keep it all in place. Suddenly the sound of three loud knocks on the metal door made its way to the kitchen, " Good morning the bread is by the door!!" We open the remaining doors to the restaurant and start to fill the souk with the smell of freshly fried falafel and shawarma roasting slowly on the skewer. The morning rush starting to begin and it is "cut, open, stuff, NEXT!" till 7 o'clock.

As Covid lock downs around the Old City got more strict and situations between soldiers got more out of hand the rushes became more less frequent. As situation kept getting worse, I noticed I became another bill to pay. So I sat with Khaled and confessed how I was feeling and we agreed that I’d come back when things “got back to normal”. Sadly “normal” never came back and as time passed the daily “hellos” got less and less. The smell of freshly baked bread faded from the air and the creaks from the metal doors got quiet. What was once a life full of hustle and bustle turned into a life of silence and depression.

As a resident of the Old City, I saw my community suffering and it hurt. The pain of that hurt birthed a solution. A way to make sure more doors stay open. A way to improve our own economic conditions. A way to put power back into the hands of the business owners. I started “Boomie’s Bazaar” to bridge over any economic hardship or political situations the Old City might face. To be able to have an open market without having to worry. To keep my community standing tall and strong.

At Boomie's Bazaar, we don't go to the source to get better prices, because profit isn't our motive, we go to the directly to the heart of the community and put the money in the hands of the shops.