Chasing the Ghosts of Moav
In building the story world for Last Days in Moav, I wanted not only information from books and articles but the full, sensory experience. Though the world of the Encampment has vanished, traces and clues remain. I decided to track them down as best I could by traveling to Israel.
My trip began in the dramatic landscape of the sunbaked Jordan River Valley.
The Forbidden Shore
Standing at the edge of the Jordan River that separates present day Israel and Jordan, I could almost see the site of the Encampment. Because of COVID-19 border restrictions, I was just a stone’s throw from the ancient site in modern-day Jordan—but I couldn’t cross. The checkpoints were locked behind medical tests and red tape.
Relying on my binoculars to see the plains of Moav, I felt like the characters in my book, looking toward a land they couldn’t yet reach.
Hospitality in the Dust
Near the banks of the Jordan River, I met a Bedouin guard watching over a date farm. He welcomed us with strong coffee brewed over a stone-ringed fire pit—an ancient, Abrahamic gesture of hospitality.
His makeshift home was constructed of plywood, branches, and tarp. While he used modern materials, the spirit of it was strikingly similar to the Sukkot (temporary huts) described in the Bible, those fragile, temporary shelters the Israelites relied on during their forty years of wandering. To this day, we build these same “booths” during the harvest holiday of Sukkot.
Abraham’s Welcome
“Abraham looked up and saw three men standing nearby…he hurried from the entrance of his tent to meet them and bowed low to the ground… Let a little water be brought, and wash your feet, and rest yourselves under the tree… and I will fetch a morsel of bread, that you may refresh yourselves.”
Genesis 18:2–5
Lessons from the Flock
At Neot Kedumim, I tried to learn the art of herding a mixed flock of sheep and goats. Though I carried a shepherd’s staff, I found that leading a flock relies more on a language of whistles and subtle movements. I felt confident as I moved the flock down the field as instructed by my teacher, until one little lamb took off in the opposite direction. “Wait there!” I instructed the others, while I took off after the lamb. Needless to say, during the time I spent lamb-chasing, the rest of the flock dispersed, and I had to begin my assignment again.
Building an Ancient Market from the Present
Archaeology is silent on the marketplaces of Moav 3,000 years ago, so I looked to the present. The chaotic pulse of Jerusalem’s Machane Yehuda (The Shuk)—the shouting vendors, the stalls piled with za’atar and sumac, the heat of the crowds—became the blueprint for my fictional market.
The Portable Dwelling
At the center of the Encampment sat the Mishkan, or, as I chose to call it in my book, the “Dwelling.” I spent hours in the Israel Museum’s archaeological wing researching the materials of the era—gold, acacia wood, and dyed skins. In a story filled with mysticism and ghosts, the portable Dwelling served as the physical anchor for the Divine.
What’s in a Name?
In the ancient world, a name was a prophecy. My research into Hebrew roots and biblical origins influenced my choices about characters’ names and destinies.
Find out why I chose the names Aryeh, Ephratah and many others and what they mean.
