When A Muslim Becomes a "Kohein"

On a new book, "Misfits on the Mountain", by Ruchama King Feuerman, by from Yael Unterman's review in Haaretz:

...Initially, her new book appears likewise to be set in a narrow Jewish Jerusalem world...Isaac Markowitz...takes up a new position as the right-hand man for an Israeli kabbalist, Rabbi Yehudah, and his wife, Shaindel Bracha, and strives to keep order in the courtyard of the title...
...Quickly it becomes apparent, though, that we are to be transported further afield than in the previous book, for we are introduced to Mustafa, an Arab with a deformed neck who works as a garbage collector on the Temple Mount, no less. By dint of his menial job and marginalized status in his society, Mustafa is constantly observing others (and, indeed, with his crooked neck he can hardly do otherwise); while to them he is invisible.
In dreaming up this surprising protagonist, whose language and thinking differ so vastly from those of the “yahudi” who visit the Noble Sanctuary (as the site is known to Mustafa and all Muslims) - the population that one might imagine would have been the American Jewish author’s more natural subject - Feuerman demonstrates no small amount of moxie. 
...one day, these two misfits first meet, the course of their respective fates is altered forever. Mustafa finds himself deeply touched by Isaac’s remark: “You clean the mountain. This is a great deed. You are keeping our holy mountain clean and wonderful… like the kohein [Temple priest]…”
As we all know, no good deed goes unpunished, and this small gesture of kindness will eventually lead Isaac – and Mustafa – into a whole mess of trouble, involving professors, police commanders, a flame-haired religious girl on a motorcycle, a shady reporter and a gang of rowdy prisoners in search of a route to true repentance.
When Mustafa discovers some archaeological artifacts in the rubble of the Waqf’s Temple Mount construction, he decides to save them from oblivion. (This actually happened in real life, and is still happening, though replace Jewish archaeologists for a crook-necked Muslim custodian.) Mustafa presents Isaac with one of these, an ancient clay pomegranate, but it ends up being confiscated by police commander Itai Shani, who is fearful of the international repercussions if the delicate balance of power at this holiest of sites is disturbed....
...Writers often imbue Jerusalem with a mystical, mysterious aura, which at times borders on the cloying. Feuerman’s eye, in contrast, tends here toward the earthy and does not shy away from the less aesthetic sides of life. The reader must be prepared to encounter flatulence, skin conditions, mouse turds, burps and all the vagaries of human nature. Mustafa’s and Isaac’s flaws are ever-present, without whitewashing or rosy colors; and this staunch realism is preserved even – or especially – in the face of such obviously romantic elements as the Temple Mount and kabbalists.
The only dreamy romanticism lies in Mustafa’s imagination. The idea of being kohen-like has taken hold of him, and he begins to try to act the way he imagines a priest would, and to hungrily watch the priestly blessing at the Western Wall, peering from his perch above...