Ideological meandering

As I listen to the Hookah Café I am reminded of a time not so long ago when I sat in a unremarkable bus conversing the Berber man beside me. I stumbled over the pronunciation of the simple Tamazirt words he taught me. He would roll his tongue and encourage me to do the same with his penetrating eyes and brow furrowed in a question marked with kindness. Attempt after attempt proved fruitless. As my impromptu tutor put me through the drill again I spied a group of Berber women across the aisle. They were dressed in long black jalaba wraps that were laced with colourful seam work. Their eyes, lonely in the overlapping ubiquitous black cloth glanced up in our direction. They chatted and giggled like little school girls. I smiled and looked out the window to the barren desert landscape that hemmed the road in from every side. What is this rift between the Islamic and the Occidental World? Is it inseparable? These women who were bound with cloth and religious values imposed from a male dominated society appeared to have a strong sense of community with one another.

What will bridge the gap? Even this week there was an uproar in the Islamic world in response to Pope Benedict’s speech when he alluded to the followers of Mohammed being bent on violence. As these events pass through my mind, I jotted down this poem:

At odds
We talk
Of fate and choice
Of peace and joy
Yet, we remain: at odds.

A wall
Not so tall
Blocks our understanding, of
Friendship and belonging
What are the odds?

A truce
Novel compromise
The power of a moment
To embrace beyond ideals:
“You are not so odd, nor indifferent.”