A digression of regression

We were lost on the streets of Hama looking for a restaurant that boasted stunning views of the magnificent water wheels, which dated back to the 13th century AD. All we were finding were shops selling items of vague interest: hookah pipes, stationary, and cheap sunglasses. All of these I needed, but not as much as a cup of tea while gazing out over the wooden water wheels that moaned sorrowfully at their ceaseless labouring.

A middle aged man with full beard and jalaba stopped us to offer a helping hand. His english was flawless; he was a syrian emigrant from Santa Barbara, California. After several attempts of directing us to our beloved cups of tea he asked us where we were from. When I told him Canada he seemed pleased: "My wife is from Canada." His wife, who was dressed in a full niqab with only a slit from which to study the world, hesitantly stepped out from behind her husband. She greeted us, which surprised both Bernard and myself. In Syria that just doesn't happen.

What shocked us even more was that her accent was fully Canadian. She was a native Canadian from Vancouver. She grew up an hour down the road from me. When I asked further questions she reverted to her husband. The conversation quickly finished and Bernard and I were left to make sense of our thoughts as we continued to look for the tea with the stunning views.

In Canada (or any other "Western" nation for that matter) you did not have to major in feminist thought of the the 20th century to have been exposed to such concepts as the equality and emancipation of women within society. We absorb culture through media, school, family, friends, Hollywood, and literature. It is umavoidable (unless living in an isolated religious or other colony) to not be fully exposed and influenced by the continual exposure to liberal ideology. I simply could not understand how a woman in her 20s lets go of a lifetime of progress to don a full covering. Yet it is more than the dress code. She is giving up what brave women of the 19th and 20th centuries fought so hard to realize, namely equality.

As I journey through the Middle East I will continue to seek to understand, particularly at this juncture when the questions outweigh the answers. Despite the unease I am content. For it is through this incongruity that I will come to a place of understanding. And true understanding can only come through friendship and dialogue. True friendship is based in love. I wonder, as I watch the turning of these faithful water wheels, what kind of world would this be if we all had
a little more love to give?