Our viewpoints reflected our backgrounds. After all my experience is business. This teaches me that in the completion of any agreement that will endure no one is completely happy but no one feels cheated. It is a workable compromise you seek.
He was a military man. You fight to win, to defeat and then to dictate the terms. Don't show any weakness as it will be exploited.
I come from this far off country, an island where we can chose when to engage and when to withdraw.
He lives in the crucible of the Middle East where there is no geographic safe haven to retreat to. He finds solace in past history, belief in his cause, solidarity and hopes for tomorrow.
No wonder the minds do not meet. Not this time.
Friday, 2 April 2010
The Big Question
The question came up in the late evening. I forget how, perhaps a gentle request for my view: How do you feel about the Palestine situation? It was after dinner with my new proxy host Monaf and his family - you get passed amongst friends in Jable.
But this was a truly committed audience. His father had just arrived from Damascus, a retired colonel in the Syrian commandos. He had fought in the 1973 war and again in Lebanon in 1982. So how to respond?
I tried to be calm and measured, to focus on long term visions but with a practical end; to recognise the huge pain suffered and the rights of all parties; to stress the need for compromise. All very British.
But there was another view in the room. That of right and wrong, of historical ownership and new comers to the land, of atrocity and struggle, of good and bad. All black and white, no grey. In this paradigm, if your cause is just then you will prevail, no matter how strong the enemy, no matter how long it takes. All very Arab.
The discussion was passionate but respectful. The facts were aired but need not be disputed, for it was a solution we sought. But with such differences in how this could be achieved, my compromise seemed a non-starter. By the end of the evening we had aired our views and left friends, just tied to different histories.
But this was a truly committed audience. His father had just arrived from Damascus, a retired colonel in the Syrian commandos. He had fought in the 1973 war and again in Lebanon in 1982. So how to respond?
I tried to be calm and measured, to focus on long term visions but with a practical end; to recognise the huge pain suffered and the rights of all parties; to stress the need for compromise. All very British.
But there was another view in the room. That of right and wrong, of historical ownership and new comers to the land, of atrocity and struggle, of good and bad. All black and white, no grey. In this paradigm, if your cause is just then you will prevail, no matter how strong the enemy, no matter how long it takes. All very Arab.
The discussion was passionate but respectful. The facts were aired but need not be disputed, for it was a solution we sought. But with such differences in how this could be achieved, my compromise seemed a non-starter. By the end of the evening we had aired our views and left friends, just tied to different histories.
A Sense of Syria
As in other countries, I ask what it is like, in this case to be Syrian. The response reflects my experience of overwhelming hospitality, happiness that I have come to visit and and thirst to know more.
I can write my official explanation: Syrians have a confidence based on a proud culture and many centuries of history that enables its people to reach out and welcome stangers. Situated at the northern cross roads of the Near East, it has long been an important thoroughfare lying on the ancient Silk Route and part of a successful nation which over the centuries has been independent or part of a wider empire.
But to my mind there are many levels to this society, just like there are so many levels of archeology beneath the surface. It is religious yet relaxed, trusting but watchful, welcoming but inwardly cautious, respectful but frustrated.A warm friend but probably an implaccable foe.
These are my words. I do not mean to be disrectful just to better understand. Such a wealth of history can be a source of reference and wisdom to build a better future or a shackle slowing its move into the modern era. I hope for the many friends I have made here that it is the former.
I can write my official explanation: Syrians have a confidence based on a proud culture and many centuries of history that enables its people to reach out and welcome stangers. Situated at the northern cross roads of the Near East, it has long been an important thoroughfare lying on the ancient Silk Route and part of a successful nation which over the centuries has been independent or part of a wider empire.
But to my mind there are many levels to this society, just like there are so many levels of archeology beneath the surface. It is religious yet relaxed, trusting but watchful, welcoming but inwardly cautious, respectful but frustrated.A warm friend but probably an implaccable foe.
These are my words. I do not mean to be disrectful just to better understand. Such a wealth of history can be a source of reference and wisdom to build a better future or a shackle slowing its move into the modern era. I hope for the many friends I have made here that it is the former.
Going Off Piste
Yusuf may have a plan but he was always ready to improvise. He and Mustafa had been calling and texting the two girls on and off all evening and then suddenly they both turned up. It may have been the attraction of seeing the strange Englishman but there was more to it than that.
Clearly Gulzah was the one Mustafa had been coyly courting by phone but Esra was the one in Yusuf's sights. I wondered about patient Imran back in Mardy, a key part of Yusuf's plan. But as they say, out of sight....
With again no common launguage we muddled along, now with lots of added giggling but Yusuf clearly wanted things to move faster. He kept whispering to me and I defensively pointed to Sally and my age in the hieroglyphic book but thankfully I wasn't to be part of their late evening plans.
I soon decided that I was supposed to be very tired and headed off to bed. They seemed to be separating off into couples, one more innocently than the other. It seemed an interesting contradiction in this devout, non-beer drinking Muslim culture. Maybe Kurds are a little more laid back. How things went I shall never know, but well I think.
Clearly Gulzah was the one Mustafa had been coyly courting by phone but Esra was the one in Yusuf's sights. I wondered about patient Imran back in Mardy, a key part of Yusuf's plan. But as they say, out of sight....
With again no common launguage we muddled along, now with lots of added giggling but Yusuf clearly wanted things to move faster. He kept whispering to me and I defensively pointed to Sally and my age in the hieroglyphic book but thankfully I wasn't to be part of their late evening plans.
I soon decided that I was supposed to be very tired and headed off to bed. They seemed to be separating off into couples, one more innocently than the other. It seemed an interesting contradiction in this devout, non-beer drinking Muslim culture. Maybe Kurds are a little more laid back. How things went I shall never know, but well I think.
Triathalon Man
It was overly ambitious expecting to reach Tartous before nightfall, so it was a relief when Homam cycled up alongside and invited me to stay at his home for the night. It was 10km back but then I have no fixed schedule. I am learning to adapt.
Homam is currently training for the triatholon taking place in nearby Latakia this summer. He will be the only entrant from Jable, his home town where he is something of an anomoly being so focused on sport. So we cycled back, he bought me a snack to keep me going and his brother Modar set up for me to speak to Sally on Skype.
And still the kindness goes on. A dinner spent with friends watching Arsenal versus Barcelona, a walk along the Mediterranean sea front. I am not even allowed to do my own washing. Perhaps I may get to pay for this hour at the internet cafe, but I am not banking on it.
Homam is currently training for the triatholon taking place in nearby Latakia this summer. He will be the only entrant from Jable, his home town where he is something of an anomoly being so focused on sport. So we cycled back, he bought me a snack to keep me going and his brother Modar set up for me to speak to Sally on Skype.
And still the kindness goes on. A dinner spent with friends watching Arsenal versus Barcelona, a walk along the Mediterranean sea front. I am not even allowed to do my own washing. Perhaps I may get to pay for this hour at the internet cafe, but I am not banking on it.
Man with a Plan
Yusuf will take his final exams in September, then he will return to Mardy and his intended, Imran. But things will not move quite so fast.
He plans to be an immigration officer on the Turkish-Iraq border and I think the job is waiting for him. It is well paid - $2,000 a month - so then he will begin saving and he has a plan.
He will start to buy the house in 2012, a car in 2015 and then they can get together in 2018 with the wedding scheduled for 2020 - I did not pressed to see if that meant 2 years cohabitation, but I hope for their sorely tried patience that it does. But either way the plan was firm.
He plans to be an immigration officer on the Turkish-Iraq border and I think the job is waiting for him. It is well paid - $2,000 a month - so then he will begin saving and he has a plan.
He will start to buy the house in 2012, a car in 2015 and then they can get together in 2018 with the wedding scheduled for 2020 - I did not pressed to see if that meant 2 years cohabitation, but I hope for their sorely tried patience that it does. But either way the plan was firm.
Hieroglyphics
How do you converse for an evening with absolutely no common language? After all the two students, Yusuf and Mustafa had kindly invited me to stay at their house and cooked dinner so we needed to learn more about each other.
Drawing pictures in my diary seemed to be the solution. We developed some conventions. Ladies had trangular skirts, stick men just legs. We wrote down ages, languages spoken, universities attended and subjects studied. Each member of our wider families were depicted. I leanred a lot. Both were Kurds (they insisted not Turkish), from Mardy near the Iraq border, now studying Turkish at the local university.
The conversation widened. Maps proved useful to help relate our personal histories. Days of the week and months of the year broadened the discussion until all subjects exhausted we resorted to playing cards.
Of course I have kept the drawings. They should prove valuable some day, just like the Rosetta Stone.
Drawing pictures in my diary seemed to be the solution. We developed some conventions. Ladies had trangular skirts, stick men just legs. We wrote down ages, languages spoken, universities attended and subjects studied. Each member of our wider families were depicted. I leanred a lot. Both were Kurds (they insisted not Turkish), from Mardy near the Iraq border, now studying Turkish at the local university.
The conversation widened. Maps proved useful to help relate our personal histories. Days of the week and months of the year broadened the discussion until all subjects exhausted we resorted to playing cards.
Of course I have kept the drawings. They should prove valuable some day, just like the Rosetta Stone.
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