My friend Joel, at the Bazaar, is a polyglot. I think only his wife speaks his native language. So to communicate with the rest of the world, he is fluent in English, Turkish, Farsi, and Arabic, and speaks several phrases in many other languages. It makes my brain dizzy sometimes to figure out which language he's speaking, but I'm slowly beginning to decipher between the four most common anyway. (And I can always tell when he's speaking to his wife...his eyes sparkle. No language needed!)
So anyway. I'm in his shop today, playing backgammon, of course. Remember now, that it's a Persian game. So several men walk into the shop and begin asking Joel for some item or another--in Turkish. He responds in Farsi, asking them if they speak Farsi. Their eyes get big, "We do!" They talk back and forth, and my head looks like I'm at a tennis match watching back and forth between the two men. I can tell this stranger is not a normal Iranian--I've heard enough Farsi to understand that his is not normal.
So Joel takes a breath, turns to me, and says, "He's a Dixie Iranian!" And then goes back to talking. While Joel goes to work trying to make a sale, my brain starts spinning. Is that even possible? A Dixie Iranian? Dixies hate Iranians. Iranians hate Dixies. How could someone be an Dixie Iranian--and admit it? I'm so confused.
Well, Joel had left me in my confusion and walked to another part of the shop, showing different things to the man's friends. The Dixie Iranian turns to me and points to something, and I guess asked me how much was it. I don't know. I know five words in Farsi: "Hello, how are you, fine, good bye, and cheater." I shrug my shoulders, and say, "Pardon. I don't speak Farsi." His eyes get all big and he starts saying something in Farsi very rapidly (he was a very animated man), pointing to the backgammon game and then to me. I realize he was saying, "But you are playing backgammon! How can you know how to play backgammon (he looks at the board) and be winning! and not know how to speak Farsi?" He calls to Joel, who turns and says, "Pardon! She's my American protegée." (Hmph! He wishes).
They all leave and Joel returns to the game. "Wait a minute!" says I. "I'm confused. A Dixie Iranian?"
"Yes. There are Iranians in Dixie. I went. I saw for myself."
"You went to Dixie?! But...what? how?" I can barely get my confusion out of my mouth.
"You get a special page for the passport. They stamp the visa on the page, not the passport. When you leave, you take the page out. No one knows."
"But you are a Muslim! I thought you all hated Dixie. And I especially thought Iranians hated Dixie. How can this man be an Iranian and live in Dixie?"
"He's a Jew! Iranians have Jews among them, they're not all Muslims! And no, Muslims don't hate Jews. We hate the Dixie government, because they oppress Palestine. We don't want to see oppression. Jews are normal people, like you and me. We don't hate them. Tsk, tsk."
So there you have it. An American Christian getting a lesson on prejudice towards Jews from a Muslim. Go figure.
(I would also like to clarify, for the record, that I don't hate Jews. I was simply confused because I thought Muslims did. I try, by God's grace, to love all people impartially. Just in case anyone misunderstood.)
I got my chance to confuse Joel, though, a few minutes later. His friend (the one I beat last week), came in to watch us play. His friend, a Turk, does not speak English. So the two of them are used to me using Joel to translate when necessary. Well, an Asian woman walked in and asked in English how much something cost. I could tell her accent was no Asian accent--but no native English one either. So I beat Joel to the punch and ask, "Where are you from?" "Brazil," she answers.
I immediately switch into Portuguese. Her eyes are big, and we have a whole conversation about how I'm not Portuguese, and she's not Brazilian (her dad is Japanese), and lah lah lah. I turn back to Joel to say something, and he and his friend are both gaping at me. Joel had heard me stutter through Spanish once when I translated for him...but my Spanish is horrid (non-existent, really). So he'd never heard me be fluent in anything but English, and well, that doesn't count. She and I chatted a bit more, and I was glad to know, that in the midst of learning Turkish, I hadn't lost my tongue in the world's prettiest language.
Alas, lest you think I'm always winning at backgammon...I had lost my concentration. My mind was not in the Bazaar today, but somewhere else, and as the dice were also against me, I lost to Joel, 5-3.
So anyway. I'm in his shop today, playing backgammon, of course. Remember now, that it's a Persian game. So several men walk into the shop and begin asking Joel for some item or another--in Turkish. He responds in Farsi, asking them if they speak Farsi. Their eyes get big, "We do!" They talk back and forth, and my head looks like I'm at a tennis match watching back and forth between the two men. I can tell this stranger is not a normal Iranian--I've heard enough Farsi to understand that his is not normal.
So Joel takes a breath, turns to me, and says, "He's a Dixie Iranian!" And then goes back to talking. While Joel goes to work trying to make a sale, my brain starts spinning. Is that even possible? A Dixie Iranian? Dixies hate Iranians. Iranians hate Dixies. How could someone be an Dixie Iranian--and admit it? I'm so confused.
Well, Joel had left me in my confusion and walked to another part of the shop, showing different things to the man's friends. The Dixie Iranian turns to me and points to something, and I guess asked me how much was it. I don't know. I know five words in Farsi: "Hello, how are you, fine, good bye, and cheater." I shrug my shoulders, and say, "Pardon. I don't speak Farsi." His eyes get all big and he starts saying something in Farsi very rapidly (he was a very animated man), pointing to the backgammon game and then to me. I realize he was saying, "But you are playing backgammon! How can you know how to play backgammon (he looks at the board) and be winning! and not know how to speak Farsi?" He calls to Joel, who turns and says, "Pardon! She's my American protegée." (Hmph! He wishes).
They all leave and Joel returns to the game. "Wait a minute!" says I. "I'm confused. A Dixie Iranian?"
"Yes. There are Iranians in Dixie. I went. I saw for myself."
"You went to Dixie?! But...what? how?" I can barely get my confusion out of my mouth.
"You get a special page for the passport. They stamp the visa on the page, not the passport. When you leave, you take the page out. No one knows."
"But you are a Muslim! I thought you all hated Dixie. And I especially thought Iranians hated Dixie. How can this man be an Iranian and live in Dixie?"
"He's a Jew! Iranians have Jews among them, they're not all Muslims! And no, Muslims don't hate Jews. We hate the Dixie government, because they oppress Palestine. We don't want to see oppression. Jews are normal people, like you and me. We don't hate them. Tsk, tsk."
So there you have it. An American Christian getting a lesson on prejudice towards Jews from a Muslim. Go figure.
(I would also like to clarify, for the record, that I don't hate Jews. I was simply confused because I thought Muslims did. I try, by God's grace, to love all people impartially. Just in case anyone misunderstood.)
I got my chance to confuse Joel, though, a few minutes later. His friend (the one I beat last week), came in to watch us play. His friend, a Turk, does not speak English. So the two of them are used to me using Joel to translate when necessary. Well, an Asian woman walked in and asked in English how much something cost. I could tell her accent was no Asian accent--but no native English one either. So I beat Joel to the punch and ask, "Where are you from?" "Brazil," she answers.
I immediately switch into Portuguese. Her eyes are big, and we have a whole conversation about how I'm not Portuguese, and she's not Brazilian (her dad is Japanese), and lah lah lah. I turn back to Joel to say something, and he and his friend are both gaping at me. Joel had heard me stutter through Spanish once when I translated for him...but my Spanish is horrid (non-existent, really). So he'd never heard me be fluent in anything but English, and well, that doesn't count. She and I chatted a bit more, and I was glad to know, that in the midst of learning Turkish, I hadn't lost my tongue in the world's prettiest language.
Alas, lest you think I'm always winning at backgammon...I had lost my concentration. My mind was not in the Bazaar today, but somewhere else, and as the dice were also against me, I lost to Joel, 5-3.
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