Post

It turns out the Saudi woman who was seeking refuge in Thailand was granted asylum by Canada.

http://a.msn.com/01/en-us/BBS5VbF?ocid=st

She has arrived in Toronto now and will start her new life there. I am happy for her, though I cannot help but think that her circumstances have been particularly fortunate, first since she has managed to attract attention to her case on social media and second, since Canada has a beef with Saudi Arabia, which would make them more likely to take advantage of this well-publicized case to retaliate against the Saudis. Lucky girl :) It grieves me to think that there are many more who are trapped and who are not as lucky to escape :(

Other than that, I don't know what we should make of the photo that the article suggests she shared while she was on the plane. Apparently she was seen on that photo with a wine glass and her passport in her hand. That might seem mundane to others, but it tells a lot to me. In a region of the world, where people live under a particularly restrictive religion that bans the consumption of alcohol (while it also promises "rivers of wine" for those god-fearing individuals who deserve to enter Heaven), the simplest delights of daily life are all considered to be sins. Meeting your friends of the opposite sex, going out and luxuriating in the warmth of the sun without the barrier of your black abaya that covers your whole body and makes you look like some misplaced ninja, going to the shopping mall without a male chaperone being present, and yes, enjoying a glass of wine every now and then... wishes that are so ridiculously and endearingly simple and naïve... are unreachable heights for a considerable portion of the people living (or rather, surviving) in the Middle East.

And that's what happens when you're finally out: When the flight attendants ask you what you would like to drink, you reply "WINE!" and pleasurably sip your newly-gained freedom - knowing that you no longer have to wait until you go to Heaven to taste this contentious fluid. It may be the worst wine in the world and taste like a bitter vinegar, but for those who have been prohibited from ever coming near it, it will be the sweetest nectar.

Unlike the earlier generations, the youngsters in the Middle East grow up seeing what their Western peers are allowed to experience, and this arguably fills them with resentment. Isolation is a powerful opium. If you don't know that another world is possible, you don't desire it. It's different when you see what you are being deprived of - and this is what Middle Eastern teens are living through right now.

I am not sure how things are gonna unfold from now on. For how long will these people be obedient? Will they ever rebel? Conformity is highly prized around here, so I never quite believed that there could be a revolution in the Middle East.

You know, when you talk to some enthusiastic Islamists, they will fondly tell you that Islam is the religion of peace, because "Islam" allegedly means "peace" in Arabic.

It's wrong.

"Islam" actually means "submission." (Just to compare, teslim means surrender in Turkish. Arabic, being a Semitic language, has triconsonantal roots, so you can see the same slm root here.)

If you surrender and bend to the will of the victor, you will have your peace. That is the idea. If you choose rebellion, you invite war. (Something that few Westerners have heard of under the lavish praise heaped upon Islam by optimistic romantics is the division between Dar'ul Harb and Dar'ul Islam in Islam. The former roughly translates as "The Gate of War" and the latter is "The Gate of Peace." The Gate of Peace is like "The Realm of God" - any place on Earth that has "surrendered" to Islam and willingly became a part of this realm. Those who didn't (the countries of the infidels, that is) belong to the Gate of War. Yes, the countries of the infidels are legitimate "war zones" where it is OK to wage jihad until they, too, "give in" and become a part of the peaceful (!) realm.)

Submission and unconditional acceptance are at the core of many religions, but perhaps more so in Islam. We didn't have a Martin Luther, after all.

And curiously enough, I think that people extend this idea of submission to worldly affairs, such that it is not only the Supreme Being they submit to, but also other authority figures in this material world, who sort of serve like "mini gods" in their own ways.

They can be rulers of countries on a bigger scale, then maybe some regional leaders... down to the father figure, who is the formidable "god" in your household. Embedded in this intricate structure of hierarchy and the duty of submission, it is impossible to rebel.

Or so I thought.

And now I ask myself if there can be a glimmer of hope. If there will be a time when people will be "fed up" with all the chains that squeeze them tightly and rise up.

The people in Plato's cave analogy were content to watch the shadows on the wall, but then, they hadn't seen the real world outside. So they couldn't be convinced that they lived in a shameful, miserable little replica of the world and that they should leave the cave and see it.

Well, today's captives usually have internet access, so the tech-savvy youth knows that they are, indeed, are being forced to watch mere shadows, while other people live in the real world. What if they want to get out and join them en masse? What if they break their chains all at once and nobody can stop them? Can this please please please happen?

No.

It will not happen with one young woman who drools over a glass of wine with childish excitement. She is not a pioneer, definitely not a revolutionary.

The extraordinary thing about her, I hope, may be that she is ordinary.

So ordinary that there are millions, hundreds of millions like her who are looking at her story and who say, with a sigh, "I wish I was her."

That is the spine-tingling possibility that gets me everytime.

She may be ordinary.

And maybe one day, those who would rather taste wine in this very world may decide to overthrow the tyrants and "hoodwinkers" telling tales of Heaven while they make them toil in the only life they can be sure to have.

That's the hope that keeps us alive.