Thanksgiving break was supposed to be my oasis; my refuge from nights reading over international development policy, questioning justice systems, and conjugating obscure verbs in foreign languages. In high school, I spent most of my time wishing I could be out of my small town and in the nation’s capital with the politicos and coffee shop revolutionaries. Towards the end of November, all I wanted was family football games, my sad excuse for a car, and some apple pie.
Nevertheless, I somehow found myself in a rather contentious political debate or “discussion” over the Thanksgiving table with my uncle. The debate was sparked when my uncle learned about my intentions to study abroad in Istanbul. He then proceeded to inform my family around him of the militant Islamic movement taking over secular Turkey. According to him, this corresponded to the Muslim plan to re-populate rapidly and take over the Earth. As I was starting to eat my apple pie, I winced in my seat. No politics. I promised myself, no politics. I just wanted to enjoy my apple pie. However, as the assertions of “truth” became grander and grander, I was unable to stop myself from intervening. This launched me into an hour discussion over Islam, Judeo-Christian prophecies, and Zionism.
As my uncle and I debated events in the Middle East, our perceptions of reality and ways of thinking collided. There was no way for me to convince him of the facts when his world surrounded the literal interpretation of the Bible. My facts meant nothing to him, just as the literal translation of the biblical prophesies did not merit truth in my eyes. As I edged away from the conversation, recognizing that nothing could be gained, I smiled at the irony of the discussion. It seems cross-cultural encounters, similar to the conflict between the colonizers and the Native Americans, can be found at the dinner table on a Thanksgiving holiday centuries later.
No comments:
Post a Comment