arriving late in New York city. the drive through the city at night from La Guardia to Washington Heights is a gentle announcement of more familiarity to come. sahar picks me up at the Presbytarian Hospital. in her new home i find nadia all sleepy on the couch.
buzzing with the story of nadia’s entry into the country, earlier today…
– “What kind of name is this?”
– “Arab,” she says, with pride. (must have been the first red flag in the guy’s mind)
– “What is the purpose of your visit?”
– “I’m going to present a paper at a conference.”
– “What kind of conference?”
– “About the Middle East.” (oops, second red flag…)
– “What will you talk about?”
– “My research on religious experiences of second generation Moroccans in Belgium.”
– “Are Moroccans Muslim?”
– “Yes.” (hm, third red flag…)
– “So tell me, what do you think of jihad.” (yep, the question that inevitably, let’s say logically, follows the red flags…)
– “Well, I understand jihad as an inner struggle…”
– “Yes, I know (!!), but most people understand it as killing people.”
– “It’s a complex notion, we would need some time to sit down and discuss more…”
– “We’ll have this discussion right here and now, because I have to decide to let you in the country or not.”
– “Oh. Well, if by jihad you mean the killing of innocent people, I am against it.”
– “Good. Enjoy your stay in the US.”
it’s funny how quickly one gets used to quotidian environments, and how a visiting friend makes one’s eyes widen once more. the high securitarian character of the country that strikes and repulses nadia. and then, of course, the refrain of her first-day-of-NYC stories: “juist zoals in the film!” (just like in the movies).