‘The Pigeon Wars of Damascus’ by Marius Kociejowski
Posted: July 15, 2011
Book Reviews
Reviewed by Jess Woolford
Five years after the visit to Syria that introduced Marius Kociejowski to Damascenes Abed and Sulayman and provided him with the material for The Street Philosopher and the Holy Fool: A Syrian Journey, the Canadian-born, London-based poet, essayist and travel writer began tossing and turning. Prompted by a series of nightmares depicting a Damascus stripped of its particular beauty, the ancient city’s mosques, souqs and cafés obliterated by concrete and industrial cubicles, and his dear friends Abed and Sulayman seemingly indifferent to him, Kociejowski returned to Syria.
Reconnecting with his friends, Kociejowski discovers their circumstances considerably changed. Abed suffers from depression and the side effects of the drugs prescribed to treat it, as well as the ostracism that so often accompanies mental illness. Sulayman has dropped his alchemical pursuits in order to drive a yellow cab, all the while dreaming of trading up to a Jaguar with which to ferry about VIPs.
Describing himself as “a metaphysical journalist” interested in “echoes rather than analogies, faint shimmers rather than hard edges, sly hints as opposed to verities,”Kociejowskisays
…it has always been my contention that if one wants to observe what happens at the centre of a society, the best place from which to do so is from its periphery, preferably through the eyes of the people who are themselves outsiders. The outcast is, to a degree, made of the very thing that rejects him.
And so, swallowing his disappointment at his friends’ alterations, Kociejowski asks Abed what he knows about “pigeon people.”
His interest is prompted by the remarks of a pigeon keeper who tells him, “If you want to understand the Middle East, just look at my birds.” Now pigeon fanciers, despite counting royals and even Noah among their number, are a group many Syrians considerundesirable, and about which Kociejowski remarks,
I could not have chosen… people more deeply reviled by polite society… I would look at them and then I would look at people who were not them, all the while seeking parallels that maybe neither side would especially welcome, and it got so I had to resist the temptation to see pigeon wars everywhere.
Yet this is easier said than done:
So many times… I would notice flocks of pigeons rise like constellations above the houses, soaring together as if guided by a single thought, their flight accompanied by human whistles, a waving of flags on bamboo poles; and sometimes those floating constellations, one emanating from one house and another from its neighbour, would merge, maybe just for a moment or two, fly as one, and then separate….
What appears to be a beautiful avian dance movement may in fact cloak pigeon theft.
As Kociejowski notes, ancient Syrians held pigeons and doves as sacred to the goddess Ishtar, and yet “virgins consecrated to [her] were called doves (hu), a euphemism for prostitutes…. Whores, doves. Sacred and profane are the two wings of the same bird flying through many cultures. What creature has been made to carry more contrarieties?”
And so it seems it is with Syria itself. On the one hand there is much to admire in its architecture, textile craft, spirituality, history and, as the author puts it, talk that is “rarely less than good.” With Abed, Sulayman, and his friend Yasser, Kociejowski enjoys many intriguing conversations devoted to everything from weighing Edward Said’s work on Orientalism, to assessing the worth of aluminum doors as a way of challenging Western notions of beauty, to taking good from all cultures.
On the other hand, the government, currently under siege, is repressive, human rights abuses are common, friendly dogs are killed savagely for no reason, and women are almost entirely absent except as imagined temptresses or the voice of melancholy crackling through the café radio. In fact, at one point the otherwise intriguing Yasser suggests, “Some women are much happier when covered…. If you removed their scarves, they would feel naked…. Just because you have been raised in an environment where you were not covered means you are happy and she is not? This is arrogance!” Perhaps, but Kociejowski’s merry rejoinder, “You’ve been on a roll, Yasser!” is scarcely adequate. Why doesn’t he advocate giving women the chance to choose for themselves?
Even when they are not at the forefront of these confabulations global politics are omnipresent, the Damascenes having devoted much thought to their circumstances post-9/11. After all, Kociejowski notes, “What took place on that September morning in New York City had changed things forever.” He postulates that all Syrians are graduates of the University of Pain and that they exist in a state of “collective melancholy.” Yasser expands on this, saying,
Actually, huzn is a much more profound word than simple melancholy…. It describes that which cuts into your heart. The word… has pain in it, is something that engulfs you. It can kill you or it can make you tired.
And so, in the end, Sulayman posits,
The pigeon wars and Damascene society are one…. As a matter of fact we are all pigeon men. The pigeon man worries over his pigeons and I worry over my son and wife. The pigeon man is afraid for his belongings. I, too, am afraid of thieves. These are things both tangible and intangible, and both the physical and spiritual worlds are in a bad state.
In an interview with Alex Boyd, Kociejowski says,
On September 11th 2001 the terrorists not only hijacked planes but also the religious faith that has been such a source of strength for the Arabic people. The hell they inflicted upon others will be nothing as compared to the hell which, according to their own faith, they will have to endure. Those people serve to make Islam unrecognisable even unto themselves. There is a Hadith saying: “The day will come when holding onto one’s faith will be like clutching a piece of burning charcoal.” I wonder if that day has not already come. However, it is not a particularly useful exercise seeking out the darker passages in the Qur’an when equally we might do the same with the Holy Bible. I think what North Americans need to understand isn’t so much the differences as the similarities between cultures, the desire of most people to simply get on with their lives. As soon as people are turned into abstractions, it becomes all that much easier to call them ‘collateral damage.’ Also, North Americans must be wary of striking at Arabic pride. If there is a single passage in my book that serves to underline this view it is when Sulayman remarks, “When an Arab is wounded in his honour or in his dignity he will become harmful. He will consider you his enemy. If you hurt him he’ll be sad for five minutes and then move on, but if you humiliate him he will be in a rage forever.
The Pigeon Wars of Damascus is a fascinating and at times challenging book that reminds us, “We cannot feed on the picturesque alone.” As Kociejowski observes, “We go places, and automatically we edit out what we don’t like. The world is composed to the shape of our own desires. I find myself where no tourist ever goes unless it is to take the shortest route elsewhere. What are the stories here? If I can’t describe what happens here, what right have I to speak of anywhere else?”
‘The Pigeon Wars of Damascus’ by Marius Kociejowski
Book Reviews
Five years after the visit to Syria that introduced Marius Kociejowski to Damascenes Abed and Sulayman and provided him with the material for The Street Philosopher and the Holy Fool: A Syrian Journey, the Canadian-born, London-based poet, essayist and travel writer began tossing and turning. Prompted by a series of nightmares depicting a Damascus stripped of its particular beauty, the ancient city’s mosques, souqs and cafés obliterated by concrete and industrial cubicles, and his dear friends Abed and Sulayman seemingly indifferent to him, Kociejowski returned to Syria.
Reconnecting with his friends, Kociejowski discovers their circumstances considerably changed. Abed suffers from depression and the side effects of the drugs prescribed to treat it, as well as the ostracism that so often accompanies mental illness. Sulayman has dropped his alchemical pursuits in order to drive a yellow cab, all the while dreaming of trading up to a Jaguar with which to ferry about VIPs.
Describing himself as “a metaphysical journalist” interested in “echoes rather than analogies, faint shimmers rather than hard edges, sly hints as opposed to verities,”Kociejowski says
…it has always been my contention that if one wants to observe what happens at the centre of a society, the best place from which to do so is from its periphery, preferably through the eyes of the people who are themselves outsiders. The outcast is, to a degree, made of the very thing that rejects him.
And so, swallowing his disappointment at his friends’ alterations, Kociejowski asks Abed what he knows about “pigeon people.”
His interest is prompted by the remarks of a pigeon keeper who tells him, “If you want to understand the Middle East, just look at my birds.” Now pigeon fanciers, despite counting royals and even Noah among their number, are a group many Syrians consider undesirable, and about which Kociejowski remarks,
I could not have chosen… people more deeply reviled by polite society… I would look at them and then I would look at people who were not them, all the while seeking parallels that maybe neither side would especially welcome, and it got so I had to resist the temptation to see pigeon wars everywhere.
Yet this is easier said than done:
So many times… I would notice flocks of pigeons rise like constellations above the houses, soaring together as if guided by a single thought, their flight accompanied by human whistles, a waving of flags on bamboo poles; and sometimes those floating constellations, one emanating from one house and another from its neighbour, would merge, maybe just for a moment or two, fly as one, and then separate….
What appears to be a beautiful avian dance movement may in fact cloak pigeon theft.
As Kociejowski notes, ancient Syrians held pigeons and doves as sacred to the goddess Ishtar, and yet “virgins consecrated to [her] were called doves (hu), a euphemism for prostitutes…. Whores, doves. Sacred and profane are the two wings of the same bird flying through many cultures. What creature has been made to carry more contrarieties?”
And so it seems it is with Syria itself. On the one hand there is much to admire in its architecture, textile craft, spirituality, history and, as the author puts it, talk that is “rarely less than good.” With Abed, Sulayman, and his friend Yasser, Kociejowski enjoys many intriguing conversations devoted to everything from weighing Edward Said’s work on Orientalism, to assessing the worth of aluminum doors as a way of challenging Western notions of beauty, to taking good from all cultures.
On the other hand, the government, currently under siege, is repressive, human rights abuses are common, friendly dogs are killed savagely for no reason, and women are almost entirely absent except as imagined temptresses or the voice of melancholy crackling through the café radio. In fact, at one point the otherwise intriguing Yasser suggests, “Some women are much happier when covered…. If you removed their scarves, they would feel naked…. Just because you have been raised in an environment where you were not covered means you are happy and she is not? This is arrogance!” Perhaps, but Kociejowski’s merry rejoinder, “You’ve been on a roll, Yasser!” is scarcely adequate. Why doesn’t he advocate giving women the chance to choose for themselves?
Even when they are not at the forefront of these confabulations global politics are omnipresent, the Damascenes having devoted much thought to their circumstances post-9/11. After all, Kociejowski notes, “What took place on that September morning in New York City had changed things forever.” He postulates that all Syrians are graduates of the University of Pain and that they exist in a state of “collective melancholy.” Yasser expands on this, saying,
Actually, huzn is a much more profound word than simple melancholy…. It describes that which cuts into your heart. The word… has pain in it, is something that engulfs you. It can kill you or it can make you tired.
And so, in the end, Sulayman posits,
The pigeon wars and Damascene society are one…. As a matter of fact we are all pigeon men. The pigeon man worries over his pigeons and I worry over my son and wife. The pigeon man is afraid for his belongings. I, too, am afraid of thieves. These are things both tangible and intangible, and both the physical and spiritual worlds are in a bad state.
In an interview with Alex Boyd, Kociejowski says,
On September 11th 2001 the terrorists not only hijacked planes but also the religious faith that has been such a source of strength for the Arabic people. The hell they inflicted upon others will be nothing as compared to the hell which, according to their own faith, they will have to endure. Those people serve to make Islam unrecognisable even unto themselves. There is a Hadith saying: “The day will come when holding onto one’s faith will be like clutching a piece of burning charcoal.” I wonder if that day has not already come. However, it is not a particularly useful exercise seeking out the darker passages in the Qur’an when equally we might do the same with the Holy Bible. I think what North Americans need to understand isn’t so much the differences as the similarities between cultures, the desire of most people to simply get on with their lives. As soon as people are turned into abstractions, it becomes all that much easier to call them ‘collateral damage.’ Also, North Americans must be wary of striking at Arabic pride. If there is a single passage in my book that serves to underline this view it is when Sulayman remarks, “When an Arab is wounded in his honour or in his dignity he will become harmful. He will consider you his enemy. If you hurt him he’ll be sad for five minutes and then move on, but if you humiliate him he will be in a rage forever.
The Pigeon Wars of Damascus is a fascinating and at times challenging book that reminds us, “We cannot feed on the picturesque alone.” As Kociejowski observes, “We go places, and automatically we edit out what we don’t like. The world is composed to the shape of our own desires. I find myself where no tourist ever goes unless it is to take the shortest route elsewhere. What are the stories here? If I can’t describe what happens here, what right have I to speak of anywhere else?”
Biblioasis | 328 pages | $27.95 | cloth | ISBN #978-1897231975