[Sleepless in Baghdad] Old Man

[Sleepless in Baghdad]

"Doing what I was born to do keeps me alive and kills me."

        "The Old Man and the Sea" by Ernest Hemingway

There is an Iraqi construction crew working on our compound in the International Zone.  They have been here since I arrived three months ago. I watch them to catch glimpses of their culture, to see how they interact, and to understand something more about this country.  My Arabic is limited so there is no interaction other than a nod of the head and short -- sabaah al-khair -- "good morning."  But I watch.

There's an old man.  He is a part of the work crew, not the leader, just one of the workers.  I've watched them on lunch break sit around the old man and you can see that he is telling of something that happened in the past.  He is very animated, hands and arms waving as he explains something.  The other workers are young but as they sit around him they are attentive, respectful. 

I tried to imagine this scene in the US and it is hard to conjure up the same image.  Our children are creative and dynamic but not necessarily attentive and respectful.  Some are.  But to have a group of young people spontaneously sit  and listen to an old man struck me as special.  I guess part of it, or maybe a lot of it, is because I am getting old.  My son calls me "old man" and I take that as a term of endearment as if I were Santiago "El Campion" (The Champion) in Hemingway's "The Old Man and the Sea" and he were Manolin, the young boy who the old man taught to fish and who loves him.  Maybe not.  But I like to think that and when I see young people of any culture showing respect to their elders, it touches something in me. 

There are three ways to go in this story now: one, I could summarize my notes from "The Old Man and the Sea" which I wrote while I was reading Hemingway's 1952  book during a cruise to Cozumel last summer; two, comment on a passage from "Understanding Arabs" by Margaret Nydell; or three, do both.

Here's a  comment from Dr. Nydell on the Arab family and the status of the elderly: "Status in a family increases as a person grows older, and most families have patriarchs or matriarchs whose opinions are given considerable weight in family matters.  Children are taught profound respect for adults, a pattern that is pervasive in Arab society at all ages."

Contrast that to "The Old Man and the Sea" -- "... the old man came in each day with his skiff empty and the boy always went down to help him carry either the coiled lines or the gaff and harpoon and the sail that furled around the mast.  The sail was patched with flour sacks and, furled it looked like the flag of permanent defeat ... many of the fishermen made fun of the old man while others of the older fishermen looked at him and were sad." 

I'm not making a value judgement here but in the Arab world you are apparently given respect as you grow older, in the West you continually earn your respect regardless of age.  In fact, it becomes harder in the West to gain respect as you grow older because of a sense that you lose competency in some way as you age.

The Old Man knew his competency and he knew what he was born to do.  There is a special feeling that comes with knowing that you are doing what you were born to do.  It happens but it only matters if there is someone you love that you can share it with.  --- The old man had taught the boy to fish and the boy loved him ... "Keep warm old man, " the boy said.  "Remember we are in September." 

"The month when the great fish come," said the old man.  "Anyone can be a fisherman in May." 

"Keep the blanket around you," the boy said, "You'll not fish without eating while I am alive." 

I must have water here for him, the boy thought,  and soap and a good towel.  I must get him another shirt and a jacket for the winter, some sort of shoes and another coat.

"Good night then.  I will wake you in the morning," said the old man.

"You're my alarm clock," said the boy.

"Age is my alarm clock.," the old man said.  "Why do old men wake so early?  Is it to have one longer day?"

The boy loved the old man.  He had taken him out to fish when he was five years old.  The old man taught him everything.  He took time with him and in a world lit by lighting he was a comfort to the boy in a way his own family never was.  But the old man was unlucky and the boy's family forbid from going out to fish with him. 

Fishing alone, the old man hooked a big marlin. 

"Thinking of the great fish he had hooked -- choices were made by both the old man and the fish -- "... we are now joined together ... and no one to help either of us," the old man thought.  "A man has to prove himself a thousand times -- each time is new.  And each time is the only one that counts.  Doing what I was born to do keeps me alive and kills me."

The old man fought the fish for three days and nights.  Fought the great fish alone.  He landed the marlin and it was so big he could only tie it to the side of the skiff.  He thought of the lonely fight and how he missed the boy.  Then he saw a flight of wild ducks over the ocean, "... he looked ahead and saw a flight of wild ducks etching themselves against the sky over the water, then blurring, then etching again and he knew no man was ever alone on the sea."

As the old man brought the marlin in, the sharks attacked and by the time he arrived in habor there was only a skeleton -- an 18 foot long skeleton of the biggest marlin that had been caught in the village.  No one laughed at the old man and no one was sad for him.  Only the boy was sad that he had not been there.  The old man had done what he was born to do and he was at peace.

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Posted By Sleepless in Baghdad to Sleepless in Baghdad at 12/18/2009 11:36:00 AM