Tolerance

• Samuel Hickey, Grade 12, Coffs Harbour Senior College
• Short Story
• 2011

Finalist in the 'Step Write Up 2011' competition

They were old men. The morning was cold so they chose to row and use the sail as a blanket. The lake was clear and calm and their boat caused little disturbance.
‘I do not think anything but humanity can be the key to understanding the human world.’
‘No. Humans are Allah’s creations, so one must understand Allah.’
‘If one wishes to understand an egg one does not seek guidance from a chicken.’
‘Poor analogy, if one wishes to know the workings of Yam-Cha one asks the chef, not the food.’
They sat back-to-back, smiling.
‘I know Allah is not the true God, I know for certain.’
‘How can you know?’
‘We have fished here every morning since we were boys and you never catch as much as me.’
When they were young they had lived in the mountains of eastern China. Their elderly father fell ill and each brother travelled to find medicine. One brother journeyed north to the Islamic mountain village, the other to the Confucian temple in the south. Each returned with medicine, and the brothers never stopped visiting to the places they had visited.
“You catch more fish in this old river”, the Muslim agreed, “you make your bucket full, but not as full as I make my Mosque, that is where you’ll find my true catches.’
‘Sad.’
‘What is sad, your empty temple?’
‘That you think of people like fish.’
‘I am a true fisherman. The Qur’an is my hook and Mosque my basket.’
‘If men are your fish I have sympathy for them.’
‘I have sympathy for men, for their souls. That is why I bring them to the mosque. It is why one day, I will bring you.’
‘Like a fish?’
‘Who has taken years to catch’
‘A fish fights for the life you tear from its mouth. It beats itself to death against the prow because it is desperate not to die. So do men fear death, which allows you to kill them.’
‘I do not kill men!’
‘You kill a man’s wonder, his questions. All a man has are his questions.’
‘Brother… the things I do are not so heartless.’ The Muslim removed himself from the sail’s cover. ‘Your words are venom.’
‘Not so.’
‘Your words are venom!’
‘My words reflect intellect. No God who gave us intellect would intend us to forgo its use.’
The Muslim ground his teeth.
The Confucian was dozing when his line pulled. He was forced upright and off-balance. Both men were beyond the age that would allow them to swim. The Confucian struggled for stability; the Muslim leant forward. He placed his hands on the Confucian’s back.
And pulled him to safety, “Thank you brother, for a moment I thought I would fall.”
“No harm will befall my Father’s son.”