**Please be advised. THIS IS A RANT.
My parents have been giving some thought to going to Hajj this year, inshallah. Applying as Syrian citizen though, was completely out of the question as they have a 55 year age limit on all applicants and both my parents are still under that age.
So they done the next best thing. They decided to go leave as Canadian citizens. Which shouldn’t be a problem right? Since they have a passport, were residents for God knows how many years, and there is no age limit. Wrong!
I called the embassy asking her about the procedure for applying to leave to Saudi under the premise of a Canadian rather than a Syrian. First off, the receptionist at the embassy is the most thick-headed person I have yet to meet. I swear to God. Explaining the above situation to her took no less than thirty minutes interspaced with why? what? who? when? hajj? GOD!!
When we finally got the situation down she comes up with this:
[THR – Thick Headed Receptionist.
SNS – Souvenirs and Scars]
THR: But I don’t understand, you are Syrian, yes? Apply as a Syrian!
SnS: As I said before, I’d like to apply as a Canadian so I can bypass the age limit. As Syrians my parents and I have no chance of going.
THR: But, I don’t understand (by now I want to tell her that’s apparent as the process of understanding seems to be beyond her limited capabilities). Only real Canadians apply through the embassy. You should have no problem.
SnS: *insert incredulous note into voice* Oh real Canadians?
THR: Yes! Not Syrian-Canadians. Please hold.
I’m sorry. Did you miss the emphasis on real. Real. Not us lowly Syrian-Canadians. Good God. Then she puts me on hold, which all things concerned was probably for the best as had she not I would have verbally raped her.
Now you may be asking why. Why did I let some under paid, accent laden receptionist get to me with a simple word. It’s actually quite simple.
You see, as a Syrian my motives are constantly questioned by other Syrians. If I complain about traffic, the state of public washrooms, the poor quality of Syrian products, or the fact that Syria runs on an “I’ll bribe you you bribe me” basis, I’m being grossly unpatriotic. They, the real Syrians, can do all that and more. Me, on the other hand, the fake Syrian, can’t. Apparently, I don’t love Syria enough to be allowed to insult it. That right is reserved for true, real Syrians.
And then I go to the Canadian embassy, which according to the Syrians is where I belong (in Canada, not the embassy) and the receptionist has the nerve to tell me that I’m not a real Canadian. I’m one of those fake, counterfeit ones. A rip-off on the real deal.
They should do like Tyra Banks in How to Spot a Fake [handbag]. Scrutinize over my appearance to determine if I’m a fake or not. Then maybe cut me down the middle like she did the Gucci bag and say “See? The insides on this one are obviously different than the original. The original has plush, Canadian insides. This one is lined with a cheap, garish, Syrian lining.”
And when they’re done with me they can hand me over the Syrians who can then dissect my walk, talk, appearance, and insides if they like, and find encoded within them a lack of patriotism to Syria.
Verdict: A double fake. Very rare and exceptionally misleading. Beware of letting the accent or cultural clothing fool you into believing these are real!