Untitled Document

Nominee
Best Drink Journalist 2003

Ahab in Rehab

What Would Mohammed Do?

I have this fantasy where I'm sitting in a plane next to a couple of swarthy guys, and by eavesdropping on their conversation, I discover they are terrorists. Quickly noting the details of their plot, I alert the authorities and single-handedly save the Western World.

You need powerful motivation when you're grappling with a language as merciless as Arabic. I've wanted to learn it since I was seven and my father took me to see Lawrence of Arabia in Cinemascope, which, to you young sprouts, was a highly technical breakthrough in filmmaking resulting in, um, a REALLY BIG screen. Ever since, I’ve been smitten with the Arabian mystique: brave little horses, rolling desert dunes, camel caravans, and especially the language, with its exotic blend of guttural syncopation and lyrical lilt.

Which is explains why I've been trying to arrange a trip to Arab wine country. The problem is, there isn’t any. At least not according to the promotion departments, business organizations and tourist boards I’ve been contacting.

In Saudi Arabia, Libya and Sudan, the merest drop of alcohol can land you a flogging behind bars. Qatar, Afghanistan and The Emirates grant only a few exceptions to a handful of nightclubs and foreigners. And forget Yemen, where cocktail hour means chewing a mouthful of Qat leaves.

But Morocco, Algeria and Lebanon make very good wine, so I was surprised they weren’t more open to promotion. I shouldn’t have been. Most of the Arab world is Muslim and strongly disapproves of drinking.

In Egypt, for instance, the two producers who are trying valiantly to improve local wine quality face a daily struggle to find truck drivers willing to transport it or Ministry of Finance officials willing to stamp the bottles. On the bright side, a 400% – 3,000% tax on foreign wines keeps down outside competition.

Booze is actually legal in some parts of Iraq, but liquor stores are routinely bombed and merchants dragged from their homes and killed by militias.

According to many Muslims, here's the difference between the American experiment with prohibition and the Islamic version: ours was doomed by its secular nature. A government regulation is merely a hurdle to sneak around when no one’s looking. But Islam is God’s law, and He is always looking. Therefore, Muslims internalize the concept and regulate themselves.

Except they don’t. Most of the booze in Iraq, for example, is sold by Christians to Muslims. They stock up by the case in the days leading up to Ramadan, the holy month when liquor stores shut down completely.

Get caught dealing booze in Iran and you face a year in prison, a hefty fine and up to seventy-four lashes. And I don't mean the glue-on kind. But that doesn’t stop bootleggers; tens of thousands of bottles of illicit liquor are confiscated every month. Pharmacies sell small plastic bottles of “medicinal” grain alcohol, which is said to be quite palatable mixed with pineapple juice. Older people, raised on centuries of Persian poetry celebrating the beauty of wine, find this cultural shift somewhat disconcerting.

So what is it with Islam and alcohol? The ban is actually more about social engineering than theology. It started when Mohammed—his name be praised—couldn’t get his party-animal neighbors to shut up and let him sleep. His first decree merely pointed out that harmful effects of liquor sometimes outweigh good ones. Later, he forbid followers from drinking while praying. When none of this made a dent in local keggers, he finally outlawed drinking altogether.

This left some technicalities to quibble over. For example, alcohol is considered an abomination of Satan as well as najs (impure), khamr (mind-fogging) and haram (forbidden). But while all forbidden things are impure, not all impure things are forbidden. For example, Hashish and Qat, two highly intoxicating herbs, are najs, but allowed.

But what about other products containing alcohol? Are Old Spice and Listerine unholy? What about cough syrup? And if alcohol is the devil’s work, how do you explain Paradise, whose delights, along with the infamous virgins, include rivers of wine flowing free for the drinking?

The explanation is that alcohol, itself, isn’t really sinful, only the behavior it causes. Since everything is different in Paradise, it follows that wine there is not intoxicating; it just has “pleasing effects.” Whatever that means.

At least there’s wine to look forward to eventually. Meanwhile, at the risk of blowing someone’s cover, here are some wines from Arab lands that are well worth trying. And if a trip materializes, I’ll let you know. شكراً