Borrowed thoughts

There's a great deal of talk in this world about 'tolerance'. We're treated to discourse on it everyday, often by people who have so little interaction with those who are different from themselves that they rarely need to exercise any tolerance at all. I wonder what the pundits of tolerance would say if they took themselves to the streets of Amsterdam on a certain night in November and saw what I saw in the dim and crooked streets of that city's infamous Red Light District. In Amsterdam prostitution is legal and the Red Light District is where the business is centred. The streets are lined with large windows in which the working girls display themselves prominently. By evening they are lit in the dim glow of red tube-lights. Most of the women negotiate for themselves, others have a tout or a man outside who negotiates on their behalf. Some might consider it sordid, but as this story shows that is more of a reflection on them.

We had been in Amsterdam for some time before that night and so it struck us as strange when the usually busy streets became oddly quiet and a strange peace descended upon them. Into this quiet entered, gentle but clear, the sounds of small voices raised in song. It was curious, and hearkening to those voices we came upon the most unique sight we had yet encountered in a city that is filled with the inimitable. It so happened that this particular night was the Festival of Lights, a tradictional Dutch holiday. On this night children carry lanterns and sing, much like carollers, in front of the doors of their neighbours and friends. Here in front of the windows of prostitutes, children carrying lanterns and accompanied by their parents were passing down the streets and singing in front of the doors of all the women, singing them songs of peace, blessings and the impending arrival of St. Nick. Perhaps the most beautiful part of that moment were the smiles on the faces of the women and the genuine affection in their eyes for the children, who with the innocence of their age were treating them not as outsiders, or social malcontents, but just as women, doing a job of work, like any other peoiple at their office or in their home, anywhere in the world. And as they passed down the street, the touts, the bouncers and even the men trying to sell illegal intoxicants stopped, smiled and kept silent until the children passed. For anyone trying to be tolerant, there's a lesson in that, though I leave it to you to decide what that lesson is.