A chance meeting and a lesson in tolerance from the Emir of Sperryville

Camelot is a place to study tolerance. My daughter had given me a gift certificate for Borders, and I was determined not to let it burn a hole in my pocket.

My shelves are always looking for a new addition to add to my li-brary of half-read books. So on Saturday, I stopped by the store in Warrenton to relieve myself of this heavy burden.

I was looking for “Southern Storm” to study the real William Tecumseh Sherman and his devastating and deadly “march to the sea” in autumn of 1864. I have always been taught that he was a butcher, and people just don’t talk of him in polite company.

Recently I have read stories about his respect for Southerners — sparing various towns and cities — and his empathy for the plight of the freed slaves that trailed his troop movements.

So, in the name of tolerance and understanding, I set out to get a better education on Gen. Sherman. I quickly found the book and headed for the cash register to relinquish my red plastic gift card.

Then the adventure began.

In the corner of my eye I caught stacks of books laid out on a table and the setting of a classroom. No one was in the area except a professorial character who I took to be the author of the book.

I made some nonchalant passes trying not to engage in conversation while investigating the title and subject. I had to avoid capture. Evidently from the conversation I overheard, his discussion of the book was that morning and went very well. Now’s the chance — he was distracted in conversation. I moved in and scooped up a book, and quickly thumbed through it. If it was deadwood, I could just as quickly replace it and flee without a word.

The book was called “Commander of the Faithful” and had a strange, yet handsome color portrait of an Arab chieftain and the subtitle “The Life and Times of Emir Abd el-Kadar.”

My interest had now attracted the attention of the professor, who was dressed in a V-neck sweater like the one we all wore in the ’60s, but this one had seen better days.

I quickly flashed to the back of the book. Yep, this was the author, John W. Kiser, and he was headed my way. I squared to meet him head-on with a question.

“Why would you write such a book?” I asked, not knowing anymore than the subject.

“I thought the story needed to be told of a good and honorable Arab,” he responded.

Wait a minute, these are our sworn enemies. They have been demonized in the media and folk tales for generations.

According to Mr. Kiser, the Emir was more than a good field general. He was a leader who drew the praise and respect of the French, with whom he fought a bitter 15-year war, and Christian holy men whom he rescued. But the highest praise came from his prisoners.

If Mr. Kiser can write half as well as he can spin a yarn, maybe this is a book that will teach me tolerance and respect of the Arab people.
I know I need to listen. (My only real experience was in the Navy in the Mideast standing on the deck of a Frigate shouting down at the bum boats alongside trying to trade with our crew.) He said
that he was looking at doing a signing at the Culpeper County Library. That would be great.

Convinced that I needed to attend the next book signing to hear this story from the author’s own lips; after the obligatory book signing I quickly returned the book on Sherman’s march to the shelf for later study and headed to my car to retrieve my business card.

When I returned I asked the author if he made a living doing this. He chuckled and said “I’m a pig farmer. I live in Sperryville. If you need any pig manure, I’m your man.”

You’ve got to love Camelot. There are the most incredible people teaching tolerance around every corner. Thank you, John Kiser. Your book is a good read.