winds of change

I was watching a Tunisian film called satin rouge (highly recommend it) when I was hit by a wave of nostalgia. It reminded me of my time in Montreal, while studying there I had exposure to so many different cultures and people. One of my dearest friend is from Morrocco and watching this movie hearing the Arabic felt like coming home though I do not understand one word of it.

It is interesting to note how life changes. There was a time in my life when I was a die hard romantic, in Pakistan one would never find me without my choorian. My favorite dress was chooridar and Angrakhas, dressing up was so much fun. My sisters and I would spend hours have beauty sessions where we ll put oil in each others hair. Now its been ages since I wore choorian or dressed up, I guess in Pakistan there is always some occasion to dress up, there aren't a lot of such occasions here . When I moved to Canada, life became a frenzy of activity between holding down jobs and school and social life there was hardly any time. There was so much to soak up, the culture and meeting new people. I spent so many late nights at the library or at the local cafes with friends "studying", talking, laughing.

In university we had such an idealistic view of life, my friends and I spent so many hours discussing politics and religions and cultures. We wanted to change the world and sitting around the table we tried to analyze why there were political tensions in different regions of the world. I had the chance to meet people from pretty much every continent. My summer spent working at a short term stay hostel for tourists was a cultural extravaganza. I was working with a Jew whose parents had immigranted from south America, a girl from Burkina Faso, another girl from China, there were a couple of canadians thrown in the mix and a Native. Man, the conversations we had were phenomenal and the people we met were pretty amazing too. There were South Americans, Algerians, Saudis, Americans, Irish, Swedish, people from Eastern Europe. I learnt of Religions I had never heard of and stories from all corners of the world abound when we d sit down for meals. Living there taught me how similar humans are and yet we like to create differences just so we can make these groups and distinctions.

When I moved to Seattle after I got married I had no idea I d miss Montreal so much, the city I was dying to get out of, I had hated the snow there and yet today I wished I could go back and spend the winter there. I love that city because it was there I truly understood who I am and my potential as a human being. It is only when I faced adversity and got to test my limits I got to know that yes, I could survive in trying circumstances. I was able to let go of my preconceived notions about many many things when I allowed my self to experience and step outside my comfort zone. I do miss those days when I shared meals with folks from across the globe, shared apartments and houses with so many different kinds of people. The last house I rented was from a Jewish couple, the neighbours used to call us a UN peace poster they found the idea of moslems and jews living together harmoniously quite amusing, infact when we had met the landlady to discuss renting the place she had explicitly told my sister and me to ask our parents permission if we could move in with them.

Now my life although not as exciting, has taken on a quiet rhythm, my days are spent being a mommy and a wife. The high of my day is seeing my daughter smile and welcoming my husband back home and watching him enjoy the meal I prepared for him. My life has become a constant flow of poopy diapers, laundry, vaccum, tidying up and cooking. I am now the CEO, CFO, Marketing consultant, Nurse, Chef and party planner all rolled into one of the M enterprises. Is this the life I had planned sitting drinking coffee? I don't know----- what I do know is that I am enjoying it thoroughly just as I had enjoyed being an explorer, living on a meager budget, when salvation army was the high point of fashion and home decore was a mish mash of craiglist and dumpster diving.

As the saying goes the only constant in life is change I wonder what the future holds.

To sleep or not to Sleep

Ah sleep sweet sleep; there was once a time in my life when I d put my head to my soft pillow and surrender my self to slumber. Deep in the arms of sweet dreams I would be until the golden rays of the sun woke me up. No more, gone are those glorious days since I joined Mommy boot camp 1 on 1. The instructor Major Alina aka Major cranky pants, who is looking to be General cranky pants real soon is drilling us new cadets harder then usual. Now adays or rather now a nights the routine is some what like this. The General gets fed a bottle of milk and is put to sleep Private Cadet Mommy burps the BIG G and gently rocks her to sleep off to la la land and than hardly containing her joy she rushes back to the Mess hall jumping with joy and screaming I am free, free at last when she hears the BIG G menacing call again. This time private Cadet Daddy goes and get to change poopy diapers and put the general back to sleep. Daddy comes to the mess hall jumping with joy and before we can sit down for a quiet evening daddy recalls he has important office work to do in his favorite room. So there goes private cadet mommys big plans for the evening.......

When I had married private cadet Daddy I had not known of his nocturnal life style, ok ok I lie. I knew about it but like all starry eyed romantics I had thought oh i ll change my man once he is mine. I have yet to make a dent in the nightly routine of sleeping at 4 in the morning and waking up at 2 in the afternoon. Much to the chagrin of my mother who had religiously put us to bed at 9 in the evening and woke us up at 8 in the morning, when she calls me at 1 o clock in the afternoon and finds me a sleep she is not at all a proud parent.

Back to our night time adventures so once the general finally fall asleep and private cadet daddy goes of to the thinking machine I console my self that it could be much worse like my brothers nightly routine for instance which goes something like this. Mom starts telling him to get ready for bed at 6 in the evening by 9 she manages to make him go to his room and start changing into his pajamas, where we turns on his radio host voice and gives us a minute by minute account of what he is doing right now, (these next few lines are in gulabi urdu or urdulish)

"main apna pajama paine raha hoon, aur ab mein nay left wali tang andar dal li hai. Ab mein apni microsoft wali shirt paine raha hoon. Yeh mujhay apa nay di thee, meri birthday kab a rahi hai? Ami mujhay meri birthday par kiya milay ga?" Ami says, " Beta ap abhi jo kaam kar rahay hain woh dehan say karain, birthday ki baat baad mein ho gi" "Acha jee, par meri birthday walay din aap mujay kiya dain gi, Ali haider wali cassette dain gi...... and on and on this continues till 12 at night when every one has given up and gone to bed so having no choice my brother also falls asleep.

The Big G of our boot camp however employs a different method however, she likes to wake up in the wee hours of the morning when all the cadets have finally popped off to sleep and are busy enjoying the dreams of la la land. Full of amazing biryani recipes and delicious curries being served at her now very famous restaurant, which has a 2 month waiting list and has regulars the likes of kings and presidents, while she herself is off on book tours and presiding over iron chef. At preciesly this moment the General likes to let out a blood cuddling scream to let all the neighbourhood know that she is ready for a diaper change and another bottle of milk at the right temperature not too hot and not too cold. Once this has been administered we can rest assured that we ll be allowed sleep for a couple of hours before the next drill begins.

However, between you and I; I am deeply incredibly and completely in love with the general so I cannot bring my self to leave mommy boot camp because just watching her sleep and smiling while she does so makes all the sleepless nights in seattle better. Cuddling up to that little heater is better than a sandal wood fire, Love you my little angel sleep tight.

What did Abraham know that we do not?

We all spend Eid Ul Azha eating meat and remembering the story of Abraham and how when Allah jee called onto him to sacrifice his most prized possession he did not hesitate one minute to sacrifice his son. I was thinking about that story a lot; specially recently when my own child was in the hospital fighting for her life. I thought about how can a parent be so ready to sacrifice his child for Allah and than I thought maybe Abraham knew something which I did not know, so that got me to thinking what was it that he knew that I do not know?

First of all Abraham loved Allah jee a lot and in return Allah jee loved him a lot. As humans we never hurt the ones we love so how can the creator of the worlds be willing to hurt some one he held dear to himself. Allah jee gave Abraham his son, if he had wanted he could have very well not given him a son at all to begin with so why did he ask him to sacrifice his son once he had been born. I think because he wanted to test Abraham;to see if Abraham knew how much Allah jee loved him because only than would he have been willing to sacrifice his son. Abraham knew that Allah jee would never hurt him, he would never do anything to harm his son because he knew that act would hurt Abraham, so in essence I think he knew all along that nothing was going to happen to his child because Allah loved him.

What would He have done?

Well there is a lot of emotion on facebook these days regarding the draw a Mohammad Day. A lot of folks have reported the page and nothing much seems to be resulting from this. Some folks are thinking about boycotting the day and in Pakistan Facebook and other sites are being banned.

Lets all take a deep breath and analyze the situation shall we;

Why is facebook not doing anything about this?

well simply because they cannot, if we are unhappy about that page being present there are lot of people who will view the deletion of that page as an infringement of their rights to free speech and by getting all hot and bothered about that page and changing our statuses and boycotting facebook we are only increasing the curiosity and spreading the word. Instead if we all just calm down and not let that bother us things will cool down in a while or if we do want to do something, lets make a page where we talk about why we love the prophet and talk about his character and all that he has done and invite non muslims to come and become fans and leave their comments for that page.

The person who made that page I am sure does not have any agenda against us. They are just trying to make their point that they feel every one has a right to speak their mind. All this started because of the death threats received by the south park creators for making a cartoon of the prophet. Well you see most of the time in the media here cartoons are being created of all the other prophets and saints so to them it was not different to create on of Mohammad Rasulallah. We should not get offended by this rather take it in our stride and instead of boycots and death threats talk about why we do not make pictures of the Prophet.

So that brings me to the next question why don't we make pictures of the Prophet. We dont make his pictures because he told us not to so people do not start worshiping him like a diety.

As all these events are taking place around me I am forced to think what would the Prophet himself have done and am I a bad muslim because I am not boycotting facebook or being all upset and in face about this whole issue?

When I think about the Prophets life all I see is a Man full of compassion and Mercy. A man who prayed for the people who threw stones at him and injured him from head to toe. A man who showed compassion to the woman who killed and desecrated the body of his beloved uncle. A man who was full of kindness to the woman who would throw garbage on him when he passed by her house and the day she did not throw garbage on him went to find out why she had not done so;upon entering her house he saw her lying with a fever. So he spent time nursing her to health.

So if he himself did not get upset and mad at the people who were mocking him we do not need to get bothered, instead following his compassionate example we need to calm down and talk about the issue, in retaliation we need to find common forums to make ourselves heard and say why we love the Prophet and make others understand and share our love. Most importantly if we truly love the Prophet we need to follow his teaching, learn about his life and spread his message which is not only to do with praying and fasting and other rituals but more to do with mercy, kindness and compassion.

Dress code de-coded

Wanted to share this article written by Yvonne Ridley which a dear friend forwarded to me.

I agree with what she has to say specially the part where she says that people specially men Muslim and non Muslim are a obsessed with the hijab. My two cents about it are this Islam tells women to dress modestly there are probably two or three verses in total in the Quran where the hijab is mentioned in terms of covering up modestly. Piety and being pious are mentioned way more times and piety is indeed a lot more than how we dress.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/10/20/AR2006102001259.html

How I Came to Love the Veil

I used to look at veiled women as quiet, oppressed creatures -- until I was captured by the Taliban.

In September 2001, just 15 days after the terrorist attacks on the United States, I snuck into Afghanistan, clad in a head-to-toe blue burqa, intending to write a newspaper account of life under the repressive regime. Instead, I was discovered, arrested and detained for 10 days. I spat and swore at my captors; they called me a "bad" woman but let me go after I promised to read the Koran and study Islam. (Frankly, I'm not sure who was happier when I was freed -- they or I.)

Back home in London, I kept my word about studying Islam -- and was amazed by what I discovered. I'd been expecting Koran chapters on how to beat your wife and oppress your daughters; instead, I found passages promoting the liberation of women. Two-and-a-half years after my capture, I converted to Islam, provoking a mixture of astonishment, disappointment and encouragement among friends and relatives.

Now, it is with disgust and dismay that I watch here in Britain as former foreign secretary Jack Straw describes the Muslim nikab -- a face veil that reveals only the eyes -- as an unwelcome barrier to integration, with Prime Minister Tony Blair, writer Salman Rushdie and even Italian Prime Minister Romano Prodi leaping to his defense.

Having been on both sides of the veil, I can tell you that most Western male politicians and journalists who lament the oppression of women in the Islamic world have no idea what they are talking about. They go on about veils, child brides, female circumcision, honor killings and forced marriages, and they wrongly blame Islam for all this -- their arrogance surpassed only by their ignorance.

These cultural issues and customs have nothing to do with Islam. A careful reading of the Koran shows that just about everything that Western feminists fought for in the 1970s was available to Muslim women 1,400 years ago. Women in Islam are considered equal to men in spirituality, education and worth, and a woman's gift for childbirth and child-rearing is regarded as a positive attribute.

When Islam offers women so much, why are Western men so obsessed with Muslim women's attire? Even British government ministers Gordon Brown and John Reid have made disparaging remarks about the nikab -- and they hail from across the Scottish border, where men wear skirts.

When I converted to Islam and began wearing a headscarf, the repercussions were enormous. All I did was cover my head and hair -- but I instantly became a second-class citizen. I knew I'd hear from the odd Islamophobe, but I didn't expect so much open hostility from strangers. Cabs passed me by at night, their "for hire" lights glowing. One cabbie, after dropping off a white passenger right in front of me, glared at me when I rapped on his window, then drove off. Another said, "Don't leave a bomb in the back seat" and asked, "Where's bin Laden hiding?"

Yes, it is a religious obligation for Muslim women to dress modestly, but the majority of Muslim women I know like wearing the hijab, which leaves the face uncovered, though a few prefer the nikab. It is a personal statement: My dress tells you that I am a Muslim and that I expect to be treated respectfully, much as a Wall Street banker would say that a business suit defines him as an executive to be taken seriously. And, especially among converts to the faith like me, the attention of men who confront women with inappropriate, leering behavior is not tolerable.

I was a Western feminist for many years, but I've discovered that Muslim feminists are more radical than their secular counterparts. We hate those ghastly beauty pageants, and tried to stop laughing in 2003 when judges of the Miss Earth competition hailed the emergence of a bikini-clad Miss Afghanistan, Vida Samadzai, as a giant leap for women's liberation. They even gave Samadzai a special award for "representing the victory of women's rights."

Some young Muslim feminists consider the hijab and the nikab political symbols, too, a way of rejecting Western excesses such as binge drinking, casual sex and drug use. What is more liberating: being judged on the length of your skirt and the size of your surgically enhanced breasts, or being judged on your character and intelligence? In Islam, superiority is achieved through piety -- not beauty, wealth, power, position or sex

I didn't know whether to scream or laugh when Italy's Prodi joined the debate last week by declaring that it is "common sense" not to wear the nikab because it makes social relations "more difficult." Nonsense. If this is the case, then why are cellphones, landlines, e-mail, text messaging and fax machines in daily use? And no one switches off the radio because they can't see the presenter's face.

Under Islam, I am respected. It tells me that I have a right to an education and that it is my duty to seek out knowledge, regardless of whether I am single or married. Nowhere in the framework of Islam are we told that women must wash, clean or cook for men. As for how Muslim men are allowed to beat their wives -- it's simply not true. Critics of Islam will quote random Koranic verses or hadith, but usually out of context. If a man does raise a finger against his wife, he is not allowed to leave a mark on her body, which is the Koran's way of saying, "Don't beat your wife, stupid."

It is not just Muslim men who must reevaluate the place and treatment of women. According to a recent National Domestic Violence Hotline survey, 4 million American women experience a serious assault by a partner during an average 12-month period. More than three women are killed by their husbands and boyfriends every day -- that is nearly 5,500 since 9/11.

Violent men don't come from any particular religious or cultural category; one in three women around the world has been beaten, coerced into sex or otherwise abused in her lifetime, according to the hotline survey. This is a global problem that transcends religion, wealth, class, race and culture.

But it is also true that in the West, men still believe that they are superior to women, despite protests to the contrary. They still receive better pay for equal work -- whether in the mailroom or the boardroom -- and women are still treated as sexualized commodities whose power and influence flow directly from their appearance.

And for those who are still trying to claim that Islam oppresses women, recall this 1992 statement from the Rev. Pat Robertson, offering his views on empowered women: Feminism is a "socialist, anti-family political movement that encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become lesbians."

Now you tell me who is civilized and who is not.

hermosh@aol.com

Yvonne Ridley is political editor of Islam Channel TV in London and coauthor

of "In the Hands of the Taliban: Her Extraordinary Story" (Robson Books)