There was a limo service awaiting my arrival at O'Hare International Airport. The driver was a Muslim, and greeted me with salaam; a welcome introduction given my tainted images of the United States. As large a city as Chicago is, he knew some of the people I knew, and we had a friendly discussion the whole way. I was extremely tired, and somewhat frustrated by the delays caused by my cancelled flight, but I tried my best to be an active participant in the conversation. As we pulled up to the conference centre and I was stepping out of the vehicle, he requested a favour of me.
"You're travelling right now. Please pray for my child, he's quite sick."
I didn't pay enough attention to what he said, presumably because I was exhausted and also because I never quite expected to see him again. I paid him, and walked towards the conference centre.
I spent two weeks there, among an international contingent of colleagues. I was amazed at just how American the Americans were; they all seemed to live lives inspired by television shows, from the goofy but lovable class clown to the young and melodramatic "southern gal". I eventually got used to it, but it still bothered me how ignorant they were of the rest of the world. Even the Muslims among them were no different. One thought Ottawa was in Idaho; when I told him that there was a world outside the United States, he assumed I lived in Alaska. Another brother asked me this beautifully ignorant question:
"Why don't you just live in United States instead?"
I enjoyed answering this question, drawing on all the things that I love about Canada: the relaxed lifestyle, the polite people, the functional and tolerant multiculturalism, free healthcare, among other things. I also mentioned how I would feel guilty for paying taxes to such an incredibly inept, violent, and dangerous government. That was a moot point, he argued, as the majority of Americans don't support them. If the majority don't support them, I replied, then how can it be called democracy? He changed the subject.
On a quiet and rainy Sunday afternoon, I happened to take a stroll outside despite my lack of appropriate clothing to handle the rain. Waiting in front of the Welcome Center was the driver who brought me there a week earlier; he had come to drop off someone else. He greeted me with salaam, and asked how things were going. He reminded me about the ijtema that was taking place in Chicago that weekend; unfortunately, I had already missed most of it, as did he.
"I wasn't able to go myself," he said. "I've spent most of the weekend in the hospital. My child just passed away this morning."
I was stunned, having completely forgotten about his request a week earlier. Innalillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'oon, I muttered. From Allah we came, and to Him we will return. The child, an infant boy no more than three months old, was gone, and I had irresponsibly forgotten both him and his father in my prayers. I told the driver that I would pray for him, for his patience, and for Allah to compensate him greatly for his loss.
The news left a cloud over my travels for a while; the driver had become a friend, and I was saddened by his loss. He was a young man himself, only a year older than I, and had been married for just a little over a year. What struck me most about it was that in spite of his situation, he could not get any break from his job. Just a few hours after such a tragic loss, he was back in the car driving people from place to place. I'm certain that his passengers would often be rude and impatient, completely negligent of the fact that the driver was also a husband, a father, and a mourner.
Such is the nature of life, though. The demands don't stop for anything, and there is rarely a moment of respite for those who struggle to make ends meet. Such incidents remind me of how thankful I must be for all the blessings I have in life. I live a very easy life, and have seen little of adversity in my quarter century of experience.
"And then which of the favours of thy Lord will you deny?"
June 25, 2006
June 12, 2006
Off the mark
So here I am, writing in the middle of the night when I would much rather be sleeping. Unfortunately, a scheduled flight to Chicago yesterday was cancelled, and thus I am now awaiting an early-morning flight which will just kill my sleeping schedule, and reduce my chances of staying awake at a Monday 8:00am meeting to zilch. I need to be at the airport at 4am, to arrive in Chicago by 7:15am.
Prior to the official cancellation of the flight, I waited patiently in the airport after a fairly lengthy security process. It's frustrating that I'll probably need to do this all over again because of the cancellation.
This will be my first time flying into the United States since 1999; much has changed since then. American Security had a field day going through my passport. I was asked many questions about my time in Saudi Arabia (lots of Arabic Hajj-related stickers in my passport); and when I affirmed that I had been to Pakistan within the last five years, the furrowed brow of the security lady was a sight to behold. I turned over all the papers I had that confirmed my business in United States, and finally the lady was satisfied.
Last week, I was the emcee at the annual graduation dinner for all the Muslim students in colleges and universities in the Capital Region. The keynote speaker was Maher Arar, whose story continues to worry me. With no evidence or charge against him, the man lost more than a year of his life to excrutiating torture, and his future will always be tainted by the nightmarish memories. His mistake was only being in the wrong place at the wrong time; a victim of wayward fire. The shots fired in the name of security have often missed their mark, targetting people with nothing but irrelevance to share; I always fear that another may be caught in the crossfire.
Prior to the official cancellation of the flight, I waited patiently in the airport after a fairly lengthy security process. It's frustrating that I'll probably need to do this all over again because of the cancellation.
This will be my first time flying into the United States since 1999; much has changed since then. American Security had a field day going through my passport. I was asked many questions about my time in Saudi Arabia (lots of Arabic Hajj-related stickers in my passport); and when I affirmed that I had been to Pakistan within the last five years, the furrowed brow of the security lady was a sight to behold. I turned over all the papers I had that confirmed my business in United States, and finally the lady was satisfied.
Last week, I was the emcee at the annual graduation dinner for all the Muslim students in colleges and universities in the Capital Region. The keynote speaker was Maher Arar, whose story continues to worry me. With no evidence or charge against him, the man lost more than a year of his life to excrutiating torture, and his future will always be tainted by the nightmarish memories. His mistake was only being in the wrong place at the wrong time; a victim of wayward fire. The shots fired in the name of security have often missed their mark, targetting people with nothing but irrelevance to share; I always fear that another may be caught in the crossfire.
June 09, 2006
Notable pieces about the recent arrest
There have been lots of notable bits and pieces about the recent Toronto arrests. As Muslim Link is currently defunct, unfortunately, I'll be writing and posting here more often than usual.
CBC News | Teacher witnessed transformation of some bomb-plot suspects
I found this news item interesting because of the following passage:
While it is true that alMaghrib tends to follow Saudi teachings on certain issues of jurisprudence which I disagree with, it's disturbing that some would consider them to be a vehicle of hate. The founder of the alMaghrib Institute is a very classy and sincere person who truly loves this country; he can not be blamed for promoting violence or extremism. Some of the students tend to get a bit over-enthusiastic about their classes (omg are you ready for TPA???!!!!), but their hearts and minds are definitely in the right place.
SafSpace | T.O.'s Homegrown Terrorists
The brilliant sister Safiyyah has come out of her extended break to analyze the issue in depth, in her candid, objective style that is so refreshing in these emotional times. This is probably the best place to start for anyone wishing to understand the background, allegations, and possible motivations of the suspects, as well as the current and desired response of the Muslim community.
The Globe and Mail | We must root out the fringe elements in the Muslim community
This was sent out to a mailing list I am a part of. I disagreed with a lot of this article, and wrote a lengthy response which I may post later. Still, it is an interesting read, and presents what is probably the more mainstream view of the situation among Muslims.
The Toronto Star | So Many Possibilities ... for courts
Another calm and reserved voice, this time in the mainstream media. The writer urges the public to avoid jumping to conclusions, and to let the issue work it's way through the courts. This is also a good read for anyone wishing to get past the sensational headlines that have been dominating the papers in the last few days.
The Ottawa Citizen | The greater threat is ignorance
Deepak Chopra offers some practical responses to ignorance.
CBC News | Teacher witnessed transformation of some bomb-plot suspects
I found this news item interesting because of the following passage:
“Amiruddin said many mainstream Muslim organizations in Canada are really part of the problem, standing by as extremist propaganda spreads in the mosques. He cites the Al-Rahman centre in Mississauga, Ont., which he links to the Al-Maghrib Institute, which runs a popular educational website. It's nominally run out of Ottawa, but Amiruddin says it's really a Saudi operation.”
While it is true that alMaghrib tends to follow Saudi teachings on certain issues of jurisprudence which I disagree with, it's disturbing that some would consider them to be a vehicle of hate. The founder of the alMaghrib Institute is a very classy and sincere person who truly loves this country; he can not be blamed for promoting violence or extremism. Some of the students tend to get a bit over-enthusiastic about their classes (omg are you ready for TPA???!!!!), but their hearts and minds are definitely in the right place.
SafSpace | T.O.'s Homegrown Terrorists
The brilliant sister Safiyyah has come out of her extended break to analyze the issue in depth, in her candid, objective style that is so refreshing in these emotional times. This is probably the best place to start for anyone wishing to understand the background, allegations, and possible motivations of the suspects, as well as the current and desired response of the Muslim community.
The Globe and Mail | We must root out the fringe elements in the Muslim community
This was sent out to a mailing list I am a part of. I disagreed with a lot of this article, and wrote a lengthy response which I may post later. Still, it is an interesting read, and presents what is probably the more mainstream view of the situation among Muslims.
The Toronto Star | So Many Possibilities ... for courts
Another calm and reserved voice, this time in the mainstream media. The writer urges the public to avoid jumping to conclusions, and to let the issue work it's way through the courts. This is also a good read for anyone wishing to get past the sensational headlines that have been dominating the papers in the last few days.
The Ottawa Citizen | The greater threat is ignorance
Deepak Chopra offers some practical responses to ignorance.
June 07, 2006
The bogeymen are coming!
As I walked through downtown Ottawa, I passed by a row of newspaper boxes, featuring the Ottawa Citizen, the Ottawa Sun, and Metro News. Each front page yelled the same message, accentuated by one word: BEHEAD. "There's an allegation my client indicated he wanted to behead the Prime Minister of Canada." "Plans to behead PM." "Plot to storm Parliament Hill and ... BEHEAD THE PM."This is just getting juvenile; the fear tactics are reprehensible. All the papers say the same thing: that one of the suspects is "alleged" to have wanted to behead the prime minister. Where these allegations come from, nobody will say. It's not very different than if I were to say that you, the reader, are being accused of plotting to destroy the Alexandra Bridge. You would say, "what kind of allegation is that? No one would accuse me of that!" And I would say, yes, someone would accuse you of that: I just did.
But above all, the objective is to reduce the suspects to caricatures - evil, insane, Saturday morning supervillains, with sociopathic tendencies and no regard for human life or dignity. Once you've got the word "beheading" in the vocabulary, the lunatic must be guilty! He's a crazy nutcase! How could someone even think of something so awful? And whether the allegations are proven or not is irrelevant; the image of the suspect has been tainted, and that alone is sufficient to destroy his future.
It's very easy to paint a dirty picture of someone. Below are two descriptions that one might expect to hear in the media:
Case One
He was always a good and dependable student, and was highly regarded at the office where he worked. He was known for his charity and social work, and often spoke on behalf of the voiceless minority in the face of discrimination. He had a dry but unique sense of humour, probably inspired by his love of the daily comics. Most of his colleagues considered him a pleasure to work with, and respected his work ethic and dependability.
Case Two
He always appeared distant and reserved, even at a young age. Sources say he once accidentally stabbed a friend with a compass as a child, and that he frequently played violent video games such as Doom or Wolfenstein, where he would kill Nazis. He has spent a significant amount of time overseas, in places such as Saudi Arabia, and was in Pakistan shortly before the attacks on September 11th. On the morning of the attacks, he may have been flying towards North America from a formerly Communist state. He has publicly supported a charitable organization that briefly had it's assets frozen due to suspicions of funding terrorism."
At first glance, the first case appears to represent a model citizen; the poor soul who often ends up being the victim of tragedy. The second case appears to describe a much more disturbed individual, capable of some pretty nasty stuff.
Unfortunately, the two cases describe the same person. The statements may all have been true, but media spin is a dangerous beast. Get spun the wrong way, and you are now a heartless and insane bomber.
And for the record, Human Concern International has gotten past the completely baseless allegations that came against it several years ago, and continues to work tirelessly to alleviate human suffering around the world. Their overhead costs are remarkably less than most other charitable organizations, and their hard work deserves our support.
Again, my hope is for a transparent process, where the suspects will rise or fall based only on the proof brought against them. Let justice prevail, and let the bogeymen disappear along with the lies that created them.
The cartoon villain given above, "Evil Midnight Bomber what Bombs at Midnight!", belongs to Ben Edlund and the good folks who produced the Tick cartoons.
June 05, 2006
Toronto Muslims held in alleged terrorism plot
17 people detained.
I don't know what to say about this, really. All I can hope for is a transparent process, though I expect that this is unlikely. We still know very little about the circumstances around the last arrest, even though it hit closer to home. And their "leads", if you can call them that, are so far out of the picture that it shows ineptitude on the part of the security officials.
If they can prove the guilt of the accused, then I commend their efforts. Canada is my home, and any threat to the country is a threat to me personally. I can see the Peace Tower out my apartment window; I look upon it with respect every day.
On the other hand, if nothing conclusive can be brought forward, then I can only pray that sanity prevails.
I don't know what to say about this, really. All I can hope for is a transparent process, though I expect that this is unlikely. We still know very little about the circumstances around the last arrest, even though it hit closer to home. And their "leads", if you can call them that, are so far out of the picture that it shows ineptitude on the part of the security officials.
If they can prove the guilt of the accused, then I commend their efforts. Canada is my home, and any threat to the country is a threat to me personally. I can see the Peace Tower out my apartment window; I look upon it with respect every day.
On the other hand, if nothing conclusive can be brought forward, then I can only pray that sanity prevails.
May 26, 2006
Lampshopping
My return to Canada also brought about another significant change in my life: I now live alone. My roommate left for India while I was in France, leaving the apartment all to myself. This is a significant departure for me, as it officially ends my student years. Though I've been out of university for a while now, I've still lived like a student, and would even occasionally spend weekends at the university labs helping my roommate with his project. Now the place is all my own, and I can do with it as I like.
My first course of action was to buy some lamps to brighten my bedroom. An old lady living by the university happened to be selling some lamps that met my needs, so I dropped by her place to take a look.
When I arrived there, I was greeted warmly by the old lady, who appeared to be in her 70's but was actually only in her late 50's. She spoke with a heavy British accent, having grown up there after her parents fled Poland during the second World War. I expected to just take a look at the lamps, perhaps buy them, and then be on my way. Little did I know that I would be there for well over an hour.
The house itself was over 100 years old, the kind of place you might expect to find a kind old grandmother. There were old books stacked up everywhere, dusty and untouched for decades perhaps. The hallways were narrow, dimly lit, and had a 19th century feel to them. And yet, between the creaking floorboards and the peeling wallpaper, there was something distinctly warm and uplifting about the place.
I had only intended to buy the lamps and leave, but she insisted that she introduce herself and tell me about her life, the house, and other stories. She lived in the house with her husband and a number of students who rented the rooms. The couple spent quite a bit of money on renovating the place to accomodate the students, whom she treated like her children. She cooked and cleaned for them, and did her best to accomodate their hectic student lives. She lamented about her own children, one of whom she felt she could not care for the way a mother should. I reassured her that she must have done a great job, and that eventually her children will realize it.
Having introduced herself, it was only proper that I introduce myself. I described my work, and told her I graduated from the university at the end of 2004. She mentioned her son graduated at the same time. "It's a big university," I said. "I probably don't know him."
"No, he was in engineering too! His name was.." She mentioned the name of a fellow classmate, among the top students in the program. It turns out I knew the son, though not very well. He was one of those students that lesser students tend to be jealous of: smart, witty, popular, and annoyingly sappy. I personally didn't know him well enough to have any real opinion.
"I wasn't the mother I needed to be for him," the old lady whimpered. I couldn't understand what mistake she could have made, seeing as how the son seemingly turned out fine. "He's married now, you know. To some Canadian girl."
And there it was. He didn't marry a girl of Polish descent, and that didn't sit well with her. She later went on to explain how her husband was invited to the wedding, but she herself wasn't invited. I couldn't understand that at all; how can someone possibly not invite his own mother to his wedding? The same mother who endured the pains of labour, cleaned up after him for years, fed him with the best foods, took care of him when he was down, and never asked for anything in return? Even if there was a disagreement, the mother is just too important to ignore.
It couldn't possibly be a case of a negligent mother; she treated me with so much kindness that I couldn't imagine that she would treat her own son any other way. She kept complimenting me for being so polite and courteous; I don't believe for a second that she could come off as anything less but a proud, supportive mother for her own children.
Unfortunately for her, the son responded to her shows of affection with disdain and contempt. According to the old lady, the son did not want to be "mothered" any longer, and moved out fairly early on. The only other child went off to another city for studies, leaving her with no one to share her motherly love with. And thus, she had to rent out the rooms to students, which I believe she did subconsciously to fill in the void left by her ungrateful children. The students, however, treat her as no more than a landlord.
I told her about the value of the mother in Islam. Heaven is under the feet of the mother, as the tradition goes.
"Your mother must be very proud of you," she said, holding back tears. She was breaking up, but she did not want to let me leave. She seemed so happy getting the chance to talk to a young man who cared. Unfortunately, I don't come anywhere near fulfilling the rights of my own mother, but I suppose I do better than a lot of people from other cultures.
After an hour or so, I purchased the lamps. She walked out to my car with me, offering a few more bits of advice regarding family life, my beard, housing, and where to buy glasses. I noticed she waited until I had turned off her street before she went back inside; I could see her waving in my rearview mirror. A few minutes later, she would go back to being lonely, with my visit only being a temporary relief.
The most basic structure of any society is the family; if all the families run well, the society as a whole has a chance to run well. But if the family structure has broken down, any social hierarchy built atop these broken families will inevitably break down.
The North American family can only last a couple more generations at it's current rate of decay. When it has collapsed completely, the floodwaters will pour in, and society will be washed away. Only at the feet of the mother, one can stay afloat.
My first course of action was to buy some lamps to brighten my bedroom. An old lady living by the university happened to be selling some lamps that met my needs, so I dropped by her place to take a look.
When I arrived there, I was greeted warmly by the old lady, who appeared to be in her 70's but was actually only in her late 50's. She spoke with a heavy British accent, having grown up there after her parents fled Poland during the second World War. I expected to just take a look at the lamps, perhaps buy them, and then be on my way. Little did I know that I would be there for well over an hour.
The house itself was over 100 years old, the kind of place you might expect to find a kind old grandmother. There were old books stacked up everywhere, dusty and untouched for decades perhaps. The hallways were narrow, dimly lit, and had a 19th century feel to them. And yet, between the creaking floorboards and the peeling wallpaper, there was something distinctly warm and uplifting about the place.
I had only intended to buy the lamps and leave, but she insisted that she introduce herself and tell me about her life, the house, and other stories. She lived in the house with her husband and a number of students who rented the rooms. The couple spent quite a bit of money on renovating the place to accomodate the students, whom she treated like her children. She cooked and cleaned for them, and did her best to accomodate their hectic student lives. She lamented about her own children, one of whom she felt she could not care for the way a mother should. I reassured her that she must have done a great job, and that eventually her children will realize it.
Having introduced herself, it was only proper that I introduce myself. I described my work, and told her I graduated from the university at the end of 2004. She mentioned her son graduated at the same time. "It's a big university," I said. "I probably don't know him."
"No, he was in engineering too! His name was.." She mentioned the name of a fellow classmate, among the top students in the program. It turns out I knew the son, though not very well. He was one of those students that lesser students tend to be jealous of: smart, witty, popular, and annoyingly sappy. I personally didn't know him well enough to have any real opinion.
"I wasn't the mother I needed to be for him," the old lady whimpered. I couldn't understand what mistake she could have made, seeing as how the son seemingly turned out fine. "He's married now, you know. To some Canadian girl."
And there it was. He didn't marry a girl of Polish descent, and that didn't sit well with her. She later went on to explain how her husband was invited to the wedding, but she herself wasn't invited. I couldn't understand that at all; how can someone possibly not invite his own mother to his wedding? The same mother who endured the pains of labour, cleaned up after him for years, fed him with the best foods, took care of him when he was down, and never asked for anything in return? Even if there was a disagreement, the mother is just too important to ignore.
It couldn't possibly be a case of a negligent mother; she treated me with so much kindness that I couldn't imagine that she would treat her own son any other way. She kept complimenting me for being so polite and courteous; I don't believe for a second that she could come off as anything less but a proud, supportive mother for her own children.
Unfortunately for her, the son responded to her shows of affection with disdain and contempt. According to the old lady, the son did not want to be "mothered" any longer, and moved out fairly early on. The only other child went off to another city for studies, leaving her with no one to share her motherly love with. And thus, she had to rent out the rooms to students, which I believe she did subconsciously to fill in the void left by her ungrateful children. The students, however, treat her as no more than a landlord.
I told her about the value of the mother in Islam. Heaven is under the feet of the mother, as the tradition goes.
"Your mother must be very proud of you," she said, holding back tears. She was breaking up, but she did not want to let me leave. She seemed so happy getting the chance to talk to a young man who cared. Unfortunately, I don't come anywhere near fulfilling the rights of my own mother, but I suppose I do better than a lot of people from other cultures.
After an hour or so, I purchased the lamps. She walked out to my car with me, offering a few more bits of advice regarding family life, my beard, housing, and where to buy glasses. I noticed she waited until I had turned off her street before she went back inside; I could see her waving in my rearview mirror. A few minutes later, she would go back to being lonely, with my visit only being a temporary relief.
The most basic structure of any society is the family; if all the families run well, the society as a whole has a chance to run well. But if the family structure has broken down, any social hierarchy built atop these broken families will inevitably break down.
The North American family can only last a couple more generations at it's current rate of decay. When it has collapsed completely, the floodwaters will pour in, and society will be washed away. Only at the feet of the mother, one can stay afloat.
May 25, 2006
Back in the Saddle
On Sunday, May 21st, 2006, I returned to Canada after a five-week excursion to France. It was an eye-opening experience, and I was fortunate to have shared it with some highly charismatic Parisians. I learned a lot from them, but learned more from the disenfranchised youth that make up the most visible portion of the large Muslim population. Most are unemployed or working menial jobs, and were in awe that I, as a Muslim, was an engineer.
Unfortunately, the first escape for most of these angry youth has been drugs. At the very least, many of these youth - largely of Moroccan and Algerian descent - regularly smoke joints and occasionally heavier stuff. The one image that summed up my entire trip was that of a stoned Moroccan in his late 20's, rolling a joint with three four-foot baguettes on his lap.
Which brings us to the baguettes. There are baguettes everywhere. I literally could not walk for more than five minutes, at any time of the day or night, without seeing someone carrying at least one baguette. But they're fantastic - always fresh, buttery, and just plain delicious. I have no idea why the benchmark of all goodness is sliced bread - I'd prefer an unsliced baguette any day. To make things even more tempting, Nutella is cheap and socially acceptable for both kids and adults in France.
During the five weeks, we helped reconnect a son with his estranged father, bridged a decade-old gap between two communities, and spoke with several hundreds of angry youth, among other things. Hopefully, we've at least planted some seeds that will produce some fruit in the long run. From a personal standpoint, I learned a great deal about dealing with specific types of people, a lot about leadership and integrity, and vastly improved my French.
I didn't expect to get a chance to do much sightseeing, but I did spend a day hiking through the mountains neighbouring Switzerland. Prior to this trip, the most naturally beautiful place I had ever been to was the mountains in Northern Pakistan. No longer; the natural beauty around the Cascades du Herisson in the Jura region of France tops it. Rolling mountains as far as the eye can see, with flowing streams dropping into majestic waterfalls... it was absolutely incredible, a true sign of the power of Allah. The same hiking trail also included a brief trek through a cave, which looked just like Faramir's hideout towards the end of "The Two Towers".
I'm back safely, and back to the usual routine now. I'll write more about the trip later; there are thousands of stories to tell.
Unfortunately, the first escape for most of these angry youth has been drugs. At the very least, many of these youth - largely of Moroccan and Algerian descent - regularly smoke joints and occasionally heavier stuff. The one image that summed up my entire trip was that of a stoned Moroccan in his late 20's, rolling a joint with three four-foot baguettes on his lap.
Which brings us to the baguettes. There are baguettes everywhere. I literally could not walk for more than five minutes, at any time of the day or night, without seeing someone carrying at least one baguette. But they're fantastic - always fresh, buttery, and just plain delicious. I have no idea why the benchmark of all goodness is sliced bread - I'd prefer an unsliced baguette any day. To make things even more tempting, Nutella is cheap and socially acceptable for both kids and adults in France.
During the five weeks, we helped reconnect a son with his estranged father, bridged a decade-old gap between two communities, and spoke with several hundreds of angry youth, among other things. Hopefully, we've at least planted some seeds that will produce some fruit in the long run. From a personal standpoint, I learned a great deal about dealing with specific types of people, a lot about leadership and integrity, and vastly improved my French.
I didn't expect to get a chance to do much sightseeing, but I did spend a day hiking through the mountains neighbouring Switzerland. Prior to this trip, the most naturally beautiful place I had ever been to was the mountains in Northern Pakistan. No longer; the natural beauty around the Cascades du Herisson in the Jura region of France tops it. Rolling mountains as far as the eye can see, with flowing streams dropping into majestic waterfalls... it was absolutely incredible, a true sign of the power of Allah. The same hiking trail also included a brief trek through a cave, which looked just like Faramir's hideout towards the end of "The Two Towers".
I'm back safely, and back to the usual routine now. I'll write more about the trip later; there are thousands of stories to tell.
April 15, 2006
Hiatus
I won't be replying to e-mails or checking my voicemail for the next five weeks, so if you don't hear from me, it's nothing personal.
Needless to say, there won't be anything new at Irrelevant Opinions either until sometime at the end of May or June perhaps.
The Calvin and Hobbes comic at the bottom of the page will continue to be updated daily, though!
Have a great summer, everyone!
Wa salam,
Faraz
Needless to say, there won't be anything new at Irrelevant Opinions either until sometime at the end of May or June perhaps.
The Calvin and Hobbes comic at the bottom of the page will continue to be updated daily, though!
Have a great summer, everyone!
Wa salam,
Faraz
April 11, 2006
3:00am
I was awoken just before 3:00am by the phone ringing. The caller was apparently from England, and had discovered my resumé on-line and was interested in meeting me for an interview. I rudely informed the caller that my only job at 3:00am was to sleep, and that's what I was going to do. I hung up.
A minute later, the Englishman called back, claiming that there was some confusion. He listed my particular business qualifications they were interested in learning more about. Something was very fishy, and finally I realized in my half-awake state that I was the victim of yet another prank call. Llama and Polar Bear again, still smoking too much shisha in an Arab coffee shop in the middle of the night.
Unfortunately, I couldn't sleep after that. I was up from 3:00am until the time I had to leave for work. This itself didn't bother me that much; what bothered me was the fact that I had to go to a meeting at my downtown office in a very sleepy state. I hadn't fallen asleep in a meeting for about 5 months, though I had developed a somewhat notorious reputation for falling asleep in meetings when I worked downtown.
But I couldn't keep awake, and those same people who saw me sleeping in 3:00pm conference calls back in October and November saw me dozing off again. They must suspect that I can never stay awake in meetings, which isn't the case anymore. I've all but overcome the meeting-sleepiness problems, but the prank callers caught me on the worst day for sending me to work on three-hours sleep.
I know who they are. I know their phone numbers. I know where they live. I know their parents' phone numbers back home in Toronto. Thus, I request my loyal readers to offer suggestions as to how I can get back at this devious duo.
A minute later, the Englishman called back, claiming that there was some confusion. He listed my particular business qualifications they were interested in learning more about. Something was very fishy, and finally I realized in my half-awake state that I was the victim of yet another prank call. Llama and Polar Bear again, still smoking too much shisha in an Arab coffee shop in the middle of the night.
Unfortunately, I couldn't sleep after that. I was up from 3:00am until the time I had to leave for work. This itself didn't bother me that much; what bothered me was the fact that I had to go to a meeting at my downtown office in a very sleepy state. I hadn't fallen asleep in a meeting for about 5 months, though I had developed a somewhat notorious reputation for falling asleep in meetings when I worked downtown.
But I couldn't keep awake, and those same people who saw me sleeping in 3:00pm conference calls back in October and November saw me dozing off again. They must suspect that I can never stay awake in meetings, which isn't the case anymore. I've all but overcome the meeting-sleepiness problems, but the prank callers caught me on the worst day for sending me to work on three-hours sleep.
I know who they are. I know their phone numbers. I know where they live. I know their parents' phone numbers back home in Toronto. Thus, I request my loyal readers to offer suggestions as to how I can get back at this devious duo.
April 09, 2006
Cryptic Voicemail
I received this voicemail today; not sure who it is or what they're talking about, but it's quite funny.
April 03, 2006
Was better alone
It has been exactly eleven years since one of the most haunting incidents of my young life. I meant to write about this last year after ten years had passed, but I didn't want to put a damper on my good mood at the time. I had just returned to Canada after three months overseas, and I was far too happy to dwell on the incident.
I was 13 years old, in the eighth grade, and struggling academically. I wasn't bothered by the poor grades; my popularity seemed to be inversely proportional to my academic performance. When I was the top student in the school, I was also desperately lonely and unhappy. When my grades took a plunge in my second year of high school, I found myself gravitating towards a new crowd of friends. Some of them shared many of the same interests I did; in particular, the classic videogame Doom - state-of-the-art at the time. And primarily for that one reason, I fit in. At 13, popularity was the most important thing, and if it meant discussing violent video games with unstable teenagers, then so be it.
I can't remember why, but I took the city bus home from school on April 3rd, 1995. And I can't remember why I was waiting for the bus somewhere in between my school and home, but there I was, across the street from the scene of a crime. There must have been at least 15 police cars lined up, and police tape sealing off most of the houses on that side of the street. This was highly unusual for this part of town; I lived in a very peaceful neighbourhood, and for many, police cars simply meant a free ride home.
I asked a few people waiting at the bus stop with me as to what was going on, but no one knew at the time.
I got home, somewhat confused but eager to think about something else. I went downstairs, turned on my computer, and started playing Doom. I was interrupted shortly afterwards, as a friend had called and told me the news.
"Did you hear about the murders?" my friend asked.
"On St. Charles? I saw a bunch of police cars just a little while ago."
"Yeah, it was ..." He mentioned the name of a friend, which I can't mention today by law. At first, I thought he was telling me that this friend was murdered, which would have been shocking enough. I was horrified to learn that the friend was, in fact, the murderer.
All the details came quickly. Three kids from my high school, between the ages of 13 and 15, had broken into the house of a retired priest and his wife. The victims were aged 75 and 70 years old, and were highly respected in the community. In fact, the priest was such a popular figure that he had a street named after him even before his death.
As the classmates, we were privy to lots of inside information. There were others at the house, who also got high on LSD and drunk on margueritas before the attack. We knew of others who were probably involved, but were never implicated in the investigation. We knew from before that the particular house was selected for robbery because one of the murderers never received tips from the owners as their newspaper delivery boy.
But the most gruesome details came when the autopsy revealed how the elderly couple was actually murdered. After the children broke into their house, they beat them to death with baseball bats and broken beer bottles. The former priest was believed to have been defending himself, given the tremendous bruising on his forearms. But he was an old man, and his wife an old woman. There was nothing they could do against the drug-induced rage of the children.
As all this unfolded, I recalled statements from some of my other friends, about the shady personalities I had begun associating with. One mentioned one of them intending to rob a house. Another alluded to the drug use. One of them clearly recalled the eldest of the three expressing a desire to kill someone.
This was all before Columbine, but I couldn't help but feel nervous because of the Doom association. At the time, video game violence wasn't in the media much; in fact, video games were still the domain of the socially awkward. The thoughts lingered on for years that, maybe, perhaps the influence of a video game pushed these kids over the edge.
In the aftermath of the murders, I realigned myself to my academically strong but socially unpopular roots. And to my joy, I found my place, simply by being myself. I didn't need to put on an act to fit in with a certain crowd, a crowd that could have taken me down a dreadful path had the murders not woken me up. For the most part, I put the incident past me, but some images still come back from time to time.
There is so much insanity in the world. I don't claim to understand any of it, but I do hold that there are lessons that must be learned from the chaos.
I was 13 years old, in the eighth grade, and struggling academically. I wasn't bothered by the poor grades; my popularity seemed to be inversely proportional to my academic performance. When I was the top student in the school, I was also desperately lonely and unhappy. When my grades took a plunge in my second year of high school, I found myself gravitating towards a new crowd of friends. Some of them shared many of the same interests I did; in particular, the classic videogame Doom - state-of-the-art at the time. And primarily for that one reason, I fit in. At 13, popularity was the most important thing, and if it meant discussing violent video games with unstable teenagers, then so be it.
I can't remember why, but I took the city bus home from school on April 3rd, 1995. And I can't remember why I was waiting for the bus somewhere in between my school and home, but there I was, across the street from the scene of a crime. There must have been at least 15 police cars lined up, and police tape sealing off most of the houses on that side of the street. This was highly unusual for this part of town; I lived in a very peaceful neighbourhood, and for many, police cars simply meant a free ride home.
I asked a few people waiting at the bus stop with me as to what was going on, but no one knew at the time.
I got home, somewhat confused but eager to think about something else. I went downstairs, turned on my computer, and started playing Doom. I was interrupted shortly afterwards, as a friend had called and told me the news.
"Did you hear about the murders?" my friend asked.
"On St. Charles? I saw a bunch of police cars just a little while ago."
"Yeah, it was ..." He mentioned the name of a friend, which I can't mention today by law. At first, I thought he was telling me that this friend was murdered, which would have been shocking enough. I was horrified to learn that the friend was, in fact, the murderer.
All the details came quickly. Three kids from my high school, between the ages of 13 and 15, had broken into the house of a retired priest and his wife. The victims were aged 75 and 70 years old, and were highly respected in the community. In fact, the priest was such a popular figure that he had a street named after him even before his death.
As the classmates, we were privy to lots of inside information. There were others at the house, who also got high on LSD and drunk on margueritas before the attack. We knew of others who were probably involved, but were never implicated in the investigation. We knew from before that the particular house was selected for robbery because one of the murderers never received tips from the owners as their newspaper delivery boy.
But the most gruesome details came when the autopsy revealed how the elderly couple was actually murdered. After the children broke into their house, they beat them to death with baseball bats and broken beer bottles. The former priest was believed to have been defending himself, given the tremendous bruising on his forearms. But he was an old man, and his wife an old woman. There was nothing they could do against the drug-induced rage of the children.
As all this unfolded, I recalled statements from some of my other friends, about the shady personalities I had begun associating with. One mentioned one of them intending to rob a house. Another alluded to the drug use. One of them clearly recalled the eldest of the three expressing a desire to kill someone.
This was all before Columbine, but I couldn't help but feel nervous because of the Doom association. At the time, video game violence wasn't in the media much; in fact, video games were still the domain of the socially awkward. The thoughts lingered on for years that, maybe, perhaps the influence of a video game pushed these kids over the edge.
In the aftermath of the murders, I realigned myself to my academically strong but socially unpopular roots. And to my joy, I found my place, simply by being myself. I didn't need to put on an act to fit in with a certain crowd, a crowd that could have taken me down a dreadful path had the murders not woken me up. For the most part, I put the incident past me, but some images still come back from time to time.
There is so much insanity in the world. I don't claim to understand any of it, but I do hold that there are lessons that must be learned from the chaos.
April 02, 2006
It's not terrorism unless...
I was hoping I'd be able to leave aside the Tim Hortons stories for a while, but then this happened.
"Police have ruled out terrorism as the cause of an explosion that ripped through a Tim Hortons doughnut shop in the trendy Yorkville area of downtown Toronto Sunday, killing one man."
"Police have not confirmed reports the man was seen entering the washroom with wires or possibly explosives strapped to his body."
Suppose they did confirm that this guy was strapped with explosives. Would it only be considered terrorism if the bomber was Arab or Muslim? If the guy is blowing himself up in a coffee shop, I'm sure his motivations go beyond the recent price increase for ice caps. Of course, Tim Hortons' makes quite a bit of business from it's Muslim customers. If it were Starbucks, this would be another story altogether.
"Police have ruled out terrorism as the cause of an explosion that ripped through a Tim Hortons doughnut shop in the trendy Yorkville area of downtown Toronto Sunday, killing one man."
"Police have not confirmed reports the man was seen entering the washroom with wires or possibly explosives strapped to his body."
Suppose they did confirm that this guy was strapped with explosives. Would it only be considered terrorism if the bomber was Arab or Muslim? If the guy is blowing himself up in a coffee shop, I'm sure his motivations go beyond the recent price increase for ice caps. Of course, Tim Hortons' makes quite a bit of business from it's Muslim customers. If it were Starbucks, this would be another story altogether.
April 01, 2006
omg lollzz!!!
aswrwb!!!
sowwy i havent posted in so long!! but i'm vrey happy now as you can see!!!!
omg googel finally reelased google romance!! i am like so happy ad now giggly lolzz!!1111one
and scicents are making dragonz!!!!!!! that is so coool??? yay???
OMG!!!! im so happy rofll!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111111111
ws!!
"Cause it was happy and I was sad, and it made me miss you oh so bad..."
- Jewel (You Were Meant for Me)
sowwy i havent posted in so long!! but i'm vrey happy now as you can see!!!!
omg googel finally reelased google romance!! i am like so happy ad now giggly lolzz!!1111one
and scicents are making dragonz!!!!!!! that is so coool??? yay???
OMG!!!! im so happy rofll!!!!!!!!!!!!!!111111111
ws!!
"Cause it was happy and I was sad, and it made me miss you oh so bad..."
- Jewel (You Were Meant for Me)
March 24, 2006
March 08, 2006
March 05, 2006
Hope Restored
I started writing this entry shortly after the conference from March 4th-5th, but took an extended break to offer only irrelevant stories about Tim Hortons... so here it is finally, posted much later.
I am not a big fan of large Islamic conferences. I went to the Reviving the Islamic Spirit conference once, but it didn't strike me as something I felt necessary to attend annually. I fully support the brothers and sisters who are taking the time and effort to organize these, but recognized that I personally benefit more from smaller, less glamorous efforts. So when a group of students at my alma mater decided to hold an Islamic conference in Ottawa, I was skeptical but slightly intrigued.
First, a little background. Throughout the course of my university studies, there was a major decline in the involvement of the Muslims on campus. When I first started, the students were recovering from a spiritual lull that was apparently going on for years. My personal introduction to the MSA was not particularly graceful; I accidentally dropped a plate of curry on the MSA president's head. That forgettable incident aside, I quickly found my place, and our tight circle of friends began to expand. Within my first couple of semesters, things started moving quickly; people were involved, happy, and things were happening. Above all, the core of the MSA was united, dedicated, and fully committed to the community and one another.
Things started declining in late 2002 and early 2003. Perhaps it began in Ramadhan 2002, when allegations began about possible extortion of MSA Ramadhan funds. While the issue was resolved, the whole issue left a sour taste; people began having misgivings about the direction things were heading. When some of the key members started suffering academically, it only made it easier to doubt the efforts of the MSA. Something was amiss.
Rumours began to spread about some of the core members, and the tight community that was UOMSA started disintegrating. While activities continued to happen, the people running them were themselves losing any inclination towards being involved in the community. Rumours continued to surface, and many comments were misinterpreted as a result. After weeks of festering, all the lies, rumours, and miscommunication resulted in a complete breakdown of the once tight community; internally, we still refer to this period as The Fitnah.
And that core that I was so proud of during my early years fell apart. One graduated. Another went through a devastating quarter-life crisis. One vanished from the public sphere, while another fought hard to disappear himself. Most of the active members became disillusioned with the shura of the MSA, the loosely connected group of alumni and elders who selected the MSA executive each year. While amends were made eventually, everyone passed through The Fitnah changed and disaffected.
For over a year, things languished. Few cared anymore, and those who did care did not have the respect of the others. The system had broken down, and it remained that way until I graduated.
Over the course of the next year, I'm told, things remained stagnant, and there weren't any promising signs that things would change anytime soon.
Given the plight of the community, I was not the only one slightly skeptical about the prospect of a large-scale conference hosted by our MSA. At the same time, I had a faint hope that perhaps this would precisely be the mechanism by which the community can be woken up again.
And thus it was. The conference was an incredible success, and the volunteers were second to none. It was among the best organized events I had attended since I came to Ottawa, and will hopefully set a new standard. Even with last-minute cancellations and awkward circumstances, the event worked. What was most amazing was the fresh new set of faces behind the scenes; finally, perhaps, some of the older faces can move on.
I just hope it lasts.
I am not a big fan of large Islamic conferences. I went to the Reviving the Islamic Spirit conference once, but it didn't strike me as something I felt necessary to attend annually. I fully support the brothers and sisters who are taking the time and effort to organize these, but recognized that I personally benefit more from smaller, less glamorous efforts. So when a group of students at my alma mater decided to hold an Islamic conference in Ottawa, I was skeptical but slightly intrigued.
First, a little background. Throughout the course of my university studies, there was a major decline in the involvement of the Muslims on campus. When I first started, the students were recovering from a spiritual lull that was apparently going on for years. My personal introduction to the MSA was not particularly graceful; I accidentally dropped a plate of curry on the MSA president's head. That forgettable incident aside, I quickly found my place, and our tight circle of friends began to expand. Within my first couple of semesters, things started moving quickly; people were involved, happy, and things were happening. Above all, the core of the MSA was united, dedicated, and fully committed to the community and one another.
Things started declining in late 2002 and early 2003. Perhaps it began in Ramadhan 2002, when allegations began about possible extortion of MSA Ramadhan funds. While the issue was resolved, the whole issue left a sour taste; people began having misgivings about the direction things were heading. When some of the key members started suffering academically, it only made it easier to doubt the efforts of the MSA. Something was amiss.
Rumours began to spread about some of the core members, and the tight community that was UOMSA started disintegrating. While activities continued to happen, the people running them were themselves losing any inclination towards being involved in the community. Rumours continued to surface, and many comments were misinterpreted as a result. After weeks of festering, all the lies, rumours, and miscommunication resulted in a complete breakdown of the once tight community; internally, we still refer to this period as The Fitnah.
And that core that I was so proud of during my early years fell apart. One graduated. Another went through a devastating quarter-life crisis. One vanished from the public sphere, while another fought hard to disappear himself. Most of the active members became disillusioned with the shura of the MSA, the loosely connected group of alumni and elders who selected the MSA executive each year. While amends were made eventually, everyone passed through The Fitnah changed and disaffected.
For over a year, things languished. Few cared anymore, and those who did care did not have the respect of the others. The system had broken down, and it remained that way until I graduated.
Over the course of the next year, I'm told, things remained stagnant, and there weren't any promising signs that things would change anytime soon.
Given the plight of the community, I was not the only one slightly skeptical about the prospect of a large-scale conference hosted by our MSA. At the same time, I had a faint hope that perhaps this would precisely be the mechanism by which the community can be woken up again.
And thus it was. The conference was an incredible success, and the volunteers were second to none. It was among the best organized events I had attended since I came to Ottawa, and will hopefully set a new standard. Even with last-minute cancellations and awkward circumstances, the event worked. What was most amazing was the fresh new set of faces behind the scenes; finally, perhaps, some of the older faces can move on.
I just hope it lasts.
February 28, 2006
Rambo is my mailman
Today, I was quickly perusing over the daily news headlines on my Google Personalized homepage, when I misread two adjacent headlines and thought I saw something about a bombing in Madrid killing 41 people. I did a doubletake, worried that Spain had been targetted again. I then realized it was Iraq, and went back to going about my business.
A minute later, I realized how indicative my behaviour was of the typical, indifferent Westerner. Hearing about bombings and deaths have become so commonplace in Iraq that it hardly catches our attention anymore. Each of those victims must have a family; for each of those families, they will always remember that day when a loved one - perhaps a father, perhaps a daughter, maybe a sister - left this world forever. They will cry uncontrollably, while others will try to comfort them to no avail. While these events may hardly catch our attention now, they are changing the lives - nay, destroying the lives of thousands. The losses can never be recovered.
Had it happened in Europe or Canada, it would dominate headlines for weeks and months. The date would become synonymous with the event, as if everything else on that day stood still watching tragedy unfold in our world. Talk shows and newspaper columnists would keep putting the same question forth, how could this happen to us?
Instead, the question must be raised, that how have we become so indifferent?
A minute later, I realized how indicative my behaviour was of the typical, indifferent Westerner. Hearing about bombings and deaths have become so commonplace in Iraq that it hardly catches our attention anymore. Each of those victims must have a family; for each of those families, they will always remember that day when a loved one - perhaps a father, perhaps a daughter, maybe a sister - left this world forever. They will cry uncontrollably, while others will try to comfort them to no avail. While these events may hardly catch our attention now, they are changing the lives - nay, destroying the lives of thousands. The losses can never be recovered.
Had it happened in Europe or Canada, it would dominate headlines for weeks and months. The date would become synonymous with the event, as if everything else on that day stood still watching tragedy unfold in our world. Talk shows and newspaper columnists would keep putting the same question forth, how could this happen to us?
Instead, the question must be raised, that how have we become so indifferent?
February 26, 2006
Uninspired
It's strange how easily I can write for this blog, even when I am at a complete loss for words for any other writing I need to do. Last week, I stared blankly at my word processor for over 10 hours across four days, trying to come up with something meaningful for the March issue of Muslim Link. I couldn't. I wrote a few lines here and there, but nothing that stood out as something I was willing to have published.
Muslim Link prints over 10,000 copies per month and is distributed in three cities, so anything I write there has a fairly sizable audience. Normally, I don't worry about audiences, but somehow I could not do it this time. The weight of my writers block was too much, and thus, I scrapped everything I had written and gave up.
The title "Irrelevant Opinions" works because it reminds me that I'm writing for myself. Whether I have an audience or not is irrelevant. Occasionally, I will write something that no one will understand, or at least, only a few will be able to interpret the meaning. And as far as I'm concerned, that's perfectly fine. A friend once suggested an 80/20 split on the generality of writing: 80% should be easily understood by everyone, while 20% could be reserved for a "niche" audience. Often, I will go for the opposite, that 80% of my meaning will be for myself and a handful of others who might understand the background, while just 20% can be understood at face value. And I will continue doing this, lest I start worrying about the lowest common denominator.
Bill Watterson, the author of Calvin and Hobbes, refused to license his characters or his work for fear that it would become impersonal. Even though he had an audience of over 2,400 newspapers worldwide, he always insisted that he was writing the comics only for himself and his wife. That kept the characters honest and entertaining, as the comics kept a strong personal voice until the very last strip was published. He put everything he had into it, rather than sell out and run a massive media empire as Jim Davis has done with Garfield. And we all know how funny Garfield has been for the last 15 years.
Perhaps this is why the short film "More" meant so much to me. Last week, I came across this six-minute animated short that was nominated for an Academy Award. The movie is available on-line for anyone interested; Quicktime is required to view it. I've developed a number of different interpretations of this, and am interested to see how others view it.
Muslim Link prints over 10,000 copies per month and is distributed in three cities, so anything I write there has a fairly sizable audience. Normally, I don't worry about audiences, but somehow I could not do it this time. The weight of my writers block was too much, and thus, I scrapped everything I had written and gave up.
The title "Irrelevant Opinions" works because it reminds me that I'm writing for myself. Whether I have an audience or not is irrelevant. Occasionally, I will write something that no one will understand, or at least, only a few will be able to interpret the meaning. And as far as I'm concerned, that's perfectly fine. A friend once suggested an 80/20 split on the generality of writing: 80% should be easily understood by everyone, while 20% could be reserved for a "niche" audience. Often, I will go for the opposite, that 80% of my meaning will be for myself and a handful of others who might understand the background, while just 20% can be understood at face value. And I will continue doing this, lest I start worrying about the lowest common denominator.
Bill Watterson, the author of Calvin and Hobbes, refused to license his characters or his work for fear that it would become impersonal. Even though he had an audience of over 2,400 newspapers worldwide, he always insisted that he was writing the comics only for himself and his wife. That kept the characters honest and entertaining, as the comics kept a strong personal voice until the very last strip was published. He put everything he had into it, rather than sell out and run a massive media empire as Jim Davis has done with Garfield. And we all know how funny Garfield has been for the last 15 years.
Perhaps this is why the short film "More" meant so much to me. Last week, I came across this six-minute animated short that was nominated for an Academy Award. The movie is available on-line for anyone interested; Quicktime is required to view it. I've developed a number of different interpretations of this, and am interested to see how others view it.
February 11, 2006
Legacy
I didn't want to write about the whole cartoon "crisis". I really didn't. But something that has been lost in this whole issue has been the Prophet himself, peace be upon him. Not enough people know about this amazing personality, though there is probably no one in history whose life has been recorded as extensively. There is no shortage of material on the life of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, but there is definitely a shortage of Muslims willing to deliver those materials.
Since at least one person has questioned my imaan altogether because of my lack of outrage, I felt compelled to write on this topic. Others have told me that the worldwide reaction was justified, as defence of the Prophet should be our number one priority as Muslims. Some are outraged that Canada hasn't done enough to make Europe apologize. All this just doesn't make sense to me, even though I did find the pictures offensive and insulting. Personally, I feel that even if every single European nation decided to apologize, there is no way that such an apology would be sincere.
"We're sorry a bunch of cartoonists accused your Prophet of being a terrorist. And thanks to your violent protests, your burning of our embassies, the dozens of deaths which have been caused by your riots, and the death threats we've received, we can now say that we were wrong, and we regret the error."
That seems highly unlikely. I'm not saying that no apology is necessary, but this is not what we need right now; an apology at this point would only be a political gesture that would do nothing in addressing the root problem. It amazes me that this is what it took to finally unite the Muslim world on a common cause, even after we remained silent on much larger issues.
Regardless, I wanted to write about the Prophet himself and leave the politics aside. Regarding provocations and ignorant talk addressed to Muslims, the Quran states:
"You shall certainly be tried respecting your wealth and your souls, and you shall certainly hear from those who have been given the Book before you and from those who are polytheists much annoying talk; and if you are patient and guard (against evil), surely this is one of the affairs (which should be) determined upon." (3:186)
"And the servants of the Most Gracious (Allah) are those who walk on the earth in humility, and when the ignorant address them, they say, 'Peace!'" (25:63)
Regarding the Prophet, peace be upon him, the Quran says:
"And most surely you conform (yourself) to sublime morality." (68:4)
"And We sent thee not, except as a Mercy for all the creatures." (21:107)
"You have indeed in the Messenger of Allah an excellent exemplar for him who hopes in Allah and the Final Day and who remember Allah much." (33:21)
"Say (O Prophet): 'If you do love Allah, follow me; Allah will love you and forgive you your sins, for Allah is Oft-Forgiving, Most Merciful." (3:31)
There are many more verses which illustrate how highly a Muslim must regard the Prophet, and how Muslims must follow him in all aspects of life. There is no doubt that reverence of the Prophet is fundamental, and thus any insult to him is something every Muslim will take personally.
Regarding the Prophets love for his followers:
"Now hath come unto you a Messenger from amongst yourselves: it grieves him that you should suffer, ardently anxious is he over you; to the Believers is he most kind and merciful." (9:128)
The Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, was known as a "Mercy to Mankind", but he underwent years and years of suffering in order to guide people to the Truth. Prior to Islam during the early sixth century, the Arabian peninsula was mired in the heights of depravity and ignorance. Outside the Arabian peninsula, the rest of the world was also at a moral and intellectual low. The Sasanid and Byzantine Empires, the dominant world forces at the time, were worn out and weary, as noted by H. G. Wells in A Short History of the World:
"Science and Political Philosophy seemed dead now in both these warring and decaying Empires. [...] In both Persia and Byzantium, it was an age of intolerance. Both Empires were religious empires in a new way, in a way that greatly hampered the free activities of the human mind."
Ancient India, relatively free from the traditional Imperialism of the age, was doing fairly well in scientific fields. Morality was dead, however, and the social conditions were even worse. Women were dealt out and traded in games of chance, the caste system had rendered most of the people into slaves, and lawlessness was rampant. Europe fared no better, caught in their Dark Ages during which men were barbarians, women had no rights, and the religious elite had no morals.
Effectively, the entire world was in the most squalid and humiliating conditions, and there was no reason to believe things would change anytime soon.
Enter Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him. An entire biography of his life is well beyond the scope of this post, and there are numerous books which can do a much better job than I ever could. However, it should be sufficient to state that within a matter of 23 years, a worldwide revolution had begun that we are still benefitting from today. In brief, Islam conquered the tribalism that sunk Arabia to barbarism, and propelled the land to the heights of enlightenment and progress. The people united, women were honoured, the poor benefitted from generous social programs, and the entire population enjoyed the benefits of a well-governed society which brought them both spiritual and worldly advancement.
Within a century, more than one third of the known world was benefitting from the revolution brought forth by Islam, and the rest of the world started waking up in awe of the massive changes which had taken place.
And it all began with that one man, Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, whose mission was only to call people towards their Creator, teach them the Quran, and serve as an example for them. The root was Islam; the fruits were the advancements and innovations brought forth by the rising Islamic world. The Muslim world excelled in math and science; the Prophet was neither a mathematician nor a scientist. The Muslim world excelled in art and literature, though the Prophet himself was unable to read or write. The Muslim world pioneered some of the most important social programs we know today, including welfare and the protection of minority rights. The Prophet Muhammad brought forth all of this change not because he was an expert in these specific fields, but because he brought people towards obedience to their Creator. And the system of the Creator will always benefit the creation; the manufacturer of any product knows best how to operate and maintain their works, and humanity is no different.
One cannot judge the Prophet in the context of the Muslim world of today. It is embarassing to see how so much of the Muslim world is in shambles, but one cannot attribute that to Islam. If anything, it is the lack of Islam, and the lack of respect for the teachings of Prophet Muhammad that has caused the ruination of the Muslim world today.
Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, did not effect this change without facing adversity. He suffered much at the hands of his own extended family, and at the hands of the rulers of Makkah during the early years of Prophethood. He was insulted, cursed, and pelted with stones by children at Taif. He was conspired against, slandered, and opposed by people who claimed to be his friends.
He took it all in stride, knowing that he was suffering for a greater good. Instead, he prayed for the forgiveness of those who persecuted him. And as his followers were being tortured, he still pushed on with his mission, and his followers continued to support him. He urged his companions to remain discrete about their Islam so that they would not suffer. But those same companions refused to remain silent about their new way of life, also understanding that their suffering was for a greater good, and that such a valuable gift should never be kept hidden.
When that gift was exposed to the world, the world as a whole benefitted from it.
In the famous book "The 100: A Ranking of the Most Influential Persons in History" by Michael Hart, Prophet Muhammad ranked #1 for turning the world around when it was approaching complete failure. George Bernard Shaw wrote about Muhammad, "I believe that if a man like him were to assume the dictatorship of the modern world, he would succeed in solving its problems in a way that would bring it the much needed peace and happiness."
This is the personality we're talking about, about whom all this debate surrounds. Ignorant insults to him do not lower his stature and legacy in any way, and we will always be benefitting from that legacy whether we know it or not. Learning more about his life is left as an exercise for the reader.
* * *
Regarding the cartoons themselves, Imam Zaid Shakir has written one of the clearest and most reasonable responses to the issue I have read thus far:
Clash of the Uncivilized: Insights on the Cartoon Controversy
Regarding media responsibility on the issue, CBC editor-in-chief Tony Burman seems to have gotten this one right:
Why CBC News Drew the Line
Since at least one person has questioned my imaan altogether because of my lack of outrage, I felt compelled to write on this topic. Others have told me that the worldwide reaction was justified, as defence of the Prophet should be our number one priority as Muslims. Some are outraged that Canada hasn't done enough to make Europe apologize. All this just doesn't make sense to me, even though I did find the pictures offensive and insulting. Personally, I feel that even if every single European nation decided to apologize, there is no way that such an apology would be sincere.
"We're sorry a bunch of cartoonists accused your Prophet of being a terrorist. And thanks to your violent protests, your burning of our embassies, the dozens of deaths which have been caused by your riots, and the death threats we've received, we can now say that we were wrong, and we regret the error."
That seems highly unlikely. I'm not saying that no apology is necessary, but this is not what we need right now; an apology at this point would only be a political gesture that would do nothing in addressing the root problem. It amazes me that this is what it took to finally unite the Muslim world on a common cause, even after we remained silent on much larger issues.
Regardless, I wanted to write about the Prophet himself and leave the politics aside. Regarding provocations and ignorant talk addressed to Muslims, the Quran states:
"You shall certainly be tried respecting your wealth and your souls, and you shall certainly hear from those who have been given the Book before you and from those who are polytheists much annoying talk; and if you are patient and guard (against evil), surely this is one of the affairs (which should be) determined upon." (3:186)
"And the servants of the Most Gracious (Allah) are those who walk on the earth in humility, and when the ignorant address them, they say, 'Peace!'" (25:63)
Regarding the Prophet, peace be upon him, the Quran says:
"And most surely you conform (yourself) to sublime morality." (68:4)
"And We sent thee not, except as a Mercy for all the creatures." (21:107)
"You have indeed in the Messenger of Allah an excellent exemplar for him who hopes in Allah and the Final Day and who remember Allah much." (33:21)
"Say (O Prophet): 'If you do love Allah, follow me; Allah will love you and forgive you your sins, for Allah is Oft-Forgiving, Most Merciful." (3:31)
There are many more verses which illustrate how highly a Muslim must regard the Prophet, and how Muslims must follow him in all aspects of life. There is no doubt that reverence of the Prophet is fundamental, and thus any insult to him is something every Muslim will take personally.
Regarding the Prophets love for his followers:
"Now hath come unto you a Messenger from amongst yourselves: it grieves him that you should suffer, ardently anxious is he over you; to the Believers is he most kind and merciful." (9:128)
The Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, was known as a "Mercy to Mankind", but he underwent years and years of suffering in order to guide people to the Truth. Prior to Islam during the early sixth century, the Arabian peninsula was mired in the heights of depravity and ignorance. Outside the Arabian peninsula, the rest of the world was also at a moral and intellectual low. The Sasanid and Byzantine Empires, the dominant world forces at the time, were worn out and weary, as noted by H. G. Wells in A Short History of the World:
"Science and Political Philosophy seemed dead now in both these warring and decaying Empires. [...] In both Persia and Byzantium, it was an age of intolerance. Both Empires were religious empires in a new way, in a way that greatly hampered the free activities of the human mind."
Ancient India, relatively free from the traditional Imperialism of the age, was doing fairly well in scientific fields. Morality was dead, however, and the social conditions were even worse. Women were dealt out and traded in games of chance, the caste system had rendered most of the people into slaves, and lawlessness was rampant. Europe fared no better, caught in their Dark Ages during which men were barbarians, women had no rights, and the religious elite had no morals.
Effectively, the entire world was in the most squalid and humiliating conditions, and there was no reason to believe things would change anytime soon.
Enter Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him. An entire biography of his life is well beyond the scope of this post, and there are numerous books which can do a much better job than I ever could. However, it should be sufficient to state that within a matter of 23 years, a worldwide revolution had begun that we are still benefitting from today. In brief, Islam conquered the tribalism that sunk Arabia to barbarism, and propelled the land to the heights of enlightenment and progress. The people united, women were honoured, the poor benefitted from generous social programs, and the entire population enjoyed the benefits of a well-governed society which brought them both spiritual and worldly advancement.
Within a century, more than one third of the known world was benefitting from the revolution brought forth by Islam, and the rest of the world started waking up in awe of the massive changes which had taken place.
And it all began with that one man, Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, whose mission was only to call people towards their Creator, teach them the Quran, and serve as an example for them. The root was Islam; the fruits were the advancements and innovations brought forth by the rising Islamic world. The Muslim world excelled in math and science; the Prophet was neither a mathematician nor a scientist. The Muslim world excelled in art and literature, though the Prophet himself was unable to read or write. The Muslim world pioneered some of the most important social programs we know today, including welfare and the protection of minority rights. The Prophet Muhammad brought forth all of this change not because he was an expert in these specific fields, but because he brought people towards obedience to their Creator. And the system of the Creator will always benefit the creation; the manufacturer of any product knows best how to operate and maintain their works, and humanity is no different.
One cannot judge the Prophet in the context of the Muslim world of today. It is embarassing to see how so much of the Muslim world is in shambles, but one cannot attribute that to Islam. If anything, it is the lack of Islam, and the lack of respect for the teachings of Prophet Muhammad that has caused the ruination of the Muslim world today.
Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, did not effect this change without facing adversity. He suffered much at the hands of his own extended family, and at the hands of the rulers of Makkah during the early years of Prophethood. He was insulted, cursed, and pelted with stones by children at Taif. He was conspired against, slandered, and opposed by people who claimed to be his friends.
He took it all in stride, knowing that he was suffering for a greater good. Instead, he prayed for the forgiveness of those who persecuted him. And as his followers were being tortured, he still pushed on with his mission, and his followers continued to support him. He urged his companions to remain discrete about their Islam so that they would not suffer. But those same companions refused to remain silent about their new way of life, also understanding that their suffering was for a greater good, and that such a valuable gift should never be kept hidden.
When that gift was exposed to the world, the world as a whole benefitted from it.
In the famous book "The 100: A Ranking of the Most Influential Persons in History" by Michael Hart, Prophet Muhammad ranked #1 for turning the world around when it was approaching complete failure. George Bernard Shaw wrote about Muhammad, "I believe that if a man like him were to assume the dictatorship of the modern world, he would succeed in solving its problems in a way that would bring it the much needed peace and happiness."
This is the personality we're talking about, about whom all this debate surrounds. Ignorant insults to him do not lower his stature and legacy in any way, and we will always be benefitting from that legacy whether we know it or not. Learning more about his life is left as an exercise for the reader.
Regarding the cartoons themselves, Imam Zaid Shakir has written one of the clearest and most reasonable responses to the issue I have read thus far:
Clash of the Uncivilized: Insights on the Cartoon Controversy
Regarding media responsibility on the issue, CBC editor-in-chief Tony Burman seems to have gotten this one right:
Why CBC News Drew the Line
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