WILTW4 – The Ottawa Terrorism Trial

Like most Muslims in Ottawa, my attention this week was largely focused on the trial of Momin Khawaja.  Momin was the first Canadian arrested under the post-9/11 Anti-Terrorism laws, back in March of 2004.  His whole family was detained by police that day, with one of his brothers picked up from home, another from our university, and his mother from a grocery store.  It was a calculated raid unlike any we had ever seen in this city, and the target was someone most of us knew personally.  After four years, during which Momin has been locked up in an Ottawa prison, his trial finally began this Monday.

It was a confusing time, those first few weeks after the arrests.  It shook the community to its core, forcing us out of our comfort zone and into a strange world of politics and conspiracy.  Many questions were raised, none answered.  We all thought it was a terrible mistake, and could not believe the accusations.  The family was a respectable one, prominent within their community and active at the local mosque.  But days after the arrests, their pictures were all over the newspapers alongside detailed diagrams of their neighbourhood showing the path that RCMP officers used to break into their home.  Days after the raid, the media had already smeared their name and proclaimed their guilt.  I can’t begin to imagine how difficult life has been for them since.

It still is a confusing time.  The trial began with the testimony of star witness Junaid Babar garnering the most attention.  Mr. Babar had already pleaded guilty to terrorism-related offences in the past, but has been testifying against others in an effort to lighten his sentence.  Five British Muslims have already been sentenced to life in prison on his testimony, being accused of plotting an attack against a London nightclub.  Momin is accused of having conspired with that group.

Reading the news has been rather surreal, seeing pictures of those parents that I had seen before at community events and mosque fundraisers, seeing our friends on television sharing their insight.  The names being thrown around as unwilling participants in the alleged plot are names I see on my MSA mailing list.  According to some of the testimony, “hockey” was used as a code-word for Paintball sessions in order to avoid suspicion; I’ve heard that corroborated by my own friends.  Even some blogs I’ve read in the past have strange connections to the testimony being published throughout the world.  It’s all very real and very local, and is equally as disturbing as it is frightening.

This is very different from the so-called “Toronto 18”, which is slowly being revealed as a complete sham of a case.  No, the Ottawa arrest and the subsequent trial is far more calculated, far more drastic, with deeper ramifications for the future of national security policy and the place of Muslims in Canadian society.

Nothing is proven, of course, and the trial has only begun; it is expected to run for several more months.  Undoubtedly, we will hear more testimony, more perspectives, and the overall picture will become clearer over time.  In the meantime, I can only hope and pray that all is resolved in a just and fair manner.

In-Line Comments and Moderation

I'm testing in-line comments in Blogger right now, which is a long overdue feature. The Captcha was really annoying with this in-line commenting, so I've gotten rid of it and enabled comment moderation instead. So don't think you're being censored, I'm just trying to make things less annoying.

What I Learned This Week – Part Three

It’s been raining all week.  Not exactly what one expects from the middle of June, but I actually enjoy the cool weather.  And of course, I learned something from it.

It always rains in England.  And I learned this week that I will not be going to England next month, as I had originally expected, due to some unfortunate bureaucracy.  I was looking forward to the trip, as a way to take a break from what has been a fairly tiresome routine for the last few months.  I suppose I had become too accustomed to the jetsetting lifestyle that took up most of my 2006-2007, and being grounded for so long has been somewhat frustrating.  All things considered, most people don’t get the enjoyment of travel nearly as much as I do, so I should consider myself thankful for the opportunities I’ve had, and not dwell on the opportunities I lost.

Back to the Future wasn’t exactly accurate.  My boss was worried about playing softball the other day due to the impending lightning storm, afraid that holding a metal bat would make him a prime target for being struck by a bolt of lightning.  That triggered a moment of inspiration for me; I remembered reading once that the CN Tower is struck by lightning nearly 50 times per year.  With a severe energy crisis, I thought to myself, can’t we harness that energy somehow? After all, it was certainly enough to generate 1.21 gigawatts to set off the Delorean back to 1985.  A very large capacitor could potentially (har har!) be charged by a lightning rod, and then trickle the current out to the local power grid.  Converting the CN Tower to a massive power station seemed brilliant, and somewhat practical.

Of course, I wasn’t the first person to think up the potential benefits of harnessing lightning.  A quick Google search lead to tonnes of material about why it isn’t really as practical as one might think.  The best article I read on the topic was this one, which concludes that even in the most ideal conditions, lightning will typically only generate enough electricity to power two households per month.  Still, it’s an interesting area of research, if one could simulate the conditions that cause lightning in the first place.  This article talks about a researcher trying to do exactly that.  I’ll keep my eyes open for any further research on the topic.

I still don’t like sand.  A colleague was suggesting I travel to Hawaii or Barbados using the remainder of my frequent flyer miles for a vacation I am planning for later this year.  But after passing by a beach volleyball court the other day, I quickly remembered how much I dislike the feeling of sand, especially wet sand.  If ever I wrote a personals ad, I would start it off with, “I hate long walks on the beach.”

What I Learned This Week – Part Two

The cryptic style of my first WILTW post wasn’t really what I was going for.  At the very least, I can be happy that it put some content on this site, but useless content is not much better than no content whatsoever.  So WILTW will instead focus on whatever lessons I managed to take out of the events of this week.

And yet, somehow, life goes on.  This could have been the punchline to one of my favourite Calvin and Hobbes strips of all time, but the panel that follows is just as memorable.

I was reminded of this comic a few times by a colleague who is a fantastic complainer, finding fault in every little thing, be it the weather, the cafeteria food, or the width of the hallway.  I usually find this sort of extreme pessimism somewhat amusing, but it’s actually pretty sad.  As one friend liked to often repeat, “people are dying!” and we are complaining about the most immaterial things.  I often find myself guilty of complaining about minor things as well.

It’s often hard to keep that larger perspective, to sympathize with the sufferings of the rest of the world and appreciate how truly lucky we actually are.  Sometimes, it’s just too depressing, and instead of instilling a sense of gratitude, we simply feel helpless and annoyed.  Thus, taking some time to reflect on our own happiness is a worthy endeavour once in a while.

What is the value of tradition? Apparently, it’s $2.5 million dollars.  That is the price that the CBC was unwilling to pay for continued use of the famous Hockey Night in Canada theme.  CTV was rather shrewd in picking it up right away, effectively usurping forty years of tradition and history.  It will be interesting to see how things play out next season, if that song alone can draw people away from CBC and to the rival networks.

Unfortunately, the hilarious Colbert segment on the fiasco was pulled from YouTube. 

 

There are some professions that just wouldn’t suit me.  I’ve learned this week that the following professions would not suit me at all:

• Bus / Taxi Driver: I tend to take wrong turns way too often.  Plus, I don’t even like driving.
• Collections Agent: This is ironic because my first summer job was in Collections, and I was quite good at it.  But I can’t seem to bring myself to ask for things back after lending to others.
• Hitman: I wouldn’t even know where to begin here.
• Chef: Cereal doesn’t count.
• Judge / Police Man / Lawyer: I think I’d give people way too many chances if they seemed nice.

 

Other topics on my mind these days will hopefully come soon in the form of a more structured, better written post.  Until then, have a great weekend!

Fish story

I have a folder on my laptop in which I have a bunch of text files written when working offline. Some of them become eventual blog posts, but more often, I forget about them entirely until months later. This little piece was dated July 29th, 2007. I'm not sure what I was thinking when I wrote it, but perhaps it may resonate with someone somehow.

* * *

Pacific salmon
Swimming against the current
Don't you know?
The current won't shift
Passive, patient,
Calculating the flow
Take your time
You'll have your day.

Or another's.
Du jour, the special
Catch of the day
And a sandwich, a salad, a bed of rice.

Resist the tide.
Break the waves.
Though you may
Be eaten alive.

And challenge the fears that hold you back
And go down fighting, and not as snack.

What I Learned This Week - Part One

I have really had a hard time writing of late. I am not quite sure why, as I have had no shortage of thoughts, and an adequate amount of time. I think my problem has been that I've been writing mostly long posts of late, and have hesitated to write simple, thoughtful posts that reflected what was on my mind at the time.

I'd like to write a post at least once a week, even if it means having "filler". So I will try starting a simple series of posts about "what I learned this week". These posts might not contain much insight, but will serve as a repository for my own memories, and hopefully become a springboard for deeper insights.

So, what I learned this week, part one:

1. A lot can happen in 35 seconds.


2. But being one second late can be disastrous.


3. Good character is of extreme importance to one's life and hereafter.


4. The standard rules of respect and courtesy don't apply on crowded buses.

Update 2008.06.06: And within the last few minutes, I have learned something new. Now, lying awake, I am now wondering if it was all a case of mistaken identity.

Fanaticism

They say hockey is a religion in Canada. It binds fans, amazes them, frustrates them, and gives them something to believe in when all else seems amiss. For many, it is the hope that keeps them optimistic through trials. It brings people from all walks of life together - the rich and the poor cheer side by side when their team wins, and sulk and complain together after losses. From those sitting in the luxury boxes, to those listening to the games on a borrowed radio, everyone shares the joy and pain together.

It is no wonder, then, that it is also plagued by a handful of overzealous fanatics who tarnish the good name of the game and it's fans. When the Habs finally put away the resilient Boston Bruins in the deciding seventh game last night, the "moderate" adherents celebrated by cheering through the streets. Millions of people throughout the province watched with joy as the fourth and fifth goals were scored to dash any chance of an improbable Bruin comeback. But for a few dozen alcohol-fueled hooligans, cheering was not enough.

And so they set aflame police cars, smashed windows of nearby stores, and caused over a half million dollars of damage throughout downtown Montreal in a senseless riot. Just like 1993, when the Habs last won the Stanley Cup. And 1994, in Vancouver. And probably in dozens of other cities for other sports with other passionate fans. In spite of the healthy competition and pure athleticism that define professional sports, it also brings out the worst in people.

Fans of a hockey team are always judged by their class. Every city likes to claim that it is home to the "classiest" fans, while all other teams are characterized by how "unclassy" their fans are. And now the entire hockey world is calling out the people of Montreal as classless, while Montrealers are arguing that the riots were isolated cases that do not truly represent the city of Montreal or the people that live there.

All this seems very familiar to me. The voice of the "true fans", the vast majority of them completely horrified by the barbarism that took place last night, is drowned out by a small number of idiots. And what else are others to think, when the images they see in the media are that of burning cars, smashed windows, and senseless yelling?

When the images in the media portray the same sort of violence and insanity in the Muslim world, it hurts over a billion people in a similar manner. We know what everyone is seeing in the media, and we know it doesn't represent our beliefs at all. But for all our efforts to clear our names, the next case of stupidity cancels out everything good that was said and done.

A few days earlier, in Boston, a Montrealer was beaten nearly to death for wearing a red jersey and being French. A couple of drunk Boston fans punched and kicked him to the ground, leaving him unconscious in a large pool of his own blood. Nearly killed for, essentially, his beliefs.

Some people criticize religion, based on what they observe in the media. They complain that it warps minds, kills reason, and incites hatred. What happened in Montreal, what happened in Boston last week - this was all that and more. Just like one wouldn't blame hockey in general for these ugly incidents, one can't blame religion in general for the ugly acts committed in it's name.

What can be blamed, however, is alcohol. It is that, and not hockey itself, that drives people to such idiocy. It is an unfortunate reality that beer is part of the hockey culture in Canada. One can't sit down and watch a game without being interrupted by a number of nonsensical beer commercials. It is like this with most professional sports, I'm sure, but I can't be bothered to check.

I absolutely hate smoking and cigarettes, and I fully support all the laws that seek to suppress it. Tobacco companies are forbidden from advertising on billboards and in television commercials, smokers are forced to pay extreme taxes to feed their habit, and even the cigarette boxes are required to contain graphic anti-smoking messages. But in spite of all this, I've never heard of anyone causing a half million dollars of damage due to the influence of cigarettes. I've never heard of someone beaten brutally due to the influence of cigarettes. I've never heard of someone cause a fatal car accident because of a tobacco overdose.

Alcohol has done all that, and more. And yet, it is not only a tolerated habit, it is celebrated. And it is somehow spared of any criticism when incidents like last night in Montreal, or last week in Boston, happen. Yes, these incidents are rare, but still much more common than violent religious fervour, which gets all the press.

Alhamdulillah that Islam has protected me from the habits that drive people to such foolishness. For all that critics argue against Islam and other religions, it is perhaps the only force that will protect us from the most fatal influences.

Ijtema.net: New, Shiny, and Exciting!

The long awaited ijtema.net revamp is complete! I'm a little late in announcing it, but better late than never. In addition, the winners of the photo contest have also been announced, so take a look at the many excellent submissions.

Other new features:

• Beautiful new layout courtesy of Shazia Mistry
  
• New Multimedia content - the best of Muslim art and video
  
• Podcast reviews
  
• ...and more to come!

As always, you can contribute to ijtema.net by directing us to the best articles, videos, and audio content you find through your Internet journeys.

Enjoy!

Why I Will Never Become a Sens Fan

In eight years in living in Ottawa as a big hockey fan, I have never liked the Ottawa Senators. Even through several relatively successful years, and a Stanley Cup run that came up just short last season, I never cheered for this team, or felt any inkling of excitement for their success. Even while my Habs missed the playoffs repeatedly, I could never bring myself to like the Sens in their stead.

I almost felt sympathy for them this year for enduring one of the most incredible collapses in hockey history, entering the playoffs as the underdog in a season they began with an astonishing thirteen straight wins. I wanted them to put up a fight against the Penguins, and maybe even advance to the second round. I wanted them to be at least somewhat competitive; I didn't want them to be completely embarrassed by Crosby, Hossa, Malkin, and the rest of the Pittsburgh team.

But they brought on the embarrassment themselves, with what must be the worst introduction to any sporting event in the history of the universe. I didn't like the Sens to begin with, but now I'm not sure I can ever like them, after this ridiculous performance.

I could hardly endure two minutes of this.


If you're going to do something incredibly stupid in front of twenty-thousand people, you should probably at least make sure your microphone is working properly and that your costume fits.

Whoever came up with that idea should be fired, and forced to eat Diamond Shreddies for a year. That might teach them a thing or two about marketing.

Plugs in my cereal

As is my somewhat usual Sunday routine, I went out for grocery shopping this morning. I don't usually look for my cereal to be fortified with irony, but I definitely must give credit to the marketing team at Post Cereals for the ironic absurdity that are Diamond Shreddies.

As I picked up a box of Crispix, I looked over at a little girl in the same aisle, pleading to her mother to pick up a box of Diamond Shreddies instead of the boring old regular Shreddies she had already picked up. I couldn't help but laugh at the brilliance of this marketing gimmick.

For those unaware of Shreddies, it is a fairly wholesome whole wheat breakfast cereal, square shaped, usually served in a bowl with milk. There are variations, such as Frosted Shreddies (not halal), and a chocolate variant. Some top it with fruit or honey.

According to the website, recent advances in cereal technology have allowed them to take Shreddies cereal to a whole new level of geometric superiority. Yes, cereal technology. And geometric superiority. These people are amazing.


That 45^o degree rotation seduced the little girl, who beckoned her mother to select the rotationally advantaged cereal. The mother complied, and off they went down the aisle. The two cereals are exactly the same inside the box, but only one of them would have random consumers writing about them in their oft-neglected blogs.

One taste and you'll wonder how you've been so square for so long. Welcome to the 45th degree. Welcome to Diamond Shreddies country.

Yes, welcome to the 45th degree. Where I can actually write about cereal legitimately.

There's good in everything

We don't usually have control of our lives. We dictate a portion of it through our efforts and perseverance, but life has a way of throwing curves which none of us can anticipate, and which can't always be handled. Athletes, for example, might dedicate their whole lives to their sport, investing every moment toward being the best they can be - and then a serious injury befalls them, and everything they fought for is lost. It only takes a second, and their lives are changed forever. And all they have left are the memories and the lessons.

I've always believed that everything happens for a reason. The good, the bad, and everything in between: all circumstances help shape the people we become, paving the path in our miraculous journey that begins at birth. Not only does everything happen for a reason, but there is good in all that happens. Many may not agree, of course, with that last statement. What good, they ask, can be found in the circumstances that have driven people to poverty, war, and overall misery? One would have to dig very deep to find any reason for optimism. I don't have an answer, but just keep reminding myself that with hardship comes ease. Verily, with hardship comes ease.

Of course, we often have to make the good out of the worst situations; it doesn't always come automatically. And when it does, it is not normally apparent at the time - only in retrospect do we realize why things unfolded as they did. In my own life, one of the best things to happen to me was the direct result of what seemed like the opposite of all my aspirations. A disappointing failure and poor decision-making on my behalf lead to the most important and most memorable period of my personal growth. Such is life.

In the last two weeks, two minor trials befell me. The good in the first incident became apparent only hours after the incident. But a day removed from the second incident, I am struggling to identify why things happened as they did. It all seemed like bad news at the time, and still does. Only with that confidence that there is good in everything am I relating this incident now, so that I may revisit it later and look back upon the unnecessary pessimism of my past self.

* * *

It began when returning to my apartment in Ottawa after a weekend visit in Montreal. Fifteen minutes after leaving my parent's home, my car starting shaking violently, possibly due to ice and snow clogging the exhaust port. Uncomfortable with the drive and only minutes past the bridge off the island, I turned back towards Montreal to switch cars with my mother.

I dropped off my own car at home, grabbed the keys to the old Volkswagen Golf, and headed back towards Ottawa. It was a pleasant journey in that little car, even though I've driven the Ottawa/Montreal stretch hundreds of times. All was well as I approached my apartment building nearly two hours later.

I arrived at my building, and turned into the parking lot to enter the parking garage, the massive door still open from a car just ahead of me. I advanced my car through the door, and BAM! The whole car shook, the heavy garage door having dropped right on the car. Normally, sensors would dictate that the door remain open when any cars are in the vicinity, but on this occasion, perhaps due to the heavy snowfall throughout the weekend, something didn't click. After parking and exiting the car, I realized that the door hit me much harder than I thought, and the bike rack above the Golf was knocked right off, left outside on the other side of the garage door.

At first, I was extremely annoyed that within two hours of borrowing my mom's car, I already got into something of an accident, with some minor damage. I realized after, however, that if it were fate that a garage door would drop on my car, it was much better that it fall on the Golf with the bike rack, rather than my Cavalier with it's naked roof. The damage would have been much worse, and could have even resulted in personal injury. The bike rack, there to insulate the blow, was a blessing. Those minor car problems I encountered in my own car, forcing me to turn back and switch, may have helped me avoid a much bigger problem later on.

* * *

And two short weeks later, I was to return to Montreal. A long weekend, and an important one for me. I left work early Thursday afternoon in order to get a head start on my drive back.

I prayed my Zuhr prayer in the local musalla, where I spoke with the imam for a short while. It turned out that he was on his way to Montreal himself shortly, with a flight to catch to Bangladesh later that evening. He was scheduled to take the bus before 5pm, though he worried about having to pray his 'Asr prayer on the bus or at the bus station. He was reluctant to combine prayers when he didn't feel it was necessary to do so, so we decided to travel together in the newly rackless Golf. It was better for me as well, as I get terribly bored driving that 417 alone; all we needed to do was stop off at the Greyhound station to exchange the first segment of his Ottawa/Montreal Return ticket for a 25% refund, and we would be off.

We arrived at the bus station, which was busier than I had ever seen it in all the years I used to commute. I parked the car, while the imam waited in line to return his ticket. Fortunately for me, the spot I parked in happened to have 25 minutes left on the meter, so I thought I'd get out of the car and take a walk through the station. Bad idea. As the imam was approaching the end of the line, I returned to the car. Putting my keys in the ignition, I recited a quick prayer for travelling, and turned the key.

At least, I tried to.

The key wouldn't budge, no matter how hard I tried to turn it. I tried and tried, jiggling the key as much as I could, with no luck. The imam returned, sat down next to me with a smile, saying "challé": "let's go". "I have some bad news," I told him, as I continued my futile attempts at starting the car. He tried as well, to no avail.

It was almost 4:30pm by now, and after asking a number of friends and strangers if they had any ideas, we realized there was nothing we could do but send him back on the bus. He got back in line to buy a new one-way bus ticket to get back to Montreal, while I dropped to the back of the line for the bus itself, behind what seemed like over 200 people. The poor imam would not get a bus at 5pm, I was certain, given the rush at the station. So I waited for the bus with his luggage, while he waited in line to pay the full-fare, one-way ticket, which happened to be ineligible for student rates. After forking over the extra money, he returned to my place in line, and by 5:30pm, he was on a bus towards Montreal. Even if the bus sped down the highway with no traffic, he would be cutting it very close for his flight. Of course, he apologized profusely for all the trouble, though none of it was his fault. I realized, though, that if the roles had been reversed, I would be apologizing as well, in spite of having done nothing wrong per se.

I returned to my car, still stuck in the lot. My free 25 minutes was long gone, so I kept feeding the machine quarters until I had finally run out of both change and patience. The first few friends I called were unable to come and help, so I was waiting there alone. With no idea what do or what would happen in the next few hours, I considered calling my airline and cancelling my own flight that was scheduled for early the next day.

Finally, another friend arrived. Lucky for me, he was an owner of a new Jetta. The paperwork in his car included the new number for the Volkswagen roadside assistance number. I called, and after several levels of navigating the touchtone menu, I reached a customer service agent.

"I'm stuck in a parking lot of a bus station," I told them, "and my key won't turn. It was working just an hour ago, when I left to go to the bus station." I wanted to request a towtruck, thinking any attempts to start the car would be futile, as there seemed to be some significant mechanical problem. But as the agent explained what I should do, I figured I might as well entertain the suggestion.

"Press down on the break as hard as you can, while pushing the steering wheel to the right also as hard as you can", she said. "While doing this, try turning the key ... as hard as you can."

Like that would ever work, I thought. But I followed her instructions, the key not moving.. I kept pushing, and finally .. click, click, putt, putt, vroom - the car started! I couldn't believe it worked.

I thanked the Volkswagen agent and my friend, and decided that now, two hours after my planned departure, was no time to leave for Montreal; I would go home, pray, and leave later in the evening instead. I called the imam, who was still on the bus, to tell him that I made it out.

He was only half the distance to the airport, he told me. And he had his flight in just over an hour. He also lamented having to complete his prayer on the bus. There was little chance he would catch his flight. He told me, "everything happens for a reason; maybe this was a punishment for something, or it could be expiation for us. I was too tired to go to the mosque at fajr time this morning, so I prayed at home - maybe this was because of that." I have no idea. Maybe someday, I will look back on all this, and find some silver lining, but I felt no reason for optimism at the time.

I'm sitting on my own flight now, with no information as to whether the imam caught his flight. Perhaps this little test of patience was something I needed; perhaps I had become too confident with my extensive travel experience, and needed something to bring me back down to earth - both literally and figuratively. Maybe I needed that little challenge in order to prepare me for my own journey. Many would say it was all for naught; that sometimes, things just screw up, with no rhyme or reason, and there's simply nothing we can do about it.

Yet somehow, I know that all this happened for reason. And that there will be good in it, someday.

Never a dull moment

Poor Irrelevant Opinions doesn't get enough attention from me anymore. I had thought that I would be posting more often this year given my return to a normal work schedule, without the thousands of kilometres of weekly travel. However, the newfound free time has given me an opportunity to focus on a few side projects that I had been committed to, while writing, reading, and commenting on blog posts fell aside. Look for more information about those projects in the coming months.

Occasionally, I'll bookmark an interesting news article with the intent of writing a post about it. Unfortunately, I tend to forget about them until much later, at which point they are no longer relevant. Today, I happened to stumble upon this old article I had bookmarked about the Three Little Pigs, and Muslim sensitivity. Perfect material for me, really.

The gist of the article is that an adaption of the famous story was pulled from eligibility from a children's literature award for fear of offending Muslims. Not only that, but the book allegedly also offends builders, for as we all know, the pigs build houses of straw, wood, and brick. So if the people who are building houses are depicted as pigs, someone who builds houses for a living may get offended. Brilliant conclusion.

From the article:

The judges criticised the stereotyping in the story of the unfortunate pigs: "Is it true that all builders are cowboys, builders get their work blown down, and builders are like pigs?

Of course, nowhere in the article is a Muslim quoted, nor does anyone from the construction trade offer their insight on the matter.

Why, then, do these judges fear the repercussions of alienating Muslims and construction workers? And God forbid that there be a Muslim construction worker - he would probably go berserk.

The reality is that none of us really care. Pigs, in and of themselves, do not exactly offend most of us. They are the creation of Allah like every other animal. No, we will not eat them, and yes, we do consider them unclean. But they are on this earth for a reason, and surely serve some important purpose in the grand scheme of the universe.

As an open statement to the rest of the world: just ask; it will make you sound a lot less silly. I certainly appreciate your attempts to maintain equity and tolerance, but you should ask us before you tell us what does and does not offend us. You probably won't hear the same answer from every Muslim you ask, but only the most absurd amongst us would be offended by such a book.

Perhaps it was the silly cartoon controversy that put everyone on edge. As had happened with the Muslim world in the early years of this century, the rest of the world became more and more polarized in their attitude towards Muslims. There were those who would leave no verb unconjugated in ridiculing and cursing Muslims, and another camp that would adopt irrational measures to avoid offending us. Both camps often pretend to look for a middle ground, but ultimately come to conclusions that leave everyone unhappy.

Quebec has been in the spotlight for the last few months through the Reasonable Accommodation debates, in which politicians, panelists, and the public have argued over what that middle ground really is. It is unlikely that there will be some grandiose solution to all the problems, but it is perhaps a step in the right direction, with many prominent Muslims having their input heard. Nevertheless, even among Muslims, there is considerable disagreement. Having the hearts and minds of the participants unite on a consistent position is near impossible.

There are, however, some guiding principles that perhaps we can all agree on. First, the "golden rule" is always a good starting point: treat others as you'd like to be treated. Thus, if you do not want to suffer the ridicule of that which you hold dear, then do not ridicule that which others hold dear. If you want to uphold the dignity of your heritage, then let others uphold the dignity of theirs. If you want to protect your own values, expect that others will want to protect values of their own.

This alone is not enough, however. Another important principle is that one should never assume anything on behalf of another. Ask. Investigate. Learn. In a way, this can still fall into the ethics of the golden rule: if you don't want others to speak on your behalf, don't try speaking on behalf of others. Beyond that, though, we must humble ourselves to accepting that we don't have all of the answers on our own, and we need the input of others to form solid conclusions. Of course, swallowing one's pride is never an easy morsel.

A final fundamental principle involves fulfilling one's trusts. Keeping promises, honouring contracts, paying fair wages. If the fulfilment of trusts underlies all of the transactions and relationships between individuals in this country - whether they be immigrants or not, whether they be rich or poor, whatever colour - everyone will get their fair share, leaving no reason to complain. That is, of course, much easier said than done. But it needs to be said, regardless.

There are, of course, many other stories to discuss. The cartoons are back, an archbishop somewhere frightened Europe, a college meditation room sparked a vicious on-line hatefest... surely, there is never a dull moment in the depressing world of incriminating media coverage. Sure, we can try responding to each of these stories individually, protesting in the streets, and flooding the blogs and forums. Or we can simply adopt some common principles of ethics and morality, and leave a lasting impression within our spheres of influence.

Of course, none of this helps those poor construction workers. Oh well.

Imams are not the problem

Away on holidays last week, I never got around to reading the comments around my "To my neighbour" piece when it was featured on altmuslim. Upon finally reading them, I found much of the same sort of rhetoric that I am tired of reading, that "radical imams" here in the West are somehow condoning or even encouraging much of the extremism taking place. Regarding the Aqsa Parvez murder, one reader mentioned that "it happened because the culture, absolutely preached from the mosque [...] and exhorted on Canadian Islamic websites" forced her father to kill her out of shame and a twisted sense of honour.

I often hear about these phantom "Canadian Islamic websites", but no one ever actually tells us what they are. Certainly, I have read some rather extreme comments by Muslims on blogs and forums, but I have never read anything that comes even close to condoning this sort of behaviour on any legitimate Muslim Canadian website.

And the imams of our mosques certainly are not encouraging this. I have not prayed in every mosque, but I have been in a fairly unique position over the last few years to experience Friday prayers in many different mosques in many cities throughout North America. The Friday prayer is usually a fairly good vantage point by which to get a feel for a Muslim community, and I've never heard anything of the sort from any imam, anywhere.

If it were only non-Muslims railing against these "radical imams", I could forgive them; they're not the ones meeting these people every day and learning from them. But too often, I read Muslims writing about these imaginary imams, never citing any specific examples, but ranting about how they are perverting the religion for their own benefit. I've heard this even from some of my friends, who themselves could not offer any specific examples, falling instead into vague generalizations before conceding the point.

One reader of my article cited an article about an Iranian cleric who allegedly said that "unveiled women should die".

A top Muslim cleric in Iran, Hojatolislam Gholam Reza Hassani said on Wednesday that women in the country who do not wear the hijab should be killed.

“Women who do not respect the hijab and their husbands deserve to die,” said Hassani, who leads Friday prayers in the city of Urumieh, in Iranian Azerbaijan.

Aside from the fact that the article is uncited and a Google search about this supposed "top Muslim cleric" shows that his only other noteworthy statements involved a campaign to "arrest short-legged dogs", the crux of the matter is that this person does not speak for us or Canadian imams, nor does he have any influence upon matters in this country. If I were to cite some random Romanian priest making some ridiculous claim, would this have any influence on the Christians in Canada? No, and neither would an imam in Iran influence the overwhelming majority of Muslims here.

The complaints against our imams can be that they are sometimes boring; perhaps some of them are not with the times, or lack the knowledge of contemporary culture to resonate with the people. But to condone and encourage the sort of aggression that took the life of a sixteen year-old Muslimah? You would have to search very hard to find an imam who will justify that. If one is found, I am certain that those who follow him would be quick to condemn the statement, and remove him from his post if necessary.

The same people who criticize the imams also speak of the "madrassas" as sinister Islamic seminaries where children are brainwashed with political propaganda and dreams of martyrdom. Again, these allegations are always vague, with no specific examples. Madrassa is not a scary word, it simply means "place of learning". And if you were visiting one for the first time, I'm sure you'd be very much underwhelmed - most are run by kindly uncles teaching the Arabic alphabet (often, quite poorly) in their basement or on the mosque floor.

I am not denying that there may be Muslims out there who hold extremist views. I don't believe they are nearly as much of a threat as the media make them out to be, but there are certainly some Muslims with beliefs that contradict classical teachings, who have a more militant understanding of the religion's history. However, these people are mostly the ones who have pushed aside the scholars and imams, who have failed to heed their advice. They are the ones who went off on their own, ignoring what the imams are teaching, while getting their knowledge instead from shady websites and shadier personalities. It is often through the connection with imams and community leaders that many youth today have protected themselves from extremist thinking, by aligning themselves with classical scholarship rather than letting their own overzealous enthusiasm dictate their beliefs.

Sit with them. Learn from them. Hear them directly, rather than let others tell you what they say and think. Islamic scholarship is a vast discipline with awe-inspiring science and people behind it. Muslims believe that the legacy of the Prophets is knowledge, and that Islamic scholars are the inheritors; we have such people in our midst, a treasure which should not be taken lightly. We as Muslims should show how much we appreciate that, lest it be taken away from us. And I invite any non-Muslims to visit our scholars as well, and hear from them directly; most would be happy to meet you.

Many of the imams and scholars have given up a lot for their communities, asking for little in return, and yet we continue to blame them for all that ails us. And though the character assassination efforts will continue on, these individuals ultimately deserve our honour and respect. It's the least we can do.

The Anti-Qiblah

A few weeks ago, I learned of a neat website which uses the Google Maps API to identify the direction of Qiblah (prayer direction towards Mecca) from anywhere in the world. Naturally, I thought to use it to answer a question that has intrigued me for some time: what is the polar opposite of the Qiblah? That is, where in the world can one pray in any direction and still be praying towards Mecca in the shortest possible line? What are you praying toward if you're off by a full 180 degrees?

My cousin and I searched through the South Pacific until we found that specific point, using the Qibla Locator tool. While the exact polar opposite point fell in the middle of the ocean, a nearby island caught our attention. It was a ring-shaped island, quite unlike anything I had seen before.


View Larger Map

At the outset, the island appeared uninhabited. Google's satellite view did a remarkable job in allowing us to zoom into the details, and there were no immediate signs of human interference. But in those details, we noticed something quite unusual: the uniformity of the vegetation. Many of the trees were aligned in an odd grid pattern, almost as if they were replanted after being destroyed somehow.



Looking deeper along the northern perimeter of the ring, we did find some signs of human intervention. There appears to be some sort of helipad, and a few buildings scattered around it. The buildings were nestled perfectly within the grid of trees, leading me to believe that the same people who replanted all those trees have raised those buildings.



It turns out that there are a number of such islands along the South Pacific. The ring shape is a naturally occurring formation called an atoll, but the tree patterns are definitely not natural. I do wonder what is going on in this most remote of locations, furthest away from Mecca. Perhaps it is a nuclear testing site, where scientists are studying the effects of radiation on reforestation efforts. Or maybe they've genetically re-engineered dinosaurs, for the sake of building a massive theme park. Perhaps it is something far less sinister. Either way, it makes for some interesting speculation.

A study in contrasts

Three days ago. Miami Beach.


Today, my car.


It's good to be home. :)

To my neighbour

As part of the Monday original content on ijtema.net, here are some thoughts that crossed my mind after a discussion with a colleague.

I don’t blame you for having a skewed image of me. Every day, it seems like there’s another story that undoubtedly affects your perception of the Muslim community. Whether it be the ridiculous response to offensive cartoons, or the nearly daily attacks that take place in our war-torn countries, it must be difficult for you not to think we’re just a little bit suspicious. The murder case here at home, which has dominated headlines this past week, certainly does not help our case.

Read the entire post here, and leave your comments there.

Update 2007.12.24: You can also read the (slightly edited) piece at altmuslim.com, where it was recently featured.

I am completely normal

After an extended lull, things became very busy for me very quickly, and I haven't had time to write anything. I still don't have time to write anything of substance, but I'll take a short break to respond to Manas' open invitation to uncover weirdness. Yes, I'm doing a tag. This won't become a habit.

1. I can recite the English alphabet backwards just as quickly as I can do it forwards.


2. I tend to get nervous when speaking with someone one-on-one, but am perfectly comfortable in front of large audiences. I've been on stage with no script in front of nearly a thousand people with no hesitations whatsoever, but I find I can't articulate very well when I'm with just one other person.


3. My right eye tends to tear up when it is even just mildly cold (it seems to start when it drops below -5 degrees). This has often lead to kindly strangers at bus stops asking me if everything was alright.


4. Not much more to say about this, really.


5. I can make a rhyme out of anything, a skill which I've exploited on way too many occasions. Back in CEGEP, I began my final Bioethics project with a sonnet in which I complained about how much I disliked my professor's teaching style. Though I criticized her openly in the poem, she found the idea to be brilliant, and only offered some minor rebuttals to my criticism while giving me 100% on the project. I also left a rhyme, a parody of an Eminem song, at the desk of one university professor, whose course I nearly failed because I capitalized the letter C in a filename. (Long, depressing story.) In my first week at work, I wrote and presented a poem to teach my team about the illegality of insider trading.


6. I really dislike sand. I've never understood the attraction of beaches; I appreciate natural beauty, but I just don't find anything appealing about sandy beaches. I can honestly say that I don't enjoy being at the beach at all. (So to those of you who I'm taking to Florida, we're not going to any beaches.)


7. Poor spelling bothers me way too much. If something is within my capacity to fix, I'll fix it. I still maintain my old MSA website, and whenever anyone posts a classified ad or forum post with bad spelling, I'll go into the database directly and make the corrections. I'll also fix Wikipedia entries, and even edit e-mails sent to me in Outlook when there are too many typos. (Although I don't know why Outlook lets you edit incoming e-mails - it seems like that should be a defect.)

Those of you who know me personally probably can identify other oddities, but overall I think I'm a pretty normal person. A normal person with a blog who doesn't like doing tags. Perhaps my aversion to tags, or almost anything else that's "popular", is a weirdness in itself. Or maybe everyone else is weird.

Irrelevance Day 2007: The Year That Wasn't

Who would have thought I'd keep this going a third year?

And this year, I tried. Indeed, I tried putting an end to the irrelevance. There were numerous occasions in which I thought, "this is the last time I post on Irrelevant Opinions". I called it Irrelevant Opinions because I expected it to remain irrelevant, a mere pastime that I could leave as easily as I began it.

But moreso than any year prior, these silly pages had a significant impact on the year that was. It was certainly a challenging year; between the ludicrous amount of travel, a handful of side projects, and numerous family complexities, life was in a constant state of disarray. Things finally began to quiet down two months ago; life slowed down, until it eventually came to a complete halt. I didn't expect things to become so stagnant so quickly, after such a volatile year. After so much movement, I can't help but feel bored during this current period of calm.

And ultimately, I find myself in much the same situation now as I was last year. I didn't write much this year, but a lot happened behind the scenes. But, like a season of Seinfeld episodes, nothing really changed in the end. Characters had their entrances and exits, there were a few good laughs, some dramatic undertones, but the season finale left everyone in the same predicament as the season premiere. If a viewer wasn't paying close attention, he'd think he was watching reruns.

Like last year and the year before, I'll highlight my personal favourites from this year.

12.05.2006 - Andalus: Great documentary, and I like the post I wrote along with it.

2.06.2007 - Allegorical Absurdity: Goldilocks: The first in what has become something of a series across multiple blogs, this story is one of my better pieces of reactionary fiction.

4.01.2007 - ill relevant opinions: I don't consider this one of my favourites at all, I just want to apologize again for this. Sorry.

5.13.2007 - In Defense of the Sunnah: Remind, for reminder proves beneficial for the believers.

7.02.2007 - sillypost: A meaningless linguistic exercise.

7.25.2007 - And be not divided among yourselves: I reread this piece recently, and was surprised I wrote it. It made me realize that I'm a better writer than I am a person; I can only hope that I come close to the ideals I illustrate. Right now I feel quite disenchanted with my own personality; I need to become a better person.

2007.07.31 - Photos: Serenity: And Faraz finally gets a digital camera. Now, I can substitute actual content with failed attempts at photography.

2007.08.22 - Allegorical Absurdity: Three Little Pigs: The next chapter in the Allegorical Absurdity series. For the many of you who wondered about the "protected" Ugly Duckling post, again, I must apologize: this was a silly joke; there is no password, and no post hidden behind it.

So, here we are; another year gone by. I still enjoy writing, and I will continue to do so for a long time. These Irrelevant Opinions won't disappear, especially not for the petty reasons I thought to close it before.

Those of you who continue to visit and read, thank you for your kindness. Many of you have left, or will be leaving shortly. But if you happen to stumble upon these words, I wish you every success in all of your endeavours.

Photos: That Time of Year

Not quite December yet, and we've already had our first ice storm. Those of my readers who remember January 1998 in Montreal will remember that in spite of the havoc wreaked upon the city by the vicious weather, there was such beauty in the destruction. Every branch and every leaf was encased in ice, crystallized, and the trees shined brilliantly underneath the moonlight. It is a shame that digital cameras weren't in common use back then.

Here are some random icicle photos from today's storm:



And there's my car in the background:


It took a few tries before I could get the timing right on this one:


And now, back to work for me.

Of all things

We have a printout of an e-mail on our masjid notice board that alleges that Coke and Pepsi contain pork. Pork! It sounds quite reaching, almost as if the writer was just trying to scare people, but it's worth sharing regardless.

Personally, I avoid Coke and Pepsi because I don't like the way they taste. I've never seen anything corroborating the pork thing, though. The article itself seemed rather suspect, with little referencing and some rather silly statements (e.g. "Also drinking 6 bottles of Pepsi or Cola at a time causes instant death"). Here's the source of the article.

The scientific and medical research says that drinking Pepsi & Cola leads to cancer because the key element is taken from Pigs sausage. The heavenly books Quran, Bible and Torah forbids eating Pork, as it is the only animal that eats dirt, dung and urine, which makes lethal and deadly fabric polluted germs and microbes.

According to a report published in Jordanian magazine, the head of Delhi University's Science and Technology Center, Dr. Mangoshada scientifically proved that the key element in Pepsi and Cola contains extract from the intestines of Pig which causes cancer and other deadly diseases.

What do you think? Believable? Far-fetched? Silly? Well, it's no good for you anyway, so best to avoid it.