The wisdom of a tempestuous Tube Light!

It began at 14! ...

2012-02-01T08:08:00.000-08:00

Yesterday marked a full 15 years since my reversion to Islam! Its hard to believe, and feels somehow significant. 15 years, that is, since the day I read my shahada, formally! In truth, I probably accepted the faith a long time before this date, and the day itself was a sort-of inadvertent formality! Talking to Reza about it, I realised that though I’ve posted allot about changing faith, I’ve not referred much to this day; and perhaps not even reflected enough on the years that have followed! These 15 years feel significant because, whatever is to come in my life ahead I doubt it will contain the colour, the fast pace, the energy, passion and diversity of these 15 years; the older you get, the less you want chaos, the more you strive for some degree of certainty. Things that mattered to me in my younger days, seem to matter less now, and things I never thought I’d crave for, suddenly swell in their importance! A failed marriage, career changes, homelessness, ill health, trauma, faith (or lack there of), questions, crisis, happiness, sadness, love and tears, all have filled this space, the absurdity not unlike the day itself! A group of girls, who had welcomed me at radio Ramadhan, invited me to their home for dinner! I remember travelling from my home in white suburbia to their inner city apartment, coloured by excitement and trepidation. I climbed to the 4th floor of their building, passing Chinese women who sat outside their apartments peeling potatoes, and 2 African boys who were trying to ride their bikes down spiral stairs! The house, with a carved wooden ‘Allah sign on the door, greeted me formally. An old woman measured me from a great visual distance. As I drank tea in her kitchen, chatting about Islam and Hindi films in equal measure, I’m sure I was more of a curiosity for them than the redemption job they were doubtless seeking. I have always followed my intuition about life, so am not very eloquent when it comes to justifying my actions, plus, who has that level of eloquence at 14 to even begin articulating spiritual questions! All I knew was that Islam clicked; and made the most sense to me! That was good enough for me, and to this day, I don’t understand why people seek out so much more! There is only so far you can take faith reasoning in any case, after that point, you either believe, or you don’t! as we ate pizza in their front room, the questions grew, and so did the audience around me! I had no sense of anything unfolding, I didn’t even make connections when gifts of jewellery and headscarf’s were given to me! The girls asked me several times if I planned to accept Islam, which I did, maybe I already had, but ceremony was what they wanted, and after teaching me the ritual allusion, I was called before their father to recite the shahada, and pronounced a Muslim by the 20 strong contingent of women who fought each other to hug and congratulate me! I felt happy and bewildered, in the way you might do if you wake up too late and suddenly register that today is your birthday! I remember the group were attending a bangra protest that evening (back in the day the fundamentalists didn’t bomb each other, they objected to daytime bangra parties, as though eradicating Punjabi music from the streets of Glasgow might change the world!), and when I sample some of the modern offerings in that department, I wonder if they might have had a point! So, new headscarf ironed and safely pinned, I held up a ban the bangra banner, praying that no one from the Asian Radio Station where I worked happened to see me on such a 2-faced mission! I came, I converted, and I went home, not at all prepared or supported for the aftermath of protest I’d face at home! Had I known, I might have got more in line with the anti-bangra brigade! You might detect a degree of cynicism from the above lines, and that’s not my intension at all! This is my life after all, my journey, my story, the paths I chose and those which were pre-destined for me and me alone. Whether filled with laughter or drowned in tears, I don’t regret any of them, but reflection is an interesting thing, because for all we claim reluctance to say ‘If Only, the truth is that so many things could have been different in my case. 15 years on, I realise that I am the last in a dying breed; of men and women who came to Islam in groups and made it all alone, if we made it at all! So many quit their faith in the old days due to lack of support and a sense of belonging! We have more defined support structures now and, in theory, more of a revert community for the new and the lost to cling to, yet I wonder if you were to carry out a benefit analysis of the current system, just how much real change you’d be able to quantify. We have the theory, yet not the practise, we have huge numbers of reverts, yet they still cannot get married, cannot belong and more often than not, find more companionship in loneliness than in community! At 14, the community I craved acceptance in, taught me to fight, for a place to belong, for equality as a blind woman and from those who tried to separate me from my non-Muslim family. My parents taught me to fight too; for my faith; and for a sense of self which was from them, though not of them. Reconciling these 2 worlds is something I’ve never been able to do to this day, my life remains fragmented and disjointed, so that many of my relationships feel empty and insincere, because speaking Urdu doesn’t make you Pakistani, and having Scottish parents doesn’t make you a gori (at least according to the stereotypical notions of what a gori might be). I think its easy to become obsessed with puerile questions like; how many Muslims have both the qur’an and a Krishna statue in their house? how many people have ziyerats along with pink Floyd on their Mp3 players? And if these indirect confessions make me a hypocrite, then perhaps that is just another label for me to possess, either with pride, or indifference! I am grateful for the fact that in these 15 years I took my faith from its intuitive beginnings and translated it to something all my own. I lost it along the way, sometimes to myself and many times to my community, yet I never lost it completely. I don’t claim to be the best Muslim in the world, by any standards, but I do strive to be the best that I can be, and only I know what that means, or how that might evolve. Contrary to what I used to believe, I do know how to fake it, very well in fact! When I look at some blogs and twitter feeds I wonder if some people over play religion; ‘the convert doth protest too much! for stating popularly acknowledged facts/professions of faith can sometimes generate rank. It can also instil a sense of pride and assumed knowledge from both the revert and the admirer! ‘is he religious? …, obviously! Look at his twitter feed! In some ways its sad that something as uniquely personal and profound as faith is reduced to this, yet we have each played a part in generating it; and whether justified or not, I do take pride in the fact I can admit when I don’t know at least 30 rulings on the permissibility of joining prayers; or the fact that I still seek guidance when calculating zakat on jewellery, mortgages and the like. I don’t know how many Muslims there really are behind the books and the lectures, but behind every sincere, seeking heart there is surely a purified soul. If anyone had told me 15 years ago that I’d be where I am today, or that I’d hold even a fraction of the views I do, I’d never have believed you! Hailing from a closed extremist Christian/middle class upbringing, I had to struggle against Muslim extremists on the other side before I could find my own spiritual home, and that has taken some doing! I now look for questions to explore, rather than answers as I once did. The next 15 years look set to hold a completely new set of challenges; marriage, children, nest building. My feelings about these fluctuate between joy and imprisonment, happiness and foreboding. Anyone who knows me well, knows the context behind these remarks. I chose well when it came to marriage; and Allah (SWT) blessed me with more than I could have imagined! But Islamic culture is riddled with communities of people who believe that motherhood, femininity and domesticity are things that come naturally to women, a patronising belief with which I take issue! Women and converts are not homogenous! And my challenges are great! I will, Insha Allah, pass on a great many things to my children, and I can only pray they are positive for the most part! That said, I rejected faith when it was marketed to me, and I’m not sure I want to go for a generic sales pitch to my kids! I want to equip them with an understanding of faith as a necessity, as something elemental and pivotal to their existence, so that they can objectively explore how it manifests in other people; through churches, temples, mosques, music and meditation! If/when they return to Islam, I pray it is because they genuinely see its light, they choose to be there because it is the way, their only way; their path of choice and tranquillity! This looks a bit flowery and ethereal written down, but its one of the few things I am absolutely certain about! Inherited faith freaks me out! Too often it feels stale, like a well rehearsed family tree or a family fable held on to for far too long, with significant loss of context over the years! I know this might sound like a dig at born Muslims; its not meant that way! and I know that all families of faith do the best they can, but somewhere in the middle of these 15 years, I found myself, in between the support and the lack of support and the groups and the books and the solitude, all of it played a part! Preserving faith feels like it will be more of a challenge in the years to come than it was for me growing up. If ever you needed justification for not believing, not carrying on, it is now! Human nature is for the most part unrecognisable, and all manner of people from activists to terrorists and the silent majority try to give Islam their own stamp of truth as they see it. Preserving faith in this context, forces the believer inward, to a place of sanctity that doesn’t appear to exist in community any more! Its not for me to state whether this is good or bad, it is only for me; and for all of us to look ahead, carrying with us whatever feels light enough and sensible enough to take forward in to the future.
Last night marked another turning point; the end of our mourning, a conclusion upon Muharram and Safar for yet another year. As we prepare to enter a joyous, celebratory, spring type period within the Islamic calendar, we wonder if it is realistic to stop mourning? Will a time really come where we can stop crying? Where tears have no resonance or purpose in marking the tragedy of Karbala? I used to believe this was impossible, that to cry for all eternity was not enough, could never be enough, now my views somewhat vary. Tears have their place, but the challenge for contemporary shias is to know where the tears end and the work starts! Sayeda Zeynab (A.S) cried, but she also spoke out in the court of Yazeed! She began the legacy of azadari, but she maintained a family life when she returned to Medina! She cried, but worked for the Imam of her time, and she (A.S) marked the eid and the festivities, while never forgetting what she had witnessed! By my own admission, I have hidden behind these tears, as I have hidden behind the past. What is familiar is often easier to tolerate! There has to come a point where we evaluate and prioritise, and this post only scratches the surface of what that means! We wait; and we wait for Imam-E-Zaman (the imam of our time!), that is our time, not that of our parents, or that of our children! My challenges will differ from those of my parents before me, and my children ahead of me. Living in the present isn’t easy, it’s a balancing act between baggage from the past and priorities for the future! My years as a Muslim lay splayed out before me, sparkling ahead of those I spent in childhood and in searching, the needle is sharp, waiting to thread new strands of grey and gold through this tapestry of life. I’m here on the edge, almost ready, to jump!

2011; for the Journey!

2011-12-29T13:50:00.000-08:00

Before penning down this post, I took a look over my reflections at the end of 2010. Surprisingly, they were positive thoughts; much more positive than I was feeling at the time! It all goes to show that affirmations; if made with sincerity can come to pass; even if they are not always felt in their entirety straight off! Perhaps this line alone paraphrases much of what has gone on for me in 2011! The blog has been quiet, but my life has been far from it! where to begin with this year; Alhamdulillah I was blessed with the ability to financially support myself, after one of the most terrifying financial struggles I’ve ever known! My job is not exactly stimulating, but it provides a halal income for which I will be eternally grateful. It also gives me enough free time to study, engage in freelance work/activism and the things that matter to me. Reza and I are sadly still not living together, however our visa application has been submitted and we are awaiting our decision from the British Embassy, which is expected in Late February. I appeal to all of you to pray for a good result; this is all the more pivotal given that the British no longer have a presence in Iran, which has affected my own paperwork being processed. If we cannot live together here, our marital future will be in jeopardy so duas are seriously necessary! I travelled to Georgia and to Azerbaijan this year; 2 truly beautiful trips which brought me nothing but joy! I also travelled to London, and was honoured with an achievement award for my work with disabled Muslims by Ahlulbayt TV, something I will truly never be able to put in to words; an honour, and a humbling experience to share a stage with the outstanding personalities who joined me that night! I have got back in to writing, and am fully engaged in my English literature studies. 2011 has brought many great new friends, and a chance to further nurture some sacred and long-standing relationships. My health has been poor, and is not in a good shape at all, but despite the challenges this brings; I feel reasonably strong, loved, supported and able to deal with it.
So; what of 2012. As you know, I’m not really a fan of New Year! however this year I’ve been looking ahead much more than I do normally. Next year, Insha Allah, I will be 30; and whether relevant or not, this feels immensely significant. It feels like a departure from the past, from my twenties, from the early part of my life in to a new faze! I always used to ponder 30 through the trauma of my twenties, thinking that by this juncture I’d be settled, with children, or a good career, strong achievements. Of course; we plan, and Allah plans better than us! However; I feel that the pain of the last few years has indirectly given me a lisence to dwell on my sorrow and my hurt. We all have baggage; and some we ditch and some we carry on, but 2012 has to be the year of rebirth, of letting go, of looking forward and ahead. With time comes certainty; and though I’ve had my time, I have to make certainty happen. Since 2007, I’ve been mourning the loss of someone I believe should still be in my world. They are not in my world, for all kinds of reasons and I must accept this and move on. I must learn to celebrate my successes and turn the failures in to cause to reflect. During my early twenties I had a wealth of personal/professional achievements and I need to cultivate new ones! A person’s value is in what they generate for the universe; and I’ve not yet generated enough! 2012, Insha Allah, will be the year of more writing, of planning and action; and the realisation of projects I’ve only been planning till now. In the chaos of recent months, I realise I haven’t devoted enough time to the blog! This wasn’t just about juggling commitments; it was also because I realised that certain figures from the past are reading this blog, and lets just say I’d rather they didn’t! there is allot I’d like to say, but disclosure to their eyes feels destructive! The blog might well be going private next year; but to all those who follow me and message on a regular basis; you’ll be notified and be given plenty of time to join me on the private blog; and of course you can bring friends and associates; I have no problem with strangers becoming friends over here; but when the past tries to reinvent itself on here; its time to break the cycles!
If we reflect on the economy, the violence, the politics and injustices of the current time, there really wouldn’t be much to look forward to in 2012! However change begins with the circle around you. I’m sure we will each have our own hopes and prayers for 2012; but my prayer for the year has to be; asking Allah for the courage to face truth and falsehood for what they really are. To embrace the truth and not run from it. To love and be loved, to nurture and be nurtured, to learn to give as I receive and to act upon my heart when it calls me to action!
May 2012 be a year of discovery for you all; and grant you the blessings you desire for yourselves! Thank you for travelling with me through the year that has past; and I look forward to hearing more from each of you in 2012.
With peace, love, prayers and all good things!

Allah, in other words.

2011-12-18T15:57:00.000-08:00

Ever since the commencement of Muharram, and even more so since the Christmas period came upon us, I’ve been pondering the question of my own personal connection with God, with Allah (SWT). It’s a question I think we all return to, and all are forced to reflect upon at various junctures during our earthly journey. Sometimes my connection feels good, feels strong and in sink; but more often than not, I feel detached, disconnected, unable to establish what I often think of as that broadband connection with Allah (SWT) that all believers need as a pivotal force for their continued earthly growth and sustenance. Muharram seemed to bring it home to me, because I was spending more time in the mosque. Cramped up against the wall with chatting women and screaming children all around me, I felt defeated, angry at myself for not getting in to the zone or not being so at ease with the environment as they seemed to be. I felt uncomfortable in the mosque, and disjointed when I chose to worship at home, as though I had let the community down by preferring disassociation. These issues are all connected to other issues, possibly warranting posts of their own, but all of them pointed back to one thing for me; prayer! Salat after all, is the driving force; the backbone of the Muslim’s constant communication with Allah (SWT). I perform ablution, I dress in hijab; and I stand reverently reciting the Arabic words, yet it doesn’t feel right, doesn’t feel deep enough to reach the places where my heart yearns to go! Often I feel as though, if I could just find the words, not any words, but the right words, then the connection would feel real. I want to be able to communicate with my Allah in the way I can type on this blog, in the way that I can lift the phone to a dear friend, or share a few lines via twitter! And its twitter that answered my question! How often have you marvelled at all the infinite possibilities you can convey in 140 characters? I used to think that some one who rambles as much as I do would never be able to fit in to such a concise little box (you know me, I’m not good with conforming and boxes!), yet twitter works for me and for billions of others around the world! This theme was further emphasised while listening to ‘Something Understood on Radio 4 this morning, as they discussed the 99 words that summarised life! It was deeply moving listening to the poetry, music and words of choice that people had chosen to illustrate the meanings of their respective journeys. As I listened, I realised that I could place the words in to 2 categories; attributes, such as goodness, love, kindness, passion etc, to nouns like birds, trees, flowers, animals, rain. These attributes must surely feel familiar to you; after all, most of them are encapsulated within the 99 names attributed to Allah (SWT). As for the nature and the nouns; aren’t they all designed by the one who holds all manner of beautiful attributes? And how relevant it was, that they chose 99 words, out of all the numbers they might have chosen! That’s when I realised; that connecting with the creator is not quite the great mystery many religious scholars would have us believe! Hadaith tell us that the qur’an can be summarised in 3 recitations of sura ekhlas! Yet the first word of the Qur’an to be revealed was ‘Iqra (Read). Reading will take you on all manner of journeys, to all kinds of exciting or disturbing places, life changing places and mundane spaces, yet to really connect with the creator is to strip back all of the knowledge we try to hide behind. It is to tare open the heart and connect at an elemental basic level, where words and space and time become irrelevant, and only the relationship, the reality, exist. You don’t need philosophy to tell you that, nor do you need mosques books and academia to take you to that place. Use your own words, and trust the connection that is unique to your own soul; live it, breathe it, speak it and follow it; life, and loving Allah really are that simple!

The vallue Of a teardrop

2011-12-03T17:47:00.000-08:00

As you travel through the journey that is Muharram, let the below be your guide for all your interactions with the non-shia and those who neither know, nor respect the Ahlulbayt (A.S). While anger and frustration, even despair may come naturally, our imams in their eternal and infinite wisdom show us there is indeed another way, nay, a yardstick by which we measure our own conduct; and if gentleness, courtesy and humility are good enough for our Imams, surely we will be in error who do not hear and act upon their example!

One day Sheikh Bahjat (ra)talked about the generosity of the Imams (as) saying: ‘In Iraq, there is a small town near the place where the Tigris and Euphrates
rivers meet called al-Musayyab. A Shia man used to pass by this town from time to time whenever he went to perform the Ziyarat of the Commander of the
Faithful Imam Ali (as) in Najaf. A Sunni man, too, was residing in this same town.

The latter quite often used to make fun of the Shia man whenever he saw him going to visit the shrine of the Commander of the Faithful Imam Ali (as), so
much so that he dared once to speak ill of the Holy Imam (as).

The Shia was very angry and he complained about this matter to the Commander of the Faithful Imam Ali (as) during one of his visits. During that night,
he saw the Imam (as) in his vision and once more complained to him about this matter.

Imam Ali (as) said, ‘He [the Sunni man] has done us a favour, and we cannot punish him in the life of this world no matter what sins he commits.’

The Shia asked, ‘What favour is it? Did he do you a favour when he dared to speak ill of you?’

The Imam (as) said, ‘No, but he was sitting one day at the meeting place of both rivers, the Tigris and the Euphrates, and he was looking at the Euphrates.
He remembered the story of Karbala and the thirst of Imam al-Husain (as), so he said this to himself: ‘Omer ibn Sa’d was wrong when he killed Imam Hussein
(as) and his followers as they were thirsty, and it was better for him to give them water before killing them.’

A tear trickled down his eyes out of grief for Abu Abdullah Al-Hussein (as); therefore, it became mandatory on us never to punish him in this life.’

The Shia says, I woke up from my sleep and returned to al-Musayyab and met the Sunni man on the road. He said to me in ridicule: ‘Did you visit your Imam,
and did you convey our message to him?!’

I said, ‘Yes, I conveyed your message to him, and I carry his message to you.’

The man laughed and said. ‘What is this message which you carry to me?’

He narrated to him the incident from beginning to end. The Sunni man lowered his head to the ground and kept thinking: ‘O Lord! Nobody at that moment was
near me, and I did not talk about this incident to anyone; so, how did Imam Ali (as) become familiar with it?’

Then he said, ‘I testify that there is no God save Allah, and that Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah, and that Ali, the Commander of the Faithful, is a
friend of Allah and the Wasi of the Messenger of Allah.’

From the book: “ Uswat Al-Aarifeen A Look at the Life of Ayatullah Bahjat” under the chapter: Tales Narrated by Grand Ayatullah Sheikh Bahjat, title: Clemency
and Generosity of the Imams (as)

A Message from Muharram!

2011-11-19T16:10:00.000-08:00

Salaam …, hi!
How are you?
Its been a while since we talked; I thought you and I should speak, should reconnect, before the mist descends, before it all kicks off! I know its hard, during the first 10 days of my reappearance to keep the focus at times. Once you’ve begun, it can all get a bit too much; and right now, there is some time, some space to think, but there looms the question, where to begin?
I don’t want to intrude on your weekend, I know you’ve some work to do and some sleep to catch up on! Its just …, I saw you, watching me, looking in to me with a mixture of fear and excitement upon your face. Opening me up again is a bit like opening Pandora’s box, or a chest full of treasure with unknown ramifications. Like a writer, embarking on that prize-winning novel, yet not knowing where the pen should fall. I thought I could make it easier for you. I know you feel a bit estranged from me, after all, you and I have such an odd relationship; we are so distant, yet we know each other so well! You might think I’ve been far from you, but I’ve been watching you; I watch you all the time, from the moment you shed those farewell tears, to the moment when you wash and fold up your black dresses for another year. I watch you torn between drowning in me, and re-entering the real world; the first time you laugh after I’ve gone, the first time you smile or hear music played, all feel like such an effort, such a betrayal. Yet with time it gets easier, I drift in to the sorrow and the wonder of your past for another year; and time moves on, and people come and go, and sometimes you remember me, more often you forget, I remain passive, in pending, just waiting for you to look over your shoulder. You hear my name in different circles, and I watch your eyes; I watch you shiver, freeze with recollection. Time draws in and nearer and nearer, and you sense my arrival with the ice that’s in the air. You look around you at the destruction you create with your own hands and you cry out to me, longing for me to embrace you like the darkest, most anonymous of nights. Pain engulfs you and you come back to your axis; and that’s how I touch you, at a level that’s so elemental, beyond your understanding, as though the scales had been lifted from your eyes for just 10 days, you see me for what I am and so through me, your soul becomes a mirror of my meaning, reflecting my message to the world around you. That’s why I love you, and that’s why I have been longing to visit you again. Don’t fret over arrangements for me, don’t agonise over my visit. You’ve nothing to fear from me! I just want you to be yourself. I love the way you cry for me, the commitment you offer exclusively to me. I love the reality that my tears are the only tears you do not question. I want to renew you, refresh you and energise you through the pain of my message and the depths of its meaning. I desire that you take from it, the direction you need for the many challenges that lie ahead, because I cannot hold you after my departure; each time my Imam dies, a part of me dies with him; and I leave the rest in your arms for you to carry on with you. If I were to ask anything of you, it would be only that you make sure your people know me, truly know me. Don’t let them get lost in rituals, politics or empty gestures. Don’t let my scholars be taken in by the elevated position their speeches in this month give them. They have an important job to do, if they only knew it. Keep things simple, keep yourself away from gatherings if they distract you from these moments. They are special, and they will be unique to you. Don’t curse yourself when you can’t cry on demand! I want your sincerity, your action and those tears that pour out of your heart, that rack your soul so that the pain penetrates to the depths of your being, I don’t need those tears that are lost on the lashes, and neither move me or you! I see you in the last part of the night, remembering the terror of my last day, wishing you had been there and wishing that in your own craving you could understand me better. I will see you after our journey together. You will be tired, run down and burned out. You will sleep, yet be unable to sleep, haunted by lamentation long after I have gone. So take my hand and travel to the desert with me. Lets travel again my friend, in to the moonlight of a new Muharram. Come, see through my eyes and listen to my story of triumph, terror, tragedy and truth. Hold my hand and lets walk together a while. Lets cover some new ground and revisit those recesses within our shared past that bring you back to the place where you belong. Lets experience 10 days, majliss, noha, Azadari and ashura. Lets cry and read and remember, before we drift apart and return to our ways. I’ll leave you, knowing that I live silently within the softest part of your heart, the only part which is incapable of freezing over and which melts when it hears my name. I’ll let you return to sleep, as I found you, knowing that when you awake, its me you will see, before anything else on this earth. I’ll leave you, knowing that after I’m gone, your life will never be the same again.

Until then, until next Saturday!
Wasalaam.

Where Darkness ends ... there is eid!

2011-11-06T08:27:00.000-08:00

Eid Mubarak When the Darkness ends
where the darkness ends and time begins..
the monotonous endless suffering of sins..
some possess a host of debatable selves,
fake personalities taken from the wooden shelves,
the complacency of establishment shake our deen,
the conflicts of the contemporary universe forever seen...
where the darkness ends and time begins..
forced to adapt ideas and an irrational finding
honour is shattered and honesty in the bins
our ummah cannot lie for our teeth are grinding
continuously we betray our Lord,.our contradictory influence,
Yet our Lord has never betrayed us..manifesting existence.
where the darkness ends and time begins,
Even now the Universe echoes..Koonfayakoon...
Faith in Allah s.w.t. and everybody wins.
Believer of the final Book, do you not see the crack in the moon,
People of the book- our brothers and sisters -we will meet soon,
Come join us- share our roti and naan-do not stray,
Celebrate with us - as our brothers and sisters spiritually wash their sins away,
we pray for our family-our mothers, brothers, sisters,fathers and neighbours,
we send dua to them at all times- for the rooh never dies,
Please do not deny from our beloved Lord any heavenly favours..
as Darkness ends and the time begins...humankind faintly cries,
For their sins they do despair..gambling..alcohol.womanising..
A deep sense of purpose and meaning to our existence is rising..
Islam binds human consciousness into the heart of a receptive emotion.
Indeed the way is ' salaam'-a genuinely human devotion...
the Haj has ended, the heavens are lit with heavenly light,
haircuts and beads, zum zum drunk and the single sheet so white,
the sins have been vanquished from an indefinable source of inspiration..
our Lord's generosity knows no bounds-the Hajis with their souls glowing bright,
where darkness ends and time begins....its complete aspiration.
So in this fascinating age..Eid Mubarak to one and all.

I wish I was a "Roxana"

2011-10-07T15:55:00.000-07:00

As human rights abuses, injustice, violence and oppression continue to plague the lives of many innocent journalists, activists and civilians in Iran, it seemed fitting on the night before the Birth Anniversary of Imam Ridha (A.S), to reflect on the horror pervading the land where this pure soul now dwells (A.S).
The below was written by Roxana Saberi, author of “Between 2 Worlds”, and who, as you know, serves as a tremendous inspiration to me in both my personal and professional spheres. Roxana articulates far better than I can ever hope to, but as you read on ask yourself how many hadaith you ever read about any one being persecuted for their faith or their cause by the Ahlulbayt (A.S). Ask yourself how many minorities were persecuted by the Ahlulbayt (A.S), or how many bribes were taken by the Ahlulbayt (A.S) in exchange for a freed prisoner or slave? If you haven’t been able to come up with any, then you’ll perhaps appreciate how seeing such atrocities taking place in a Muslim land, and more importantly, in a land of the shia, is such an unthinkable evil; and one we are all in part, responsible for changing. On the eve of our Imam (A.S) birth, may he make us people not just of waiting, but of action; and not just of words, but of purpose, consequence and of real substance when it comes to standing up for truth, and instigating change where it counts, Insha Allah.

The Wall Street Journal
Roxana Saberi
Oct. 6, 2011
Just after my release from a Tehran prison in May 2009, an Iranian prisoner wrote an open letter entitled, “I wish I were a Roxana.” Haleh Rouhi, a follower
of Iran’s minority Baha’i faith, was serving a four-year sentence for antiregime propaganda, although she said she was simply “teaching the alphabet and
numbers” to underserved children.

She was happy I was released but wondered how her case differed from mine and why she had to remain in prison. “What kind of justice system condemned [Roxana]
to such punishment,” Ms. Rouhi asked, “and which justice freed her at such speed?”

I asked myself the same question. Why was I released after 100 days, having appealed an eight-year prison sentence for a trumped-up charge of espionage?
What is clear is that as a foreign citizen, I was fortunate to receive international support, while the plights of other innocent prisoners were less known
outside Iran.

Last month, two American men incarcerated in Iran on accusations of espionage and crossing the border illegally—charges they contested—were freed after
being sentenced to eight years in prison. Their release is welcome news and cause for relief.

At the same time, ordinary Iranians are suffering mounting abuses and prolonged imprisonment for exercising their basic human rights, making Haleh Rouhi’s
question as valid today as it was two years ago. Officials from several countries have called for the release of a handful of Iran’s wrongfully imprisoned
men and women, but this pressure is rarely consistent—and most of Iran’s hundreds of prisoners of conscience have never gained the attention of foreign
governments or mainstream news media. The international community needs to apply the same pressure on Tehran to release these prisoners as it has for high-profile
Western citizens.

At least 28 of Iran’s prisoners of conscience are journalists, according to the media rights group Reporters Without Borders, which ranks Iran the third
largest jail for journalists in the world after Eritrea and China. In addition, six Iranian filmmakers were recently arrested for allegedly cooperating
with BBC Persian. (The station insists no one in Iran works for it.)

Well-known attorneys such as Nasrin Sotoudeh, who has been sentenced to six years in prison, also are locked up in Iran. Last month, Abdolfattah Soltani,
who like Ms. Sotoudeh defended many political prisoners, was arrested for the third time. I first heard of his courage from my cellmates in Tehran’s Evin
Prison. I requested that he represent me, but the prosecutor threatened me against retaining “a human rights lawyer.”

Mr. Soltani was arrested while he prepared to defend several Baha’is detained for providing higher education to other Baha’is barred from university in
Iran because of their religion. He was also an attorney for my two Baha’i cellmates, Fariba Kamalabadi and Mahvash Sabet, who are each serving 20-year
prison sentences for various unsubstantiated charges including espionage.

Most recently, the headlines have focused on Youcef Naderkhani, a Christian convert from Islam who faces possible execution after refusing to renounce his
faith.

Many of Iran’s prisoners of conscience have suffered torture—both physical and psychological. It is common for them to be held in solitary confinement for
months, even years. They often lack adequate access to their families and attorneys and go through sham trials. Some are coerced to give false confessions
and inform on their friends.

If detainees are lucky, their captors offer them release on bail, but the amount is typically exorbitant, and prisoners who can post it tend to live in
fear that they could be sent back to jail any day. At the same time, a rising number of executions has made Iran the world’s largest executioner on a per
capita basis. According to Amnesty International, in 2010, at least 23 Iranian prisoners convicted of politically motivated offenses were executed.

The Iranian regime needs to address human rights violations instead of denying their existence. If Tehran has nothing to hide, it would permit the recently
appointed United Nations special rapporteur on human rights to enter the country. Tehran should also grant access to several other U.N. special experts
who have been blocked from visiting since 2005.

U.N. officials—particularly Secretary-General Ban Ki-Moon and High Commissioner for Human Rights Navi Pillay—plus member states and other individuals must
place constant pressure on Tehran just as they have in cases such as mine. This will bring attention and justice to the real heroes, the everyday Iranians
in prison for pursuing universal human rights and demanding respect for human dignity.
International pressure might not always result in their freedom, but at least they will know they are not alone and can gain courage to carry on. And it
can help Iranian authorities realize that the many faces of their justice system will only continue to isolate the Islamic Republic among the family of
nations.

A letter to Bushra ... On your wedding day ...

2011-09-05T17:32:00.000-07:00

My dear friend, my beloved sister. There are days left, nay, a few hours, till your life changes forever, till your existence is no longer your own, till you become joined, physically, spiritually, in this world, and in the next, to another soul, who is forever your own, and you forever his.
Its hard for me to believe this is really happening, and to reconcile that you are leaving us, that geographically, you are leaving this place, emotionally too, your ties to this place will fade as silken threads, fraying till they barely hold; yet all these things, are secrets to you; half-truths the old and the cynical like me tell you, though they make no sense to you. Nothing makes sense to you beyond the red mendi on your hands, the bangles that sing on your arms and the gold that sparkles around your untouched body and anxious heart. Tears fill your Cole encased lashes and fall down your crystal cheeks, you wonder why you cry, what the soul knows that you don’t, but even the tears do not stem the fire that is gently kindling somewhere within you.
Did you ever know? Did you ever believe this day would come? Do you remember when you and I first met; sitting quietly by the wall in the masjid. You noticed something in my eyes too; and you wanted to understand it. Every one wants to understand the token revert; because they are the stuff of curiosity! Still; you saw something beyond the obvious; and we went for lunch. We talked about life and relationships; and after food; you, I and your sister, sat by the water and poured our hearts out. At that time, your sister was engaged, I was in a broken relationship; and you, well, you had a dream! Years have past since that day; and my duas for you have only ever grown with time. I have to confess that, the dream I saw in your eyes felt far, so far from becoming a reality, but time has brought truth and certainty; today, your sister is married to another man; I have found my soul mate; and you, my sister; your dream is coming true this Saturday; for once, for now and forever!

I’m still lost, trying to understand the look in your eye and the innocence on your face. I wonder what that anticipation must feel like, pure virgin innocence and the knowledge that you have waited and prayed, and fought and then been granted your heart’s greatest wish. Only people like me say it though; express the need to contain it, to bottle such expression and passion. You probably don’t even know what I’m talking about! If I could go back in time I’d experience it, I’d know and taste it. For years, I only linked men to pain and suffering, and when I came to know love, I was too broken to see it in its entirety. These are all things light years away from you tonight as your mendi grows dark, yet I know that when you leave and travel far and return to me, that look in your eyes and sparkle that shines bright from your soul will look different. Those big dark eyes will have slept wide shut and saw too much, and I wonder what happiness and joy and sorrow will fill their mysterious depths. No one can guess tomorrow, yet if I could I’d hold it back; I’d be the dam that saves your precious heart. It feels too heavy a burden for your smile and I know the things you don’t, but tomorrow, your journey will begin and there will be nothing that I can do to soften the blows or the feelings of reality when they take you over.

Just the other day, you asked me for advice, for those things that make a happy marriage. I’m not sure I know what to tell you, I’m not sure any one really knows. Shall I tell you a secret my lovely? Right up till I married Reza, and after too; I had doubts; I questioned myself, wondered if I’d done the right thing. I had lived in a world of pain; and wondered if I might break him too with my sharp edges. Moreover, the strange universe I’ve built around me is insular for the most part, with only room for temporary thunderstorms, no space for stability! Yet one day as we drove to our home in the Tehran mountains with the wind caressing our hair, saying nothing at all, some tears stung my eyes; and I hid them in my head scarf. For the first time, tears of joy filled my eyes. They would visit me sometimes, falling down my face as I scrubbed pots at the kitchen sink, as we watched a film on TV, walked in the park or played with his little nieces. I knew I had found my soul mate; and knew that I could sacrifice my entire existence and beyond for that moment alone. That’s what a happy marriage is; no hearts, flowers or thunder storms. Each season has its time; and there is a place for the shooting star and the lightening, but I thank Allah that you saw the beauty of candlelight in your youth.

My dear believe me, all the duas, all the clichéd wishes people load upon your head are mine too. I too wish for your happiness, your long life, for love to be placed between you and for your marriage to be a source of refuge, comfort and restoration to both of you; an inspiration to others. Know that this love is a trust to you; it might be strong; but its also priceless as the most invaluable gem; and brittle as glass and gold leaf. Keep it close to your heart; and know that when you cry, as you surely will, those tears must be put away till another day. Each time a leave falls down, I am reminded of my tears; and my husband’s smile. Life is short; and if you are alive, be thankful for the time, the day, the moment, remember that only love should shine with the moon after isha.

As you sleep; under the last sky of your single life; sleep well my sister, enjoy the feel of the stars in your eyes; and the angel wings that propel your body on to a new realm of discovery and being. Carry my love with you in the boxes of memories and new beginnings you take with you. Somewhere in the recesses of survival; always remember there is a place, a refuge for you here; and as long as I breathe; my space is yours; and my heart will keep hoping, keep reaching out, keep sustaining you; where you are; and wherever you need to dwell.

Shaadi Mubarak!

Eid Saeed; on Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday!!

2011-08-31T16:09:00.000-07:00

OK; so, some may say I’m a little late with this; but …, I’m not!!! So there!!
I mean, some people have still to celebrate eid; and will be doing so tomorrow! Our communities really excelled this year in the disunity stakes! It wasn’t only sunis and shias celebrating eid on different days, but even the shia couldn’t agree; many already announcing eid in the masjids before the marjah they claim to follow had given instructions! Ah well; each to his own! Rightly or wrongly, I’m not going to get in to the moon sighting debate; each one has his/her logic, and Allah (SWT) knows best! But wherever you are, and whenever you chose/choose to celebrate, let me take this opportunity to wish you a very happy, healthy; and peaceful eid from Reza and I! May Allah (SWT) forgive our sins, accept our good deeds/fasting during the month of Ramadhan and make this eid a source of renewal and cleansing for us, both physically and spiritually: aameen!

So: what did I do? Well, eid felt like a bit of a washout this year! if you’ve been following this blog for some time, you’ll know that eid and I have a bit of a strange relationship, somehow, my eid never seems to quite work out right! The only eid that really stands out for me was last year, and the friends I spent that day with were not in town! Our community chose to mark eid today; but the bulk of those around me were celebrating yesterday, which made me feel rather odd! In any case, I was working on both days and that was the major washout factor which cancelled out doing any thing significant! This morning I woke up, took a bath, prayed, then took care of some house duties that needed taken care of! I then popped over to Masooma’s for eid breakfast (chana puri and halwa no less! Very tasty!). Any one who does eid breakfast knows, that all you want to do after it is sleep! But no chance of that for me; I was off to work! I got home around 8.30 and had some friends visit me, bringing eid food, we had a bit of a chill together and a few laughs; I then prayed; and am just about to crash for the night; but wanted to wish all of my readers and followers all the best for the days gone by and/or the eid still to come!
To be fair, I think eid felt flat to me, primarily because Reza is still not here, and I think my subconscious had just decided that I wouldn’t celebrate it till he was here beside me. In general though, I think eid does accentuate the gaps in one’s life, especially if you don’t have family to spend it with! Friends have their place, but eid is a family festival and I somehow always feel like an intruder/outsider when I visit/impose on friends on this day, even if they don’t see it that way!
May Allah (SWT) guide us, and our communities to facilitate ease to others in this position!
As an Aside note, I’ve been invited to a very interesting eid gathering this Sunday! This one will feel like an interesting step back in time! See, back in the day, there were not many Muslims in the town where I grew up! The town was small, with only a few Muslim families living on the outskirts. Most of these were doctors working in the large South Lanarkshire Hospital who didn’t want to commute, and the rest were rich business people who wanted to live outside of the city! Any way; needless to say the stifling all-white environment eventually became too much for me and I left! I still visit the town regularly though on account of the fact that my family still live there. During these visits, I haven’t failed to notice all the changes going on around the town; the housing schemes are expanding, the shopping is better and; …, there are way more Muslims than their used to be! So many in fact, that a group of them have got together to campaign for a masjid to be built in the town! Its hardly possible to believe this, but its true; and they’ve invited me to their eid party this Sunday! (big up the EK Muslims Association!). Life really does move in cycles, that’s really been the theme of Ramadhan, indeed, the last few months for me here; but more on that in another post!
For now; eid mubarak to all of you; have a blessed day/days; and remember us in your duas!

Alvida Ramzan Poem.

2011-08-29T16:26:00.000-07:00

I’m sitting in the masjid, back against the wall,
Watching the commotion in the masjid hall.

The last moments of Ramadhan, but no one really cares,
All texting on their Iphones, lost in their worldly affairs.

Its hard to stop the flood of tears, rolling down my face,
Hard to understand the chaos, the smiles that fill this place.

Oh Month of Mercy Ramadhan, its so hard to say goodbye,
While others look forward to eid, all I want to do is cry.

Those nights of worship, reading qur’an, breaking fast together,
As they slip through my shaking hands, who knows if they’ve gone forever!

You ask me why I’m crying, I’d tell you if I could,
But the last moments of Ramadhan are for the most part, misunderstood.

I reflect upon my fasting; I know I found it tough,
Did I give up prayer for sleeping, did I really do enough?

I hang my head in shame, when I think of what I’ve done,
My good deeds are so few, Ramzan was over, before it had begun.

I’m sitting in the masjid, my back against the wall,
The Universe around me heedless, deafened to my call.

I raise my hands in dua, Oh Allah I beg of you,
To forgive me for the sinful things, the wrong I always do!

Oh Allah, Overlook the sin, accept any good you see;
Oh Allah I ask only for your mercy, that you might shower forgiveness upon me.

The last moments of Ramadhan, I’m so sad to see them go:
My heart is heavy, head lowered, tears not failing to flow.

The masjid is so busy, so many gathered here;
Lost in talk of eid clothes letting the blessed month disappear.

Oh Allah, For the good we did, and all that we forgot;
I pray that you accept us, for what we are and what we’re not.

Purify and change us, I beg you from the heart;
Let this month not be forgotten, but be a chance for a new start.

For the good that I’ve accomplished, let it carry on;
Let my iman not grow weak and fail when this month has past and gone.

As the masjid fills up further, the group rush for the food,
Oh Allah try to make them see, speak to them if you could.

Let them not forget Ramadhan, the opportunity they had,
I know its eid tomorrow, but I can’t help feeling sad.

For Ramadhan is jannah, sent down upon the earth;
A month without the shaytan, the chance for a rebirth.

Now the month is over, its so hard to go on,
But its up to us to strive forward, if we want to reach that throne.

I’m sitting in the masjid, just before the Last adhan;
And I’m remembering a hadaith, read it if you can.

It talks about dua in these last moments of the fast,
And says that if their good for you, they will indeed come true at last.

SO as I sit here in the masjid, I beg you with a tear;
Let this not be my last Ramzan, let me fast again next year.

Keep me strong in the months ahead, ever in your way,
So that I get closer to Ramadhan, through my serving every day.
I sit here in the masjid, and warn you every one;
Ramadhan might be over, but the real test’s just begun!

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Who's Heaven Is It Anyway?

2011-08-28T10:09:00.000-07:00

Speak to any Reverted Muslim about the challenges they face, and he/she will almost certainly flag up the issue of family. I don’t just mean the day-to-day disagreements over food, dress, lifestyle, alcohol etc, but rather, what comes after all that. Whether we admit it publicly or not, most of us reverts worry ourselves constantly about family, and about the idea that if/when we ever reach Jannah, will our families have made it there too? How difficult it is when a loved one passes away, and although he/she may have been close to you, they were not on deen and therefore their future remains for the most part, uncertain. I’m no exception; I worry about this too, yet whether its utopian or unrealistic of me, I’ve always found discussions/speculations about jannah very difficult to handle! Of course, growing up an in extremist Christian family, I knew about heaven and hell; and I knew who was expected to go there. It wasn’t just the non-Christians who were under threat in our world; I was conditioned to believe that Catholics, Baptists, Adventists, in short, any one who did not believe in our specific cult/brand of Christianity would have “conditional leave to remain” stamped categorically across their heavenly passports. Even in my childhood, I began to view heaven as something of a ‘inner sanctum boys club, where every one wore wool suits, sang loud hymns and didn’t smile very much! and if you are smiling at this description, you shouldn’t! the apple didn’t fall far from the tree when it came to Islam! Speak to any Wahabi/Salafi, and they’ll be only too happy to tell you about all the shias/Sufis and ahmadiyas and so on who won’t be getting to Jannah, till you’ll be left reeling at the idea of an empty expanse of beautiful gardens, with no one to live in them! Some religious schools have speculated about hell, and wondered if the trial and the fire are merely metaphors; and wonder whether the test is really referring to the misery of this world; and who can blame them! This is after all, a tough place to be; and if we can’t reach a consensus down here, will the life to come really be any better? Is it really possible to even start envisioning a world better than this world in our current transitory state, or are we simply too desensitised to this existence to understand jannah for what it really is. I was reading a blog post yesterday which got me contemplating all this and really brought the desensitising point home to me. Just as I did above, the sister lamented issues with non-Muslim family, the stress caused etc, but she then went on to say that she was comforted by the idea that in jannah, we won’t cry, we won’t be sorrowful, won’t have negative thoughts etc, coupled with the fact that, every one will be so concerned with his/her own fate on judgement day, that by the time they reach jannah, they won’t much care about who is and who isn’t with them! This really made me shiver! Can Muslims really be so unfeeling? Is all of our striving and struggling in this world only so that we can reach an even higher plane of ‘detachment? Do my tears fall just so that I can attain numbness in the life to come? I don’t think so and I pray that sister is wrong!
The truth is that when it comes to Jannah, we just don’t know! In the same way that Allah (SWT) has only shared snippets of his wisdom with us, with respect to our limited intellects. We are given the raw materials, and some of the tools to interpret them via the hadaith, but there are gaps, there are grey areas and questions, and I prefer to think those exist to stop us falling in to the value judgements we still seem programmed to drag up! Call me a dreamer, but I can’t quite get my head around the “Only Muslims get a good akhira” school of thought, I’m not sure I’m the person to make that call. Who is to say that one of another faith was not stronger in their practise, their tawheed than I was? And who is to say that one of no faith at all didn’t have a better sense of human values, of community, than I did? My mind just doesn’t accept it! and similarly, I can’t imagine a heaven where we all float around like clouds in our own unique bubbles of “me, myself and I”, it hardly seems worth it! isn’t that what so many of us spend our time doing down here? I can’t imagine that we wouldn’t seek out our families, our loved ones, our friends, and those who inspired us in this world. I can’t imagine that we wouldn’t ache to be close to the Ahlulbayt (A.S) and to our prophet (PBUH), that we wouldn’t ache for their closeness and long to spend hours learning at their feet, what would have been the point of all this suffering if not to finally bask in the environment of those who truly bring us tranquillity?
Its not just about happiness either! I can’t imagine that I wouldn’t cry for my Imam (A.S) in Jannah, that I wouldn’t pray and worship and not be overcome with shukr for the tests I’ve past and the barriers I have overcome. For some one like me who has never seen with my eyes, wouldn’t I run like a child through beautiful pleasure gardens of fruit and flowers, thanking Allah (SWT) for his creations I can now see? For the paths I can now walk freely without a cane or without a guide?
I sometimes wonder if our abstract interpretations of Jannah come from the fact that most of us can’t/don’t talk about death, or relate to it in the way we relate to our living, breathing selves. The life to come is remote from us, just as death is seen as distant, yet the irony is that the finality of death is the one thing we shall all share/experience, and the life to come, if we believe in it as a fundamental of our faith; is something we will all share too, regardless of where/how we view it manifesting. Visit any major city, and you’ll almost certainly see a monument to death at its centre; whether the cenotaph in London, or the Shrine of Imam Hussain in Karbala; both tell a similar story! Some might argue that the monuments are simply evidence of a growing city’s need to defend its self and sacrifice for its acquired assets, however I wonder if it is more to do with our need to reflect, even in our hectic lifestyles and ever increasing sense of ‘here and now, to be reminded of what is real! And that’s how I think of jannah; as reality, and as seeing reality for what it really is. Sure; I pray there are gardens, and beautiful things, and peace and no negativity, but does that really mean veging on a recliner with endless supplies of virgins to attend to your every need? I don’t think so! Surely the only way to attain lasting tranquillity is to wake up, to connect the soul to what is real, so that the inner sight is the vehicle through which we see; and the soul hears songs of truth; rather than fleeting fancies from the self!

As Ramadhan draws to a close, I pray that we all awaken our hearts to what is real. I pray that you, that I, and all reading this, continue to strive for, and Insha Allah to attain, the heaven beyond this world; and that if/when we reach it, that it is a place of learning, sharing, seeing each other as equals, and opening our eyes to all those essences we were blind to on this earth, and Allah (SWT) knows best.

Fake Shaikhs and Engineered Aalams!

2011-08-15T13:08:00.000-07:00

On the 14th of August, while Pakistan was basking in the glory of its Independence day Celebrations, a whole new brand of high Drama was slowly unfolding for the country, a drama that would take the internet by storm, and that would cause the Muslim world to debate the ethics and standing of one of Pakistan’s biggest modern-day scholars!
Every one is talking about Amir Liaqat, and as has become common place; their talking for the wrong reasons!
For those of you who are not Urdu speakers, and therefore not familiar with the man; let me go back a little! Amir Liaqat Hussain is a former politician, turned TV personality. He was born to a Shia father and Suni mother, and the intersectarian nature of his life affected his judgements considerably (though it is debatable whether in a positive, or negative manner!). Amir Liaqat was a member of the MQM, even rising to the position of Secretary for Religious Affairs in 2005. He was in post at the time of the ‘Red Mosque crisis, where he was criticised strongly for his leniency towards the militants, even though verbally, he spoke out against extremism and terrorism. He was promptly demoted from within the MQM, thus initiating a new Chapter of his life, the Chapter which relates to the incident in question. He became heavily involved in sectarian/interfaith dialogue, as a result of joining Geo Television, where he became lead presenter of ‘Aalam online, a show featuring scholars from both suni/shia schools, inviting debate/questions and answers from the viewing public. The show brought Amir Liaqat a meteoric rise to fame, generating public speaking engagements from the likes of the Saudi King and the Arabian Interfaith Council!
I first came to know of Amir Liaqat when I joined Geo back in 2003. Though I did not work directly for Aalam Online, I did work within the team that produced it, and Amir was one of those larger than life figures who is impossible to ignore! I was interested in him, not least because of his apparent passion for interfaith! However, as is often the case when faced with such charisma, the myth did not cut the mustard when under scrutiny! Amir Liaqat was quite the showman, a trait which is arguably par for the course when broadcasting across 4 continents to the Muslim Nations of the world! However, he took the show/drama of the whole thing to the extreme! He seemed obsessed with inducing shock and violent reactions, he once presented a programme sitting inside a grave (you’ll find clips of it online), in order to highlight fear of death. He would also stir up a frenzy of tears and anguish while performing duas, particularly during Shaban and Ramadhan, only pausing to ask the staff in his control room “kessa tha mera drama?”. It was when I saw for myself his question about whether or not he had generated enough hype during a show, that I began to wonder if the man was all that he seemed! I often watched him bating suni/shia clerics off against each other, almost urging them on to fight! Such things might seem trivial to those reading this from outside of Pakistan, but in a country where sectarian differences run deep, and where literacy levels are still dangerously low, such ‘bating can potentially have devastating consequences! He began bating shia scholars well in advance of Muharram, on popular suni misconceptions regarding Azadari, the Caliphate of Muawiya and the events of Ashura. His blatant denunciation of shias created hysteria in the community, causing mass attacks on Geo TV Offices in Karachi. Glass was broken, offices looted and staff members injured! The channel desperately wanted rid of him, but what could they do? How can a private channel, already walking a precarious tightrope with the government take an Independent stand against such a huge figure? For all Liaqat’s enemies, his supporters had the potential to generate equal hysteria in their own way! His Production team were helpless. I lived in a shared flat in those days, and it was always filled to capacity each Sunday with journalists who came over to eat parathas and drink a whole lot of masala chai! Liaqat sadly formed the bulk of many a Sunday debate! While many hands were tied, emotions ran high and people were already planning ‘direct action! I clearly remember standing in my Goolshin Flat, waiting for another kettle of tea to boil! A Famous producer (you know who you are, I heard you in the video and I know you read this blog!), was with me and commented “I have so much behind-the-scenes footage of this man you wouldn’t believe it! Roshni, all I have to do is release it to the public, and then watch!”.
Now, I’m not saying this individual was responsible for last night’s events, however its easy to see the touch paper for the video was born way back then. I left Karachi in 2005, thus leaving Jang to fight their own battles with Amir Liaqat! It would be another 3 years before Geo could finally put Amir’s drama to bed! In September 2008, Amir held a TV Debate on the subject of Ahmadiya Muslims, and whether or not they fall within the boundaries of what is considered Islam. His views were extremely encyteful; with one of his fellow scholars saying that Ahmadiyas could legitimately be killed by Muslims for their ‘false beliefs! 24 hours later, 2 Ahmadiyas were shot dead in a district of Rural Sindh! Only then, were the real questions asked, MQM Finally revoked his membership, thus granting Geo the green light to close the door on Liaqat once and for all!
Amir’s story didn’t end here however; and within months, he was appointed Chief Executive of Q TV (the Islamic Channel owned by the ARY Group), where he presented ‘Aalam or Aalam, which was essentially a rebranded version of Aalam online with extra added Liaqat! His bating went on pretty much as before, only with the International power of ARY behind him, he appeared invincible once more! That is, until last night! Just after midnight on August 15th, a video appeared on the Leading Social networking sites entitled “Behind the Scenes with Aalam Online”. The film was composed of a series of uncut clips, depicting Amir’s behaviour on set, but away from the eyes of his viewers! The film shows him using some of the most fowl Obscenities, making crude hand gestures, making fun of Islam/scholars and certain schools of thought, swearing with religious texts before him or in his hands and verbally abusing members of his staff! Despite having allot of direct contact with Liaqat, the footage was allot worse than any thing I had ever seen before! To say I was shocked, was an under-statement! I might have expected this 5 years ago, but why now? And who had been sitting on this material for this long? Within hours, the film had gone viral! Amir appealed via his lawyers to have The video removed by Geo, given that technically the material belonged to them, however Geo were fighting a battle they had already lost! The film was every where; and people reposted links as quickly as they were taken down! Today, Amir Liaqat devoted around 15 minutes of his TV show Aalam or Aalam, to condemn the film and say it is fake, that it is an inside job made by a “certain channel”, designed to create enmity and prevent Islam spreading! If you’ve seen this film, I welcome your thoughts! As a journalist however, I do have to question how/what he means by calling the film fake! Of course, it has been edited; but it is a series of clips from incidents that did take place involving Liaqat, many of which have been witnessed by 7 plus people from his production team, not including guests or any one else who may have been on set. At least one of the incidents highlighted took place in my presence. A woman had telephoned to ask a question regarding suicide in Islam. I should point out that, because the programme is recorded, all of Liaqat’s calls were screened and only recordings of the questions played! A woman rang to ask if suicide was forgiven for a woman who performed it to save her own honour/modesty, doubtless connected to the practise of honour killings which still exist in parts of Pakistan. The Aalam present began to answer the question, while Liaqat burst in to uncontrollable fits of laughter and could not be consoled by any of his team! Interestingly, the accompanying scholars did not offer any Nasiha or try to stop him; whether out of fear or collusion, I don’t know, but they remained quiet! I did not think too much of the incident at the time, other than to recognise that it reaffirmed my disgust in the man! However seeing it before me on the net today reminded me of sitting in the MCR watching it happen! There was also the “kessa tha mere drama?” question which I also witnessed. Whether it was the same clip I don’t know, however a close friend of mine was present in the clip uploaded. The thing is, to say the film is “fake”, would suggest someone had engineered/created images that did not take place, did not exist in real, but significantly, Amir Liaqat has not implicitly denied being the subject in the video, of course: it would be impossible for him to do so! Say for example someone got hold of my 2 wedding films. They made a simulated film of my first marriage and my marriage to Reza, and mixed up the order. They may try to say this is proof I married my first husband last year. The statement from the film would be inaccurate, however it would not detract from the fact that 2 marriages had taken place! Its impossible to tell what will happen to Amir Liaqat; on one hand his superiors at ARY may choose to take a blind eye! After all, any one who’s worked in Pakistani media knows how charged life is, what’s a few ma/ben gaalian among friends! On the other hand, it seems the evidence against Liaqat keeps on piling up, and I doubt those behind the video will give up now! Even if they try; the video has already gone viral online; and in many respects, the damage is probably done!
The whole scandal also brings in to question the status enjoyed by these individuals, re: the title of this post!
There is no denying that Amir Liaqat is in the wrong here, but, who elevated him to such a position where his wrong-doing would create outrage on epidemic proportions?
Geo took him on, but his political position alone was not enough to make him stick; Amir rose to fame, quite simply because the international community gave him a lisence to do so! I’ve heard of at least 3 well known Islamic scholars in the past week or so who have been engaging in, lets say, questionable behaviour, yet should we really expect any different? After all; we are all human, we are all prone to sin and error. While we might expect knowledge to generate higher levels of conduct, I’m personally inclined towards the view that the higher you climb, the harder you fall!
5 years ago, a Pakistani newspaper investigation in to Liaqat found his degree certificates (both BA and PHD), were fake, yet this didn’t appear to impact upon his mass popularity. What do we learn about a society that puts personality over knowledge, that places rhetoric above fact, confidence above legitimacy?
I wonder if what really hurts about the Liaqat drama is the knowledge that we created aspects of it with our own hands! I can only pray that the TV officials and the inner sanctum around Amir Liaqat find the courage during this blessed month to do the right thing, and that the rest of us start to serve as the yard stick to measure excellence, rather than the measure of self-made success!

Jug Jug Geeay mera Pyara Watan!!

2011-08-14T08:29:00.000-07:00

The day sort-of crept up on me! I’ve been lost in the beauty of Ramadhan, fasting, praying, finding energy reserves I never knew existed before! Then, I had a wedding to attend last night, in which I was heavily involved! By the time we had the niqah, ate and did the clearing up, it was 2 AM! I came home, prayed, had sehri and was in bed by 4! As you might expect; I resurfaced very late on in the day, only to be greeted by national songs and Pakistani flags bursting out from every angle at me via the TV!! Of course: it was 14th August; and you know the drill; and wherever you are in the world, you can’t fail to be reminded of exactly what this date means! Yom-e-azadi!
I’ve written before on this blog about my relationship with Pakistan; and how this Independence day contains such mixed emotions for me: happiness as I celebrate with those far away, yet sadness that I am not with them. Despite my strange international connections, there is a portion of me that will be forever Pakistani! And that’s why some very different emotions filled my heart this morning as I surveyed the scenes of celebration! I wondered how the nation could find joy in this day that fell among strikes, sectarian violence, homelessness incurred by the flood damage and political turmoil! I wondered if it was really possible to smile, to sing, to forget, even for a day, just how much had been lost and how dangerous the road ahead still remained!
Yet as I watched the national commemorations presided over by Pakistan’s prime Minister, I saw something new in the faces of the participants. This year’s festivities were entirely devoted to the leaders of the future, and Subhan Allah! What leaders they are! The youth performed poetry, songs, naats and reflective spoken word items. Urdu was not the predominant language; instead the youth chose to perform in English, and that too, English speeches delivered with such eloquence you’d struggle to identify their mother language was something different!
Contrary to previous years, the poetry was not all about 1947, and was a welcome departure from the flowery rhetoric which carries little resonance with the situation on the ground! Instead, the participants spoke of the trauma around them, they wrote of the disasters and spoke of the trials before their generation. Yet through the difficulties, they clearly recognised the brotherhood which the floods had brought out! They talked of the spirit of sacrifice and what it has done, and continues to bring to their nation. Their lectures were powerful yet realistic, passionate, but not idealistic! Call me naive or out of touch, because I may well be! But this new generation is a new phenomenon; a brand of youth I did not have the pleasure of meeting during my time in the country! They are inwardly focused, yet outward looking! Significantly, they talked about the dangers of a brain drain on the country and stressed the importance of staying to develop the country to their peers! In their different tribes, languages and cultures, they represented diversity at its best; and this is something I can relate to; for how embracing is a nation of diversity when a troubled, Ethnically confused soul can find her home on its shores! The news headlines from Pakistan today reported 4 members of 1 family had been drugged, shot and left to fester in a locked house by the father of the family, and that yet more bombs had exploded in Balochistan! Yet through it all, a new generation has new plans, and a fresh, much-needed change, and they are ready to make it happen! While we can’t dream, can’t force them to run before they can walk, its impossible not to wonder if the sectarian, racist nature of parties such as the MQM, or the questionable motives of the big 3 might just find themselves outlawed in this new land of tomorrow’s leaders!
When all is said and done, Pakistan has the potential for a bright future, but it is up to us to make it so. Even if we are far away, only by supporting and nurturing the passion of days like this and of ambitions such as those displayed by the young people, can we ever hope to progress from the state we find ourselves in. There is always hope in the darkest of nights; one candle has the power to light thousands, but its up to us to take that step, to spread that light. Celebrate this day as you must, but never lose sight of what you can and should do, and never let go of those hands that are striving for a brighter day, an Independence day to be truly proud of.

To the land that I love, and the land I left behind. You may be far from sight, yet you live on in my heart, and whenever you seek light, I shall be there to decorate your skies with the moon and the stars to light the lanterns of your precious soil,
Pakistan Zindabad.

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London's Burning!

2011-08-09T16:18:00.000-07:00

What makes a terrorist?
An anarchist? A lost soul? What is that fundamental tipping point that places one in such a corner where violence/destruction are viewed as the absolute, only options?
This is a theme which has been buzzing around in my mind since reading ‘Growing up Binladin, by Jean Sasson. When examining the life of Osama through his son’s eyes, we see that he was not simply a jihadist in embryo, as Western Media would have us believe! Rather there is a process, an alienation, a gradual decline in One’s ability to rationale, to logic, to meaning, which eventually has to manifest its self in mindless terror, but what is it! how does it happen and how can we change it?
While on a different scale from the violence exhibited by Osama Binladin and his cronies, The ongoing Riots in London are forcing UK government/law makers to ask very similar questions! Like millions around the world, I woke in horror on Sunday morning to see the dramatically altered Capital city that lay before me; a place I didn’t know, a place I did not want to know! According to media reports, the violence was sparked by the death of Mark Duggan, a young man who was apparently shot by the police, allegedly in self-defence! Initial reports claimed Duggan was carrying a weapon, and had apparently fired on the police, however new evidence suggests the bullet found on the police side was one of their own, with no traces of Duggan’s DNA on it. The Police Complaints commission are currently undertaking an in-depth investigation in to Duggan’s death, but just like the riots in Libya, Tunisia etc, Duggan was the straw that broke the proverbial Camel’s back! The violence is rather the result of deteriorating relations between the police and the youth of deprived, inner-city localities across Britain! Many also blame government cuts and their disproportionate affects on the poorest in society: similar riots took place in London during the eighties, and significantly; during the previous conservative government lead by Margaret Thatcher!
That, is the ‘Official line, the book response! That’s what they say; and it doubtless helps to have a stock answer! But what is the real truth? What, how, and above all, why!
I’m the last person to answer those questions I’m afraid! However, I do want to share some observances thus far! To start with, forgive me for stating the obvious, but what does random hate-filled violence against local businesses have to do with protesting against the police? Seriously! As a disability activist, I’ve engaged in plenty of direct action in my time, and even been arrested for my troubles! I’ve chained myself to railings and I’ve indulged in the odd random sit-in! Direct action has always equalled the demonstration of commitment that is required when words simply aren’t enough! It doesn’t mean violence, but it means action; a display of solidarity and decisiveness! There have been some prominent names in direct action/socialism fluttering lasciviously on the fringes of these protests, including the poet and fellow disability activist Jody McIntyre! It shocks me that none of them saw fit to take the disillusioned youth in hand so that they could at least channel their anger more affectively! Moreover, even if violence had been condoned, one would expect them to be targeting government buildings, police stations and town halls! I’m not suggesting for a moment this would make it OK, however it would offer an explanation and a statement about the route cause of the violence! This morning, I remain haunted by images of African and Asian shopkeepers, local business owners standing shocked and weeping beside their life’s work; their burnt out shops, praying and wondering how they’ll ever be able to rebuild a legacy for their children. The violence escalates and spreads; first Tottenham, then East London, West London, even the tranquil leafy suburbs of Croydon were hit! Tonight, the riots make an appearance in Northern England, and who knows whether Scotland will be next! Jody McIntyre and co remain strangely silent! Moreover, social networking sites have been jammed with their empty justifications and attempts at solidarity! The media, desperate for a scapegoat, blames said social networking for the violence, and people who don’t have the conviction to hit the streets spread the news and the latest looting locations because it makes them feel like they’ve contributed, claimed a slice of the cake! Its all so difficult, so mindless, so impossible to comprehend!
A friend politely and definitively suggested to me that I may be too old to get it, and maybe that’s true! Yet though my heart doesn’t accept it, I do understand aspects of the pain! There is something fundamentally wrong with a society that allows young people to believe that such violence is the only way they can be heard. Even the most basic psychology tells us that one who feels part of his/her community would absolutely not loot it from within, yet this is exactly what we see taking place! Some might think it an easy place to be, but as some one who spent around 18 months drowning in unemployment and honestly not knowing how I’d keep a roof over my head, I feel allot of what they express! They leave their homes, adorned with labels saying “Poor”, “black”, “young”, “uneducated”, “product of single-parent family”, “long-term Unemployed”, …, and so it goes! These labels are an instant appellant to those who potentially could unlock their marginalisation, and so they turn their backs, and another door is locked for them. I wear labels too as a disabled Muslim woman, I’ve experienced the discrimination and the locked doors; and I know there is a very fine line between seeking out meaningful rebuttals, or simply letting go!
To my Muslim readers, I don’t want you to think for a second that this is simply a Western Issue! Most of you are old enough to remember the Bradford Riots, and if not, learn about them! Granted, faith leaders have turned out to help with the clean-up, and the mosques have opened their doors offering food and shelter to those affected by the violence, a welcome and a positive change! However, what happened before that, to bring us to this point! When did we, as Muslims, as an umma, reach this place, where “Im the only one that matters”. A place, where, as long as I can lock the doors of my large, suburban house and feel safe, it doesn’t really matter what’s happening outside! Call me harsh, but this is the reality for many Muslims these days and Its something I for one am not proud of! We are fantastic at giving charity, Mashallah, but how many of us send fortunes to the East, when people are dying, homeless, hungry and suffering here at home! Muslim youth, and the state of our communities is a whole other subject, but as another night of violence unfolds on British Streets, let us start to ask what we, as a people, have left undone! Let as ponder upon the message we want to send out to wider society as a result of the said violence, and most importantly, let us reflect upon the questions I asked at the beginning of this post: what makes a terrorist? An anarchist? A lost soul?
Maybe, if we identify the components and tees them apart, then maybe we can stop the next generation of youth fighting the same misplaced fights, and facing the same locked doors!

My Reasonable Ramadhan Adjustments!

2011-08-03T15:11:00.000-07:00

Earlier on today the BBC Ouch team were in touch with me, you may recall I made a short film regarding my Life/activism for them last year! They got in touch because they are putting together a series of articles on ramadhan; in particular, looking at how disabled people observe this blessed month!
While talking to them, it occurred to me that some of you might be interested in my own observances, as a visually impaired person, and so I’ll talk about some of them below; the good, the bad, the bazaar and the truly beautiful!

Of course, given that my impairment has been with me from birth and does not affect my general health, it has no baring on whether or not I can fast! Unfortunately however, I also have a chronic migraine condition which is controlled by medication, exercise and a special diet regime. I have pain almost every day that I am fasting, but most of the time it is bearable; if the pain becomes too much, then I sometimes have to miss out on fasts.

My preparations for Ramadhan begin well in advance! Starting with the saga of time tables! I don’t know how things are in your respective cities, but here in Glasgow we have a staggering 6 timetables! These usually float around the masjids, and are rarely put up online! If they are circulated via Email, its usually in Arabic/PDF or graphics texts which my computer cannot read! So, I usually visit my mowlana in advance, determine with him which is the correct timetable and note down the timings for each day either in Braille or on my computer!
I then do my food preparation: you know, the stuff most women have to do; preparing/freezing dishes in advance, stocking up the cupboards, making spice mixes and grinding up herbs to make juices and syrups!
I also take a quick look through my wardrobe, not that you need special clothes for Ramadhan! But as you’ll be rushing around, and will be at the mosque quite often, you usually need 2 wash and wear abayat, an extra long Al-Amira hijaab and a comfortable prayer chador, these will get you through!

Normally, people try to withdraw from the computer, internet etc during ramadhan, but not so for the visually impaired Muslim! I usually find I spend more time online during Ramadhan, than any other time of the year! this is because so few Islamic books are provided in Braille, Audio etc. I do most of my book reading online, via sites such as al-Islam.org
I enjoy reading my duas from duas.org because I can access Arabic with English translations on the site with ease!
I also use the internet to access Radio Ramadhan broadcasts from around the world, and as I often carry out research and programme sourcing on behalf of Radio Ramadhan Glasgow, I end up with a lot of late nights online!

An important part of Ramadhan is reciting, reflecting, and learning from, the noble Qur’an! However, there is a bit of forward planning that is required for the visually impaired Muslim! For those not familiar with Braille, the language of the visually impaired, it is very bulky in its written form; and very few books are actually produced in Braille! It has only been in the last 3 years that English translations of the qur’an in Braille were made available to purchase off-the-shelf in the UK! So: what to do! I have the qur’an in text-HTML format which I use for reading in English, (see? Too much time on the computer!). I also have Arabic Audio CDs of qur’an which I use for Arabic memorisation. Earlier on this year, I was very kindly gifted the Amazon Kindle, and this has made reading a whole variety of material a whole lot easier! I have a qur’an on the kindle too! But, I really wanted an English translation that was enjoyable to listen to, and wasn’t computer generated! This was realised for me last week, in the form of the product I pointed you to, www.hearthequran.com
One of our local masjids is running a programme entitled; ‘Journey through the qur’an! This takes place daily during Ramadhan, and involves a reading of a selected Qur’anic portion per day, with a brief explanation of the chosen sura/suras. I attend this and benefit greatly from it, which brings me nicely to my next subject: transport!
This too has to be planned for well in advance! Public transport is incredibly difficult for me to use. Trains/tubes and trams work fine for me, because they have audio prompts informing passengers of each stop as they arrive, so, if I know where I’m going I can travel perfectly well on my own! Busses do not yet have this facility in Scotland, so, I inevitably end up splurging a whole lot of cash on taxis during Ramadhan! Friends do help out when they can, but hey; if you want to do something immensely helpful this Ramadhan, seek out the disabled attendees at your mosque and ask them if they’d welcome assistance with transport. Even if you cannot commit to this regularly, do what you can! Only this morning, I had to travel to my friendly halal grocers, I took a taxi; and what do you know; my driver was a Muslim brother! He dropped me off, waited for me to shop, helped me home with bags; and didn’t take any money from me, despite my insistence on him taking it! We may never meet again, but I will continually remember this brother in my duas for his generosity!

Since we’re on the subject of the mosque, let me have a small rant here (hey; I’ve been fasting all day: indulge me if you will!). While it’s a joy to break fast, pray, and connect with friends and those you’ve possibly not seen in a whole year, the masjid can be filled with hazards for the visually impaired Muslim! Though I am very familiar with my local mosque and can move around it with ease, the centre will doubtless be filled with new people I’ve never met, and who do not know me. They have most likely never seen a blind person, so whenever I get up to get more food, go to find some one, use the bathroom; whatever! They insist on running behind me, grabbing my abaya and demanding to know what I want, so that they may take me there! Even if they don’t grab me, there will be rice, babies, dirty diapers and all manner of filth on the floor which can make walking around risky!
There are also those who don’t seem to register the fact I’m visually impaired, even though my white cane is on display! So, if I do trip or walk in to them, they yell “can’t you see?” …., No! daaa!
Being a revert, you usually attract curiosity and questions! I know some people find this annoying, but I can tolerate it (to a point!). The problem is, when you are blind and a revert, the questioning takes on a whole new level! People stare at you, they ask questions of your friends in front of you (as though blindness and deafness are part of the same package!). Some even want to take pictures with me and bring their friends over to see my Muslim freak show too! Last night at the masjid, one of the Urdu speaking Aunties took hold of my hijab and yanked me in the direction of her white, newly converted daughter-in-law! She told me, in Urdu, and in no uncertain terms that it was up to me to educate her on being a revert and living in a Pakistani house! The poor girl didn’t seem remotely interested in Islam, and only brightened when I sensed an exit and got myself well out of her way!
I certainly don’t want to be perceived as being ungrateful, or having an unfeeling dig at the masjid; that is not my intention! I know that even the worst of these actions is well intended, and I know that for every one who behaves in this way there are hundreds more who show real friendship and caring, but all the same; we need to have a think about our actions; and its only through acknowledging the things we get very wrong, that we can start to get them so right!
The remaining aspects of my Ramadhan observance are probably no different from yours! However there is one activity that really steps up a gear during this month; and that is my activism! See, during Ramadhan, you have captive audiences in masjids, community centres, on Islamic TV Stations etc, so why not utilise this opportunity to indulge in some disability activism! I give talks, hold workshops and write for Islamic publications during Ramadhan, all relating this month to the importance of Equality, Choice, Dignity and control for disabled Muslims! What do I talk about? Hmmm; well, pretty much all the things you’ll find me ranting about on this blog! I talk about the need for accessible mosques; and the fact that just because a person is blind doesn’t mean they need a wheelchair and need dragged by the ears to the nearest/safest sofa! I talk about my home/married life and discuss how my husband really is my husband and not a hired carer! I explain the most basic facts about how I cook, clean, travel, work etc. Stuff that many of my readers know about, but which seem to spark stunned fascination in my audiences!
Whatever your own cause/purpose may be, its important to realise that Ramadhan is not just about fasting and secluded worship. The community comes together and we have to be part of it, both for our own Development, and for the sake of the education we can bring to it.

Like every one else, I am devastated when Ramadhan is over. I always cry on eid and struggle to fulfil all the eid invites I have through my sadness. This year, I looked forward to Ramadhan in the way that I used to as a new revert. It’s a beautiful feeling and I’m enjoying the lessons and the beauty of each day.
My message; well, as far as disability goes; its simple; be kind, be open, be helpful, be empowering, not patronising, and never be afraid to ask!
For Ramadhan; grab, beg, plead, ask, crave, yearn, cry, make dua, request all this from Allah (SWT) and rebuild your own truly intimate, unique and personal connection with your creator, so that the gifts which he (SWT) presents you with on eid are truly earned, and are the fruits of your own pure labour as you strived for closeness to him (SWT), Insha Allah.

As Ramadhan begins ..., Somalia is calling you!

2011-08-01T16:33:00.000-07:00

Mogadishu, once was the city of flowers,
of vines full of fruit, and of minaret towers.

Mogadishu, did not know the meaning of aid,
The city was flourishing with international trade.

Mogadishu, did not know the word ‘Extreme,
It was home to the Sufis, and the scholarly cream.

Mogadishu was beautiful, Somalia’s heart,
Till that beauty was ravaged, and torn apart.

Mogadishu, where are your fragrant flowers,
Only dust remains of your minaret towers.

Mogadishu, where are your fruits and your rich laden vines,
The Sufis, the poets, the saints and the shrines.

Mogadishu, the traders are no longer here;
And those who remain live in constant fear.

They say its Islam, what they’ve done to you,
But Mogadishu, this is not the Islam you once knew.

The strong independence, the thriving free trade,
Replaced now with convoys, surviving on aid.

Young men and soldiers line the pavements, all dead,
Children search dustbins, crying to be fed.

20 years of war and we’re no closer to the truth,
3 generations have sacrificed their youth.

Mogadishu, what will become of you now,
As the Crescent is sighted, I take one more bow.

I ask Allah to bless you, to revive you a new,
To restore your young men, and your beauty to you.

Ya Allah quench their thirst, grant the starving food,
Let those who cry for peace be at last understood.

Restore Mogadishu to the people, the land for the free:
Remove all fear, injustice and uncertainty.

Mogadishu, this goes out to every one,
With our prayers and our patience, change will, Insha Allah, come.

Darkness is followed by light; dear readers, do what is right, Please, this Ramadhan, donate whatever you can to your starving, wounded, abandoned brothers and sisters in Somalia.
Whether big or small, amount is irrelevant, any thing you can contribute will make a massive difference to those in desperate need. Subhan Allah, how much do we waste on lunches out, icecream, coffee, cakes etc. Even donating the cost of one coffee will feed a family for 3 days! And come on; its not like you’ll be having your 11 AM caffeine breaks this month will you!
The Disaster emergency committee is an alliance of aid organizations working in the area, covering humanitarian aid and refugee resettlement. You can donate to them online by visiting: www.dec.org.uk
If you are not acquainted with DEC, then donate to any organization that you know well and trust, the point is not who you give to, but that you give and make a difference.
If you watch the below video, you’ll be moved to see beautiful images of the city described above: Mogadishu, as it was back in the Seventies, before terrorists tore it to shreds and brutally forced civilians from their homes. Only yesterday, I watched a mother on TV, describing how hyenas savaged and killed her children as she traveled to refuge in Kenya. Still gripped by shock and trauma, she recounted how, as a result of her own weakness and malnutrition, she was unable to defend her children against the attack, and could only watch helplessly as her innocent children were taken from her. Can we even begin to comprehend such suffering? What that would feel like? Please, let the mercy of Ramadhan change your hearts this year, donate whatever you can to the people of Somalia. Pray for them, and recite qur’an for them: if our fasting does not move us to act, where is the value in that fasting!

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What do ya say to Triangles?

2011-07-28T07:21:00.000-07:00

At least 6 of those in my closer circle of friends are in plural marriages, and there are around 20 couples I know in my wider circle who are ‘second wives (for want of a better term). While no one can speculate about what goes on behind closed doors, from what I’ve seen the bulk of these families are deeply disjointed and unhappy!
This of course raises the issue of whether or not their unhappiness is purely due to the polygyny involved? Well, probably not entirely! In fairness, I do know of many polygynous families where every one is happy! But as a humble observer, here is my 2P on the subject!
It seems to me that a great many Muslim men have missed the point/points, when it comes to polygyny. Of course it is halal and perfectly permissible, even though many of us might prefer to turn our noses up at plural marriage, mutah etc, our likes/dislikes are not a reason to dismiss them. Similarly, our liking doesn’t seem like a reason to support the practise either! I.e., I can’t tell my husband not to take another wife just because I don’t like it, nor can he tell me he wants another wife “just because!). You may say that polygyny is halal (which it is), but so are many things! Night prayers are halal: nay, they are recommended! However if I’m not performing my 5 compulsory prayers, it is questionable whether my night prayers will hold any special value for me! Food is halal, but if I over-eat and damage my health as a result, that food may well become haram for me!
What I’m getting at here, is that often, polygyny feels like a symptom to me, rather than a solution!
Before even contemplating a second, third or fourth wife, men need to consider the following.
1) Equality!
Hadaith teach us that while polygyny is permitted, if you fear you cannot do justice to your wives, it is better for you to marry only one!
How can you do justice to a second wife when the country you live in does not even permit polygyny? Of course, there is nothing to stop you performing an Islamic ceremony and living as married, but your second/3rd etc wife will not be considered as your partner in the eyes of the law, she will not be entitled to welfare support/pension contributions through you, and will struggle a great deal when you leave this world as a result!
This brings me on to my second point:
2) Honesty!
How honest can you really be with your wife/colleagues, neighbours, people in the community etc. Polygyny carries a stigma, even within Muslim communities today. Forget the fact that often men take a second wife in secret, how will your lack of honesty impact on your new wife, and any subsequent children you have with her?

3) Family unity.
Secrecy naturally brings its own discord, but if your wives do not get along, your home is likely to dissolve in to pieces! Of course, your wives have the right to demand their own homes: which, if you live in a non-Muslim country, may be pretty impractical for you to afford!
4) (and most importantly!), benefit!
Whether taking a new job or buying a new TV, we all run through a subconscious analysis in our head: cause/affect! How will this job/purchase change my life? Will it benefit me? Will it benefit those around me? Can I afford it? do the disadvantages outnumber the advantages? Or vice versa!
How many men do this when it comes to a second wife! Maybe she is young, beautiful and more appealing than your first wife with whom you have tired, but of course, she too will not always remain like this; and what is there to sustain the 3 of you when she has a few children and is beginning to age herself! Will she enhance your physical/spiritual life? Will she benefit your first wife?

Now: relax all of you who are thinking that Reza is searching away from home! We did talk about polygyny and its not something he is in to! (Thank Goodness!).
Does this mean I am completely against the practise? No! however I think there is allot that men/women leave undone! A friend was asking my opinion on the subject yesterday and that’s what prompted this post!
The way I see it; if you have been married for a significant period of time, and especially if you have children, a plural marriage is something you both have to grow in to. You both have to be on the same page re: whether or not to go for it, your reasons and how to go about it. Living in the west means that your children will likely be unfamiliar with the practise and this too has to be considered in terms of impact. Frankly; if my husband wishes a second wife, I need to know about it; and both she and I need to be involved in the bigger picture, from searching for potentials to initial meetings. It is only fair that she and I meet in private before any thing is decided, so that she knows my feelings on the subject and I know her perspective. We need to be able to get along. Sure we may never become best friends, but we need a level of shared vision in order to sustain and maintain our husband and mutual family. All 3 of us need to have strategies in place for dealing with difficult issues, and be very clear about our own boundaries and how these will translate within the new domestic situation. Many revert sisters have the additional pressure of non-Muslim family, who may or may not know about their changes in circumstances! Only they can make the call as to whether or not their relatives can cope with the knowledge, but it often seems that this too is just another oversight on the part of many men!

I don’t mean to have a rant against the male species over here; and I do know that many of our brothers act with taqwa in mind and with the best of intentions, but for every brother who does, there are 10 who don’t and the numbers of broken families we see today are the horrid legacy of such one-sided thinking!
The majority Pakistani community in which I currently reside, boasts many plural families: men, who married back home, but then took a Western wife on their arrival in the UK to “stay away from haram!”. Years later, wives/children come to know of one another; and the results have not proved favourable! Families are often cramped together in poorly maintained apartments, lost in poverty and loathing the sight of one another! Some say that the fact they remain together is testament to the strength of the marriage, and maybe so! Undoubtedly those women who show patience and perseverance in the face of such tests will Insha Allah be rewarded, but what of those who oppress them unjustly on this earth? Moreover, there are the tests sent to us by Allah (SWT), and there are the dramas we make for ourselves, which cannot be attributed to divine self-Development!
It is worth remembering that our beloved Prophet (peace be upon him), never took a second wife during the time of Khadija (A.S), and those wives that he (PBUH) married after her death, were often performed out of necessity: to protect the dignity/honour of widows, divorced women and those without any other form of protection (there was no welfare system 1400 plus years ago!).
Justifying our wants and desires under the banner of sunnah acts is cruel and unjust, whether we are talking about polygyny, or any thing else!
To any one facing such a test, may Allah (SWT) grant all of you insight to be merciful and understanding to one another, and may you find the wisdom to distinguish between the right and the wrong in such a situation. As for the rest of us; at the end of the day, the key is to think before you leap; if you have doubts, leave it alone! And if you believe polygyny is right for you; think some more; the marriage should make 3 lives beautiful, rather than causing 3 car crashes!

Ramadhan Preparations Begin!

2011-07-26T04:07:00.000-07:00

With the blessed month of Ramadhan just around the corner, I decided to commence my preparations with a gift for myself! (nothing frivolous though, I assure you!).
While surfing TV channels this morning as I ate breakfast, I stumbled across an interview with Aurangzeb Iqbal! I didn’t know who he was or initially, what he was talking about, however something about his light, passion and magnetism held my interest. Aurangzeb Iqbal entered the Muslim consciousness earlier on this year, when he recorded the first ever audio Tafseer of Qur’an, exclusively in English!
Of course, there are plenty of print translations of the qur’an, as well as Arabic CDs with mumbled translations following a group of Arabic verses, however this audio version is something new. Aurangzeb Iqbal has recorded a continuous running translation of the qur’an in English only, taken from the Yusaf Ali translation. Its not just that he has read the qur’an in English, but that he has adorned his recitation with the appropriate emphasis, respect, passion, emotion, love, anger etc. His deep connection with the qur’an is evident in every word, and there are many junctures in the recording where he simply dissolves in to tears!
I had something of a twilight zone moment while watching him on TV today, as I recalled how many times during my early days as a Muslim when I craved something like this! Braille qur’ans were unheard of back then, and while you could read it online, most of the sites used flash, or imbedded the text along-side the Arabic which made them totally inaccessible to the screen reader which I use. The Arabic/English CDs are, in my experience, impossible to follow, whether for Arabic learning or for English comprehension! As it is, I have a separate Arabic only CD set with minimal adornment, but good tajweed! This enables me to learn new suras with ease! As I’m on the move allot, I really wanted a portable English qur’an which I could continually study during the month of Ramadhan, wherever I happened to be; and mashallah I found it!
The TV show was very moving, especially when viewers began to call in, commenting on the translation they had listened to. So many of them had never even heard the translations of the basic suras they recite in prayer each and every day, 5 times every day!
While there is no substitute for studying/reciting the qur’an in Arabic, the Arabic its self is completely useless without real understanding of the words being recited. How can we even begin to apply the qur’an in our lives if we do not understand its meaning? We need to understand the qur’an in our native languages, but most importantly, we need to understand it in the language of our hearts. Aurangzeb Iqbal commented on the numbers of non-Muslims who have heard his recitation. They have been struck by the rich language and poetic stanzas and have been drawn to find out more. He has even signed a deal to supply hotels, cruise liners and public transport providers with audio English Qur’ans; what a wonderful opportunity for Dawah! Later this year, the audio qur’ans will be made available to purchase via Amazon, as well as via Itunes and aps suitable for the Iphone. May Allah (SWT) reward and bless this dear brother for his passion, hard work and innovation, and may all who hear his recitation be moved, blessed and transformed by the power contained within the sacred text.
If you would like to purchase yours, or find out more about the project, visit: www.hearthequran.com

Continuing the theme of preparing for Ramadhan, SR Masooma is re-launching the very successful group blog she administered last year during Ramadhan. To find out more or to join the blog’s writers for this year, Visit SR Masooma’s blog and sign up!

Building a bridge

2011-07-25T08:46:00.000-07:00

Around 12 years ago, at the time of my first marriage, my mum called me late one night to say “you can’t get married, your Grandfather may have cancer!”. That was the height of the sentence, and the subsequent conversation! Now, any outsider looking at this would clearly see it for what it was, i.e., emotional blackmail! However, for me, as an only child, an 18-year-old with a small family and little worldly wisdom, it shook me to the core! I went ahead with the marriage, all be it with a great deal of guilt on my shoulders. There was no wedding party, no celebrations, in fact I spent the 6 days proceeding my marriage in floods of tears! I’d got it in to my head that my Granddad had cancer, was critically ill and that somehow, this was inextricably linked to my marriage: I’d not listened, I’d gone ahead and so his ultimate death would be exclusively my own fault!
Of course, he did not have cancer mashallah, and all lived to recount the tale! However remnants from that painful period in my adult history still haunt us all! 5 years later, while working in Pakistan, mum called me again, late one night. This time, it was to tell me that my Grandmother was in the hospital. I offered to come home, but mum insisted that it was not serious! I stayed where I was, mainly because I had neither money for a flight, nor leave to take from my job in Karachi! Yet every night I lay awake, listening for the telephone and being overcome by nightmares involving the deaths of my closest family members! Only when I returned home permanently a year later, did I learn just how serious my Grandmother’s illness was. She was in the intensive care and the family were called for on 2 occasions, as doctors believed she was breathing her last! Had she left this world back then, I would never have had the chance to say goodbye, never had the chance to do my duty by her. It was hard to forgive my mum for not sharing this knowledge, however I understood that she too felt guilty for the lies she had loaded upon me, all those years ago!
Last year, when I went to Azerbaijan to meet Reza for the first time, I learned that my Granddad was in hospital, just as I landed back in to Heathrow! Doctors were running tests on him, and we did not know exactly what was going on. My Grandparents had not known I was out of the country (they have the idea that blind people can’t travel and so, whenever I’m overseas, we have to tell them I’ve got work in London, or else they plague mum with late night phone calls filled with dread!). While there was some debate over why I’d not been to the hospital sooner, every one was happy to have me there and I was able to take over and relieve some of the pressure from my mum.
Why am I recounting all this you may ask? Well; one of my aunts on my father’s side past away 2 weeks ago, and her funeral was last Tuesday. SR Masooma had also been talking about the death of a loved one on her blog, which meant that these subjects were at the forefront of my mind. The day after my aunt’s funeral, my Grandmother went in to hospital for a hip replacement operation. This is a fairly straight-forward surgical procedure in most cases, however, if you are 81, diabetic, visually/hearing impaired with multiple ulcers and IBS, it becomes rather more complex!
The surgery went well, but in the subsequent 5 days, she has taken a reaction to the morphine, (which had me running to the hospital at 3 AM to try and calm her down and stop her hurting herself!), severe blood loss and a sky-high blood sugar level!
She is undergoing tests to try and determine the cause of the blood loss, which have revealed nothing thus far! Every day I watch her deteriorating, and feel a painful sense of foreboding deep in my stomach!
Losing a loved one is painful, and although my Grandparents are not dead, the process of losing them began a long time ago!
During my childhood, my maternal Grandparents largely brought me up! My mum started working and did not have time for me. My parents had all kinds of emotional/marital problems of their own, so it was in my Grandparents home that I enjoyed the real stuff of childhood: baking, planting flowers, daytrips to the seaside, lunch out; picnics, songs, stories and so much more! As their only Grandchild, they poured allot of love in to me. When I was sick, they took me to hospital, They did every thing they could to satisfy my childish desires; my Granddad even took me along to Indian dress shops to buy me bangles and ornaments when I began studying Hindi! They were also responsible for my religious education; and perhaps this is why I lost them, or rather, the reason for the severity of the loss!
My Grandfather was a religious scholar, and often took me along to his lectures and bible studies. My Grandparents belong to a little known Christian cult (The Plymouth Brethren), so its understandable that aspects of their doctrine did not make sense to me! However even in my early teens, I had begun to realise I had questions that Christianity could not answer, spiritual gaps in my world that the religion of my birth couldn’t come close to addressing.
The journey to Islam was slow and gradual, yet the absorption in to the faith was immediate, instantaneous and complete, hence the depth of shock experienced by my family. They could not accept my life changes and their rejection was as extreme as my own lifestyle change!
2 years, 4 years, 15 years went by; and some things have changed in that time. My parents, though unhappy, do accept the fact that I’m a Muslim; and that is not likely to change! They prepare halal/vegetarian food for me when I visit, and even buy Halal Turkey at Christmas! They greet me on eid and though they would never attend a mosque, have attended Muslim weddings or programmes in the homes of my close Muslim friends. Last year, my dad walked out with me in hijab for the very first time, something I know was a massive step for him. His family never talk about my Islam; it is the elephant in the room; and I don’t really know what they think; whether they expect me to grow out of it or if they think that just like a foreign disease, this too shall pass!
My maternal Grandparents however, have never got over it. Initially they were very aggressive, banning me from their home and making no secret of their disgust, sharing it with any one who cared to listen; be they neighbours, postmen or other church members. For years, I could not walk freely in my home town without being plagued by brethren, recounting my Grandparent’s pains to me. Talking did no good, it only inflamed; and silence seemed to make them think I’d given up on them entirely!
So, somewhere in the years that followed, I fell in to an indifferent space; I met them every fortnight and enquired after their well-being! I attended Christmas parties and other family celebrations, always feeling like the outsider I knew I was!
Then, things took an unexpected upturn when, while striving to improve my spiritual practises, I began attending my local Episcopal Cathedral! I didn’t tell my Grandparents about this, fearing that they’d view it as a rejection of Islam. My mum however, couldn’t wait to tell them; and the inevitable happened! They were delighted! You have to understand that, the Brethren, rather like Wahabis, believe that all other forms of Christianity other than their own are false! So accepting the Episcopal Church was a big deal for them! However, I guess on a scale of “evil” ness, it ranked higher than Islam in acceptability! So, I was accepted back in to the fold, (that is, for a time!). As soon as they learned that I attended the Cathedral as a Muslim, not as a Christian or potential revert, I was way back down the ranks to where I’d come from, that is, until this most recent hospital episode! See, mum works full time, and I work from home, only having to attend an office base for a few evenings per week! this means I’m on hand to call social workers, attend care plan meetings, run around town in pursuit of the best fitting incontinence pads, order medication, collect said medication, maintain the empty house, …., you get the picture! Sure there are times when I’d rather not do this, when hours spent filling Dosette boxes could be more pleasurable spent in bed with a good book, but I do it; and moreover, am glad to do it. Allah (SWT) is the best of planners, and somewhere between resentment and impatience, I started to see the wonder in what I was doing. I began to see these apparently mundane chores as a means for regaining a level of closeness with my Grandparents, a way of building bridges, a way to celebrate the common good/values that we can and do share. When my Granddad asked me to track down a particular book for him, I did so. I spent a ridiculous amount of money purchasing an original copy from Amazon, but it was worth it to see the joy on his face; and, last night, when I was about to head back to my apartment, I stayed an extra night in my home town, so that I could visit Gran in the hospital! She was ill and unhappy, yet looked pleased to see me; and somehow, I did seem to make her smile!
I realised something else too; I used to believe that, when my Grandparents accepted my choices, every thing would be OK! Moreover, the Wahabi fuelled version of Islam I initially adopted taught me that non-Muslim family weren’t really worth the effort if they weren’t interested in converting! Thus I subconsciously saw my family as a commodity, who received conditional affection subject to converting on request! Life is short, and the memory is shorter! The animosity that had built between us meant that I could no longer see the commonality which, in reality, our faiths gave to our respective lifestyles! Attending the Cathedral helped me to see that; and translating it in to action, as I’m now doing, enables me to use/live out my learning. I do not know if my Grandparents view all this as I do, but for me, if the time should come for one/either of them to leave this world, I’ll live easier with the pain knowing that I had a chance to repair our relationships; and to translate the present in to something comfortable, sometimes even beautiful, for all involved. I am married, in to an Iranian family. Aspects of my life now, and my life to come will no doubt prove different, or even difficult for my Grandparents to take on, but in this case, my Grandmother’s illness has proved a healing, not just for her, but for me as well. I have learned how to maintain routes that she can sit upon, while stretching out my branches wide enough to grow in to a better wife, a better Muslim and, Insha Allah, a mother some day.
If you are facing something similar, take heart/hope from the above, and remember the importance of building bridges. It is not necessary, rather, its impossible to knit your 2 worlds together seamlessly, but a bridge if well-built, creates a platform for both worlds to travel upon, and maybe even to meet in the middle. It might not be what you want, but the bridge will help you to find beauty in what you’ve got! Life is about stories; your stories, their stories; and how each universe crosses over to meet the other; after all; what is Islam, what is any faith; if it can’t stretch wings/bridges of humility out to the other worlds that surround?
…, PS: Please, do remember my Grandmother in your prayers/duas, and pray too that we, as her family, maintain the strength and patience to support each other, and to care for her, to the best of our abilities.

Intizar; a poem on waiting for Imam Mahdi (ATF)

2011-07-15T14:57:00.000-07:00

Tired and lonely, stress on her face,
Light hardly lives here, not even a trace.

Trying to make sense of the purpose of life,
Why all the suffering, the sorrow, and strife.

Try as she might, she can’t stay on track,
Haunted by the past, she always looks back.
Yet behind her tears, one fact remains true, This slave in her darkness, is waiting for you.

She wonders in silence, what its all about,
The pain leaves her empty, unable to shout.
She’s so cynical, sinful, she’s lost the straight way;
She’s so ashamed of herself she feels embarrassed to pray.
Still, through unemployment, hardship, and separation too, this slave remains constantly waiting for you.

This slave didn’t know what it was to be blind,
Till the light of alIslam she could not find.
Things used to be simple, every thing was alright, till the tests just got harder, and she dissolved in sheer fright.

Even the strongest souls can, lose their iman,
Corrupted and poisoned by that old devil Shaytan!
But this slave is reminded, by this night and its truth, by the Secrets she learned from Ahlulbayt in her youth.

Tonight, she remembers the light of the earth, as the world gathers to celebrate your birth.

They pray, read qur’an, recite and prostrate;
But this slave is different; she stays silent, to wait.
She listens intently to the sound of the sky,
Hoping for a miracle, a smile or a cry.

She prays for a sign you are close at hand, she won’t beg, will not question, she won’t ask or demand.

She’s no one to ask you for the things she desires,
To earn your closeness is all she aspires.

Ya Imam, Ya hujjat, forgive me, I pray,
May my heart and my spirit be sacrificed in your way.

Grant me the wisdom, to tackle this test, so that even when I’m losing, I’m still doing my best!

Teach me, guide me, enlighten my stride,
So that one day you might look upon me with pride.

Grant me the knowledge to understand the unseen,
Elevate my soul to your chosen 313.

Ya Imam, in my prayers, my working, in all that I do;
I’m waiting, and waiting, just waiting, for you.

Where the Persian cat sleeps ...

2011-07-07T09:39:00.000-07:00

In her book ‘The Golden Cage, Nobel Laureate Shirin Ebadi compares the lives of 3 Iranian brothers; an Islamist, a communist and a royalist. While hailing from the same family, residing in the same country, each chooses a dramatically divergent path, only to be brought together in the end by their sister Pari’s innate understanding that each path would ultimately lead to ruin, simply by nature of its exclusive separatism!
The book, based on a true story, offers an incredibly accurate portrayal of the challenges and ethical dilemmas facing contemporary Iranians today. It is a very welcome departure from the Iranian exiles who have cashed in on the West’s appetite for novels documenting how awful Iran is (lipstick Jihad being an excellent case in point!). The book traces the tightrope between honesty and resignation, between culture and religion, between individuality and conformity; questions that Reza and I have begun asking ourselves, and on behalf of our unborn children!
The challenge for us, and arguably for all exiles; is how to depict the culture of the homeland accurately and without dubiety, especially when we have so obviously made a conscious decision not to live there! Will frequent visits home do the country justice? Is Persian TV really enough? Or do these sanitised experiences only further marginalize and showcase the country, reducing it to nothing more than a pastime, an old tradition observed with no apparent rhyme or reason!

It would be fine if we hated Iran or had chosen to reject all that it stands for. Similarly, it would be easy to confined Iran if we were choosing an Iranian life outside of the country! There is an entire Iran located in North London, and that seems to work for most people! The thing is; despite the many social/political, ethical and economic barriers that ostracise so many Iranians today, my husband loves his country! Sure he recognises the things that are wrong with it; and makes no secret of those when discussing Iran; but all the same, he is passionately patriotic about his homeland. He keeps up with the news, he adores the Persian language, literature, music, poetry and arts. He encapsulates the values that underpin the real essence of Iran; and, while our relationship would have meant that Iran would always be on my radar, I don’t think I would have adopted it with such love, or been so adamant about taking Iranian Nationality were it not for that passion! Of course; much of my understanding comes through my family lens; a perspective that can easily be past on to our children. By creating a home full of Persian art, food, language and beauty as we have done, would almost certainly create a pure fluffy image of the Persian cat that is home! Only, just how real would that be! I’m all for celebrating the positives, but keeping it real is more important to me! It is frankly impossible to talk about the beauty of Iran, without acknowledging all that has gone wrong! Just the same as its impossible to criticise Iran without recognising the wonder contained within it.
At the beginning of this post, I recognised that many exiles face this problem, however I notice that within most Muslim communities there is a tendency to celebrate culture through expressions of faith. This can bring its own problems (i.e., adopting practises in the name of Islam which are not actually requirements of faith), however it can bring many positives as well! This is not really an avenue open to us. For a start, Iran was never an exclusively Muslim country! Though the extremists hate to acknowledge it, Iran is made up of Christians, Jews, Baha’is, Zoroastrians, suni/shia Muslims and a number of other religious sects on top of that! Iranian culture is not necessarily Islamic culture, as some Arab cultures may claim to be, and the government in their wisdom (or lack thereof), tried to integrate Islam in to the core fabric of Iranian political conscious by eradicating aspects of Persian culture! Sure; I’ll be raising my children Muslim, but there is a strong prerequisite that demands Iran and Islam are kept as far away from one another as possible! Many Iranians now reject Islam because their lack of knowledge has lead them to believe that adherence is equal to support for the regime!
Iran doesn’t enjoy a fantastic place in the Western media spectrum at present! Sure this may change, but doesn’t it only make my praise for the Nation seem fake and misplaced? I have lots of logical, thought-out answers for my children, but kids don’t want/grasp rhetoric; they can only do realism; vibrant, lived examples!
When thinking about why I chose to take on Iranian Nationality; it was primarily for convenience! With an Iranian passport, I could come and go to the country as I liked without headaches over visas and continual pitch battles with the Embassy! My children and I would always share one common nationality, wherever we ended up living, and, though I hate to think about it, if any thing unthinkable separated Reza and I, no one could force me from the country! The issue of not living there however, is one we’ve also had to challenge! We are not living there now; and it doesn’t feel neither safe nor practical to do so right now. If our visa application is rejected, we may need to review our stance! And even if we do settle more permanently in Scotland, I don’t want Iran to be the place we visit, maybe, twice in a lifetime! In my experience the children who adjust well in mixed race marriages are those who flit seamlessly between the 2 countries and cultures. Both are fully incorporated in to the fabric of their every day lives. I may even want to take my children to Iran for a few years, so that they regard it as home, just as Scotland is home! But having said that, I need to get more “homely” with Iran myself! I’m learning Farsi and that helps, but I haven’t found a niche for myself in Iran yet, as I did in Pakistan! Now that Iran is covered, what about Scotland? While this country might be more developed in terms of human rights, disability equality etc, it has its own problems! There isn’t a vibrant Muslim community to speak of, the weather is awful, we have a massive sectarian issue (catholic/protestant), and a world-famous drink problem! Scotland, too, may not be the best place to raise our children! Reza may not even like it! its home to me, but not necessarily to him! Home may end up being some neutral corner, where we both start over fresh, on more of an equal footing. It may be that our children buy in to one culture more than the other, and one of us may lose out! I don’t necessarily mind that, just so long as I know that I’ve not closed any doors on them and have given them an ‘access all areas in to both! I think mixed race children often find themselves lost in a curious fusion sub-culture that is unique to them and makes sense only to them. I’ve seen a good few visually impaired people doing the same thing and don’t think its particularly helpful! This is the real world; it’s the real deal and its all we have got! Carving a place in it doesn’t only come through autonomy or having a face that fits, rather it has much more to do with confidence and a sense of belonging! That is what we have to somehow inculcate in to our children! Shirin Ebadi doesn’t describe the golden cage with a door! Its easy to get in to, but will take a lifetime to get out of if at all! I pray we can give our children golden wings (well, they’ll save on flights!), but above all, they’ll learn that the air that holds them up remains the same, wherever they are; and they’ll learn that home is as much about what they bring with them, as what they find, both above and beneath those wings!

The Big 12 Month Mark!

2011-07-06T15:50:00.000-07:00

The blog has been a bit silent lately and for that I apologise! The reason? Well, …, I was out of the country!!
And why? Well!! Regular readers may just recollect; the 19th June was a pretty significant day for me and my other half; …, yeah; you guessed; our first wedding anniversary! Mashallah 1 year gone! To share and celebrate the occasion, I flu to Azerbaijan to be with Reza (as most of you know we are still facing visa limbo). So: what did we do? Well, quite simply; nothing! That is to say, we did nothing special, yet we did every thing special! Because of the distance, and the bazaar situations we’ve had to face this year, all of our time together thus far has been about weddings, preparing for weddings, then 1 wedding, the second wedding, the visa battles, etc! All we both wanted was to spend our anniversary close together, in real time, doing real things! And that is exactly what we did! We couldn’t travel much (Reza was working for most of my visit!). All the same, we cooked, cleaned the house, watched TV, walked, visited the seaside, ate out (alone, and with friends), prayed together, called home together, studied Farsi (well, Reza taught, I studied!). It was a brief, but beautiful visit; and one I’ll remember forever. Leaving was intensely difficult. I felt physical pain during our further separation and cried all the way back on the plane, doubtless drawing a great deal of attention to myself! We are still in this forgotten hell that is the mercy (or lack of it: shown by the UK Border agency! That’s not easy and causes us both a great deal of stress, anxiety and pain. Despite the obstacles however; this first anniversary still felt like a really significant day for us, and a real cause for celebration. As we drove through the familiar streets of Baku to our tiny studio apartment, I was overcome with emotion, remembering my first visit to Baku last February. It had been a beautiful trip, but one fraught with anxiety, tension and questions; would we really get married? Would the family really accept our decision? How would we overcome the distance? It all seemed so remote then, so far off, so impossible, yet 1 year on, by the grace of Allah (SWT) and the duas of so many, known and unknown, we are married; we are united; and we have survived this difficult and testing year! Every one says the first year of marriage is the hardest, and in our circumstances I certainly wouldn’t disagree with that! Its tough; very tough! But we felt tranquil; somehow routed: ultimately, if we can survive this, we can survive any thing!
Sure we have tests: lots of them! But who doesn’t? and when I look at some of those in my circle of friends and the hardships they are battling, I often find myself thanking Allah (SWT) that I’ve got the tests I have and not bigger harder ones that I wouldn’t be strong enough to take!
Many friends and acquaintances have asked me through-out this year: “how did you know Reza was the one?”. Its an interesting question! I think your understanding of your spouse evolves; growing and developing as your understanding of them increases and vice versa! I’m sure I can write this here (its an open secret really), but when I first met Reza, I really didn’t like him much! I felt that practically, I couldn’t be bothered with a foreign husband: I’d been there, done that and it all felt like a very big headache! As I got to know him however, and he me, our understanding grow and my perception of him changed! We spoke on MSN for about 6 months before we spoke on the phone; and by our first telephone conversation, I knew Reza was the one. Sure: at that stage I knew I needed references, I had to research, take time, think, do istikhara; but put it this way; my mind was made up; unless evidence convinced me other wise. Reza tells a similar story. I can’t assume that every one has such “click” moments all the time, especially about something as significant as marriage! However I think most people probably do! I met a great many rishtay/proposals before Reza came along, and while I kept an open mind and gave them a chance, I think I knew deep down they were not for me. Some rejections directed at me were hard to take, and didn’t always make sense, but I knew if the feeling was not reciprocated, then why pursue things any further!
Friends also ask me what makes a successful marriage! Well, for us, it has been love, time, understanding, patience and as many laughs as we can fit in! Our marriage is definitely routed on our faith; and it is our shared prayers, our commitment to Allah (SWT) and love for the Ahlulbayt (A.S), that gets us through the really dark days. No man/woman is perfect; there are things about Reza that bug me, and I’m sure he’d say the same about me! Of course we fight, we disagree, we irritate one another at times! We do have some rules however; all arguments must be put to bed by magrib time; and no one has the right to stop talking; no matter how serious the matter is! You can take a few minutes out, but after that, you must talk and sort it out! In my experience, most marriages break down when the talking breaks down. While its not always easy to keep talking long-distance, it is the only way to combat stress and thrash out difficult issues. Its true; I didn’t want to marry a foreign man, didn’t want the headache of it! but I knew Reza was worth fighting for. I knew our family was worth fighting for. Every day, I’m touched by the love shown to us by friends, family and in particular my in-laws. Honestly; without exaggerating, I gained parents, not in-laws when I got married; and the fact that they are routing for us, even when we can’t look ahead ourselves brings such confidence, comfort and peace. All people will be tested; and for now, distance is our test! Its been hard, really hard and only gets harder! That said, this test has brought us closer in so many ways. We’ve realised each other’s strength and weaknesses on a level so elemental, so profound that I’m not sure we would have got so deep had we been in closer proximity. Moreover, we’ve become determined, empowered and strong! This is a painful fight, but it’s a fight worth fighting! We don’t know if/when we will win, but we do know we will give it all we’ve got! We’ve also learned that our time together is sacred and beautiful, and that these moments confirm for us that we will make our marriage work wherever we end up living: be it Britain, Iran, or a box in the middle of nowhere; we can do it! Tests are so much easier if you are together; and the beauty of where we are now is that, no matter what hits us in the years to come, if we can fight it together, hand in hand, it will feel so puerile next to this first year of difficulty.
After every hardship comes ease; and ours will surely come Insha Allah, if only we keep fighting and be patient. I read a beautiful quote recently “pray like every thing Depends on Allah, but work as though every thing Depends on you”. Good advice, and advice which, if we follow, will surely bring us success!
I want to thank our friends, my blog readers and all those who have commented, prayed for us, or just kept us in their thoughts over this year. Thanks to all those who have provided hands-on support: Masooma, Mariam, Kanwal, Nazlina, and all those who I don’t name! A special thanks to SR Otowi for her beautiful gift to me earlier on this year, which filled my time and kept my mind active through some dark days. Do continue to pray for us and support us on this journey to be together; with your love and help, Insha Allah we will enjoy many more fulfilled and blessed years together.
A song for Reza:

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Goray Do UrdU, and Farsi Too, hows about you?

2011-06-14T03:58:00.000-07:00

Reza sent me this video; and it reminded me so much of the John Hanson film I posted around this time 2 years ago!
Any way, believe it or not this guy is the US Foreign Affairs spokesman! Maybe he might take time out of his poetry reading to advise his compatriots to suspend their preparations for bombing the sh*** out of Iran; I’m sure they’d find that allot more useful than being subject to his novel American tinted dialect!
Digs apart though, you have to give it to the guy; he’s the most educated of US government spokesmen I’ve ever seen, and his Farsi is something to behold! Though he speaks better than me, this film gave me a massive complex and I spent an hour on the phone to my in-laws this morning taking assurances from them that not every thing I attempt to pronounce sounds like an Ethnically confused Persian cat seeking asylum!
Watch and enjoy!

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My Dream Masjid

2011-06-07T14:09:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I wrote about my trials with spirituality, and finding a place to belong! In particular, I talked about my masjid and what was wrong with it; and wondered to the world whether church could fill that gap! These questions still resonate, and There is more to be shared on this, but for now, I want to think about what is really wrong with the masjid; and (in my humble opinion), what would make the perfect mosque!

Firstly; the mosque/centre would be big! I don’t know how it is where you come from, but out here; masjids (especially shia centres) are housed in old, cramped, damp houses or government buildings that nobody wants! My dream masjid would be new, spacious and welcoming! It would have character (new doesn’t have to mean plastic and without feeling!), but it should look like a mosque from the outside (minaret etc), and would also be surrounded by a beautiful garden full of fruits, vegetables and fragrant flowers. This would make it appear from the outset to be a welcoming, homely place; while the community would be able to benefit from tending the garden and also enjoying the harvested produce!

Inside, the centre would be on 3 floors. The ground floor would contain masjid offices, a large library (with books, audio materials, computers and study rooms), funeral/washing facilities and 2 small meeting/counselling rooms.
The ground floor would also house the main masjid. The masjid is large, CLEAN! And elegant, there is art and calligraphy (but nothing too ostentatious or distracting!). There is thick comfortable carpet and chairs for those who need them. Now; I know what you are all thinking; a barrier, or not! My answer? Both! From my experience, I’ve learned that some sister’s like segregation, while some prefer to be housed in the main body of the masjid! I see both of their arguments, and therefore, would make accommodations for both! It would work like this; the ground floor (main masjid), would have the men’s prayer area, with a sister’s space, housed at the back and with a half-curtain in the front. This would provide some degree of separation, but also enable the women to see the imam clearly, while not being eye-invaded by unwanted advances!
The women would also have a gallery area above the main hall, which would not be masjid. This would house those sisters who were not praying, who had small children, and those who wanted to bring in guide dogs (I’m so sick of my blind friends being excluded from our centres just because of their mobility needs). Each prayer area would contain clean, spacious toilets and wudhu areas, places that are a joy to wash in and don’t leave you more filthy than you were when you went in, as is the case at my current Islamic Centre!
The basement level of the centre would contain a large open hall; with a fully functioning kitchen at the back. This hall also contains sound-proof partitions so that it can be separated in to workshop rooms for conferences etc. the all-purpose nature of this space means it can be used for Islamic classes, weddings, funerals, sports activities, classes, serving food and any thing else really!
Each prayer area would contain a room at the back, where the Muharram effigies are housed. These rooms could be used for smaller majliss programmes for 15 people maximum, or else just a space for people to enjoy some quiet prayer/reflection away from the main prayer areas.
Moving to the top floor of the building; this would contain 2 studio flats. One of these would be for the resident scholar, or for other scholars who might be visiting, while the second would be available to homeless Muslims, or any one in crisis who is homeless or requiring support. All Masjid activities would be broadcast via the internet, there would be wheelchair access to all parts of the building, and while it may not be practical for the building to be open 24 hours a day, it should at least be open 7 days a week, during office hours. Perhaps there might also be a system for members where they have keys and can access the building whenever they need to.
So; there you have it; my dream masjid! Of course; there is more to this story than the exterior; this dynamic building would have to house a community which is open-minded, forward-thinking, educated, inclusive and welcoming. While the centre would cater for cultural programmes and different language requirements, the main working language of the centre would be English, and the focus would be heavily placed on ‘Shia first; nationality/culture/tribe later (if at All!).
The centre would not simply be a Muslim space, there would be regular Interfaith dialogue and open-door activities for people of all faiths (or none at all!), while programmes would be welcoming of those from other schools/religions, whether they are interested in reverting to Islam or not!
Moreover, the centre would be much more than just a place to pray! It would be a place where people would socialise, chill out, spend time connecting and networking, people could study here, relax here, work/sleep here; it would be the heart of the community for young and old, with activities to interest each generation! Whether playing video games, knitting jumpers or learning qur’an; all would have a place in this sacred space!

Perhaps I’m being idealistic, but truly; I believe that if our centres took this line; the building, the circumstances; all wouldn’t matter! The community would easily rise above it all; and create an umma to be truly proud of! Sure this is my dream centre, but looking at the above; I don’t think its way beyond the sphere of the possible! It is our people/scholars who prevent these aspirations from growing; I can only hope and pray that this situation improves!
So; you’ve seen my dream masjid; how closely does it measure up to yours? And what is different/similar to your own vision of what makes the perfect Islamic Centre?

As one door closes, a green door opens!

2011-05-28T16:13:00.000-07:00

Today marked the end of my 2-year Involvement with Forestry Commission Scotland, and I have such mixed feelings about it! The project has been long, tiring, challenging, frustrating and incredibly dull (that is, the evaluation part any way!), however there are so many other facets to this journey that have been nothing less than life changing: I’ve met so many amazing people, have visited some beautiful wild places and above all, have watched people literally transformed in front of me, not because of our interventions, but simply by the power of unadulterated nature!
The project grew organically: a group of Asian Disabled people I had been working with in my last job, appealed to me to find other resources through which they could come together! In the current financial climate, there isn’t much space for frivolity! However it just so happened that my best friend had been appointed diversity Manager for the Forestry Commission, and she had money! Not only was she willing to share it, but she was willing to give me the cash I needed to create just what the group wanted! Now, they wanted to come together, but the nature part hadn’t really been on their agenda! Some people love nature, others do not, but for many disabled people, its something they feel indifferent about! The hell of “special schools” don’t prioritise such things! Moreover, woodlands and wild spaces are considered inaccessible to most wheelchair users, and ‘health and safety won’t permit blind people to go there! and so nature remains something outside of the real realm for most people! Something I wanted to overturn! Despite their reticence, I dragged them all out; in to a beautiful scented summer park back in March 2010 and let Mother earth do her thing! Within minutes of hearing the birds, walking free through the trees, dipping their feet in to a cool river, feeling the sun on their faces and eating berries and flowers from the trees: they were absolutely hooked! Over the months that followed I lead many other similar sessions with them, only I made them allot more interactive, getting the group to identify different birdsong, making bird boxes and taking photographs of their journey and the things that inspired them. I also worked with individual participants on their personal stories and either wrote them out free-flowing, or used the essence of them in poetry I later compiled. All of this will be displayed to the Scottish Government later on this year, along with a comprehensive evaluation and toolkit of what we did, how we did it and more importantly, why the new Government Administration Must prioritise funding for work like this.
For our final day, I had arranged a session with a leading herbalist, to focus on what can be gained from holistic health, herbal medicine, plants, flowers and pure living! I had been searching for the ideal herbalist for some time (tragedy struck when the man I wished to connect with on this moved back to India!), however soon after that, I was put in touch with Monica Wilde. Monica was a friend of a friend, and ironically, although I’ve bought food supplements and medication from her clinic through-out my adult Life (Napier’s in Glasgow’s West End), We had never actually met in person! She had been given my number and rang me up one Saturday evening to discuss the project. I can’t remember how many hours we talked for that night, but I remember being overcome with admiration and inspiration: I just couldn’t wait to work with her!
Monica told me about her life: she was the eldest of 5 children, and by aged 6, she already had significant caring responsibilities! She was born in London, the daughter of a lawyer father and a somewhat bohemian mother! They didn’t have direct contact with nature given inner-city London! However all that was to change! Her mother’s wilde spirit persuaded her father to take up a diplomatic position in Africa, thus sparking a life of travel and discovery around the continent. Monica’s parents would separate a few years after the move, thus forcing her to find the strength within herself to adequately support the siblings under her care! Monica recalled how resorting to nature in Africa was a matter of course! There were no hospitals close to them, and in any case, hospitals were places of disease in Africa: not of healing! She recalled how her brother while running, fell and split his toes open after snagging his foot in a drain cover and how she laid him down and anaesthetised him with what she now knows to be NLP, (and what she just put down to child psychology at the time!). At aged 13, Monica had bandaged and set his ankle and stitched his toes back together, but she’d done much more than that! She had only just begun to shape her career path and her life’s work! Despite the obvious pool towards medicine, (be it conventional or homeopathic), Monica was not interested in book learning, rather, she wanted to take her aptitude for healing and communing with nature to the common man, to learn what she knows and at least develop enough basic knowledge to start enjoying nature for themselves, or healing themselves of every day coughs, colds, aches and pains!
By Day, Monica is the Chief Executive of Napier’s, the oldest and most established herbalist in Scotland! And in her free time (I don’t know how she finds it!), she runs workshops and events sharing her love of nature and her knowledge of medicinal plants with communities around the country. This session would be the first she had carried out with a group of disabled people, though for some one with Monica’s depth and intuition, It didn’t show, just as you might expect! She sent around a questionnaire to my group, talking about their impairments, side affects from allopathic medicines and areas they were interested in learning about. The bulk of her session was general, but with a chance for every one to interact and ask questions, and later opportunity for each participant to connect with Monica re: their specific health issues. She took the group for a walk around the woodlands, identifying plants and their uses. I was continually reminded of the Qur’anic ayats and the hadaith that tell us there is a cure for every thing in the earth: it is simply up to us to find it! Monica talked about friends she has cured of cancer through Natural interventions and about the power of the mind in healing and gentle recovery. The more I listened to her speak, the more I affirmed my belief that so much of our modern-day concepts of disability are not actually health-generated, rather they come from the limitations placed on people by society, and by medical professionals in particular! Some one receiving treatment from a doctor/hospital is a ‘Patient, thus affirming notions of control, subservience and obedience. Diseases are fought, not healed, if cancer is overcome, the patient becomes a survivor! There is little time or attention given to the individual needs of those seeking treatment, and often the side affects of so many treatments are incredibly harsh, so harsh in fact that it often becomes impossible to determine the original illness from the drug induced symptoms now being experienced!
If you add this to compounded beliefs in society that Disabled people need to be cared for, contained, looked after, limited or be given “special treatment” as opposed to equal treatment, it is no wonder so many of us are so ill! I’m not just talking about impairments here, rather about the sadness, the low mood, the silence, the lack of ambition, the fear of living, the lack of positive energy, focused thoughts and centred living that tends to be part and parcel of many disabled people’s lives. I see so many people living dull, sheltered lives, not travelling, not daring to dream, not pushing the boundaries because they’ve never been given the right to, not living life on their own terms because of family or other socio-economic restrictions. Today, I watched a group of tired, disinterested individuals transform in to empowered, engaged, dynamic optimists who just couldn’t wait to take their new learning and thirst for nature back to their homes, friends and families!
Today, my group went away with armfuls of plants and bottles of juices they had extracted themselves, courtesy of Monica’s powerful manual juicing machines! They knew about the use of horsetail for treating lung conditions, ginger for treating migraine headaches, Elderberry syrup for treating flu, and so much more! I couldn’t stop writing and recording notes to myself through-out the day! It felt like fate had drawn me there as Reza and I are both interested in alternative health. Reza’s paternal family hail from the desert city of Kerman, known as the healing city! Moreover, his family are still referred to as ‘Hakeem (or the healers). For Centuries, they were the leading herbal experts in the city: and Reza’s paternal Grandfather owned a very successful herbal dispensary. Sadly, none of his sons showed interest or aptitude for taking it over, but we both feel the need to try and capture the knowledge that still exists within the family. During the days we visited Oshaan, dad used to wake me up for Fajar: and while the family slept, we’d walk by the river and he’d talk to me about mountain herbs and ancient tree bark and their cures in treating every thing from high blood pressure to glaucoma to the common cold and beyond!
Monica’s enthusiasm taught me not only how accessible nature really is to us all, but how shameful it is that so many non-Muslims understand and respect the sunnah, the healing properties of our earth far better than we do! As Muslims (and as shias), we really should be leaders in this area, living greener lifestyles and educating others in the process! Monica was fascinated by the hadaith of our Imams about nature and plants, and by Imam Ali’s seasonal food recommendations. What a wonderful tool this is for dawa, for shared learning and dialogue and a platform from which to work together.
I took so much from this day; and more than the outdoor sessions, the evaluation or any thing we’ve ever done, I feel like this group will take something tangible away from our time together: this project is over, but in many ways, it is only just beginning for most of them!
My notes are far too lengthy to post just now, but I’ll post extracts from Monica’s learning over the coming weeks! And if you’d like to pick up some tips of your own, why not visit her website: www.monicawilde.com

May Means Updates (and another year in BlogLand!)

2011-05-26T14:20:00.000-07:00

Now then; so I promised an update: and here it is! I have to say that all my good intentions re: blogging have really gone to the wall since the beginning of the year, and I won’t even fake any change in that as it will probably only get worse, (oh and its probably best not to mention the wedding series that I’ve never actually finished!).
Any way; where are we at! Well, one of the reasons for my lack of updates stems from the fact that I’ve returned to education! Its something that’s been on my mind for a while, and came to the forefront when I officially became one of the great unemployed!
As many of you know I’ve been writing for a long time: for work, for pleasure, for potential publication in the future! The thing is that my book is now at that point where it needs a caring committed editor: and good ones usually charge an arm and several legs for their time, and I ain’t got any going spare now have I!
The upshot was, if I wanted something doing, I’d have to do it myself; and so I’ve enrolled in a BA programme, studying English literature! I always wish I’d studied English after school rather than journalism, but better late than never, plus I feel the reflective nature of my current difficulties make me a prime candidate for English! The Programme is with the Open University, and as the nature of long-distance study is flexible all the way, I’ve chosen my core subjects to reflect both my love of literature and my need to improve my writing/editing abilities. Naturally I’ll test some of it over here, so feel free to comment and critique as much as you wish to!
In other news, Reza and I are no further forward with our case, (but I expect most of you guessed that!). We’ve taken a new lawyer, (whole other story but the first one wasn’t really working as hard as she could have for us), we’re using a new route for our next application, so we can only hope and pray it proves fruitful this time around. I won’t go on about how much pressure this is putting on us: I’m sure you can guess! But while I recognised that pressure on the face of it, I didn’t realise its internal/longer term impact till a recent hospital visit! Without going in to too much detail, I’ve developed some health problems (they are female specific and lasting), which truthfully I can only put down to stress, tension and more anxiety! How this will impact on our married life I just don’t know, its impossible to pre-empt the future at a million miles away; with time, comes certainty!
On a more positive note, we’ve had elections since my last update, and the Scottish Nationalists stole the show with a massive landslide victory! Despite the electoral system which was apparently designed to prevent such a huge majority! I worked tirelessly all through the campaign and the success/adrenaline was just a privilege to behold on every front! Osama’s cousin became a MSP: something MR Saeed never actually managed to achieve! Still, we won’t hold that against Hamza Yousef as he seems to be very different from the SIF Stooge!
Oh and there was the royal wedding too: William and Kathryn: and while I hated all the hype and the ridiculous amount of media attention it generated, the ceremony itself was truly captivating; and I admit to watching it countless times since the big day (though not in company!).

So where are we now? Well, same old legal stuff, my new degree course (lots of study), and continual job searching, hospital visits: oh and travelling! Over the next 2 months I’ll be visiting Azerbaijan, Ireland, London and Dartington, so while there won’t be much happening around here, I’ll have loads to tell you when I get back!
Those of you who have been here for a while may have noted that the blog will be 2 years old this weekend! Its amazing; I never thought I’d make it this far! So much has happened in these 2 years (good and bad), and shockingly, too much has stayed the same! However this space remains a joy; a sanctuary, a place to share, to hear and be heard; and a space to reflect on tears and joys gone by. I may not devote the same time and care to it, nor the same researched articles as before, but I value all your input and appreciate all the new followers who have joined over the past couple of months! The stats make interesting reading, and the fact that 22 of you do actually drop by here on a regular basis and declare the same by following means a great deal to me: I’m not interested in quantity, but quality really does matter to me.
All I ask of you my dear readers is to drop by when you can, and as another blog year ends and the next takes over, do remember me in your prayers; whatever happens in this New Year will be challenging, that much is clear to me, but with patience, courage and strength, there is no test too great! Inner strength comes through spiritual regeneration, and the love/prayers of others, so please do remember me as I remember you all,
On to a new chapter with firm footing and head held high! (and nothing about life being like a box of chocolates, or a bucket of mushrooms), (more of that some other time).
Peace and out.

Oh what a lovely tag!

2011-05-26T07:51:00.000-07:00

Now, here’s a cool tag; I’ve not done one for a while, but this really hit the spot!
Pay attention; you need to pass it on remember!
If I were a month, I’d be September!
If I were a day of the week, I’d be Sunday!
If I were a time of day, I’d be midnight!
If I were a planet, I’d be earth!
If I were an animal, I’d be a Persian Cat!
If I were a direction, I’d be East!
If I were a piece of furniture, I’d be a 4-poster Bed!
If I were a liquid, I’d be black coffee!
If I were a gemstone, I’d be a sapphire
If I were a tree, I’d be a Walnut.
If I were a tool, I’d be a paint brush!
If I were a flower, I’d be a pink carnation.
If I were a kind of weather, I’d be summer rain.
If I were a musical instrument, I’d be a piano.
If I were a colour, I’d be black.
If I were an emotion, I’d be sensitive.
If I were a fruit, I’d be a persimmon.
If I were a sound, I’d be birdsong.
If I were an element, I’d be oxygen.
If I were a car, I’d be vintage.
If I were a food, I’d be student biriani!
If I were a place, I’d be Karachi!
If I were a taste, I’d be chilly hot with coriander!
If I were a scent, I’d be pure sandalwood.
If I were an item of clothing, I’d be your most comfortable worn out pyjamas!
If I were a body part, I’d be a heart.
If I were a facial expression I’d be ‘HUH?
If I were a song, I’d be

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If I were a pair of shoes, I’d be sparkly sandals.
Now: …, what would you be?
Just because people are busy, and because not every one can be bothered with tags (myself included!), I won’t tag any one, this one is open, quite simply, to any one who wants to do it!
Complete it if you can though; the answers are fun and tell you allot about a person!

Challenged by the Church!

2011-05-23T15:43:00.000-07:00

The blog has been fairly silent lately; and for that I apologise! Allot has been going on, (not good, not bad, mostly indifferent though!), however I promise to update on all that later this week!
For now, I am really looking for some input on this one!
Here’s the thing: I feel like going to the church!
It has been on my mind for a while, and has been peaked by 3 main issues: first, my mum said she wanted to go to church but didn’t feel like going alone! I offered to go with her, but I don’t think she wanted to explain away her hijab wearing daughter at a new church, so she didn’t take me up on my offer! (the Church thing stayed in my head though!).
Then: I suddenly found myself watching ‘BBC Songs of Praise every Sunday night, and tuning in to ‘Choral Even song on BBC Radio 3 (and often reading/singing along!). Then, I started working for my colleague Sangeev on a new church focused documentary he was making. This required me to visit loads of churches, (and also got me reading ‘Churches and how to read them), which I found fascinating! Tonight, I walked past the church at the end of my street (accidentally on purpose), and wandered inside (accidentally on purpose too!), to see what was going on!! It turns out that the building I assumed to be the church was actually their office building! However they gave me some literature (that too in an accessible format!), and they told me they were having an open evening which I could visit if I wanted to, and which would be taking place the very next day!
I came home, had a look at their evangelistic website (and then got very confused!), what is this church thing all about! Where has it come from, and why is it so prominent just now!

Why do I want to go to Church?
Well, I can tell you why not! Its not for doctrinal reasons; I found the discrepancies within Christianity a long time ago; and have long since got over them! Islam works for me and makes sense for me and there isn’t allot of spiritual gain I’d usurp from Christian worship!
Its not ‘faking it; If I attend to support my mother, or any one else in my family; I’ll be attending as a Muslim; and both she and the church will just have to get with my programme!
Its not really for socialisation; I have a vibrant, supportive circle of friends and struggle to keep up with my existing social commitments; never mind taking on new ones!

So: what is it! …., well, this is where I run in to trouble! For as much as I vehemently declare that its none of the above; there are some overlaps; and other than that; I can’t come up with a plausible argument either for nor against going!

The fact is, there is a gap; a gap in my spiritual life; a gap in my family relations; and a gap in my personal identity; a gap which is perfectly Church shaped! That is to say, not the fundamentalist cult like Church I grew up in, but a Church that fulfils a church-like purpose, yet maintains a distance and above all, a respect and reverence for other faiths and spiritual paths!
My mosque isn’t working for me!! Yeah; much as I hate to admit it, my mosque is failing me! I don’t know when it started; like many shias around the world, I live in a shia community that is more ethnically defined than spiritually. While I understand the predominant Urdu spoken at my local centre, its not my mother tongue and there are gaps in terms of what I gain; this became increasingly evident when Ahlulbayt TV began broadcasting English lectures and emphasising the obvious gaps in my knowledge! But while knowledge can be gained through self-study, the growth and communion gleaned through coming together for spiritual reflection and learning is something that just can’t be done in isolation, and despite all of my online shia brothers and sisters around the world, there is something about sharing a cup of tea, praying together or just talking it out!
There is something more to this gap though; something about childhood, about belonging, about feeling like I have a place in my community. Many of us struggle with belonging, but how do you juggle it as a revert disabled Muslim! There are just too many characteristics to prioritise; and where one fits, another does not! I am accepted as a shia Muslim in a shia mosque, yet I’m considered a non-believer at most suni centres! Moreover, the disability thing overshadows all other characteristics of difference while in the mosque! In a church, the attitude to both Islam and Christianity would be wrong; I know this logically, yet spiritually I feel drawn back there!
Its more for myself; the Church would never take me as I was; and if they did accept me, it would be with the intent of converting me somewhere along the line, thus destroying any illusion of equality I did have! All the same; I want to sing; (despite the Islamic attitude to music, communal singing and praise has always been incredibly important to me). I want to pray with other people. I want to be around people who put God first and who enjoy spiritual discussion and reaching their full spiritual potential. Maybe I should just go; attend a few services and get the church thing out of my system! On the other hand, if I do go, I may find myself embroiled in some high Church drama which I simply don’t have the time or inclination for right now! Moreover, it feels like cheating on my Muslim faithful (it even feels like cheating on myself!), and I wonder if the disadvantages outnumber any advantages their might be.
Is it just a reflection of the insecurity and chaos of my life right now, so that the need to regress to childhood comforts and familiarities is merely inevitable, or is there something stronger at work! Am I on the fringe of a faith crisis; or simply needing to further define my spiritual journey!
Please do comment; I really want to hear from other reverts on this; did you ever go through something like this? Would you recommend I go or not go! Or, if you are a Christian, would you ever consider visiting a mosque? Could you recommend any Churches that would welcome Muslims who simply want to observe while maintaining their own faith?
Am I just going mad?
I’ll leave you all to ponder this while I have another coffee and try to divert my attention to more useless pursuits!

clearing (a little!) of the air!

2011-05-05T09:01:00.000-07:00

This was the kind of post I was hoping never to write.
Its also the kind of post that I avoid and loathe reading on other blogs! Still, there is a time and a need for it; and sadly, that time for me, is right now!
When I started this blog, I had no specific direction or identity in mind for it. the blog would be as odd, disjointed and eclectic as I think I am personality wise! The blog began very person-centred, then became quite Islamic. There were posts about Pakistan, disability activism and random stuff. Then, when MR Iran came in to my world, my posts took on yet another dimension. All of these different shades, flavours, call them what you will! All of them matter to me and all of them will continue to be a feature! I like to think people read the blog because they enjoy one, or all, of these strands! I’m not stupid enough to think or assume that every one would, or should, agree with me; I’m open to debate and disagreement; and in either case; I hope people take something away with them; whether it is a smile, a new perspective; or an reaffirming that their chosen path works for them! (that’s why I read diverse blogs at any rate!).
So, Imagine my shock when I started receiving piles of hate mail; Emails, and comments on the blog, messages via the google profile etc; all talking about the problems people have with the Islamic, (no, actually the shia), nature of this blog! The comments range from “why do you have to write ‘Shia all the time?” (mild), to “you are a filthy shia kafir and you are going straight to hell!).
Now, It saddens me that people feel the need to be inflammatory, but that’s not what is annoying me, my question is; why care? Seriously! What does my hell bound destiny (or lack of it), have to do with you?
Do I write about being shia over here? You bet!
Do I have a problem with that? Obviously not!
Am I emphasising difference? Hmm, depends how you look at it! I don’t believe I emphasise difference to alienate others; and If I do, I am truly sorry for that; and I will accept any constructive guidance people wish to give in order to rectify it. I read blogs from all over the world; from Muslims of different schools and people of other faiths; and frankly, I read those blogs because of the differences they write about! It’s the difference that interests, educates and entertains me; If I want generic, I can turn on any diluted TV channel or documentary or a badly written tabloid article! Difference is what draws me in; and I hope I do the same for others.
Do I want people to agree with me? I don’t really care!
Of course; I do hope that if one of my readers has a hard time with shias, with disabled people or with other aspects of diversity that reading my words opens their mind and changes their point of view! But I’m not egotistical enough to regard myself as some sort of saviour for the ignorant! People will think what they will; and I have no problem with that; if they respect me, and I respect them, we’ll get along just fine regardless of our views and differences!
Do I have to use the word shia? Well yes! For me personally, yes I do! The word shia, literally translated means one who follows! The word is found in the bible and in the qur’an its self! It is found in other religious texts; when talking about the students, disciples or followers of a Prophet, teacher, guru etc, so a person might describe himself as a shia of Mohammed (PBUH), or of Ali (A.S), or of Umar and so on. Of course, the word has come to be synonymous with the sect, or worse, with sectarianism, and that is why you’ll often find me talking about the school of the Ahlulbayt (A.S), that is to say, those who follow the direct descendents, or the house, of the Prophet Mohammed (PBUH). Being a shia, and describing myself as the same is, I believe, pivotally important to defining my identity! Just in the same way that I talk about being blind, being a female, being married etc; being shia underpins all of these different elements and holds them together, creating the unique blend that is me! As previously stated, I don’t use the term to define difference or separation from other Muslims, however this is my faith and my direction of choice. People may wish to know about how I came to that decision. They may want to know about what kind of a Muslim I am; and I cannot talk about that without using this word, so sorry; no changes are going to happen there any time soon.
Do I think I am superior because of it?
Absolutely not! Who am I to think so! And here in I return to the original question; if I do not consider myself superior, what gives others the right to judge me as inferior? As I said before; I adopted this path, this particular school of thought after research, study and reflection. I chose it because I believe it is where Allah (SWT) wanted me to be, and the path I was rightly guided to. I am only a student and it is not for me to judge others or to pronounce some one’s Islam valid or invalid. If I question or debate with you, it is either because I am gaining more knowledge by doing so, or because I wish to clearly define my own viewpoint for your understanding. I know that many debate on the pretext of proving another wrong, which is fundamentally unbalanced from the outset. If I am in error, that is for me to answer to Allah (SWT), and similarly, if another is in error, I may offer advice as is offered to me, but I may not judge, nor make any sort of pronouncement about him/her. This is why I find these comments most hurtful. Why accuse me of fuelling sectarianism when you yourselves single me out as being a Non-Muslim because of my beliefs? Is it really an Islamicly just thing to do, to waste time Emailing another sister with vile obscenities and made-up fatwas of your own?
When all is said and done, we are all Muslims; servants of Allah (SWT) and only he (SWT) will decide between us based on our own hearts. As none know the secrets of another’s heart, (let alone the deviations within our own), its best that we keep our judgements to ourselves!
I apologise to those readers who are nothing to do with this, as well as to my non-Muslim readers who are doubtless wondering just how petty Muslims really are based on the above!
Let me conclude by reiterating once again; you are welcome to Email, to comment, to leave messages on the blog that contradict or disagree with me; I do not require my ego to be massaged and for the world to subscribe to Rosher’s revelations! All I ask is that we keep it clean, dignified and respectful each to the other; if your comments aren’t published here, it should stand to reason that they are indecent and not befitting a Muslim; whatever your sect! As Jesus (A.S) said, let he who is without sin cast the first stone!
OK; rant over, perhaps we could return to something more interesting now?

More Heartbreak from our homeland!

2011-05-03T14:20:00.000-07:00

The below report on the death of yet another outstanding journalist in Iran is heartbreaking, and essential reading. Reporters without borders create a true, and harrowing picture of a wonderful man, matured in years and broken in spirit, rotting away to a point of bewilderment and indifference, the only escape from which was to take his own life!
Its hard to stomach, to even let your mind ask where the scholars were? Where were the activists? Where was the justice, the sympathy, the understanding that makes shia fiqh stand out from all the so-called Islam beneath it, yet nothing was done, and nothing changes as scholars and politicians continue to protect one another. As violence in the Middle East escalates, and as America celebrates the death of Bin Laden, the fate of Iran becomes even more unstable! Sure change is needed, but while no one but no one would advocate for yet more US Pillaging, when nothing is tolerated from within, we can only fear for the future!
Please recite sura Fatiha for Agha Pourzand, and pray for all those who fester in Hidden Iranian prisons, with neither release nor an end, with neither a listening ear nor a proven definitive trial and sentence. God Save Iran!
Reporters Without Borders is profoundly saddened by the death of journalist Siamak Pourzand, 80, a major cultural figure in Iran. Detained and under house
arrest for ten years, banned from leaving the country and separated from his family, Pourzand committed suicide on 29 April in Tehran.

We hold the Iranian authorities responsible for this gesture of despair. Despite several appeals to the authorities by his family and various human rights
organizations including Reporters Without Borders, not once did either President Mohammad Khatami or President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, or the heads of judicial
system, Ayatollah Mahmoud Hashemi Shahroudi and Sadegh Larijani, intercede on his behalf.

Pouzand’s death is a reminder that the Iranian regime is one of the most violent in the world for journalists. We address our most sincere condolences to
the Pourzand family, to his daughters and his wife, the lawyer Mehranghiz Kar, and to his colleagues.

Pourzand began his career in 1952 with the newspaper Bakhtar Emroz. Prior to the 1978 revolution, he had also worked for several film magazines, including
Paik Cinema and Sepid va siah, Ferdossi.

After Ayatollah Khomeini came to power, he was fired from the newspaper Kyhan. Despite harassment, he continued to work with independent newspapers before
taking over the management of Tehran’s artistic and cultural centre. He worked as a cultural commentator for several reformist newspapers after the reformist
Mohammed Khatami became president in 1997.

Pourzand was abducted in the street by security forces on 29 November 2001 and was held incommunicado for the first four months of his detention. He was
granted neither access to a lawyer nor medical care. Held for months in solitary confinement, he was tortured in an attempt to force him into a televised
confession. Accepting all the charges against him, Pourzand said he had absolutely no need to defend himself.

He was sentenced on 3 May 2002 to 11 years in prison on charges of “spying and undermining state security” and “links with monarchists and counter-revolutionaries.”
A Tehran court of appeal upheld the sentence on 7 July 2002.

In a letter published in 2003, his wife wrote: “He is in solitary confinement in the basement of Evin prison. According to a diagnosis made on 30 July 2003
by the Imam Khomeini Hospital in Tehran, he is suffering from arthritis in his neck and from worrying back problems requiring an operation.”

In recent years, Pourzand had spent his time under house arrest, with frequent hospital visits and constantly under threat from information ministry interrogators.
He was an eye-witness to crimes committed by the authorities in Iranian prisons. This was the reason for their refusal to allow him to leave the country.

On 8 March 2003, he telephoned his daughter in the United States to confirm that he was being put on trial again. “From now on, you can count me among the
dead,” he said.

Many journalists are currently in prison or have been granted a “conditional release” on payment of a large amount of bail. Those who are in poor health
are denied the treatment they need. Reporters Without Borders calls for the Special Rapporteur on Iran to be sent to the country urgently, in accordance
with the resolution voted by the United Nations Human Rights Council on 24 March.

Untold Tales of Tahruf.

2011-04-13T06:34:00.000-07:00

Iranian culture is governed by a complex, little-known social system of rulings and behaviours, known as Tahruf. I don’t have a literal translation for this particular concept; but if you can picture a state, balancing somewhere between politeness and faking it, (and leaning quite heavily to the right!), then you’ve got what tahruf is about! Arguably many (if not all!), fazes of polite conduct are riddled with insincerity, but somehow, tahruf takes it to a whole new level! The other problem is that there doesn’t appear to be a get-out for those newly inducted or who slip up on account of not knowing the lay of the land! If you fluff it, you are deemed disrespectful, without shame, beyond help! When I realised this, I became quiet, introverted, almost phobic about socialising in Iran and showing my in-laws up! As some one who likes to speak, to be heard, to engage others, the likelihood of me embarrassing my in-laws to the point of exile was always a very live possibility when I was around! And even if I had accidentally done just that, they were far too polite to tell me! And that is the biggest issue with tahruf, it manifests its self most of the time by people never saying what they mean! Let me give some examples; if a guest comes to your house for tea, you must ask him to stay for dinner. Even if your guest says “thank you, but I have another appointment and really need to leave shortly”, you must insist, violently pressing your guest to stay. The guest (for his part), must eventually give in with good grace and accept the dinner invite, even if it means that the rest of his day has been thrown in to disarray!
Another social example; if you have a group of guests visiting, you must quickly identify them in order of age, position and rank; serving tea to the eldest first, and working your way steadily down the line! This isn’t always easy to do if you haven’t been briefed on the family dynamics in advance! You might serve tea to a cousin first, rather than your mother’s sister (they are the same age, but mother’s closest relative would come first!), or, because Iranian women are so obsessed with body image and are almost always incredibly preened and beautiful! You actually can’t always pick out a mother from a daughter from a sister and so on! In your presence, people will laugh this off, but behind your back, they are thinking what a useless wife you are and how little you understand the intricacies of family life!
When we got married, we had to sit down with a book and write down who gave us what gift! I assumed this was so that we could send out appropriate thank you notes! But no; it was to make sure that we exceeded these gifts when their sons or daughters would marry in the future!
It took me some time to get my head around all of this. I initially didn’t think that tahruf was such a big deal, because even though I’d seen it in action, no one had specifically pointed it out to me! No one had taken me aside before my Niqah and said “Right tubelight! You are now an Iranian wife! There are certain things you must know and say and do! And God Help you if you get any of them wrong!”. If some one invited me to dinner, and expressed an interest in keeping in touch! I was all smiles and exchanging Email addresses! I didn’t read between the lines and see “OK, so you are my husband’s friend’s wife! I invited you here because it was the right thing to do, and I’m saying we should keep in touch because I want to be friendly, not because I actually mean it!”. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that every one in Iran fakes it, far from it! but the problem is that tahruf governs so much in Iran that it becomes almost impossible for an outsider to determine what is genuine, and what is just playing along as it were. I discussed this with a German friend who has been living in Tehran for around 30 years now! She neither reassured me, nor snubbed me out:
“If you don’t understand tahruf Roshni, neither do I! Its been 30 years since I came here, and I don’t understand all of the Dos and Don’ts! Ironically, my daughter, who has been raised here, gets it more than I do; and I often refer to her before attending a party in case I make some awful unconscious gaff in the offing!”. This didn’t yield well for me! I imagined myself as a ridiculous blind bumbling idiot! Always being painfully slow on the uptake, and catching the drift light years after missing the boat! Clinging desperately to the lifeline of my children and only enhancing the generation chasm in the process!
Reza doesn’t talk about these things either! He laughs them off, assuring me that I’ll get it in time! Though, I don’t really know what it is I’m supposed to be getting! I neither know where to begin, or where it will end! You have to know what questions to ask, in order to seek out the right answers and act upon them! Here in lies another major problem with Tahruf; its not just that what is said lacks intent; rather, what remains unsaid, is what you should really be worrying about! As Muslims, we are advised to hold our tongues, to watch our speech, behaviour etc, however I have never interpreted this as a lisence to avoid dealing with that which needs to be resolved, regardless of how uncomfortable it may be. I also thought that distance played a part in this too; Reza and I don’t have that much real time in which to connect (all be it virtually), on our current schedules! And when we do get the chance, its easier just to enjoy each other’s proximity; rather than getting lost in subtexts regarding mortgages, visas and employment!
Lately however, as our distance remains fixed and we appear not even remotely closer to an immigration solution, I feel the need to take the proverbial by the horns and talk it out! “don’t ever question your husband about these things!” my Iranian friends advise. “If you do, he will think you are looking for a way out, that you are not committed to the relationship, so that he, in turn, will lose interest in you as well!”. This struck me as absurd; after all, if my husband approached me and wanted to talk about where we go from here, I’d respect the fact that he recognised how this situation was tearing us apart and seriously damaging our relationship, and how pivotal it was to bring it to a conclusion one way or another! But the panicked warnings of Iranians who understood good Persian Marriage conduct far better than I did, meant that I just skirted a path around it! Occasionally, I drop in to conversations with my husband: “do you think we should talk about where we go from here, I mean, are you worried about things?”, he smiles, and assures me that he isn’t worried, and says there is no need to talk about it; and if he believes I buy this, then we don’t know each other at all! But floating aimlessly down the river of the great unspoken appears to be perfectly acceptable in Iranian life! And so that is what I do! At night, as I try to steady my shattered nerves and focus on my night prayers, I find my mind straying in to what else might now be tainted by tahruf imposed silences: (you need to lose weight, you are not very attractive these days, I’m sick of waiting around for this visa, lets call it a day! Do you have to be so sad all the time? Why can’t your family get over themselves and just deal with us!). This morning, I returned home after a crippling 24 hour session on the film script. Sangeev and I had been putting it off; and now, the film council were demanding funding proposals; and we had to make the final edits! The day was long, exhausting and ‘all work! But it was less dramatic; not following the usual pitch battles for particular scenes and nuances that we usually joust over! “something is really wrong Roshni; you haven’t even argued with me!”, he commented, and as I tried to settle myself down, an uncontrollable fit of tears came over me. Try as I might, I was waling, howling like a baby; and that too in the presence of a work colleague! I bit hard on my bottom lip; almost drawing blood! And 3 large glasses of water later, the lump in my throat cleared enough for me to get the words out! I couldn’t explain what was wrong, neither to him nor to myself! I just bleated on about “life being really hard right now”. (see: tahruf really is taking over my life!). Then, somehow, we got in to discussions about relationships, and Arab American guy and the cycles of error we both seem to perpetually fall in to. “the problem is Roshni; you need to determine reality; all of the games we play, the words and deeds we fake, the aura we create around ourselves; can it hold out under pressure? Can you really be yourself with the other person? It really is that simple! If the cards all come tumbling down with the first gentle breeze, you know its not real!”. And maybe that’s my problem, in my battles to survive, whether illness, overseas living, violence, divorce, and now unemployment/marital distance, I’ve never given myself the time to analyse what is real and what isn’t! Karachi felt/feels real, so real that I still remember the smell of roasting corn from the window below my room, or the action required to clean cockroaches from the studio floor in the mornings! But this situation, this limbo doesn’t feel real; it just feels like a drug induced hays! Like a dream you have when you are only half awake, so that when you finally emerge from sleep, you cannot pinpoint the portion that existed in your minds eye, and the part in which you were fully functional!
I listened to Sangeev talk about reality, and started making a paper plane out of my last page of notes. The plane was beautiful! I still possessed the childhood skill for it! crafting each wing, each propeller, but then I got bored and started making nail prints on it, and crumpling the fragile frame, so that in the end, I simply had a ball, with wings! I opened the window and let it fly; seeing myself in that crushed piece of paper; a butterfly maybe, hanging fearfully beyond the smog of Tehran, Tahruf and uncertainty, praying only that the fog will clear so that I can see the land below for what it really is; good, bad and indifferent; and then maybe, when I see it, I will be able to move on at last!

For the Love of a Son: A Life-changing Novel!

2011-04-07T05:18:00.000-07:00

What would you do for justice? I mean, how loud would you shout? how much would you be willing to sacrifice? how much danger would you face? how much degradation would you tolerate?
Would you suffer in silence because that was just easier or would you stand up, dust yourself off and just go on fighting?!
The truth is its not something we really have to think about here in the West. Our activism, though necessary in its own right, often feels sterile, weak, diluted to the point of being desensitised from every thing! That is why the above novel reached me at a level so elemental, so deep, so real. The reality is that this world of ours rarely meets the like of Maryam Khail. Women, who did not ask to be activists, but the reality of life thrust these duties upon them from the moment they exited the womb, and boy did they meet it head on!
In this compelling, moving and deeply passionate true story, Maryam charts the journey of her life. Spanning Afghanistan, India, America and Saudi Arabia, she discusses the struggles faced by her gender against a backdrop of oppression, war, indignity and tribal loyalties. She displays with sensitivity yet raw honesty the complex trials Afghan women face; simply raising children, living peacefully with husbands or trying to buy bread from the shop can be issues sparking a multitude of torments, mental and physical cruelty of the most barbaric order.
A forced marriage, leads to the birth of a beautiful baby boy, and in the birth of her son, a new chapter of Maryam’s horror shall begin. As her violent home life spirals out of control, her fear for her baby’s safety escalates, but who knew; as she walked in to the bathroom to wash her face, the smile she offered to her baby boy on route would be the last smile she would lovingly send his way.
Where did her baby go?
Will she ever see him again?
How does a mother reconcile such grief, loss and suffering and still carry on?
Maryam’s incredible journey poses all of these questions and more, yet despite her loss and despair, the novel also offers great hope. It demonstrates practically how, and why, a woman like Maryam does not give up. It shows that where there is life, there is a basic human compulsion to go on, to keep fighting. Maryam Khail possesses a God-Given strength that I believe is rare among our women today. There were times during her novel where I would squirm, almost willing her with all my heart not to take a particular route, not to follow through with the so obvious risks she was taking. Yet one has to admire her confidence, tenacity and daring to do what she knows she must; you wonder what our world, and what woman kind could be if there were just a few more Maryam’s on our earth!
To talk about the book, or the plot, in detail would be an utter injustice; so I’ll simply emphasise how much you MUST read it!
For the love of a son, by Jean Sasson can be purchased from Amazon; and for all of you, like me, who are addicted to the Kindle, a digital version is available too! I was so moved by this beautiful heart-felt biography that I took the liberty of Emailing Maryam my thoughts; my comments, and her reply, are pasted below.

Salaams Maryam Jaan. I hope this note finds you well. You do not know me, though after reading your book, I feel as though I do and felt the need to write you a few lines. I am a disabled human rights activist, living in the UK. I read the reviews of your book, and because I have a particular passion/interest in South Asia and women’s rights, thought I knew what to expect. Nothing could have prepared me for reading your book. None of the novels; neither fact nor fiction that has come out of the region even comes close to it. Nothing could have prepared me for the love, passion and heartache with which you tell your story. I read the book in almost one sitting, I feel it is the kind of book to be reflected upon in this way. It is the kind of book you cannot put down, yet when it is over, you look at the world around you with a completely new lens, realising that every thing around you is still the same, yet you have changed so much from within. I can’t begin to imagine how much you have hurt, and how you live with your trauma on a daily basis. Nor can I imagine the innate insight and strength it has taken for you to share something so traumatic, so personal, so intimate with the rest of the world. The book exposes you to others, but also to the dangers that have come before and lay ahead, but still you took this risk. I have immense, immeasurable respect for your courage, strength and determination in the face of adversity. I read this book, reflecting on my struggles and thinking that my life was hard. By the end, I had been humbled to tears over and over again in the depths of the night as I thanked my creator for the life I have, but also for giving me the opportunity to glimpse in to your own. Though I do not know you, I think it is impossible to read this book and not feel involved, or feel an intense, indescribable need, to reach out, to express emotions and to do something about them. In my humble state I feel hopeless to make your life better, or even to express myself in a more eloquent manner. Since reading your story there has not been a day, a moment where my heart does not pour fourth with prayers for your present and your future. I pray only that the good you seek for yourself and your family is granted to you, for surely after hardship, ease must dilute the suffering in the end! I want and wish I could do so much for you. I am an activist myself, some of the causes we work for are the same, others are different, yet the principals remain the same. Ultimately, people like me who are not from Afghanistan are feather bedding! We can only empathise so much and travel so far in our campaigning. We need angels of light, cymbals of hope, understanding and justice to come forward and share their truth with the world. Many dream of doing what you have done, few have the courage to carry it out. Your entire life stands as an example of liberty, freedom, equality, dignity and an unbreakable, beautiful soul. I feel honoured to have read your book, and even more honoured to have been able to write you these few lines. I am only your servant; your well wisher, expressing myself; and it goes without saying that if I ever can, or could be, of assistance to you, I would, and will always be available for the same. For now, All I can do is thank you, and admire you from a distance. May you be blessed in both worlds for your sufferings and your strength through adversity. I pray that this book spreads like a star of light and hope across the world and generates the good, the confidence, the activism and empowerment among women and campaigners that you seek, Insha Allah.

With love, duas, and respect.
Wasalaam,
Your sister,
Roshni.

***Maryam’s reply ***

Dear Roshni Jan,
Thank you very much for your beautiful E-mail. I really appreciated your thoughts about my life.
I'm very happy that you are an activist for our gender and people like you can help and make a difference for those of us who are oppressed because of the
ignorance of the society we live in.
Please do spread the wards and put my story as an example.
with kind regards,
Maryam T

My Journey to light: how it all Began!

2011-04-04T09:39:00.000-07:00

This may not be the best written article in the world, but I stumbled across it while looking for something else, and thought I’d share it! I’ve shared aspects of my Reversion story on the blog, but never in its entirety! This was published in the Indian addition of Roshni magazine in October 2010, and I’m posting the original English Article below. May Allah (SWT) bless all those who have found his path of guidance, and may he (SWT) continue to bless us and keep us on the straight path: aameen.
Roshni: mere zindagi ca safar,

By the Grace of Allah (SWT), I have been on the path of ‘haq now for around 14 years, but never the less I am still amazed and fascinated by revert stories. While all of us are born on the ‘Fitra, the innate truth of Islam, we are inducted in to our respective lifestyles, faith and circumstances as a result of the setting we exist in, some of us find truth, others don’t, while some simply never get the opportunity, but one thing life has certainly taught me is that some are chosen by Allah (SWT) for his blessed deen, and their journey to realise their destiny is truly the stuff of miracles, and reflecting upon their stories reminds us of Allah (SWT) grand designs and how he (SWT) is indeed the best of planners.

In my case, I was born in to a fundamentalist Christian family. My parents, respectively belonged to 2 extreme protestant factions of the faith: my father’s family were Baptists, while my mother’s belong to a little known sect: the Plymouth Brethren. Despite their strict backgrounds, neither of my parents were especially religious, though they had agreed that I would go to church and be educated in the faith as they had, so, I went to church on Sunday, followed by Sunday school and bible class. My maternal Grandfather is a recognised scholar of his community, and as I got older, I began attending the intensive bible studies he conducted in his church. From a very early age, I was struck by the strange duality, or double standards reflected in the lifestyle of my family. There was an obvious split between what their faith instructed them to do, and how this manifested its self for them. While none of us are perfect, some things, I thought, were obvious: i.e., if the bible instructs you to avoid alcohol, you would avoid it wouldn’t you? But all of my family drunk (not to excess), but drunk all the same, and feared all the time that a member of their church might catch them in the act of buying alcohol! My Grandparent’s brethren church regarded all forms of frivolity to be sins: i.e., excess in spending, Television, extravagant gatherings and so on, but my Grandmother in particular was obsessed with sopping, especially for clothes and make-up, a habit she hasn’t given up even now that she is in her eighties! When I asked questions about these dichotomies at bible study, I was never given any straight answers. The avoidance continued, even when my questions became more spiritual! I wanted to know about Jesus being the son of God? I couldn’t work out how it was possible: and if it was, who then is greater, who is worthy of worship: the father, or the son! Again, no straight answers were given. I was only 13 at this point, but for the first time in my life, I began to doubt my Christian faith. Studies of world religion in school stirred something in me, a feeling that there was more out there than I was experiencing at home. When I told my parents that I wanted to investigate other faiths, they were enraged! They strongly forbid me to do so, and seemed almost terrified whenever I raised the topic. Their fear intrigued me, and lead me to believe that I had been raised on nothing more than a brain washed idea rather than any thing factual! And so it was, that my quest began. In my early teenaged years, I developed a love for all things Indian: an uncle of mine worked in Deli, and often brought me clothes, bangles and curiosities, and my love of these things had lead me to take Hindi language classes. My teacher was a Hindu, so my obvious first choice was to visit the Mandir with her. I was instantly drawn to the Hindu faith because of its beauty, its emphasis on individuality, and all paths being equal providing they reach to the supreme being. To this day, it hurts me still when people abuse and find fault with Hindu’s, because they loved and nurtured me on my journey, and contrary to popular misconception, the majority of Hindu’s believe in Tawheed, the same as Muslims do. I also studied Buddhism, and other branches of Eastern philosophy and mysticism, and for a long time, this was enough for me. Islam, was no where on my agenda, because I’d been raised with a belief that Muslims were backward, violent extremists who treated women badly and forced them to dress strangely, and as I’d grown up with extreme Christians, the last thing I wanted was to exchange one breed of fundamentalism for another one!
All that would change however, when I was around 15. In terms of academic study, there was another trend that was developing along-side my language interests, and that was for radio/broadcast journalism. At only 15 years old, I’d managed to secure work for the BBC making children’s programmes, and also worked for several Asian community radio networks. One day, while browsing an Asian food store, I came across a poster advertising something called ‘Radio Ramadhan: a station that would be broadcasting in my area for 30 days and needed volunteers! At this point, I had no idea that it was an Islamic station, but got in touch to offer my services! On my first visit to the station, I wanted to run a million miles! Every one was Muslim, dressed in hijaab, obviously and openly religious and proud of it! I had no place there: or so I thought! But despite my awkwardness, every one seemed quite happy for me to be around. They treated me kindly, gave me tea and food although they themselves were fasting, and answered all my questions with respect and accuracy. Working with them on their programmes, I gained my first insight in to Islam, and it was nothing like what I imagined! Islam built upon my Christian background, and actually answered a great many of the questions I’d had about Christian doctrine. I became drawn to revert stories, people who had reverted from Christianity to Islam and how/what had made them do so. I became convinced early on that Islam was the truth I had been searching for, but I was extremely scared of making the switch! I knew that Islam would be more than a religion: it would mean a complete change of lifestyle: and I didn’t feel ready to take such a risk! How would my family react? Would they throw me out? Would I lose my friends? Would I be strong enough to make all the changes needed? I prayed for guidance, and, foolishly, used to strike deals with god: i.e., if I pass my exams, I’ll convert: and mashallah I’d pass every thing with fantastic marks! In the end, I knew I couldn’t avoid the truth any more: and read my Shahada on the 31st January 1997, in the presence of a group of sisters from the radio station who had come to befriend me. They all gave me gifts: one of which was a beautiful brown hijab! High on excitement and Iman, I casually walked in to the house in my new scarf, not thinking at all about how my parents would react! They were shocked, angry and horrified by what I had done. For weeks, I was not permitted to leave the house accept to attend school, and certainly wasn’t aloud to wear hijaab! I had to hide any Islamic books, scarves or prayer items, as my parents would simply damage them or throw them away! Muslim friends could not call me at home, and studying Islam became all the more difficult as I couldn’t meet any one or leave home. These restrictions were ultimately lifted, but their hatred of Islam remained. My parents tolerated me till I was 18 and had completed my main schooling, and then told me that if I wished to continue on this Islamic path, it would be best if I left their house! I was afraid, and had no idea where I would go: I had no job, no money and no senior education, what would I do? How would I survive! At this time, the masjid that supported me introduced me to a potential young man for marriage. The man was from Pakistan, spoke very little English and was not a UK national! He was not at all suitable as a spouse, but at that time, I saw him as providing a respectful, safe and halal route to leave my parent’s home, so I consented to the marriage. We spent 3 years together, 3 very hard years. He rarely worked, and when he did, all his money was sent to his family in Pakistan. Overnight, I became the financial support for the family. I got myself a counselling diploma, and began working at a Muslim women’s NGO. I even got myself more work at the BBC, and transformed from a shy, lacking in confidence teenager to a capable young woman! But there was a problem! In all of this, my Islam had been almost forgotten! I was not wearing hijaab (although I could have!), was not praying regularly, and felt quite detached from my faith, the initial sparks had gone, and in many ways I was simply going through the motions, just as my husband was. When the marriage eventually ended 3 years later, it concluded under very difficult circumstances. I was emotionally very damaged and bitter about what had transpired, I had never seen any one from my community marry a person, use them and divorce them to secure citizenship as my former husband had done, and I decided that if this was what Muslims did to one another, I did not wish to be one of them! I almost cut off completely from the community, didn’t practise any thing. Part of me must have held on to the fragments of my iman, because I continued to eat halal, didn’t drink and always read my duas before sleep, but that was about all! During my recovery from the break-up, I was invited to visit Pakistan and stay with some friends for a few weeks: that is, weeks that became a 2.5 year stay! In Pakistan, the media industry was opening up, as a result of independent broadcasters securing their own licences! It was in that climate, that I applied for a job with a respected TV channel there, and got it! When I took on the job, I was the first non-Pakistani to have worked for them, and was the subject of much curiosity, questions and more! Some disliked me intensely, especially those who were forced in to working under me: but others liked me well enough and I formed many firm friendships: most of which are still flourishing to this day! Interestingly, most of my colleagues were followers of the Ahlulbayt (A.S), i.e., shias. When I had first come to Islam, suni and shias were merely names for me! They didn’t mean any thing, and I did not know which I was! However, I was quickly indoctrinated in to all the myths about shias, that they were not proper Muslims, that they hit themselves, cry in muherram and Worship Hussain (A.S), that we shouldn’t eat food from them, and should avoid them at any cost! I recalled these words, and one day over lunch, the sectarian topic came up! Confident in my ignorance, I began to spout all the nonsense I had been taught regarding shias. No one said any thing, and most people respectfully left the table! But one man, gently took me aside and asked me where I had heard these things. When I told him at was from my religious teachers, he seemed shocked! But asked me if I had studied any thing about shias on my own? I shook my head, and later as I reflected on this, I was overcome with embarrassment! Each and every thing I had come to learn in this life, I’d done so through fact, self study and analysis! How stupid had I been: mouthing off insanities that I knew nothing at all about! From that day on, I promised that I’d start studying shia Islam for myself, and at least make informed statements in the future! The world I found when I began this study was one of wonder to me: sure it was Islam, but so different from the Islam I had encountered previously. It was vibrant, factual, practical. No hard and fast rules, but logic, decency and common sense! No extremes, just a middle path, no unanswered questions, no voids or gaps. I was captivated, studied each and every day. I spent so many nights reading, and continued my studies when I returned to Scotland. When I did eventually learn about the tragedy of Karbala, I was moved to tears, to pain and trauma in a way I’d never known before. There is so much I could now say about Karbala, but at that time, I remember being struck by how Zeynab (A.S) sacrificed her hijaab, her covering so that my sisters and I could wear it with pride today. I cried so much over this point, and I remember calling a male friend of mine who lived in London, in a Muslim area, asking him to send me some hijaab scarves. I remember how he laughed and said, “for you? Hijaabs, what will you do with them!! Hang them on the wall?”. His words were harsh, but were only a reflection of what I had turned in to. I was less like a Muslim than ever. Any one passing me in the street or talking to me would have no idea at all that I was a Muslim, because I had let every thing go, had not been true to the great truth Allah (SWT) had shown me in my teens. I felt ashamed, but I also knew that thins were going to change: for now, forever! I found out where my local shia centre in my city was, and began studying under the mowlana there. He counselled me through my difficult past, and taught me the basics to start me off on my new path. I did receive my hijaabs from London, and have never removed my scarf since. That was in 2005, and so much has changed since then. I am now one of the directors of an online based organisation supporting new shia Muslims, I am vice chair of the shia Council for Scotland, and a regular presenter and contributor to ‘Ahlulbayt TV. As a disabled woman, I also do allot of work championing the needs of disabled Muslims, and trying to educate the wider community in order to eradicate the horrific discrimination many disabled Muslims experience. I helped set up an organisation under which this work can be done, we educate and train Imams on disability Equality issues, and we also translate Islamic books in to Braille, and audio formats, and fund sign language interpreters for majliss during muherram and other major events. More recently, Allah (SWT) blessed me with a wonderful shia husband, an amazing man who shares my faith and passions and is there to guide and keep me on this blessed path. There is not a day passes when I do not thank Allah (SWT) for all his mercies towards me. I’ve made many mistakes, and almost lost my Islam, but by the Grace of Allah (SWT) I’ve returned to the truth, and my errors have only made me hold on even stronger to the truth I have been blessed with. If you take any thing from this story, it should be the great mercy of our creator. No matter where life takes us, no matter how many wrong turns we might take, he is there, ready to welcome us home and transform us in to souls that he (SWT) and we too can be proud of. The final reminder I would leave you with, is that being Muslim, and being shia in particular is not simply the stuff of ‘name’s sake, it has to be something dynamic, a living message that we attempt to embody and live out through every thing that we do. When Imam Hussain (A.S) called out from the planes of Karbala, asking if there was any one to help, his call was not to all those companions who had already left this world, his call was to all of us, to each one, to see how committed we would be to forwarding his message, the truth of his Sacrifice to all people of all time. It is a reality that many reverts to Islam do not find the path to Ahlulbayt (A.S), quite simply because there are not enough people conducting dawa activities, and supporting them on the path. Moreover, a recent UK study showed that 50% of new Muslims leave the faith in the first 2 years of reversion, often due to family rejection, and the pressure of loss they experience, coupled with an inability to integrate fully in to the Muslim community. We all have a responsibility to support these New Muslims, and spread our message to all around us, not just by preaching, but by giving practical help, support and friendship, being people of action, not of empty words. People of purpose, rather than fake empty spiritual air! That way, Insha Allah we will surely be successful, and Allah (SWT) knows best).

The Iranian Diaries (part 5)

2011-03-26T16:34:00.000-07:00

OK; so I know its been months (since before Muharram?) since the Iranian diaries have been updated. Some of you may have lost the stomach or the momentum for it, but I want this record to be written, for myself if not for my readers! And if I don’t get to it now, its going to be our first anniversary! Plus, as Reza’s cousin gets married tomorrow and I spent tonight video skyping with the blushing bride and her family, I feel all fluffy; and remembered how I’d only just written up my niqah! So here you go; we continue! With the morning after the night before!
The morning after our niqah we woke up late, very late! Well, Reza and I did at any rate! The rest of the family had been up for hours; cleaning the house and preparing for the deluge of guests who would start arriving that evening! Despite the early start, every one waited for us to share a late breakfast! While I munched through walnut bread and fresh honey, my BIL powered up the home video we made of the niqah! It felt so strange to watch it back; as though I was watching some one else’s party! All night, Reza kept teasing me about how I trembled continually during the niqah; and was positively shaking during the part where I had to give my consent in Farsi! I shrugged this off, however, when I shook during the viewing of the film at the self-same juncture, I had to concede he was right! Watching the film made me allot more aware of what had just happened, up till this point, I had felt a bit like an outsider looking in on a perfectly forged family, yet here I was, not a part of that family, no longer viewing it through prospective daughter-in-law glasses! And while I expected to feel nervous, I honestly couldn’t have been happier!
We showered, helped mum tidy up, and then ate a light lunch of rice filled peppers, before mum started preparing to pack us off to ‘Oshaan! See, Mum and dad had wanted to send us off to have a bit of ‘alone time after the niqah, but by the time guests left etc, it was way too late for Reza to drive, and every one was too exhausted! We had a day or so of a break before the big reception, so mum figured we could vanish off now.
I packed a change of clothes and the medicine bag that was fast becoming something of an additional limb! Said goodbye to every one, and headed off! We drove through the crippling chaos that is Northern Tehran, and then got on to the Sadr Highway that leads out of the city. For any one who has never visited, Tehran is incredibly vast; for a city, the character of the landscape varies dramatically from North to South, from East to West. People speak, think and live, very differently in each city area. Not only that, but the weather/temperature etc can be vastly different, and you can almost encounter a complete 4 season cycle when travelling in Tehran! As we drove out of the smog and pollution, the air changed; from burning hot, to refreshingly cool! Fluffy clouds darted across the sky, and flanked the Arbores mountains as they came in to view. The car drove higher in to the mountain passes, tackling sharp hairpin bends and worryingly narrow dirt roads. Eventually, we made our way, pain stakingly carefully up a one-way dirt path that opened on to a long low block of apartments; this, was our home, in the village of Oshaan. We opened an automatic gate that gave way to a covered yard with ¾ spaces for cars. A tiny fountain played happily over some marble columns housing some gold fish, while beyond the yard, cherry and walnut Trees leaned over the water, weighed down with the extreme weight of their ripe, sweet-smelling fruit. The whole place looked like a miniature paradise with the mountains in the background, and the wildlife that surrounded it. We made our way up the stairs to the apartment Reza’s family owned. The flat had 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, and a large open plan kitchen-diner with heavy glass doors leading to a pretty balcony overlooking the garden. We threw open the doors and I washed the balcony while Reza brought our supplies upstairs. He later explained to me that there are countless little villages just like this, dotted around the outskirts of Tehran. Students flocked here, along with business people, young families, or those who simply wanted to step off the rat race for a while. To me, there was nothing like Oshaan. Fireflies danced in the trees beneath the Balcony giving out rays so bright I could see them with ease. Butterflies and crickets sang with a tropical allure, and the air was thick with jasmine and tube roses. If you have trouble imagining what ‘Jannah could be, take a visit to this Mountain paradise in Iran! I couldn’t believe that my in-laws had even considered sending us away touring around Iran for our honeymoon, I couldn’t think of any where more perfect for a newly married couple to be!
The cool air was intoxicating to me after the heat of Tehran, so I asked Reza if we could sleep in the sitting room. We brought mattresses from the bedroom and made a comfortable nest on the floor with blankets and cushions. We then drew a screen across the balcony door to keep insects out, but let the cool air in! It was the first night since I had arrived that I actually needed to wrap a fluffy blanket around me; I slept peacefully, without interruptions! And would have slept longer, were it not for a loud persistent knocking first thing in the morning! I woke with a start; Mum had given us some money owed to the building factors, and asked us to pass it over when they called on Monday morning, ‘It must be them, I thought! I neither knew what Reza had done with the Envelope, nor how I’d explain myself to the Factor, so began shaking him awake! “what is it!!”, he asked irritated. “the Factors, they are at the door!”, I insisted urgently. He got up, rubbed his eyes, and then, after surveying the scene and hearing the noise, burst out laughing! There were not any factors, (at least, not at 6.30 AM!), however, a crow who had just caught sight of himself in the kitchen window was franticly pecking the glass, trying to pick a fight with his reflection! Wildlife was never too far away in Oshaan!
Though I had returned to eating normally the day before, my constitution wasn’t having any of it! our friend, DR Reza was consulted once again, and this time he prescribed 2 different drugs for me. Reza went off to the Pharmacy to collect them (sadly, I couldn’t leave the bathroom to accompany him!). He returned with the tablets, and a tray of fresh chicken Kebab! We boiled some rice and ate the Kebabs, and then tried to read Namaz (well, I tried, and had to break them 5 times before completing my prayers on account of my sickness!). We delayed our journey back till later in the afternoon, when my system was a bit settled; and thankfully, we made it back to Tehran without any kind of Mishap! It was horrible to leave somewhere so totally tranquil and perfect like Oshaan, but we knew we’d be back in a couple of days or so; and at that moment, I couldn’t think of any thing else! When I reached home, our house was thick with distant relatives from Baba’s side in Kerman; people I did not know. All had gifts for me and good wishes for Reza and I, particularly Reza’s paternal Aunt, who was quite a character! She would have been Glaswegian, if she hadn’t been from Kerman! Her constant smile, energy and to-the-point questions were quite a culture shock from mum’s gentleness! She was all out there; and kept lamenting to Reza how sad it was that I didn’t know much Farsi yet, she could have teased me and questioned me way more! For my part, I think I was saved a great deal of humiliation; and have made a mental note not to meet her till I’m allot older; and have 3 kids in toe!
Mum was worried about my colour; and frankly, so was I! At that moment, I looked like a ghost with a tropical disease; and that look wasn’t going to make good Bride material tomorrow! I refused to eat, after the horrors of post-lunch bathroom trauma, so opted for tea with honey and lots of hedge mustard and water (its an Iranian thing, check the earlier posts for more on it!). Baba had also picked up my dress from the adjustment people. Mum insisted I try it which didn’t make much sense to me. After all, if it was damaged, there was nothing we could do now! What I’d do if it didn’t sit right, was too tight, too loose etc, was not something that I, or any one else, appeared to have an answer for! Overall thankfully, the dress seemed alright! Given the time they had to fix it, they had done the best they could, and it looked better than before, so we were grateful for small mercies! Reza insisted that I eat a sandwich, which I did, followed by yet more tea and sugar water and then I was packed off to bed! I never thought I’d sleep the night before my wedding (well, reception), but I drifted in to a deep, fitful and nightmare ridden sleep; it was as though my soul knew; that Tuesday was going to be the toughest day yet!

Jasmine and Arnica; a tubelight review!

2011-03-22T17:52:00.000-07:00

Every one has dreams, hopes, ambitions and Affirmations: Nicola Naylor was no exception!
In her early Twenties, she was full of life, confident, attractive and driven. At University studying languages, she had already completed a few commissions for the BBC, and her forays in to print media were already blooming in to a promising journalistic career. Above all, Nicola dreamed of touring around India and the far East just as soon as her studies were over; in truth, it was her dream that got her through the tedious lectures and the late night exam revision. Only, within months of completing her degree, Nicola began to lose her eyesight, as a result of a lifelong congenital condition. Within a year, Nicola was completely blind! The speed and absolute nature of her new condition drove Nicola in to a chronic state of complete depression and loss. She had been in hospital for a year; and saw no point in carrying on with an existence she neither understood nor desired. The idea of being limited to sighted assistance, guide dogs and white canes was just too much to stomach. She fluctuated wildly between suicidal thoughts, and battling her inner demons to get beyond the fear of the present, and what lay beyond. When she finally found the courage to rebuild her life, she decided to study aroma therapy, and went on to set up a highly successful private practise in London. Despite her many successes however, Nicola still felt like she had not achieved her real goals, there was something more she wanted, something still undone. In this vein, her dreams of India came back to visit! Nicola wanted to tour around India, researching alternative health and the production of natural oils so that she could bring her learning back to her clinic! That would have been fine, only, Nicola wanted to tour India on her own, as a blind woman, with little to no assistance! And that is exactly what she did!
Jasmine and Arnica, is her vibrant, moving and personal account of just how she did it. The book was Nicola’s first attempt at returning to journalism since the loss of her sight, and each word is carefully selected and crafted with the passion you would expect from some one using every atom of their being to reach for the stars and hold them. The book is a roller coaster of emotions that will have you laughing and crying in the space of one page; Highly charged, it takes the reader on a sensory experience of the sub-continent that few fully sighted writers would be capable of equalling. Her account is touching, optimistic and inspirational, but there is allot more to it than that! Nicola tells a unique story, not just because of the undoubtedly unparalleled nature of her independent travel, but because of the realism with which she brings it to life. While there are many novels and non-fiction books about blind/disabled people, most of them are of a heroic nature: strong, yet debilitated souls who battle against the odds and their afflictions to prove either to themselves, or to the world, that they really mean something. Nicola’s book does none of that. Nicola travelled around India because that is what she had to do, because she could, because the question of her being worth it never entered the truth of what she would, and could do for herself. She is no heroine, rather, she gives the reader a free and frank account of the ignorant people she meets and her assertive, sometimes fierce interactions to achieve something as mundane as booking a hotel room for the night! Never before have I witnessed a disabled writer talking so openly about the concentration living can take, and the chronic headaches acquired as a result. Or how the every day trials attached to something as simple as getting the buss or crossing the road can often induce such phobic feelings that its sometimes easier to drag the duvet just a bit higher over one’s ears till the feelings subside! We don’t talk about this, because we can’t! because to inadvertently signal defeat is to play knowingly in to the hands of the silent majority who, though they may not even know it themselves, still believe that disabled people are the stuff of charity. Who need help rather than empowerment, and who need things done to, rather than Independence! Living is often like walking an ever diminishing tightrope between self-determination, and the realisation that, as a non-sighted individual, I shall, whether I like it or not, require eyes from time to time if I really want to equal my rivals!
…, Oh that word! Rivals! Sighted people are not my rivals! Yet in existing, it becomes so! Even Nicola’s wonderful heart-felt book still echoes the capitalist millstone of ‘you are, what you output! I.e., to have a sighted demeanour is to be successful; and to be educated, professional and aesthetically pleasing, is to really have made it! Nicola actually embraces this so intensely that there are feckless accounts of her crossing the road without her cane so that others don’t blow her blindness cover, or pretending to read a newspaper because that is the ‘sighted cymbal of normalcy. That said, while the book made me scream out loud in places, its overwhelming aura was to me, related to regaining one’s sense of self; liberating the soul from the conditioned and acquired baggage described above. While she may be foolhardy, Nicola does accept assistance; and she travels with plenty of contacts and support networks to hand! However she reaches a point, where she knows she has to throw caution to the wind, along with all the other barriers that were gifted to her when she lost her sight! People like me, who were born blind, don’t always see these barriers as other people’s unfounded anxiety, because we are taught to view the world through the sighted lens of our limitations! I used to climb trees happily as a 5-year-old, but was stopped by my mother because, “its too dangerous for you!”. I was bundled off to the ‘special school because “people like you don’t go to the normal school”. Through-out education, and the world beyond it, you are gently, yet firmly indoctrinated in to what you CAN’T and will NEVER, do! You can’t drive a buss, or become a pilot, or read a restaurant menu, or be a doctor, or go out on your own, or study geography, or read a map, or travel without booking assistance first or …, you get the point! Nicola brushes off her guides, assuring them when she gets on her 50th buss that, she has arranged for a friend to meet her at the other end! But, there is no friend, there is no support! And while she takes some arguably senseless adrenaline governed decisions, the earth doesn’t fall apart! She doesn’t get raped, or murdered or hurt! She stays in a hotel, travels around the city alone, and catches a buss safely to her next destination in Northern India! You might wonder, why do that, why put one’s self through such tension and be subject to so many dangers! And here again, its about proving a point! The heroic novels I referred to earlier are cultivated in the same sentiment; to be ordinary is for the most part, to have failed to the world! I remember when my cousin was born with the same congenital eye condition as I, but with an additional learning disability, his Grandmother commented to me; “what worries me the most is that, he will have to spend his life working on a supermarket checkout!”. In the sighted world, there would be nothing wrong with cleaning the toilets for a living, removing the trash or digging the roads! Ultimately, the person is independently earning his/her living! But for a disabled person, its seen as a failing; both in the disabled, and the non-disabled spheres of existence. To the non-disabled, it’s a sign of pity; a poor tragic being who had nothing better to do; and for the disabled, it’s a weak entity who lacked dreams of any thing better, and who let our side down by not fighting! Some people climb mountains, others partake in desert treks, some undertake copious amounts of international charity work for their people; while Nicola and I decided to take off!
Perhaps that’s why I loved this book so much; for a few hours, I was back in my own budding radio career, or back on the plane that took me to Karachi for the very first time, with just a suitcase to my name and with neither funds, nor a place to stay! I totally got where Nicola was coming from; and loved her for telling a story that few have found the guts or the courage to tell like it is! Only, as I read, I kept wondering how/where I lost it. Where had that harsh, zany, unfaltering, uncompromising, feisty female gone, who once stuck 2 fingers up at the world and carved out her own path, to boldly go where no one had gone before! As some of you know, my adventure in Pakistan did not end as well as Nicola’s. I was violently attacked, and was then forced to return to the UK unexpectedly when my Grandfather became critically ill. When I analyse it today, I realise that my biggest mistake was perhaps attempting to fit in to the stagnant life I had left behind. I got a job, because I needed money, and took on a mortgage because my family wanted me to put down routes here. Sure I had obligations, but no one forces another to do any thing; in the same way that no one can live your life for you! I could have stood firm, have gone back; but this realisation has less to do with Pakistan, and more to do with not carrying the learning forward! Pakistan worked for me because, there were no barriers, there was no sighted lens! And I utilised this fact to my own advantage! I created the lens for them; by living, existing, working, and doing every thing just like every one else! 99% of my colleagues wouldn’t have known a blind person if one had jumped up and bitten them on the head; so I had the honour of creating the yard stick for them. When you have no line to follow, you can let your real colours shine through! The hidden soul, the inner child, call it what you will! Perhaps that is why I still yearn for the best days of my life, which I believe were those spent in Karachi, and why, a few years later, I became hopelessly infatuated with an Arab American blind man who had grown up in a similar barrier free universe; where he made the yard stick, and then subsequently broke it with his catalogue of International achievements!
Fast forward to the present; I am married, and relatively happy despite our current uncertainty! But allot has changed; and in reading Jasmine and Arnica, my heart definitely mourned the personality I once was, and will probably never be again! Some people desire to be the first Blind Man on the Moon; I just desire the ordinary! It took me years to find the man I wanted to be with; and when I did, suddenly, cooking rice, hoovering the carpets and nursing babies took precedence over direct action campaigns and changing the world Rosha style! And maybe that’s OK; maybe in embracing the average, the ordinary and the mundane, we achieve real equality; rather than chasing a mirage of acceptance through showy trips and media generating gestures of grandeur. Maybe I just want to be your average stay-at-home Muslimah, and maybe that’s OK for me now; maybe I’ve walked the boards and got all that fighting and pretence totally out of my system! And maybe that’s all good! But as Reza and I discuss a possible overseas move, and as the real ramifications of marital change, children and the like come upon me; I realise just how much I need that precocious Roshni I used to know. Nicola Naylor came back, but she expanded her business, got back in to media and also published Jasmine and Arnica! She went on to publish another book; dealing more specifically with the business of Aroma therapy healing and practise; and then went off on a tour of the Far-East on a tandem bike ride with a wonderful friend who, became so Wonderful to Nicola that, they decided to spend their lives together, and now have a beautiful baby daughter! To regret is pointless, though its impossible for me to read a book like Jasmine and Arnica without feeling a twinge of the same. Still, as Nicola points out, life is just a series of doors that lay ajar, partially opened for us to investigate; and when you can’t see behind them, it becomes all the more necessary to just hold your breath, open a few of them, and jump!!
And Maybe, if Nicola can do it, I can do it again, too!

Calling all Muslimah Bloggers!

2011-03-21T16:34:00.000-07:00

While passing through blog land yesterday, I came across a sister who is trying to collate a directory of Muslimah (Muslim Female) bloggers from across the globe. Whether you blog about Islam, or about cooking, about Travel, fashion, or something way more random! If you are Muslim, and a female blogger; she would like to hear from you!
To have your blog added to the directory, Email your details to Sister Rabiaa Ashraf at: rabiaaisrabiaa@gmail.com
In your Email, please include the following:
Your Name; (and age, if you want to that is!), your location, a link to your blog and the blog title, along with a brief description of your blog. Please also add a note of which category you feel your blog would best be categorised under: i.e., Islam, cooking, general, and so on.
Hats off to SR Rabiaa; it’s a fantastic idea; and a wonderful tool for networking and promoting the great work Muslimah bloggers are doing. Keep up the good work; and to the rest of you, Please do Email the sister and have your blog added to her growing list!

Norooz Mubarak!

2011-03-20T11:34:00.000-07:00

Though you may not know it, today is New Year! for quite a substantial population of the world! Yeah! Today! (well, 23.20 PM GMT to be exact!). Its Norooz today, more commonly known as the Persian New Year! its Norooz, Reza is in Iran at home, and …, well, I’m still in Glasgow! It feels significant, and deeply depressing if I let it be; on the night before I left Tehran, Reza’s little niece sat on my lap, crying, wanting to know when I’d see her again. “Norooz”, I promised her. It felt real to do so “Insha Allah, I’ll be back for Norooz!”. That was our plan! We had calculated, (wrongly!), that by this time, Reza would probably just have received his documents. I would fly to Iran to meet him, celebrate Norooz, and we’d come back to the UK together, to commence the more conventional chapter of our longed-for married life! But Allah (SWT) had other plans! This year feels like a great big massive waste! Since our wedding, we have encountered nothing but delays; some of them are government generated delays; others are due to my lack of settled employment. In any case, we are still residing on opposite sides of the earth; and don’t seem to be even remotely closer to altering that situation! There doesn’t feel like much to celebrate; rather this day really seems to be accentuating my feelings of frustration and isolation!
Still, Reza is home; and our family are (sort-of), together! This does give me some comfort; my mother-in-law was quite ill earlier on this year, and we lived in a constant state of fear, that something awful would happen to her while none of us were around, even my brother-in-law was still away on his military service, and of course, SIL has her own kids and husband to take care of! Mashallah she came through it; and I know she will be comforted at least to have her sons around; (SIL and family have gone on a bit of a road trip this Norooz; its quite a break with Persian Tradition, but something they wanted to do; and it sounds like they are having a fantastic time!).

Norooz is a fascinating festival; incredibly ancient and full of unique/complex traditions. It is generally described as a Zoroastrian holiday, yet many scholars suggest its origins are even older than that!
Norooz is celebrated as the first day of spring. At the time of the equinox, the sun is directly above the equator, and the North and South Poles lay directly along the Solar terminator! This precise moment of Astrological harmony is calculated to the exact point each year, hence New Year today being at 11.20 PM! (3.20 in the morning in Iran).
This is not just an Iranian Festival either! The cross-fertilisation and spread of ancient Empires means that Norooz today is celebrated in Afghanistan, parts of India/Pakistan, as well as the Crimea, the caucuses, North-Western China and of course, wherever the Diaspora have settled beyond their countries of origin! Following the Iranian Revolution, moves were made to abolish the festival due to its pagan routes, however these were met with mass opposition and incredibly, the holiday has survived, in tact and celebrated by all! Before the Iranian connection even entered my world, I noticed sections of the south-Asian Shia Community; celebrating Norooz as being the moment when Imam Ali (A.S) extended his finger to lengthen the duration of the sunlight, however I’ve never found any hadaith or other evidence to support this belief; and am not too sure where it came from! There is so much to say about Norooz; its origins and traditions around the world; and if you are interested, its well worth a bit of google time! For now though, I thought I’d write a bit about the festivities going on in our house (which of course, I’m sadly observing from a distance!).
Most people start cleaning the house (translated as shaking the house in Persian), around a month before New Year comes in! We begged mum not to do this given her poor health; but there was no shifting her! Reza told me that there are new rugs in the sitting room, and some of our wedding pictures have been framed in silver and hung around the walls! Clean sheets cover the beds and chairs; and every one has a new outfit to wear for the first day (not THE day however; Norooz celebrations span a whopping 13 days in total!). While mum was cleaning, baba was busy cultivating bulbs and fragrant flowers in the large gardens beneath our apartment; and now, those flowers fill each and every corner of the house; spreading their scent through the walls and beyond. Colourful metal jars of espand burn and create harmony; removing any traces of ‘Nazr (or the evil eye) from the house and its inhabitants. Cooking has been in full swing as well! Despite the fact that the house will be laden with fruits, nuts and other bakery delights; mum insists in making many of her own specialties for the family and visitors to enjoy while they make the New Year rounds! Formal rituals began last Tuesday night, with the Chaharshanbe Suri (or ‘fire jumping). Family members, usually the young men and children, build small fires in the streets or Alleys which they jump over, symbolising the abandonment of the old that is absorbed by the fire, and a progression towards the new. This reminded me of the Hindu ‘Havan/yagna, something I always felt great affinity with and derived great strength from performing. Also on this night, it is believed that departed spirits of ancestors visit the homes of their living relatives. Children often dress up as ghosts draped in white, and run through the streets knocking on doors, looking for treats! (rather like the ‘Halloween celebrated in the West!). As they go, they bang on pots; the noise is believed to banish evil spirits from entering the homes as the New Year approaches.
There are some other interesting rituals on this night, including the breaking of earthen pots, symbolising the breaking of the old, to make way for the new; and a tradition that involves ascertaining one’s New Year fortune from the conversations of those passing by, (similar to the way in which many Iranians open the famous books of poetry, such as Hafez, when looking for an answer or an inspiration at a time of need). None of these are really practised by our family though; they have doubtless been deemed as too much of a departure from Islamic beliefs! Perhaps they are, but for me, the symbolism is incredibly powerful; we honour the flag of Imam Hussain (A.S), though we do not worship it, the physical connection directly relates to the spiritual relationship between the Imam (A.S) and his faithful. Similarly, the physical acts relating to moving on to a New Year, strike me as very healing in many ways; and perhaps, if we had such traditions over here, I’d feel allot better about the New Year concept!
Now for New Year’s day (or night; in this case!). A table is prepared and decorated (rather like the sufrah agt you’ll recall from my niqah!). The table must contain 7 items that resemble the 7 elements; earth, wind, fire, water, plants, animals and humans. The table is spread with a soft green cloth, upon which the following are placed: Green sprouts which are stored to grow in a jar during the days of New Year (If you Follow the America Nepali blog, you’ll remember reading about a similar practise during one of the festivals), Samanu (a sweet pudding made from wheat) (which I really don’t’ like!), • senjed - the dried fruit of the oleaster tree - symbolizing love.
Garlic is also added, symbolising medicine, joined by green apples, representing Health. Somaq; (or dried berries), in honour of the colour of sunrise. Finally, vinegar (representing age, and patience!), (and this strikes a chord; I had allot of patience with vinegar in Iran; all pickle there is vinegar based, something I just didn’t like and couldn’t get used to!).
In addition, the fragrant flowers are usually also placed there, along with a copy of the qur’an, and a copy of Hafez! A mirror is included(symbolising truth), and some gold coins (symbolising hope/prayers for wealth in the coming year). Don’t worry though; there are always plenty of fruits, pastries and fine things to eat; its not all about cymbals! When the moment of the New Year comes upon the household; greetings are shared; and gifts are exchanged! After that, people will probably sleep tonight, (given the odd timing of the New Year coming in!). Tomorrow though, the rounds will begin; it is customary (rather compulsory!), to meet/greet all family members (from near and far), as well as friends, neighbours etc, during the 13 days of New Year! Given that we are both overseas, Reza will have a massive list to get through! He has his own visits to make, and I’ve added a few additional rounds for him this year in my absence (poor thing!). These visits are usually 20/30 minutes long (any thing longer and the rounds couldn’t be made!). Oh! And you never visit a house empty-handed; so a good supply of flowers, fruits and sweets are essential to distribute to the households! Things will be a bit different for our household this year; Reza’s cousin (on baba’s side), is getting married in the desert city of Kerman; so after a few days of home based festivities, every one will take the train over there, (and SIL’s road trip will conclude there too!). On the 13th day, families take to the parks; celebrating the New Birth of spring, and the beauty of nature. They make pick nicks and celebrate with friends; our family will probably take to the mountains bordering Northern Tehran, where we have a beautiful summer house and a wealth of green space to enjoy! The green sprouts which were planted on the first day of Norooz are taken out and dropped in to running water (again, taking away the old, to make way for the new blessings of the New Year. Unmarried women are advised to tie up the ends of the green shoots before throwing them; as an expression of their desire to be married before the end of the Year. Our family have adapted this tradition a little bit, and usually also prepare an ariz (letter to Imam Zaman ATF), which is wrapped in a flour/water mix and thrown in to the ocean as well (you don’t have to even begin to guess what I wrote in my letter this Year!). Once the 13th day is done; people return to work, and to their daily grind; Reza will return to work in Baku; and we both return to the drudgery that is immigration control; and finding a way to simply live together!
To all of my readers; those I know, and those I do not; if you are celebrating today, ‘eid/Norooz mubarak to you, your families and your dear ones from all of us here; and if you have never heard of Norooz in your life; (well, I’ve taught you something haven’t I!). At 11.20 tonight, I’ll offer 2 rakat of salat; and beg Allah (SWT) to bless my family, to forgive me my shortcomings in this year; and that whatever this new faze of life has in store for us, let it be better than that which has gone before; and if it is not better, at least let it be in union with my husband; hardships often cease to be hardships when you are united with the one you love!
May Allah (SWT) grant you all the good you ask of him on this day; and maybe, if you have a tiny corner; you might remember us in your New Year prayers too!

a Convert Crisis? or something more!

2011-03-19T09:19:00.000-07:00

As a Revert Muslimah (i.e., a Muslim previously of another faith), I often receive Emails, telephone calls, enquiries that go something like:
“I have a friend who is interested in Converting to Islam; can you meet up with her and give some advice and support?”. This is something I take great pleasure in; though a great responsibility, its an honour to be of service to some one searching, and potentially a source of comfort to them while they often find themselves rather lost in an intense, life changing, spiritual journey!
It wasn’t ever something I worried about, that is, till I became shia almost 6 years ago. Before adopting the school of the Ahlulbayt (A.S), sectarianism was no where on my agenda! I was, by my own admission, an extremely uneducated Muslim! I belonged to a group of Muslims who were of the view that if you prayed, fasted, appeared to go through the Muslim motions, that was quite sufficient! And while I didn’t start out this way, I soon adopted the label and the seen-to-be attitude! (don’t misunderstand me; I’m not suggesting that all non-shias hold this attitude; however, shia or not, an understanding of Islamic difference is surely pivotal; if nothing else, so that you can mentally justify to yourself and one day, your creator, why you chose one path or another!).

As I was saying, with new Muslims; this is a massive challenge! How do you package sectarian difference? How do you encourage and instil an open mind, while, at the same time, emphasising the importance of the Ahlulbayt (A.S) and their teachings. Late last year, a potential new female revert was placed under my care. To protect her privacy, we will call her Kathryn for the purpose of our discussion here. She is Irish Catholic in origin; living here in Glasgow; she is married, with twin boys aged 6. She has been a practising Catholic for almost all of her life; however, 3 years ago, she began working for the Jaffri Family; (the same, traditional Sayed shia family that adopted me as one of their own many years ago). This family have brought many people to the deen, probably because they have a very holistic attitude to the faith. Rather than preaching allot; they simply live Islam; and extend the love of that living to every one around them; talks about faith are usually accompanied by great food and comfortable surroundings, along with any practical support the enquirer might be seeking. Kathryn had been a part of all that; and clearly started to recognise there was something different in the characters of those she was encountering. The inevitable questions about Islam began; and when the family deemed she was on the verge of converting, they asked her to meet up with me and talk more. I had a few chats with her on the phone; and on our third chat, she accepted my offer of coming over for lunch; (that lunch I recall, began around 1 PM and finished somewhere near 8 PM!!). She had allot to say, and more to ask; every thing from hijaab; how to wear it and how others would feel about it, to doctrine and knowing which path to choose! I answered these questions as fully, and honestly as I could; I shared my own hijaab experiences, and various other revert stories of friends and contacts via RMA. When it came to doctrine, I have something of a stock answer here; encouraging all new or potential Muslims to keep an open mind, to read, study and reflect as much as possible and draw their own conclusions, while seeking guidance from Allah (SWT), and if they do these things, they will surely find the truth within themselves! I gave her some books that had helped me in the early days, and directed her to our own Revert Muslims website. That was all fine until, Strathclyde University launched its Islam Awareness week! Kathryn went along to some of the events held there, and reported on how much she was enjoying them! I didn’t think any thing of it; rather, I felt happy that she was pursuing her interests and going along to these events on her own (she had previously indicated to me that she wouldn’t be comfortable going to a mosque, unless one of us came along with her). Kathryn also asked me if I knew that Strathclyde University ran a ‘New Muslims group in their Student Masjid?
…, Oops! Now, I did know that! I’ve known of the group for some time and some of the leaders are lovely people! But; fair; I had omitted to mention it to Kathryn! The group describes its self as non-sectarian, which is a trait I’d admire if it were true; when I approached them about becoming a mentor for new Reverts; I was refused; and to my knowledge there are no shias in the group (much less any mention of them). Most of the leaders are other reverts. I know some of them personally and know that they are not in the least sectarian; however, those who fund the project are from certain mosques, belonging to a certain country, and have a very CERTAIN Agenda!! People might start out in this group, where there is coffee on tap and every thing is good; but once adopted in to the fold, they then move on to the ‘Certain mosques, and for the most part, are never seen again! Now you might understand why I hadn’t been selling it to Kathryn! But surely, explaining that to her only makes me sound like a paranoid sectarian freak! Plus, I firmly believe that we all have to learn in our own ways sometimes, especially when it comes to making our own mistakes! She asked me what I thought of the group and I was suitably vague, said that I knew some of the members, and that they were nice, etc. I continued to stress the importance of study, keeping an open mind and so on. I then prayed, and left her to it. I actually felt quite good about my decision; after all, I know that certain mosques would banish you out for even thinking about going to a shia Centre; I didn’t want to be doing the same in reverse! She had to see for herself! So, she attends these meetings religiously every Wednesday, and I don’t hear very much from her. The Jaffri family, who obviously meet her at work, tell me all is well and that they think she will convert to Islam any day now! I am shocked that things are moving so fast and discuss my concerns about the University Mosque, but no one else seems troubled by it, so I let it go!
A few weeks later, I get a card in the mail, Inviting me to one of those Mosques with an Agenda, to attend Kathryn’s shahada! I can hardly believe what I am reading and feel physically sick! I feel somehow responsible for this and blame myself; if I’d encouraged her not to go, if I’d done more for her myself etc, this may not have happened! And its not the fact that she will now not be shia, its more the fact that its ‘One of those Mosques! I straight away pay a visit to the Jaffris and ask if they have talked to her about it. They assure me that they have, at length! But she appears to have made up her mind and there is no shifting it. I apologise, but I can tell they do blame me just a little, and this only accentuates my feelings of having done wrong by Kathryn!
After some reflection, I decide not to attend her shahada; I figure I might end up doing more damage than any thing constructive, and now that she’s in to the Other Agenda, she might even resent my presence herself! Only, on the morning of her big day, she calls up to check I’ll definitely be coming! Naturally, I say nothing about my intention not to go, and start digging out the gift I had bought for her! I ask how every thing is going, how her family feel about her converting etc. To my amazement, she says she’s not told them, and that the ‘Other mosque advised it was better just to convert and worry about them later; “any way” she says, “they have no hold on me after I become Muslim; faith comes first!”. I feel panic rise within me; some of this might hold if she was on her own, but she is married, has children who need her and creating such a rebellion in the house might have horrific consequences! As far as her family are concerned, she is working today! “so, what will you do?” I ask, “when you walk in with hijab on, when they see you praying, what answer will you give?”. She is silent; “I haven’t thought about that really. They just told me it would all be OK, I should just convert and Allah will find a way!”. Well, doesn’t Allah help those who help themselves? I thought, but none of this I say; she is already stressed and I sense I’m making it worse. I shower and change, and head down to that certain mosque. I get there just as the congregation are performing Jummah salat; the place is packed, and its clear they have announced that a shahada will be happening! None of the Jaffri Women are there, so I hope she registers my presence on the women’s side! I pray quickly and quietly on my own, and as I say ‘Salaam, the imam is at the point of his speech where he is getting ready to talk about Kathryn! He calls her forward and asks her how she came to this decision. Kathryn usually has a colourful, animated quality to her speech; but today, she somehow sounds like she is paralysed by fear! Sure; nerves are natural in such a strange setting, and when standing before so many unknown personalities, but something strikes me as very wrong here! Her head is lowered; she is reading her notes, and when she gets to the point of reciting a hadaith she has memorised, her breaths seem short, as though her chest is tight and she is straining to get the words out. I start moving forward through the women, though my barging to the front is earning discontent, I feel that maybe if she registers some one she knows, she might settle a bit. The imam then goes off on some rant, I can’t remember the exact words but something like:
“ you do realise that now you are becoming a Muslim, your life must change completely! Islam is a complete way of life; no drinking, no smoking, no eating the pig! You must banish all those negatives from your life now; music, TV, unsuitable literature and mindless talk. You must only surround yourself with those who share your faith; even your marriage is now no longer valid; if he will not convert, you must separate from him and find yourself a Muslim husband! Now, get ready to say your shahada!”. I am shocked! I always imagined Certain mosques holding these views, but I never expected them to be aired at this time, in this manner! I feel totally disgusted and wish I could just get up and leave! Only, I hear Kathryn gasping and then say “stop; sorry, I’m sorry!”. She picks up her things and starts running through the women’s section! I get up, and follow her sound, tripping over women as I go and earning more mutters of discontent. “Kathryn! WAIT PLEASE!”, I shout as I rush to catch up with her outside! 2 of the Jaffri men are there, and we all head outside for fresh air! What happened! She can’t speak, and has covered her face with her hands; tears drip through her fingers, and I feel so desperate for her. I want to hug her, but I sense she wants space! The men keep talking, but I hush them! For want of something better to say, I simply offer “why don’t we forget the shahada for the moment, and grab a coffee some place?”. I regret it as soon as the words are out; but all the same, it seems to strike a chord with her. She wipes her eyes and says “I’d like that, if you don’t mind!”. We are getting ready to leave when the Imam of the mosque storms out and blocks my path, demanding to know what I was doing there! I don’t say any thing; no one says any thing! He glares at the Jaffris and I, and points a finger in my face, saying “this is all your fault, leading people a stray; don’t come here again!”. I feel embarrassed at all this happening in front of Kathryn, who only 10 minutes ago was planning to convert! “and you call yourself Muslim!”, I say as I climb in to the car and close the door!
So, we have coffee, and over the following few weeks, we start to unpick the damage done! We go back to informal dinners and chats with Kathryn; and we invite her husband to some of them. Her boys start playing with the young Jaffri boys, and the 2 families connect on a human level! Kathryn’s husband is curious about Islam, though is so far not the least bit interested in converting! He doesn’t seem to have a problem with his wife converting though, which is unusual in such cases!
Last week, Kathryn took her Shahada in front of me, at home, with the Jaffris, her husband, and her boys; her mother was also there; she is not happy, but does, to a degree, accept her daughter’s right to choose! We had dinner, gave her some gifts; and talked through what support she feels she will need over the next few weeks; learning to pray, telling friends, preparing for hijab etc. She has a long way to go, but she is on the right track and is taking her time! We are all there to support her; and I’m sure that with patience, confidence and courage, she will get there! Its not been easy however, to ditch the Other Mosque! And Kathryn hasn’t left them due to doctrine; (she is currently unwilling to embrace one sectarian label or another), but the ideologies are never the less, in stark opposition! While Kathryn recognises that such a regime would not fit in with her lifestyle and family, she also knows she is missing out socially! Some of what that Imam said was true! Change does have to happen; social change is a massive part of that! Were she a part of them, she’d have sisters on her doorstep day and night! She’d be at the mosque daily; she’d be bombarded with literature, and be so busy that she’d never have time to dwell on the life that had gone before! She might not be learning much of the faith, but she’d be happy, busy, surrounded, and supported in a way that we cannot support her. Too much of this ‘New Convert Hysteria is not healthy in my view, but neither is existing as an Island! I used to think the lack of resources in the shia community here stemmed from the fact that we were a small community, divided along language/cultural grounds. I know that, had I not been an Urdu speaker, I would not benefit from the position in the community that I have today! Kathryn comes to our weekly circles, she visits the Jaffris, and she meets me at home too, but the fellowship of other new reverts, the ability to ask questions and connect with others in her position is something she doesn’t have here, (and which she would have if she were in the other community!), and these problems are not just Scotland-Centred, visit any shia community around the world, and you’ll hear similar discomforts being raised! Reverts, who have been Muslim for over 20 years, yet still do not feel they belong, and may still not have married either because the community doesn’t yet accept interracial marriages, (something which is for the most part, common place among most suni groups!). We justify these things, by talking about shia suppression, about smaller, newer communities, and about all these things taking time! But they all somehow feel like pathetic excuses! We discussed this self-same topic at the RMA Conference in 2008, and look set to discuss it again this year, knowing that little has moved on! Last night, our centre held a debate on the topic of integration, and while all of the above and more came up, few solutions were reached! Every one concluded that integration was easy; and if there are problems, well, …, they’ll take time to iron out won’t they!
My worry is, if we continue on this train of thought, won’t we lose so many more people like Kathryn? Over the years, I’ve seen many potential/new Muslims, visit our centre, and leave, either because they don’t understand, or because no one extends a hand of friendship to them! And back in our own worlds, we continue to divide over marjah, ideology and philosophical abstracts, trying to drag converts in along with us, most of whom rarely get it!
This post wasn’t meant to be a rant, though I’m aware it does look like one. I just think new Muslims are often the mirror before which we can measure our state; sure, when you look at the behaviour of ‘Others, highlighted in this account, you see we have allot to applaud ourselves for! But its what comes next that worries me; that pivotal linkage will potentially be the stuff that holds our reverts, our children, our new generations on the path; and if we continue as we are, I really fear we’ll have a crisis of faith on our hands, where Shias too will be reduced to nothing more than a group of seen-to-be Muslims, who once followed Imam Ali (A.S), but now follow ….,? something?

Treasured Moments in time (dedicated to SR Sakina)

2011-03-11T15:39:00.000-08:00

I’ve said this before; but its true! When I started this blog, I didn’t tell any one about it! I was keen to see if it could generate any interest on its own, and also, like many bloggers before me, was keen to use it as a platform to meet, and connect with, other like-minded bloggers from around the world!
Inevitably, a few friends from blog land did come to join me here, though to date, the only person I have actually met in the flesh (from my followers that is), is our own SR Masooma!
So, imagine my shock when, after a lecture at mosque tonight, a beautiful young sister comes up to me and asks “are you Roshni?”. Now, given that I’m involved in a range of community activities around here, and have done some work for Ahlulbayt TV, I assumed she knew me through one of those mediums! I was totally shocked however when she said, “I know you; I actually read your blog!”. That was just awesome; and that has never happened before! Moreover, she assures me that she reads it, and actually liked it! (well, in particular she enjoyed the Iranian diary series; which I promise I will get back to and finish, at least before our first anniversary!).

Seriously though; it was a lovely feeling to connect with this sister, it reaffirms the feeling that our community is small, intimate, loving and caring, and that, wherever you are in the world, you will find Muslim sisters to bring noor to your path and brighten your moments.
I want to thank the sister for approaching me, and also welcome her to my city (she’s studying away from home!). I pray you find a second home here; and now that you actually know me (in person), be sure to let me know if I can help in any way! Moreover, feel free to post here too; let others know you so that we can share the love, and build the circle!

What also touched me about meeting this sister was the reality that, in some small way, these random musings of mine can actually touch other people! Whether they enjoy them or not, agree with them or not, if they act even as a medium to bring people together, I am satisfied with that. Of course; if they laugh, smile, or learn something along the way, then I pray that Allah (SWT) accepts that Insha Allah!
So; my message? If you have a fellow blogger that you enjoy, (and that you know!), pop up and say hi to them; take it from me, after the difficult week I have just had (read the earlier post), I swear this sister made me smile; and I’m very grateful to her for that!
And hey; if any more of the Scotland crew are reading, why don’t you drop by and say hi too! Its amazing what a bit of Muslim Networking can do!

Should we stay, or should we go??

2011-03-09T05:46:00.000-08:00

Most people agree that the first year of marriage is definitely the hardest! And, well, I, personally, emphasise strongly on the DEFINITELY!
Add uncertainty to the mix, and you’ve really got the year from hell! Reza and I often joke, that if we get through this year, we can get through any thing; and he is right! Honestly; I went through a first marriage (which sadly failed), and countless other prospective situations, which subsequently failed, and even though Allah (SWT) has now guided me to the right one, its not all a bed of roses! Marriage is a really tough business, and I think its important to stress that, particularly to those who are looking in to it, or who perhaps skim this blog and imagine us living in some sort of Persian/British Utopia! Trust me, that couldn’t be further from the truth! I think it is hard to admit struggles when you are in a cross-cultural relationship, because you often spend so much time fighting for basic things; family acceptance, immigration rights; community acceptance, conflicting cultures within the home; and so on, that you build a constant subconscious line of defence around yourself at all times! Sure; not every one wants to air their disagreements on the net, and we all know of the dangers related to displaying dirty linen in public! But all the same; there is a need to acknowledge things can be hard! Admitting it takes the pressure off from both parties, it enables you to start defining a path forward; and of course, for any one reading this who is considering a cross-cultural marriage, you’ll either see that you are not alone, or else be prepared for the struggles and not freak out when they happen!

So, our current struggle? Well, its not new; it’s the same one we started with really! Immigration; more than immigration; where we will live, reside, put down routes! This has rather shifted up a gear in the last couple of weeks for varying reasons. As I write this, I am reminded of the song; ‘where shall you and I sleep my love, where shall you and I sleep!
Re: Georgia, I didn’t want to go! I knew we had to deal with the civil stuff, but honestly; I knew that 7 days with my husband would only exacerbate my feelings of isolation and sadness at being without him. After Iran, I felt sad, but I got in to a routine of sorts; getting by; doing what I needed to, but Georgia brought it all back to the surface, and after the euphoria of getting our certificate, it was down to earth with a bang! One thing got me through it though; the power of 6! Let me explain; now that we are both Islamicly and civilly married, there is only one final obstacle standing between us living together here in Scotland; WORK!! See, in order for Reza to be granted a visa; he needs a sponsor (his wife), to be in work, and for the marriage not to resort in any kind of recourse to public funds! If you’ve been following the blog, you’ll remember the Inclusion Scotland saga, and how that cost me my position; and the following job offer that fell apart! Since all of that, I’ve applied for more jobs than I can even remember, and while I’ve secured enough freelance work to make ends meet, its not been enough to demonstrate a decent income, or to prevent resorting to public funds to pay the bills! The power of 6? Well, I had 6 key job applications in the pipeline. 3 were jobs with companies owned by friends who had been ‘putting in good words for me, 2 were with positive action programmes run by the government for disabled people; and the final one was a company who had already shortlisted me through a gruelling 3 interviews! We had high hopes, and knew that all we had to do was swing one of them! None of these were really dream jobs, and let me be clear; I’m way past the ego thing about work equalling my qualifications, (work that pays will do fine!), once I’d got it, we could submit our documents to the homeoffice, and within 2/3 months or so, Insha Allah, all would be over; visas, together; tranquillity, and …, starting a family maybe?
I past the post-Georgia period by thrusting every last ounce of my energy in to the pivotal power of 6, and waited! Slowly, ever so slowly, the results came in! 1 rejection, 2 rejections, 3 rejections and 4, 5 rejections, 6 rejections; could I take any more? 6 rejections, game over! the final nail in the proverbial coffin of 6 came last Monday, and I admit it; I absolutely fell apart! Call me irrational, ungrateful, whatever, but I actually fell down in sajda weeping! Crying out “Allah what did I do wrong! Do you hate me? What did I do wrong! All I wanted was halal rizq! And not for the money, just so that I could live in peace with my husband! I know I am not a good Muslim, I know I could be so much better, but am I that evil? Am I that hated?”. This was the tone of the whole day, and when the evening came, I could hardly get the words out when Reza called; that’s the thing about distance! How do you express ‘broken on a long distance skype line! What is the point of showing your tears; only to distress the other person! How can you derive any comfort, when you can’t share a hug, a cup of tea, or just that reassurance that comes from not being on your own! How do you work out solutions when you can’t go for a walk, cook some comfort food or spend a whole night talking it out till you both find peace at the end! At most, Reza and I talk for maybe 1.5 hours a night! We are both on totally different schedules and have a 4.5 hour time difference to contend with; neither of which can be changed much, and which only hinder communication to the maximum! I must say here, that we both have very different ways of resolving conflict, (or not, as the case appears to be!). We don’t really fight, we are not in to that, and avoiding fights was one of the things we promised in our marriage contract, especially when we are living like this! So no raised voices or indecencies here; but while Reza is effortlessly optimistic, I am not! I wouldn’t describe myself as negative necessarily, (though maybe I am!), but living alone for so many years has developed an introverted response to tension; I hide; disappear, cut off from the world, go to bed and drag the blankets over my head (literally!), till the dust settles! I contain so much inside myself that, when it does eventually spill out, (as it did last week), I realise just how spiritually and emotionally tired I am, and that what I’m actually dealing with is something more like a miniature breakdown rather than a pretty average upset! But again, how do I convey all of this at a distance! The thing is, one of the many endearing qualities that drew me to my husband was his iman! He has one of the strongest, unshaken, most routed forms of faith I’ve ever seen! He actually doesn’t worry, stress or flap, he says he isn’t sad, and he means it! his stock answer to most things is, “there is a solution, its just that we haven’t found it yet!”, or, “Allah has something better in store for us, we just have to be patient, sit it out and wait!”, or, “haven’t we both faced so much worse? We will have our entire lives beyond this year; it isn’t such a big deal at all!”.
Now, I love these sentiments, I know they are correct, I know they are the Islamic way of responding to things; and when I’m feeling positive, I can see, respect, and act upon all of them! But when my back is against it and I’m low, it just bugs me to pieces! Now, you might be saying, ‘come on! Its just a job! (or 6), and you would be correct! On the surface these are just jobs; and I know very well they were not in my naseeb! When I applied for each of them, I took out sadqa, and simply prayed “oh Allah, if these are good for me, give them to me; if they are not, help me to accept that and be patient with whatever you decide for me!”. I accept that, for reasons I do not know, these jobs were not right for me, but this doesn’t change where we are now! Without these jobs, (or something similar), we can’t move forward! We don’t have the support of my family, or any one else here who can support Reza! (you know the script; if you want something doing, then do it yourself!).
So, where are we now, and what do we have?
We can still submit a marriage application to the homeoffice based on what we do have (though, there is like maybe a 2% chance of it being accepted!). We can sit it out, continuing to live like this and praying I find work, (keeping in mind that, its been over a year already, and nothing; and as a visually impaired person, like it or not, I am bottom of the unemployed pile, which mostly contains non-disabled folk who are deemed better catches!). We can wait, and see if Reza can come here by other means, some other kind of visa (HSMP etc, though such visas are becoming even harder to get in the current climate). Or, we could move!! As you know, Reza and I always had moving on the cards! The UK was not necessarily a long-term solution! Our plan had been; to come here, sort out his UK nationality and my Iranian Passport; work for a few years, save some money, Insha Allah start a family, and then, think about where to go next! Perhaps back to Baku if he got a decent job in oil; Perhaps back to Tehran if politics and the like got better; perhaps somewhere different entirely! But now? Well, moving now is a very different game entirely! First off, we are from 2 different countries, with different immigration rules, we have nothing to bind us other than our marriage certificate! It may be that I can stay easily in one country, but Reza’s passport doesn’t allow him to. Should we have children overseas at this point, their nationality will be a massive problem for us! Where will they go; who’s nationality will they inherit! There is something else too; if we move now, the UK won’t grant us both entrance for 4 years! Yeah, 4 years! This is the only further claws they have regarding UK citizens marrying foreign nationals; the foreign spouse is granted right to remain, if the couple have been living together for 4 years in some other country! This will mean leaving my family, leaving my mother to deal with the care responsibilities she has to my Grandparents, and knowing all the time that there is no one else to help her. Both of us are only children and therefore, very dependent as a result. My Grandparents have never really got past the idea of me being 5! And so can’t comprehend marriage, let alone moving away! I still remember one of the late night calls I got from them in Karachi; “If we die, while you are away, its your fault, because of the tension you caused us!”. While I know all of this is emotional blackmail, do I really want to cause such upset to elderly people, and to my parents at a time when they are still not very supportive of Reza and I? So many questions, so few solutions! So, I prayed, and prayed, and continue to pray, and its almost like there is an internal battle within myself; sometimes I am so committed to just getting on a plane and leaving! I.e., another incident with the paan brigade last night made me think, “is there any point in fighting to be here?”. Then at other times, I think of the potential struggles that will come from leaving now, and more importantly, returning with nothing! How will we cope, how will we get through it! And so it is, that Reza continues not to worry! Over the past week, we’ve discussed so many options, I’ve even gone so far as to question him on the relationship; i.e., whether he thinks it is worth suffering so much? not because we don’t love each other, but because I just wonder if his life couldn’t be easier in another way! I love him, and want the best for him!
I don’t have much in the way of a conclusion to speak of, accept to say that this is a work in progress! We are sort-of waiting, and sort-of taking matters in to our own hands. I do realise that one should not question the wisdom of Allah (SWT), he is the best of planners, the one who brought us together and the one who will define where we should be, but I am interested in your thoughts on this, particularly if you’ve faced similar relocation or immigration challenges; how did you face them, how did you reach decisions about where to base yourselves. How do you keep the relationship stable and vibrant when there is so much uncertainty and negativity around!
I went for a walk yesterday, and got lost in the trees, (as you know from my poetry!). 2 of them, had become twisted; tangled up resulting from a bad storm! They were still strong and growing correctly, but twisted together so that it became hard to decipher which was which! Insha Allah we will be the same as a result of this experience; and when we emerge, wherever that may be, we will be 1 entity instead of 2, who value each moment and never take our blessings for granted! For now, we just have to huddle close, and struggle against the storm!

OOOO Another Award!

2011-03-07T03:24:00.001-08:00

Hello, .., Happy Monday!
So, Sis Tara over at FHWS (Future Husbands and wives of Saudis), has
generously past me the 'gorgeous blog award! This award is gifted to
all Awesome bloggers! All you have to do is answer the 5 questions
below, then pass the award to 5 bloggers you think deserve the award!
So, here goes!

1) when did you start your blog?
2) Back in May 2009! I'd been thinking about starting a blog for a
while, but one Saturday night when I was bored, I finally got to it!
If you'd told me I'd still be here, around 3 years later, with some
dedicated followers and some great new friends I've met through
blogging, I would have had a great laugh! But I'm still here, and I
love the fact that this blog stands as a testament to lots of joys,
sadness, highs and lows, yet with your love and the grace of Allah
(SWT) I've come through it all! What is the saying; if Allah brings
you to it, he will bring you through it!

3) What do you write about?

4) Well! Every thing and any thing! My personal thoughts, reflections,
views and ridiculous moments! I share articles, comment and Islamic
materials, as well as topical issues of interest; particularly those
which don't get much in the way of a mainstream airing (such as the
FGM series). More recently, the blog has taken quite an Iranian slant
(for obvious reasons!), but I like the fact that it is fluid and keeps
taking on new dimensions, (oh, and it goes without saying; if there is
something you'd like me to write about, or just a question you've been
dying to ask, leave it in the comments section and I'll get to it!).

3) What makes your blog special?
Hmm! You tell me!! I don't know that it is special; I've read many
blogs that are way better! But certainly I can't think of any other
bloggers who write from my perspective; (blind shia convert, divorced,
remarried, etc). There are allot of different facets to me, and to the
blog. Not every one will relate to them all, but many will relate to
one or some of them, and that gives me some comfort in that I am
reaching out, or creating a voice for those who are often not
represented/heard. I think one thing that is special about this blog,
and all blogs for that matter, is the fact that it is a living record
of the life cycle. This kind of writing used to exist in diaries, yet
with a blog, you are able to bring so much more of yourself; media,
poetry, music and so on; not to mention the ability to make new
connections with new people; While I often fret over blogger crashing
(I've no backup!), I really believe that blogs will act as the history
of the future, and it somehow feels like a real honour to be part of
that!

4) What made you want to start writing a blog!
6) Well, I think I've sort-of covered that one! People like 'Lucky
Fatima really inspired me; I could see the potential blogs can have
for learning, educating and creating access to a world view from the
ground as it were. Plus, while I've worked in TV, radio etc, I haven't
experimented much with print media and the blog was a good sounding
board from which to do it, as well as floating ideas for my book, (but
only you know how well I'm doing), (or not!).

5) What would you like to change in your blog?
Hmm, the layout I think, needs more pictures, more exciting template,
Insha Allah when Reza and I are together he has promised to do some
facelift work on the blog, so watch this space! Other than that, I'm
fairly happy for it to grow organically as it has been growing! Of
course a few more followers and better web stats would be nice, but
lets not be greedy! Allahu Alim!

So, while there are far too many of you to honour, there can only be 5 winners!
Mine are: Lucky Fatima,
Sis Masooma (otowi),
Kanwal, from Kanwalful meets world, (because she was the very first
person to give me an award!).
My cousin Irena from 'On Our Journey,
And last but not least, to jan from 'Gori Desi Rishta, for being
another one of the scarce few blind bloggers out there! Pick up your
award, answer the questions and don't forget to share the love, and
pass it on! (oh and I do love the rest of you; so feel free to pick it
up, if you really want; that wasn't a Michael Jackson moment; you
really are awesome!).

Shifting sands in Persian lands!

2011-03-04T05:05:00.000-08:00

So, what do you know about Iran?
…, Forget the tabloids, Bush’s Bombing ambitions and the great kebab, what do you really know about Iran?
If you can’t see any thing that stretches remotely beyond the above, don’t worry! Before I met my husband, I might well have been somewhere similar. I like to think I wasn’t completely ignorant; I knew a few words of Farsi, I knew about the rich historical legacy, the great poetry, beautiful buildings and loving people! I was a fan of the food, and had a keen desire to visit! But as a shia Muslim; I, like billions of my fellow faithful; had a unique connection to Iran; an almost unconditional love, that transcended time, distance and circumstances; and why? Simple! Iran was a shia country, yeah! A REAL shia country! A home, a haven, a place where we belonged, a tiny corner of the east where all was good and peaceful; where Islam was as it is supposed to be; a place where we could go, and where we would be accepted! Any religious minority will relate to this sentiment, but perhaps the shia experience is a little more profound! As a Muslim convert who is shia, I am rejected by my family, my friends and my country, and if I try to integrate in to the mainly salafi Muslim community around me, I am thrown out and accused of being a kafir; hence the great homage to Iran! When Reza and I first became serious, every one around me heaved a sigh of relief, not just because it looked like I’d finally settle down, but because “He’s from Iran, he’ll be a real Muslim, a real shia, he’ll teach you so much, you’ll be able to visit Mashhad whenever you want!”. I have to admit that, before I had even said salaam to my in-laws, I was so in love with these comforts and aspirations that even if I’d been treated like an outcast I don’t think I would have noticed! I don’t remember when, or more importantly, how often, I projected my dreams or my images of Iran on to my would-be husband, but I do remember when the house of sand started to come tumbling down! Back in the day, when Reza and I were still “formal”, and assessing where the land lay so-to-speak, I wrote a paragraph or 2 on the wife of the late Ayatollah Khomaini. I commented that I’d noted with concern the decline in her health and was interested in how Iranians were gathering to pray for her, and what he estimated her legacy to be in terms of preserving her husband’s wealth of knowledge. He didn’t reply, but when we next spoke on the phone, he said in passing; “oh, and about Khomaini’s wife, nothing is happening in Iran; no one knows about that, and no one will really care!”. I didn’t say any thing, but was shaken; was he serious? More importantly, this wasn’t the ultra extreme shia I had identified from between the lines! (not that I necessarily wanted an extreme husband, but an extreme shia would surely be an acceptable compromise!). During the sacred month of Muharram I questioned my husband as to why his parents were not attending daily programmes in the masjid. I was palmed off on this one, by being told that Muharram programmes were controlled by the government, as were jummah programmes, and that any self respecting Muslim preferred to worship at home, or else attend privately organised Islamic events! This was a real leap in logic for me! Call me naive, but where was Islam, and where was the government! In the shia utopia that non-residents like myself have created, the 2 are one and the same, and any hints at dictator are merely born out of western Supremacy and insecurity!
“One thing you need to know about Iranians, is that they are obsessed with conspiracies!”. This was taken from an Email conversation I had with another European woman who had married an Iranian, and made her home in Tehran! She went on to say: “despite living here for 30 years, I have made no close friends among the indigenous Iranians. This is because every one is suspicious of every one else! No one knows what persuasion/side another falls down on in reality, so it is better to keep every one at arms length for fear of associating with the wrong sort! Plus, Iranians think that Westerners are spies, because they often use students, journalists and elites as spies when they migrate overseas”. Iranian spies? This was all sounding way too much like the Wahabi propaganda I had attempted to escape soon after converting to Islam! Was there any truth in it? let me fastforward to the time our marriage was being set; every thing was final, it was just a case of ‘When! Being in Scotland, and being new to the system, I was having some difficulties communicating with the Iranian Embassy in London! I mentioned this to a friend who was a frequent traveller to the Islamic Republic; not just because she’d been around, but also because her husband was a big shot in the Islamic Centre of England (which is, for the most part, 100% Iran funded!). She told me there would be no problem at all in contacting her husband, and that he could resolve my visa issue! Now, I can’t name this individual, but most of my shia readers know exactly who I’m talking about! An Email was sent, requesting assistance! His response?
“sorry sister, we have researched on your spouse, and we have reason to believe he does not support the regime!” “NO NO he doesn’t!” I assured him! “he doesn’t endorse the government at all! He is an independent, sincere, free thinking Muslim, and his family appear to be from the same mindset! You need have no worries on that score!”. You guessed it; I got this one horribly wrong as well “sister! What are you thinking! Marriage with an Iranian is very dangerous! Before you can say yes, you must have references! You should know what masjid he attends and be able to give me the names of ulamah who can vouch for him and his family. You must have police checks done on him and his family; you should be able to identify at least 2 government representatives who can guarantee his character! If you can’t do these things! Any thing may happen to you, and there is no way we can assist you in marrying such an indecent man who doesn’t supply these things! I strongly advise you to untangle yourself from this relationship, if the above cannot be given to you!”. Ah well! My husband has no adoring ulamah at his disposal! He has no government chums (thank God!), and the police checks? I assume this was to insure he hadn’t been chilling with those germs called liberals and protesting! But hey, I want a real man don’t I, not a regime puppet! So we go ahead; and all is good! Only with one major change! I see Iran through very different eyes now that I’m a part of it, and soon to become a national! So, we visit Iran, we travel, meet, greet and interact with a wealth of different people! Most of them are as keen to work me out, as I am to learn about their side of the fence! Some people let me talk, others don’t, and there are others still who I am not permitted to talk to! (apparently for my safety as well as their own!). I am told not to talk about being a journalist, and not to discuss my political/religious ideologies, or my work within the Scottish national Party! A seemingly innocent discussion about ziyerat ashura suddenly becomes very uncomfortable! My SIL’s father-in-law (hope you are keeping up with this), got me in a pincer movement after lunch one day, quizzing me on what I thought about the Lannah contained within the ziyerat! “I see nothing wrong with it”, I say. “Lannah is basically disassociation from evil and wrong doing. People choose to interpret it as discrimination, or cursing, either because it fuels their hatred of shias, or because shias abuse Lannah as a means to let off steam about wahabis!”. “nonsense” he retorted! “Lannah is an outdated phenomenon! It is most certainly abusive! For the sake of unity, we should not be using it! surely its common sense to you that insulting Umar in a ziyerat is not going to be acceptable to the suni majority!”. I think about this, and suddenly flush red as I can see where he is going! In my mind, I want to tell him that Lannah is basically a form of spiritual protest, I also want to correct him, the Lannah about Umar is not pointed at the khalifa of the same name, its actually Umar ibn Saad! But its too late; he’s asking me “what books do you read?”, and that’s when I know I need to get out of there! I excuse myself to pray, and spend the rest of the afternoon chilling with the children, in case I am cornered again! By the end of the trip however, I had come to see precisely what was going on there. In particular, I am caught between the massive disparity in the every day Islam of the masses, and the politically generated version! I am not permitted to attend any of the masjid programmes, but the Government TV broadcaster IRIB pumps out a fair few of them, which I watch with interest! The lectures do contain Islamic content, but each and every Islamic reference is further referenced back to a ministerial policy! E.G:
“In the sacred qur’an, Allah is described as the light of the heavens and the earth, just as Mahmoud Ahmad Inejad is the light of Iran, the absolute just leader!” (OK, that was my own example, but you get the point!). Here is a real one that I did see on TV;
“the 7th Imam, Mousa al Qadhim (A.S) spent so much of his life in prison, abused and rejected by his people, and today, the people of Iran try to do the same to our president. This will not reduce his power however, his right to rule and his divine knowledge. He will continue to fight the evils of the West and the American backed Rebellions of his people, till his dying breath, and thereafter!”. There were countless other examples of this, but I’m sure you are feeling sick by now, and certainly understanding why most Muslims prefer to keep their faith to themselves! While there are sometimes pitch battles between the government and the communities of Islamic scholars in Iran, most of them do not extend very far! It is in the interest of the scholars to toe the political line, moreover, only those government approved scholars are legitimately permitted to implement and exercise their rights to statute Islamic law! Only recently, a growing group of Islamic scholars who were campaigning for the need to return to pure, authentic Islam were imprisoned for speaking out against the government! I leave Iran, with a great deal of sadness; I can’t forget the love, kindness and generosity I experienced at the hands of each and every one I met, yet the great suppression they suffer, and the so-called Islamic rule they are subject to, all seem set to crush this beautiful Paradise! Now, I know what some of you will be thinking, …, Didn’t the Iranians choose this at the time of the revolution? Well, in a way, they did! Switch back to the Seventies, the promises that ayatollah Khomaini offered the masses, a chance to clean up the country from American backed puppets, the chance to self determine, to live freely and with pride as the God fearing, just and honest Muslims that Iranians know themselves to be. The promise of jobs, education, women’s rights, a return to a golden age of truth and sincere human values was not something any sane individual would ignore! You only have to study the spiritual works of Khomaini to understand the elevated soul he possessed, and which generated these affirmations for his people; in particular, his work on Salat is one of the most powerful and moving pronouncements on prayer I have ever had the fortune to study in my life! But somehow, when the dust settled, it all went horribly wrong! What the new Muslim law enforcers hadn’t bargained for was the liberty of the people! Through-out History, Persians have been a proud, Independent, free flowing movement of humanity, self determining and above all, free! On the outset, this doesn’t contradict Islam in any way shape or form, but how do you contain such a people, in order to even come close to making your dreams come true? …, bring on oppression! Over a systematic period of time, Islam became the stick with which to beat the masses; impose hijaab, ban music, limit access to external media reporting. Control communications, employ spies from among the people so that humanity lives in a perpetual state of fear and insecurity! The part about their being no compulsion in religion, seemed to be lost on the governments of the time! There was another issue too; the promises! The pledges about jobs, about free fuel, about justice for all, about cleaning up corruption, …, you guessed it; none of them materialised! People felt, and continue to feel, a growing sense of desperation and anger; the regime they bought in to, believed in, supported with all they had to give, was now the very regime that was keeping them down, preventing them from speaking out, or from remotely realising their own personal dreams of success! And today? Well, unless you are an insider, (or else horribly deluded!), you don’t really support the regime as it stands! But this hasn’t stopped Iran, nor has it lost any support! It is easy to endorse the regime and its policies if you are not a part of it, and that is what Iran has done; its supporters live overseas! Just as Saudi has done with its funded wahabi masjids, Iran funds Islamic centres, exports scholars and promotes propaganda to the non-residents! Converts to wish to study in the Islamic Republic are given star indoctrination, in the hopes that they take the regime back to their countries of origin! The Iran backing for the Iraqis during the fall of Saddam certainly earned them points among the UK based refugees! Only last week, a member of the Iraqi community called me up accusing me of being a heretic “how can you point fingers at the regime! You don’t know what you are talking about! There is every reason to believe that Ahmad Inejad is Imam Mahdi himself!”. This, believe it or not, is a view promoted by some sections of the propaganda machine, but its so disgusting, I refuse to even entertain writing about it further on my blog! Perhaps I am taking a risk, maybe I shouldn’t write about these things, but stepping inside Iran, I had only one question for my shia faithful; “why don’t you help the Iranians?”, I was even asked this by Iranians during my visit “why don’t your people help us?”. As shias, we have become lost in a false sense of hot air and goodness; we see what we want to see when it comes to Iran. We fail to understand the protests and the Iranian uprisings because the Western media frames them as a cry for Western Democracy, while the Muslim leaders condemn them and don’t take the debate any further! Its easy to say we support a regime we know little about, and when we have all of our freedoms in tact! We don’t support the Western governments who claim they are “giving them freedom!”. We can see, quite rightly, that freedom lives among the paraphernalia of emotional intelligence; along-side love, happiness, liberty. You cannot give these invisible commodities to any one, but you can certainly curtail another person’s access to them, as is being done in the republic! The Iranians continue to suffer, continue to protest, while the young shias of London and related cities live off the funds the imported ayatollahs give them. Only recently, I heard of a young group of Iraqis who requested money from such a scholar, apparently, to be used in spreading the teachings of the Ahlulbayt (A.S). The money was given, no questions asked! The youngsters subsequently rented a pleasure boat and went all out on the Thames having a weekend chill down party with their mates! With alcohol, with music, the whole 9 yards! But hey, they support the regime! Really, when will we wake up! When will we, as shias, put our passion, our knowledge, our energies to good use! When will we wake up to the truth as it really is!
Last week, the 2 main opposition leaders in Iran were arrested with their wives and families. There has so far been no word from them and human rights organisations fear torture. My husband wept when he recounted this news to me;
“you don’t understand, if you don’t have freedom of speech, if you can’t express yourself, you have nothing, absolutely nothing! My people have no dreams, no contentment, no future! Nothing to look forward to or aim for. The only options are to try and get out, …, or to die!”, he said.

Travel tales, and a 2nd Wedding!

2011-02-20T03:50:00.000-08:00

I can hardly believe we’ve been back for a full week! incredible! It feels like just yesterday that I got home, (and looks like it too given the piles of washing and unpacked cases!), yet on the other hand, it feels like years ago, as this week has been so busy! This time last Saturday, I was on a train, heading up to my parents to meet my mum for her birthday! I’d been travelling for excess of 24 hours, and was way beyond tired! Oh Georgia, what wonders you gave to us! …, Well, If you’ve been reading carefully, you’ll remember that despite being married for 7 months now, Reza and I had scheduled another wedding ceremony, and that too in Georgia! (soon, we’ll doubtless break a record for the most ceremonies in the one 12-month cycle!). This one however, was more out of necessity, rather than frivolity, given our battles with Iran, the UK, and marriage registration: in short, Georgia provided us with the most straight-forward route to get the civil stuff out of the way! so, 2 weeks ago today, I boarded a late night flight to Georgia, arriving in the beautiful city of Tbilisi around 1 AM in the morning! As I breezed out of customs, my wonderful husband was there to meet me. Honestly, words don’t do any sort of justice to that moment! All the months we had been apart, the waiting, the stress, the lawyers fees, the late night calls, the loneliness, all merged in to one moment of pure peace, which, I couldn’t really enjoy because airport staff fluttered around us, and a driver from the guesthouse we were staying in was waiting to drive us home!
Our guesthouse, (which made me chuckle when I clocked the ‘formula 1 sign above it) (seriously folks, that really was the name of it), stood on a steep hill, overlooking the city! The air was clear and the landscape picture perfect! We had managed to negotiate a deal with the owners, and were staying in the only penthouse room with its own balcony and unsurpassed views of its own! My man, being the magnetic charmer and social networker that he is, had already made firm friends with all the guests and the owners of the place, we were well on our way! As I’m always way out of it after a long flight, I crashed for about 12 hours, but woke up afresh! We had a VERY late breakfast! (3 PM I think?), and then decided to take a walk around Tbilisi. We bought sweet almond pastries from a street bakery and wandered through the side streets munching. The more I tour around the caucuses, the more certain I become that we should move there for a few years. Reza is already set up in Baku, and while the infrastructure may not be all that, the beauty, cleanliness and above all, pace of life in the region is something we’ve both come to adore. I don’t quite see Reza settling here in the long term, and sadly, given current events, Iran might be off the cards for the next few years any way, Georgia and its neighbours are very much in focus! We’ve been investigating a few job possibilities and lets just say, the prospects for both of us are extremely promising, but lets see, Allah (SWT) is the best of planners! Any way, after a day of leisure, it was time to get down to business!
Prior to this trip, we spent years (well, it felt like years), researching what we’d need to do on the internet! We made endless telephone calls and bugged Georgian speaking colleagues to ring up certain offices and obtain information for us, it all seemed so simple! When we’d been out walking the previous day, we’d stumbled across an attractive old building, with massive signs for the ‘Ministry of Justice!! Bingo! All we had to do was come here, obtain a piece of paper, take it to the registration agency, and have them perform a civil ceremony for us! So, after breakfast, we wandered down to this building, like we had all the time in the world! Now, first up, neither of us had bargained for the lack of English speakers we’d find! (stupid really!), but truthfully, we’ve honestly always got by! Plus, between the 2 of us, we speak around 5 languages to reasonable degrees from fluent to intermediate, so we assumed we’d find a common means of getting the message through (wrong!). After 20 minutes of trying to convey requests to the man on the gate, he found an English speaker, who told us that while this place was labelled ‘Ministry of Justice, it wasn’t based here any longer, and we had to go to another building! He couldn’t write English, so instead wrote the Georgian address for us! All we could do, was find a taxi, chuck the slip of paper at the guy, and pray he wasn’t a terrorist and would take us to the right place! …, New Office, new chaos! …, more of the same; this time, we were at the Civil Registration Agency, but the section that deals with Electoral registration; not Civil! So, another piece of paper, another Georgian address! (ever felt like you’ve been here before?). Office 3; this time, it was the ministry of justice! (who, apparently, have no real part to play in the wedding business; we needed to visit the Civil Registration Agency!). You’ll be relieved to learn, that we reached office number 4 at 12 PM sharp, and it WAS the right place! (say Salawat!). They told us, to return that afternoon with 2 witnesses, and they’d do the business for us! The only other thing we had to do was have various documents translated and notarised (which we were able to do right outside the CRA), so all was good! We returned to our guesthouse, read namaz, ate lunch, and requested our hosts to be our witnesses! They agreed of course, but seemed embarrassed; they kept saying we should have told them before; they wanted to give us a party! (we explained that we’d already had our formal wedding in Iran etc), but it didn’t make much difference! Now, despite this ceremony not holding much spiritual/emotional importance for us, I had insisted Reza smarten up! I’d bought a new maroon outfit (just because I didn’t get to ware red at the niqah/reception), Reza brought a suit, and contrary to what we expected, our witnesses dressed to kill! They had some stuff to do that afternoon, so we didn’t get back to the CRA till around 4 PM! We feared we might have been too late to register that day, but they said it would be no problem! We first queued up in a room with various reception counters around the walls. Customers came and went, going about their own business! We were given various forms to fill in, which is pretty standard practise I suppose! They asked me if I wanted to change my surname, which I did, but then, they asked Reza if he wanted to change his! This struck us both as odd; and got us in to a rather unhelpful discussion on the Persian equivalent of my name! (those close to me who have since heard this discussion in realtime, know why it is quite so funny!), any way, our hysteria seemed to render us beyond help, and the rest of the proceedings were conducted in Georgian (presumably so that we wouldn’t have a monkeys re: what the H*** was going on!). After the form-filling, I assumed (wrong again!), that, we’d be taken to an inner room/office, where the ceremony would be performed! Oh no! the ceremony started right off, conducted across this medical style reception desk, with all in sundry looking on! From the dood who’s come to file for a divorce, to the woman who’s registering a death! No kidding! We didn’t even take our coats off! And all that dressing up? Ah: we needn’t have bothered! After a stream of Georgian, the registrar asks, “are you both certain you are doing this for love? And not any other reason?”, …, bad move! I start laughing, Reza starts laughing, and the whole thing is in pieces! In my mind, I’m wondering why 2 people, from opposite sides of the world would spend a fortune on air tickets, flying to a country where they have no routes, where neither of them speak the language, to get married in a reception office, across a desk, for any thing other than love! (plus the name business is still making me chuckle), any way, we compose ourselves and assure her of our unfaltering love! More Georgian, after some signatures and lots of stamps and other admin gestures that mean little to us, she tells us that “Under Georgian law, you are now enjoined, man and wife, forever, …, congratulate each other please!”, now, we didn’t really want a mass public display of affection in the reception queue, but our brief hug didn’t seem to do it for her! It wasn’t till we faked a full-on smooch, that she left us alone! Our witnesses greeted us, and, …, what can I say; more laughter ensued! I think it was all relief at how simple every thing had been, coupled with the unique craziness of what had just taken place! On enquiry, our witnesses told us that all Georgian civil weddings are done this way unless they are conducted in a church or wedding palace (I just wish some one had told me!). We got our papers, and on the way home, our witnesses said “we want to cook for you; we will roast a cow!” (they meant beef of course!). I should point out here, that Tbilisi boasted 1 mosque, (which appeared to be Ahmediya but we couldn’t clarify that as it was never open when we past, even at salat time!), we didn’t see any Muslims (other than the Azeri Restaurants we visited), and our hosts, (whether it was their lack of English or lack of knowledge), had no understanding of Muslims and halal food restrictions! We had expected this to be the case, and so we had brought most of our food with us, (tins, packets and instant stuff), the only things we bought there were bread, rice and fruit, (oh but we didn’t miss out on the amazing Georgian ‘Khaja Puri!). So, I’m trying to think of a diplomatic way of getting us past the ‘cow, when Reza pipes up “no no, I will cook for you, really, its tradition in Iran that the groom cooks for his guests, I really want to do it!”. I chew my lip and try not to snigger! Its cute and funny, but I’m worried as well! Now, first off; my husband is an amazing cook, (way better than me as it goes!). He cooks amazing Persian dishes, and his passion for Indian cuisine means he can even cook dosas from scratch! But that’s all back in our very well equipped kitchen at home! Here in Georgia, we have nothing; no meat, no utensils, no Iranian herbs! And he’s volunteered us, and (heck), they have just agreed! We get home and do namaz and I ask him how he’s planning to go about this! After some fighting, (OK, discussing!), we buy potatoes, and Reza makes Persian rice with my favourite potatoes Tadeeq! I prepare 2 salads; one with Aubergine and walnut, and another with olives; I flavour some natural yoghurt, and we heat up 2 trays of instant ‘korma sabzi! (OK, so it was instant, but seriously; if you are visiting your local Iranian grocer; pick up some of this stuff; for instant food, it comes pretty close to the real deal!). So we serve all of this up, and though I’ve yelled at the man for cooking a mountain, it comes in handy! When we bring it all in, our 2 witnesses have multiplied and now include, their 2 daughters, son-in-law, Granddaughter, 2 friends, and a woman who cleaned the guesthouse! We served every one, trying not to make it too obvious that we were having tiny portions to save the others! As it went, our additional guests didn’t eat much, but our witnesses got wired in, proclaiming that Reza’s rice was the best they ever had (I don’t doubt that! But they even suspected he cooked the Korma Sabzi himself! which, rightly or wrongly, we let them believe!). After dinner, we enjoyed coffee and delicious cream cakes provided by our guests. None of the assembled were drinkers (Thank God!), however we were all music lovers, and it appeared our host had been something of a rocker in his day! He got his guitar out, and began a sort-of Eric Clapton does Georgia! Rendition of some folk songs! We couldn’t exactly join in, but somewhere in the middle we just got swept away by the impromptu spontaneity of the moment! We even shared a few Iranian songs with them which they seemed to love! Honestly? I wouldn’t have had it any other way!

The rest of the week was fluid and unforgettable. We toured Tbilisi, taking in the rivers and the ancient churches and ruins that fill the city boundary. We ate well, talked allot and laughed even more, it was rather like the honeymoon we always dreamed of! In a strange way, we talked about the future in ways we never had before, either before or after marriage. Despite being married for 7 months now, I think the pressure of our uncertainty had always hung over us subconsciously, but now, with every thing in hand, we could both see an end in sight, a light, that we’d never seen before, we felt, Insha Allah, safe enough to lay foundations for a blessed future. Even when we parted last Saturday, the sadness I felt was nothing like the sadness before. I knew that we wouldn’t be apart for long, and that our time, would surely come soon.
I have to take this opportunity to thank all of our friends, family, contacts, my readers. Those who know us and those who don’t, your support on this journey has surely brought us to where we are today. We might have happiness now, but many of you know how long it has been in coming, there have been many tears over this year, but they only make the joy of success so much more sacred! We wouldn’t have an inch of what we have now, were it not for every one’s love, encouragement and support through the good and bad times, and all the duas that have been made for us, from near and far, from those we know and those we don’t! There are so many people I want to thank, but some don’t want to be named, and for privacy reasons, I don’t want to name others, so I’ll simply say, from my husband and I! Thank you, each one of you! For all that you do and that you’ve done! You all know who you are, and be assured, your love and support for us means more than you’ll ever know. We still have a very long way to go: visas, jobs, other logistics to sort out. I also have some major surgery coming up soon and we need allot of prayers for that, but surely Allah (SWT) never abandons those who try and do their utmost to be sincere in his way: and regardless of what we both want, we always pray only for that which is good for us (in both worlds), and we request all of you to do the same!
So, with our Georgian adventure safely in the bag, we continue on our way, knowing, and dreaming, of the best that is yet to come!

Don't Forget Iran!

2011-02-19T08:10:00.000-08:00

Another most eloquent article compiled by the inspirational and motivational journalist, Roxana Saberi. Please forward, paste and circulate as much as you can: the Iran situation is complicated: Muslims disagree vehemently on the way forward, let-alone the non-Muslim majorities, but much of this has to do with the misinformation regarding Iran’s complexities, and our responsibilities as shia Faithful towards changing things, so keep the momentum up, and insure your brothers and sisters do not forget Iran!

Roxana Saberi
Keep the Spotlight on Iran’s Protesters
February 18, 2011

Iranian demonstrators who took to the streets on Monday in what organizers called a rally of solidarity with protesters in Egypt and Tunisia are in many
ways facing a much more arduous battle than their counterparts.

Unlike the Egyptians and Tunisians, Iran’s protesters stand against the Basij and Revolutionary Guards, security forces charged with defending the Islamic
Revolution and said by the regime to number in the millions.

Unlike their counterparts, Iran’s demonstrators face a regime that is less dependent on the West’s good will and whose allies such as China and Russia are
less likely to hold it accountable if its use of violence does not stop.

And while authorities in Egypt and Tunisia used force against peaceful protesters, Iran’s regime has shown much less restraint, and its efforts to silence
opponents by blocking mass communications have been more severe and effective.

These are just a few reasons that, as Iranians peacefully pursue basic human rights, the international community must work even harder to keep a spotlight
on their struggle.

“It’s much more difficult to fight dictatorship in Iran than in Egypt and Tunisia,” an Iranian journalist told me on Tuesday. “So the people of Iran really
need international support.”

While some foreign journalists were assaulted and forced into hiding in Egypt, for the most part, international news coverage from the ground continued—live.
Contrast that with Iran, where the few foreign journalists left in Iran were prohibited from even witnessing the protests.

In Egypt, Google executive Wael Ghonim’s emotional interview on a private Egyptian channel reignited anti-government protesters after his release from detention.
Iran, however, has no private TV or radio channels on which to air the voices of opposition.

At the same time, repression of Iranian journalists carries on. Reporters Without Borders says 32 journalists and 11 bloggers are now imprisoned in Iran,
including two arrested on Wednesday, making Iran the largest jail for journalists in world.

As limitations on professional journalists have tightened in Iran, the role of Iran’s citizen journalists in providing accounts and images of what they
see has grown increasingly important. Yet this, too, can be dangerous. Human rights activists have reported that some citizen journalists have been arrested,
including one Iranian who called BBC Persian to share details of Monday’s events.

The Islamic regime has also jammed satellite TV signals into Iran and slowed down or disconnected Internet access for many users. Facebook and Twitter have
been blocked, though many of Iran’s tech-savvy youth have found ways around the filters and slipped some information through.

While Iran’s authorities have tried to hide their violations of human rights from the rest of the world, the oppression has deepened. The regime has gone
on an execution binge, executing at least 86 people since the start of 2011, according to human rights groups. Iranian officials say most were drug traffickers,
but the executions have often taken place after unfair trials and without due process, and activists say at least eight people executed in January were
political prisoners.

Human rights advocates say around 500 prisoners of conscience, including student and women’s rights activists, attorneys, and political opposition figures
remain behind bars, while accounts of physical and psychological torture in Iran’s prisons continue to surface.

Even if images and information about these human rights abuses are hard to come by in Iran, the international media must continue to report on them.

This will help galvanize ordinary individuals around the world to cry out against human rights violations in Iran, Iranian activists tell me. If other countries’
citizens rally for Iranians, they say, governments will step up their pressure on Iran, and the Iranian people will gain more courage.

Governments must also keep speaking out, and with more unity and intensity. They can use the upcoming meeting of the UN Human Rights Council in Geneva to
demand a special UN envoy to investigate and report on the human rights situation in Iran, (a position abolished in 2002), as well as to call for other
independent UN human rights experts to be allowed to enter Iran.

Travel bans and asset freezes for a number of Iran’s human rights violators, announced by the U.S. State Department last year, can be extended to include
other individuals and adopted by other countries. Many civil society activists inside Iran have expressed support for such targeted sanctions, even if
they are largely symbolic.

Companies and trading partners with Iran can do their part by using any interactions with the Iranian government to make clear that Tehran’s human rights
practices must improve in order to sustain and justify economic ties.

To empower the Iranian people through communication and information, the international community should more seriously explore ways to counter the Iranian
government’s jamming of satellite signals and restrictions on Internet access. And journalists and human rights advocates who fled Iran need humanitarian
aid—first, to survive and second, to act as a conduit of information between Iran and abroad.

When the world remains quiet about Iran’s human rights offenses, the Islamic Republic believes it can act with impunity. When the international community
speaks out, at least some decision-makers in Iran take notice, as I have seen in many cases, including my own.

Iranians calling for change may not agree on whether they want reform or revolution, but they agree on what they don’t want: the status quo, in which violence,
intimidation and human rights violations continue unabated.

The writer was detained in Iran’s Evin Prison for 100 days in 2009. Her book, “Between Two Worlds: My Life and Captivity in Iran,” chronicles her experiences
and those of her fellow political prisoners.

Urdu and beyond!

2011-02-16T15:15:00.000-08:00

So, it seems every one’s talking ‘Language in blog land! And I seem to recall that a while ago, Lucky Fatima asked me to write about my own journey to fluency in Urdu! So, I’ll talk about that, but in relation to my current battles with learning Farsi!
Battles? You might wonder why I say this, after all, the inherent skills needed to learn one language should be transferable, shouldn’t they? When I asked a German friend who has been living in Tehran for 30 years how she learned Farsi, she said “I just did!”, and here in lies my problem! If you ask me how I came to know Urdu, my answer would be exactly the same! You see, I didn’t come to Urdu through some guy, through work or any other apparent whim, Urdu was a part of me almost from the day I was born! Its hard to explain: Muslims don’t really do the ‘reincarnation concept, but if I were Hindu, I’d swear that’s what had happened to me! I was magnetically drawn to all things Asian, and even had dreams in a language I didn’t understand (which I now know to be Urdu). I used to use the words in my daily vocabulary while playing, till one day, a family friend who worked in India started quizzing me about how I knew this and that! I didn’t have an answer, and when I saw how freaked out every one was I stopped using those words completely! Still, I was drawn to Urdu like a moth towards light! When I was around 11 years old, my mum and I went to see an Indian dance performance. My family would never normally have gone for something like that, but what fascinated them was the fact that all the participating dancers were blind! The performance was mesmerising, for the blind and the sighted alike, and on discussion with the organisers at the end, we learned that they ran community education classes in my area (one of which was for Urdu!). While they were initially reluctant to take me on, I battled with my parents to let me go! I already knew I could do it, not just because of my Urdu passion, but because I was already scoring high when it came to language! As a primary school child, I had the misfortune of attending a school which was exclusively for blind children! The building was dull, under resourced and thoroughly uninspiring in every possible way! moreover, as most of the students had additional support needs beyond their vision, I found I was being taught absolutely nothing, as the so-called teachers simply didn’t have time! Now, some one, who apparently saw some potential in me, suggested I join the senior kids, in their French classes for something to do! And while they too resented having a 9-year-old in their senior study groups, It soon became apparent that language was my home! Within 6 months I was sitting (and passing!) oral exam papers, and found the whole experience a total joy, even when the tests before me were tough! I always say that, had I not married at 18, I could have easily realised my dream and become a linguist within GCHQ! Any way, I joined the Urdu class, and found equal, (if not more!) pleasure and satisfaction through learning! The structure of these classes was very different from my school French: as a blind person, no one over there had any idea how to teach me! It would have been pointless for me to learn the Urdu Braille code, all I wanted was to be able to understand, and speak! The teachers couldn’t get this however, so I resorted to making notes on an old fashioned Braille Type writer (I just let them think I was noting down their Class dictation), and as long as I could recite it back to them from my phonetic English copy, they were satisfied! The classes were only taking me so far however! Most of the class attendees were young children, who needed much more attention! The only other students apart from me, were 2 middle-aged male social workers who now had an ‘Ethnic remit, and thought Urdu would be helpful to them! In reality, it was me who was helpful to them: spending most of my class time correcting their very ‘gora pronunciations! I knew early on that to get speaking, I needed something more! I believe that what made my French classes work for me, was the fact that our teacher lived, breathed and adored France! She was a native speaker, who just emanated ‘Culture from every inch of her being! She got us reading French literature, singing French Songs, and we even spent one lesson sampling a variety of French Cheeses! The ‘Real live Language was what I needed! As it was, my Urdu classes were now Teaching me more Gujerati than any thing else, because one of the mother’s was a Gujju speaker, who spent time with me while her daughters studied! I was not Muslim at this point, however had an interest in world religions, so asked my teacher if she would permit me to accompany her to the mandir! As a devoted ‘pooja Devi, she had no issue with that at all! The Mandir was a revelation to me, (and deserves a whole post on its own!), but once I’d got my head around the religious aspects, I soon began to make friends, and see how these friendships would elevate my language expertise! I started attending the mandir in secret (you’ll appreciate that, in a fundamentalist Plymouth Brethren family, you don’t mouth off about how you now spend Sunday in a Hindu Centre!). I took my meals there, took an Indian dance class, and volunteered to clean the Pooja Thaalis so that I could practise with all the aunties! They were all fascinated by me! It was their curiosity, rather than genuine friendship that brought them to me, but that didn’t bother me much! they would invite me to their homes, give me Hindi films to watch and got me in to playback songs! This is where I’d say the law of attraction comes in to its own: as my soul was seeking Urdu, so it came to me! A Pakistani woman moved in next door to us, and she soon took over my daily lessons! My family also had cable TV fitted right about then (that was a big deal back in the day you know!), but cable, meant Zee TV on tap! At this point, I could easily spend 24 hours a day, thoroughly steeped in Urdu and never even having to think English! After that, I only went to one other language class! This was a one-on-one session, taught by a retired doctor! I met him at the home of another friend, and requested him to do some work with me on Grammar (any one who’s studied Urdu knows just how complex the grammar can be). I won’t say I’ve really come to understand how each of the rules (or lack of them!), work, but I know the principals and despite the odd pathan inspired error, I get it right, 99% of the time! In those early days, I had some confidence issues around speaking, even though in theory, I knew the language well enough, but through my reversion and later marriage, (and of course working in Pakistan!), I soon got myself over all of that! And the rest, as they say, is history!
…, You might think I’m being a bit simplistic or flippant about this, but seriously, that’s just how it was! I never continued with my French, yet recently, when I took myself along to a conversational class at the French Embassy, I was blown away by just how much I had retained! A teacher once said to me, that you know when you’ve truly mastered a new language, when you can think in it, and now, I really can do that! I often think in Urdu, and often get frustrated when I can’t express my feelings in that language, particularly if I’m stressed out or emotional about something! When I returned from Pakistan, my English grammar was shocking, because I’d got so lost in the whole Urdu zone as it were! Now, obviously, every one learns differently, and what worked/works for me won’t necessarily work for any one else, but here in lies my second difficulty! If you ask me how I learned Urdu, I’d have to recount all of the above, and let you make of it what you wanted! A bit of classes, a bit of culture, and a whole lot of immersion! Those are the reoccurring themes I know, but they don’t really combined to make much of a structure for learning a language properly do they! Besides, there is definitely something about being young and being a sponge for learning almost any thing! (OK, I’m only 28, but you get the point don’t you!).
Before I met my husband, I knew it was time for a new language. I was toying with Arabic (for religious reasons), and Russian, (because I had just taken the Civil Service Exams, and all the diplomatic jobs were demanding it), but then I met my man, and of course, Farsi became the order of the day! I didn’t think much about how I was going to master it! after all, Urdu was born out of Farsi, and every one kept telling me that if I could speak one, I’d totally walk the other! So with my ego sky high, I began, (only to come crashing down much sooner than I thought!). You see, while I’d got on by the seat of my pants with Urdu, I couldn’t do that with Farsi! My new man wasn’t around 24/7 to drown me in his new poetic language, and there wasn’t much of an Iranian community here to speak of! I got the conventional ‘teach yourself Farsi CDs, but they only taught me what I already knew! And all the more advanced software on the market simply wouldn’t work with my screen reader! I put adds online, on Email lists and in shop windows for a Farsi teacher, but no one got back to me! I found a website where I could watch Farsi TV, and even got myself a sky connection to it! this provided some of the immersion I was seeking, and the best part was, I could now see that part of what my friends had been telling me was indeed true! I could listen to spoken Farsi, and get the basic just of a conversation! (currently, I’d say this comprehension is around the 35% mark!). While that’s not bad going for a beginner, it doesn’t address my speech problem! I went to Tehran for the wedding, all broken and dejected that I couldn’t engage with my in-laws the way I wanted to! So much of Iranian life is about talking, there is really no such thing as non-verbal communication among Iranians! You talk it all out! Even when you are between the lines as it were, you talk! You talk when its good, when its bad and when all you can do is talk yourself around in circles! You talk, (unless you are Rosha that is!). They talked, I listened! And responded with the few stock phrases I knew could be relied upon to generate a reaction! We were far too busy during the wedding period to fret over my lack of language, however, when I was alone at home with mum, I realised that if I could only spend a few months in Tehran, I could master Farsi within weeks! Seriously! Forget CDs and husbands and classes, mum was my best teacher yet! She was calm, patient, and despite knowing virtually no English, she did know precisely how to get through to me. She’d speak to me slowly (without being patronising though), with a great deal of animation! She’d repeat things over and over till I got them in to my head! Even if I didn’t know all the words, I’d repeat them and show some degree of comprehension, before checking the words out later on. She would bring me objects and name them, or take me to things, or simply keep rephrasing sentences till I got the just of what she wanted to convey! My mother-in-law rocks any way, but the whole language thing brought us closer than we perhaps would have become during such a short visit, Mashallah! But when the wedding was all over, and we returned to our countries to fight the good visa fight, I didn’t have my new mother to teach me! I had no one to teach me in fact, and this is my problem! In my nightmares, I see me and my kids stuck in a stuffy classroom, trying to learn Farsi together (and that’s so not on my agenda!). I don’t subscribe to the American concept of one language per parent, I want us to speak to our kids fluently in both languages, so that both become as natural to them as any thing else, and Iran isn’t just ‘dad’s thing (marriages break down due to that level of fragmentation). When I married, I took on Iranian Nationality myself, something I’d retain even if this relationship broke down, and what’s unique about this set of circumstances is that, I see myself as Iranian in a way that I perhaps wouldn’t did I not have a Persian passport of my own! I have become part of this country, and language is a basic fundamental pivotal to this ‘Fitting in process!
So, while this post probably poses more questions than it answers, what I’d say to you is, if you are struggling with Urdu (or any other language for that matter), maybe the book isn’t for you, and perhaps some culture, some real life and a whole lot of immersion might equally do the business for you, as it did for me. Don’t learn a language because you feel you have to, do it because you desire it, for you! Language is a living entity, it grows and evolves with every new speaker! If I learned Farsi simply for my in-laws, I doubt I’d be motivated in the long term to stick with it! look beyond your family at all the possibilities it opens up for you (in the case of Farsi, I can study poetry, go to Hawza, become an interpreter, or even a human rights activist for my people!). Integrate the new language in to your life, try and visit the country, make friends, watch TV in that language, adapt your life to fit your new vocabulary! (I even sleep with Farsi TV on, because I believe the subconscious picks up on way more than we fully understand!). Finally, but by no means least, keep speaking! Even when you are talking rubbish and your speech resembles that of a 4-year-old, do it any way! surround yourself with 2/3 trusted speakers who will laugh with you (rather than at you), and keep putting words together, making sentences and experimenting with what you know, most of the time you’ll be surprised with how much you’ve already absorbed!
Insha Allah my experiences will help you, (if not just proving to be an interesting read!). And, if you fancy spreading a little love/thanks my way, maybe you could direct a Farsi teacher in the direction of the tubelight please! Believe me, you shall be rewarded! By me, by the man, and by both universes: now and always! So get to it!

Belated Eid-E-Zahra Mubarak!

2011-02-15T14:44:00.000-08:00

Eid-e-Zahra Mubarak to all my dear readers, your families, and your loved ones. I sincerely apologise for being a day late, but I do have a valid excuse! (but that’s for the next post!), for now, enjoy this month of multiple blessings and extend my greetings to those around you. As those close to me know, eid-e-Zahra is my favourite eid, (if its possible to have such a thing), not least because it marks the day on which I formally joined the school of Ahlulbayt (A.S), but also because I believe eid-e-Zahra is a celebration of justice, just as ashura is a protest against the greatest injustice ever known. This eid is the conduit on which journeys connect, a day of rejoicing, on which every one receives their due for all that they did (be it good, or bad!). It marks the start of 3 months of celebrations for the purified household (A.S) and for all of those who love them. Many say that eid-e-Zahra should not be celebrated, as its not especially “politically correct”, and I think that’s sad! If our Imams (A.S) honoured these days with happiness, it is for us to only follow their sanctified examples. If there are misconceptions about eid-e-Zahra, (or any other eid for that matter), it falls to us to address those with love, compassion and above all, factual education! I pray this eid was a peaceful, joyous one for you and your dear ones, and that this month showers its rahma upon you, those you love, and all that you do, Insha Allah!

9th Rabi-al-Awwal 1432 A.H. - Eid-e-Zahra(s.a.). Also known as Eid-e-Shuja.

This is the day of Eid for Momineen and Mominaat and marks the end of the mourning period after the events of Karbala. According to Ulema, this is the day
when the key murderers of Imam Hussain(a.s.), Umar ibn-e-Saad(L.A.) and Ubaidullah ibn-e-Ziyad were killed and sent to the Hell. When their heads were
presented to Imam Zain-ul-Abideen(a.s.) by the forces of Hazrat Mukhtar-e-Saqafi(a.r.), Imam(a.s.) prostrated and thanked Allah(swt) that HE had granted
him long enough life that he could see the heads of the killers of Imam Hussain(a.s.).

This was the first time since the events of Karbala that the people saw smile on the face of Imam Zain-al-Abideen(a.s.). Therefore, the faithfuls of Prophet
Mohammad(sawaw) and his Ahl-e-Bait(a.s.) should celebrate this day as an Eid day. Allah(swt) has reserved great reward for anyone who declares and celebrates
this day as Eid day.

I wish to extend my felicitations to Prophet Mohammad(sawaw), Imam
Zamana(a.s.), the Ahl-e-Bait(a.s.) and to all Momineen and Mominaat on
this day of Eid and celebration.

----------------------------------------------------------

Schwartz, telling it like it is!

2011-02-14T07:58:00.000-08:00

This is a long read, but believe me, its well worth it! If I wrote something like this, I’d probably be crippled by hate mail etc! I may still be! But hey; he is a non-Muslim, he said it, I didn’t! and while I debated for all of 5 minutes over whether or not to post this, I figured that the comparison is too important to be let go. If you dislike this article, be you shia or wahabi, perhaps you need to question your comfort zone, rather than any one else! And before any one shouts me down for causing fitna between Muslims, all I’ll say is, open your mind, read, and then just let the evidence speak and be your guide, after all, wasn’t it the qur’an that advised us of their being no compulsion in religion?

Part one

The Good Ayatollah

By
Stephen Schwartz

Weekly Standard | July 12, 2004

Much hope is presently vested, by friends of a free Iraq, in the 74-year-old grand ayatollah, Sayyid Ali al-Husseini Sistani. Ayatollah Sistani acts as
a marja, or religious guide, for many if not most Iraqi Shia Muslims from his residence in the holy city of Najaf. Since the Shia make up about 60 percent
of Iraq's population, it is a matter of some interest to know just where the grand ayatollah would lead his followers.

Sistani has thus far been an unwavering advocate of elected government in Iraq (far more steadfast than the Coalition itself). And now it is possible to
ascertain his views on another important matter--relations between Muslims and non-Muslims--thanks to a volume of Sistani's pronouncements (fatwas) offering
guidance to Muslims living abroad. A Code of Practice for Muslims in the West was dictated to Abdul Hadi al-Hakim and translated by Syed Muhammad Rizvi
from an Arabic text approved by Sistani's office in the Iranian religious center of Qum. It can be downloaded at
www.sistani.org/html/eng
or bought from Islamic booksellers.

For the novice, any work of Islamic jurisprudence might prove difficult to navigate. Certainly, there is much here to disconcert the reader unfamiliar with
the strict Shia sect. The book begins, for example, by warning that Muslims should not emigrate to non-Muslim countries unless they are certain that doing
so will not undermine their faith or that of their relatives. Its pages mention numerous customs and notions alien to outsiders, like the prohibition on
attendance at musical concerts intended purely for entertainment, rigorous habits of personal modesty, and acceptance of "temporary" as well as "permanent"
marriage.

But more instructive than looking for exotic features of Shia teaching is a comparison of Sistani's views on key questions with those propounded by Wahhabi
Islam, the official sect of Saudi Arabia. Wahhabi teaching is propagated via websites, newspapers, sermons, and lectures, in thousands of Sunni mosques
and by Islamist organizations throughout the world. It is the contrast between Sistani's teaching and that of the Wahhabis that shows quite plainly who
are our enemies and who are our friends.

A good place to start is the question whether Muslims living in the West may participate in electoral politics. Sistani answers yes, the Wahhabis answer
no. And the difference between them in tone could hardly be greater.

The Ayatollah Sistani not only states that Muslim citizens of Western nations may vote, he goes on to counsel that they may, and sometimes should, run for
office: "At times the higher interests of the Muslims in non-Muslim countries demand that Muslims seek membership of political parties, and enter parliaments
and representative assemblies." While he specifies that such decisions must be submitted to consultation with "trustworthy experts," his view is that Muslim
citizens of countries like Britain should participate in the political process on an equal basis with non-Muslims.

The Wahhabis' attitude toward elections was on display during the recent vote for the European Parliament. In Britain, which has a Muslim population of
at least 1.5 million, widely reproduced Wahhabi propaganda posters, flyers, and website commentaries bore the headline "The Messenger Muhammad (S.A.W.)
Is Our Example--Did He Ever Vote?" (S.A.W. stands for Sallallahu Aleyhi wa-Sallam, or May the Peace of God Be Upon Him, and is usually abbreviated in English
PBUH.) One might as well ask whether the Messenger Muhammad ever rode a bus, spoke on the telephone, or wore glasses, but that was not the point. Rather,
the intent was to keep Muslims removed from the political process of a democracy.

A typical Wahhabi rant under this headline may be read at the pro-bin Laden website al-Muhajiroun. It declaims, "Muslims must not vote for anyone in the
present election, even if they say that they are going to get you some schools or other benefits for the Muslim community." That "some people go to Parliament
or local councils and legislate and others vote for them to go there and do so" is "clear-cut shirk," or idol-worship. "How can a Muslim say there is no
legislator except Allah," asks the piece, ". . . and then vote for someone else to legislate [the unbelievers'] law and order?"

Such blandishments accurately represent the all-or-nothing mentality of Wahhabis living in Britain, according to whom no government is legitimate except
an Islamic one--which is why they fully intend to establish an Islamic government in place of the country's present parliamentary system.

The Good Ayatollah

By
Stephen Schwartz

Part Two

Moving on to actual friendships between Muslims, Christians, and Jews, Sistani welcomes them, the Wahhabis forbid them.

Sistani writes, "A Muslim is allowed to take non-Muslims for acquaintances and friends, to be sincere towards them and they be sincere towards him, to help
them and they help him in fulfilling the needs of this life." He notes that Imam Jafar as-Sadiq, the founder of Shia jurisprudence, said, "If a Jewish
person comes to sit with you, make that a good meeting."

Wahhabis teach that such relationships should be avoided at all costs. (The Muslim Students Association is especially pernicious in spreading this view
among Muslim college students in North America.) The authoritative Wahhabi website Islam Q&A declares that "a Muslim's relationship with Muslims is different
from his relationship with others. . . . With regard to non-Muslims, the Muslim should disavow himself of them, and he should not feel any love in his
heart towards them. . . . If [the] Muslim has to be with [non-Muslims] physically, he should not be with them in his heart, and he must avoid mixing with
them unnecessarily. . . . The rights of Allah and His Book and His Prophet are more important than our personal rights. Remember this, for this is one
of the things that will help you to hate them and regard them as enemies until they believe in Allah alone."

Some Wahhabis have adopted a viewpoint slightly less harsh. Abdullah Ibn Abd ur-Rahman Jibreen, a prominent Saudi cleric and state religious functionary
whose fatwa against hijackings has been used to paint the Wahhabis as enemies of terrorism, concedes, "It is allowed to mix with the disbelievers, sit
with them and be polite with them as means of calling them to Allah, explaining to them the teachings of Islam, encouraging them to enter this religion
and to make it clear to them the good result of accepting the religion and the evil result of punishment for those who turn away. For this purpose, being
a companion to them and showing love for them is overlooked in order to reach that good final goal."

It is true that Shia and Wahhabi leaders have one unfortunate point of agreement: Both call on Muslims in the West to boycott Israeli products. Wahhabis,
however, are instructed to go the extra mile and boycott American products as well. The differences between the dour, rigid mentality that Saudi Arabia
seeks to impose and the moderate views of Ayatollah Sistani, meanwhile, extend to matters as trivial as depictions of human beings (Wahhabis command that
such paintings be destroyed; Sistani accepts them) and as grave as punishments for adultery (the Wahhabis kill an adulteress; Sistani writes that "it is
not permissible for [a Muslim man] to kill [a Muslim woman who commits adultery], even if he sees her in the act").

Most important, perhaps, Sistani's book makes no mention of concepts, dear to Muslim radicals, such as the goal of establishing Islamic rule in Western
countries and the duty to fight jihad in non-Muslim lands. Instead, Sistani exhorts the Muslim living in a non-Muslim nation that when he has made a commitment
"to abide by the laws of that country"--as he implicitly has in signing immigration documents--he must keep his promise.

The lesson here is simple and essential: The Ayatollah Sistani does not seek to promote a clash of civilizations or a conflict between religions. He does
not teach the necessity of aggressive dawa (Islamic evangelism) or jihad against non-Muslims. The Saudis and their Wahhabi servants insist on both.

And that, of course, is a major reason why extremist Saudi clerics incite Muslims to kidnap and murder Americans and other non-Muslims on Saudi soil. It
is also why Saudi Arabia so fears a democratic, Shia-led Iraq on its northern border, and why Wahhabi preachers urge pious Muslims to kill and die fighting
all who defend the new Iraq.

The contrast between the mentality of Sistani and that of the Wahhabis is even starker when one turns to the simplest level of participation in community
life: Should Muslims extend Christmas and New Year's greetings to their Christian neighbors? Sistani says yes, the Wahhabis say no.

Sistani states very simply: "It is permissible to greet the Jews and Christians and also [other non-Muslims] on the occasions they celebrate like the New
Year, Christmas, Easter, and the Passover."

If we turn to the Wahhabi website
www.myiwc.com,
representing the "Islamic web community," we find a diatribe by Jamal al-Din Zarabozo. He writes that "it is not allowed for Muslims to congratulate the
non-Muslims on their holidays and festivals. . . . It is one of the greatest sins in Allah's sight . . . a greater sin than congratulating them for drinking
wine."

Zarabozo, whose rhetoric is notorious among Muslims for its excesses, cites a reported opinion by Abdullah ibn Umar, a companion of the Prophet Muhammad,
that "whoever stays in the lands of the foreigners and celebrates their New Year's Days . . . shall be resurrected with them on the Day of Resurrection,"
that is, excluded from the Muslim hereafter. Zarabozo also cites an opinion of Ibn al Qayyim, a fourteenth-century disciple of Ibn Taymiyyah, the forerunner
of Wahhabism, holding that Muslims should not even "sell Christians anything they may use in their holidays of meat, blood, or clothing, nor should they
loan an animal to ride on, nor help with anything concerning [their] festival because all of that would be a way of dignifying their idolatry and helping
them in their [unbelief]."

Stephen Schwartz, an author and journalist, is author of The Two Faces of Islam: The House of Sa'ud from Tradition to Terror. A vociferous critic of Wahhabism,
Schwartz is a frequent contributor to National Review, The Weekly Standard, and other publications.

Rosha's wonderful war on paan!

2011-01-31T14:18:00.000-08:00

Disclaimer: (if you become nauseas easily, or are offended by gutter Urdu, don’t read further!).
…, Well Maybe its nazr: the evil eye if you will. When I moved here 5 or so years ago, people kept asking me how the neighbours were. I was not ideally placed to comment, as I had only met a few of them, the majority professional people like me, who preferred to keep themselves to themselves! That suited me fine: so long as no one was getting in my way! I spoke too soon however! The 2 flats directly above my own belong to a Pakistani landlord, who doesn’t care too much about his reputation in the building, and who rents his flats! His name has become muck in our building for not keeping up with maintenance fees, never removing rubbish from the yard: never acting on complaints! He and I are civil to one another, which is a miracle considering my father punched him following his not returning 700£ to me for mutual roof repairs! Any way, back to the post in question: after the blessed tranquillity resulting from one of his properties remaining vacant for a few months, new tenants moved in! They moved here about a week before Christmas, amidst much yelling, cursing and shifting of furniture! (let that go, moving is stressful right?). As I lay in bed one morning, their putrid Punjabi let me know they were in the house!! (those who are not Urdu/Punjabi speakers should note: Punjabi, is the language spoken in the Punjab. It’s a language of country folk, and has all the same inferences, but still, there is a way to keep it clean if you so desire: lets just say, these people did not desire!). So, they move in, and I wonder if they are Muslim etc: I wonder if they are the kind of people I can call on, or who might call on me, etc. I am becoming too old and set in my ways to rush up to people like a sad wonnabe waving my bangles and shouting “hey yo: I’m your neighbour and I speak Urdu”, so I just waited for us to run in to each other! We didn’t run in to each other however: instead I ran in to something else!! The distinctive, filthy red beetle stains of paan, all down my front door and across the mat at my entrance (oh, and a decent amount settled horribly in the conifer tree I put in the communal area!). I was horrified: now, maybe I’m being a bit too proud or ‘white about this, but come on! I’ve not seen paan spit since Pakistan, and even then, most people waited till they were outside of their apartments before staining the ground with it! rather than becoming all paranoid that it was targeted towards me (I had actually visualised the guy walking downstairs, trying to decipher the right step from which to aim up at my door), I simply cleaned it up and ignored it. Then one day, I was working away on the PC (as you do) (my computer is in a small alcove in my hall), when I heard this Punjabi dood, walk downstairs and stand for a moment at the bottom, before enjoying a good spit and then walking out! I was enraged! What the H*** was that about? Couldn’t he have done it outside? I wasn’t just annoyed because of the obvious mess: paan spit is fowl, it spreads disease, it creates a bad impression: once your building is seen filthy, it gives the OK to all kinds of unsocial behaviours: but apart from all that, paan spit is a nightmare for blind people!! If you get even a hint of it on a shoe, a cane tip or the bottom of an abaya, your belongings will be contaminated, as will any thing else that inadvertently makes contact with the red substance! As I cleaned it up (for the 5th time), I decided that enough was enough! I’d have to speak to the dood when he came back in! any way, it so happened that the following morning I was in the yard putting out my rubbish when this guy was heading out. I walked back to my flat, and left the door open a crack, just to see what he’d do! Sure enough, he wanders down stairs, walks a little past my door (perhaps noting the slight opening), and spits casually in the entrance, before moving towards the exit! I opened the door: (the paan wars begin!)
“Excuse me, sir?”, “yes?”, “aap nay ithir kion thuka?”, “ji?” “aap ni paan kion thuka mere darwazay kay samnay, koee wajha?” (basically: I asked this dood why he was spitting paan at my door every morning).
He stands there in silence, and I wonder if he’s going to answer me! He says nothing, but he doesn’t move on either! So I go “may ni notice kia kay aap rosana curt ho”, …, I want to say more, but I trail off, and then he goes, “may nay to nahin ki”, now, this really brings out the worst in me, because, I figure (rightly or wrongly), that he has clocked the fact I can’t see and will just deny it, and we’ll have a pathetic paan war of words here on my doorstep. That’s when I regret coming over all desi, because the BBC English I speak might have cut the mustard much more affectively! Better late than never I think: and I go, “look: I do not wish to fight with you: but the thing is, I’ve seen you do this every day: and I’m sure you understand, it’s a health hazard, and its really very unfair to the rest of us: I enjoy paan myself as it goes, but I really wouldn’t dream of spitting it all over the apartments: its disgusting, and any way: this isn’t Pakistan”. Then, In case he didn’t get that, I top it off with a bit of the old Urdu, “please janab, ye Pakistan to nahin, buri maherbani next time zara bahir curdain”. He just stands there, like, he says nothing! I hear his door open from upstairs, and then I wonder if he’s been texting or signalling for reinforcements, so I quickly say “any way, nice meeting you: Insha Allah firr milengay, Allah Hafiz”, and disappear back in to my flat! Now, this guy has a relative (I assume his son but I may be wrong), who has a God awful loud voice, the kind that could break sheet metal from a million miles away! So he joins his father (I think) downstairs and asks “kee hoya?”, and his father goes on to tell him about how “vahin, jo gori rehti hain naa? Us Sali ni buri lecture di hi kay aap paan spit curtay ho, nahin curni chahiye”, so I’m listening to this, with a nasty chuckle on my lips, till I hear the loud dood screaming “harami, us ki maa ki …, haramzadi! Us ki baap ca building to nahin!”. This really gets me going, and, without settling my nerves or contemplating my action, I throw open the door and come out, all Karachi, saying “or tera baap ki building phee nahin, hey naa: or haan: or bolna to mere moo pay kehdo, ithir kion gaalian detay ho oonchi awaz main! Agar koee maa behin gaali apnay khurr kay orton pay kehday to aap kesse mehsus carogay?”. Silence! I’m really on a high now! I’ve shocked these pindus in to total embarrassment: 2-0 to the Tubelight! But then, they do something that totally shocks me: they just turn, and walk out! As he passes my window, heading for the train station, he says to his dad “burri cho***** orut hi” (do I need to say more?). I’m totally disgusted at this, and the ego part of me is well aggravated that I’ve not been able to get a proper fight out of it, but hey: I may still be victorious, and after I talk myself down from the urge to go to their place and take up the gaalian issue with their women, I decide to let it go, and see what they’d do! For all I knew, they might stop spitting completely! Just because of my impromptu altercation!
So, lets fastforward a few hours in to day 2, and you guessed it; queue more paan spitting! Day 3 and 4 proceed in the same manner! Clearly my Karachi style rebuke hasn’t swung it! what to do now! I become quite busy for day 5 and 6, and have more important things to worry about than fighting with them, so I choose 0 tolerance: I come home each night, get the bleach out and quietly clean the entrance, saying nothing, doing nothing: not reacting. I wonder if the law of attraction surrounding my pretty plants will attract a paan free zone, but before I get a chance to revel in potential ‘Smug, it all starts, all over again! I’m so sick of this! Plus, with Christmas coming up, I’m determined this gets sorted before I need to head off to my parents: if I don’t, I’ll be wading through paan when I get home, and my precious little nest will resemble a pit fresh from the ‘Itwar bazaar!! The next day, I ask my compatriots on twitter (Roshni_h if you want to follow me), for their suggestions re: the paan wars saga! Journalist mate Martin says I should just bound up to them all ‘Ned and say “quit spittin paan, or I’ll pan ye!”. (for those of you not from Inner city Glasgow, you get the idea: translation: stop spitting, or I shall become extremely violent!!). I like this idea on paper, but given their silence last time, I doubt it will have much affect! But no one comes up with any thing better, and in the end, I opt for something else out of the Ned department of self-preservation: threats! For the next few days, I time my movements in accordance with this guy’s spitting routine (I do have a life guys: honest!). I make sure he sees me, strategically placed, cane out, ready for the business! I wonder if this too might have a shaming affect: and for the first day, it does! But then, as time goes by, I seamlessly vanish in to the concrete and tile surrounds: like many blind people before me, I am simply overlooked! So, after 3 really sad and freakish days of this, I go in guns blazing, mid-spit and tell him: “buri afsos kay baat hi: kion curt ho istarha! Mojhay lagta hi kay aab koee or rasta to nahin, may Yaseen co call curt hain” (their landlord). He disappears upstairs, saying nothing, but as soon as he’s inside his apartment, he narrates the story to his son, so loudly in fact, that I can hear the entire discussion from my own home, with the door shut! The result is that ignorant Punjabi son says “dafa ho: jo mirzi curna: sanu ki! Bawakoof!”, nice! The next morning, I put in a call to their landlord, narrating the spitting saga to him. “is it really that big a deal?”, he says. I take a few deep breaths and say: “yeah Yaseen, it’s a big deal man! I mean, thanks to you, I lived with dry rot for 2 years because you wouldn’t pay for your share to be fixed, but that wasn’t a big deal to me. I had water pouring in to my hall from your kitchen upstairs, resulting in mushrooms on my sealing, and black stains which still remain there, all because you refuse to pay for a painter to fix them, but hey: its not a big deal to me! We can’t get the gutters cleaned regularly, so rubbish builds up and the blocked gutters mean that water pours in to my sitting room at least twice a year: but its not a big deal! You still owe me 700£ from the aforementioned rot, but that’s not a big deal to me! …, paan though? That’s a massive deal! And I’ll bug the SH** out of you till you speak to them and put it right, cause yeah: it’s a massive deal to me!”. (just in case any one thinks this manic tirade is for the benefit of my readers, …, wrong: it really did come out like that!). “theeq hi: don’t worry, I’ll talk to them for sure!”, he says and hangs up, job done! So, I chill down for a while, and give him time to speak to the champion paan offenders, …, nothing happens! Time marches on, and he does nothing! Now, I won’t bore you with the various phone calls it took to finally spin this guy in to action: (needless to say, the paan kept coming, and I kept getting jiggy with the floor cleaner!). Then, eventually, he turns up, something to do with kitchen fittings! And I think he had forgotten about the paan, were it not for the fact that I happened to be coming in right around the time he was leaving! I said salaam and walked inside, hating the fact I couldn’t show him up then and there, but it worked though: he came, he saw, he remembered! And in his finest Shields (Urdu/English blend), he goes “yaar, wo jo hina, yaani you know, paan: yaar the thing is kay, goray nay mojhay call kia hey, you know they are complaining innit, so, yaar its better kay agar paan cariey naa, to zara outside spit caro hina!” (I won’t write any more of that, I know it’s a total ass to read!). So, I’m literally jumping up and down inside my door: result! But then (more shock). I hear the Punjabi dood (the younger louder one), asking Yaseen all about me, telling him about my confrontation in the entrance and so on. It seems he wants to know who I am, and sadly, Yaseen takes full Shields (ned) Pleasure in this! “I know yaar its pure nuts hina? Gori hi, Urdu phee ati hi: I was pure freakin out man when ah heard it innit! I think she’s divorced, but she’s a pucka Muslim: hijab phee curti hain, its mad hina? She said she used to work in Pakistan: so patta nahin why she’s so upset about the paan, and she’s blind too: crazy!!”, The blindness causes loads of hysteria upstairs, even causing the loud dood to call his father and other family members to the door, to discuss this revelation with Yaseen and debate its validity! All decide that I can’t really be blind “ye to buss, ek bahana hi” they decide, because, blind people wouldn’t bother about the paan now would they! But they also start looking for solutions between them (which should be good shouldn’t it?), err …, not quite! Their idea of finding a solution is to say “bechari andhi hi, plus akayli rehti hain, you know, is umer main, admi kay bakher: bohut mushkil hi: fazool baton pay pirishaan hotay hain log, chil renday: koee naa: bechari bhuljaaegi!”. I am so torn here, because part of me is secretly killing myself laughing at all this, yet the activist within screams (assumption, discrimination etc). Reza is horrified! He did his masters in India, and has no sympathy for paan eating at all! Not just because of the mess, but unlike me, he hates eating it completely! So when I tell him about the stairway dialogue, he’s ready to burst! And when the paan spitting continues, that only infuriates us both! I thought their discussions about my blindness (and assumed lack of a life), might have generated some sympathy, but no! they see me out and about, and totally ignore me! So …, time for plan C I think! Now, the thing is that, around this juncture, Muharram came upon us: and as expected, I got far too busy in higher things to be bothered about paan spitting and their ways! In fact, I started to get in to the zone: and feel rather guilty for all the events of the past few weeks! So, one day, as I prepare halwa to take to the imambargah, I make some extra, deciding to take it upstairs and offer it to them. I run up with it, a few minutes before I need to leave for majliss, and while the halwa is still hot and fresh! The auntie of the house opens the door, and as she’s never actually seen me in the flesh before, she doesn’t make the connection, and stands vacant when I say salaam to her! I tell her “mere nam Roshni hi: neechay wali apartment main rehti hain!”, now, I don’t know if she links me with the paan incidents or not, but I tell her how I’ve made halwa for them etc, and from behind a partially open living room door, the Punjabi dood asks his dad “kahin ye wo Sali to nahin? Andhi paan wali?”, at this point, I’m wondering if the guy has asperger’s or something: he must know I can hear him, unless of course, he belongs to the ‘blind=deaf school, as many people do! Any way, he comes out to investigate, and says nothing when he sees me at first, halwa plate in hand, his dad calls “con hi?”, and amazingly, he shouts back “yaar wohi!”. Now he comes out too: so I’m faced with all 3 of them, and I’m still holding out this plate of halwa looking like a lemon! Then the young dood, (you know now right>? The one I really can’t stand) goes “yaar kis nay banaya?”, and when I tell him I made it, he doesn’t believe me. He even says it “yaar to tu andhi hi! Kesse cursuctay hain!”. I so can’t be bothered with this, and its Muharram, and I can already feel the words, “yaar, to dectay hain jab apni G*** saaf curt hain tutti kay baad?” forming on my lips! So, I just say “any ways mojhay kahin jana hi, halwa jildi say calo garam hi, muzza aaega chai kay saath, or haan, wo paan issue ca zara tyan dena plz, neechay bohut burra haal aap logon kay wajessay!”. In a moment of supreme frustration, I bound downstairs, only realising in the serene kalm of my apartment that the plate of halwa is still in my hands! On my way out to the imambargah, I leave the plate on the ledge by their door, and can only hope they find it and take it in! after that, I leave for my parent’s, and don’t see them till my return after New Year! I returned, on the 3rd of January, to be knee deep in paan, and after forcing my father quickly out before he had me evicted for his aggression, I start cleaning it up! in the middle of this, auntie comes downstairs and says salaam to me: she’s come back to return the plate! I thank her, ask if she’s enjoyed the halwa etc, and we make small talk about that for a moment or 2. Bizarrely, despite all our fights on the paan issue, I now feel awkward about being faced with her, while I’m cleaning up her husband’s paan spit! Because I know I’d feel awkward if I were in her shoes, and I don’t want her to feel awkward, but I don’t know what to do! So we both stand there, silent, doubtless only too aware of how much the other person looks like a doofis before the stalemate gets too much for me, and I just get back to my cleaning! As I get down on my knees and resume scrubbing, she says “bohut gand hey naa yahin!”, I don’t know what to say! (yeah I know, ‘who made it!), but I just nod in agreement! She then says “paan bohut buri cheez hi, is co dec kar dil bohut kharab hojahta hi naa!”. This feels even more strange to me! But then, I wonder if maybe, this auntie is as much a victim as me: maybe, she is equally rebuking her men folk upstairs for the filth they are creating, maybe, just maybe, I’ve got myself an ally here! I go: “haan, bohut buri cheez hi, lekin wo kya: bunday jo hoay! Buss itni si baat hi kay saaf curdain, Insha Allah ek na ek din on co zaroor ehsas honi chahiye!”. She agrees, and we spend a few minutes going around and around in circles discussing the evils of paan, and not only is the discussion mind numbingly boring, but I am still feeling conscious about cleaning in her face! So I take my ‘ijazit, and head inside! I’m coming out to take in the bucket of dirty water and empty it, when I hear her spitting in the entrance herself, actually spitting! …, is there any hope for these people! I can’t resist it, I come out, and say “auntie! Kya caroon, aap nay to khud kia hi!”. I am actually laughing as I say it, the irony is too much! and she goes “no baaji its OK, ye to buss khaali spitting hi: paan to nahin hi is main!”. I just have to go inside! I mean, she calls me baaji, and I’m 28, while she’s 60 odd! Moreover, the idea that spitting in some one’s apartment is cool as long as there is no paan in it, just strikes me as bonkers conkers! I empty out the water, and somewhere between laughing and crying, I give up: sometimes, banging your head off a wall is more productive than trying to reason with a Pindu production! So, I let it go: and sometimes I clean the paan, and sometimes I ignore it! and sometimes I find auntie spitting (minus the paan!), and I try to blank it all! I began this post a while ago, not really knowing where it would end! I didn’t see the point of posting it without some kind of conclusion (the ideal one of course being, that I win the paan wars, hands down!), and that couldn’t happen! (or could it?). Yesterday, the Punjabi crew are all coming down stairs: bags in hand, moving boxes, swearing and yelling at the elements, just as they had when they moved in! I couldn’t resist sticking my head out the door and asking one of them “yaar aap log jari hain?”, and when he says “haan”, I feel like the tubelight that’s got the cream!! Coolness: now, all that positive thinking and law of attraction stuff does work! I’m happy, I’m fluffy, I’m visualising the future with lovely, quiet neighbours who compete with me in keeping the building pristine and shining! …, but as all good things generally are, this too is short lived!! This afternoon, I met Yaseen on the stairs and, trying not to appear too excited, I ask him about his plans for his apartment now that the Punjabis have gone “oh! They haven’t gone” he tells me “they are only visiting India: they’ll be back in 4 weeks time”. (great), the paan wars it seems, shall continue!

Who are you?

2011-01-27T13:10:00.000-08:00

There is something of a tag, or a trend going on in Blog land right now that I rather like! its about getting to know your readers! It can be interesting, especially if you are like me, and didn’t really push your blog to your friends and contacts. In my case, I didn’t plug it because I was keen to see if I could generate readers on my own, if I could make friends, if I could spark interest without having to ‘beg people to read! Now that we are a year and a bit in, we’ve got 15 followers (out of which I personally know about 4), so that’s not bad going! And that’s just the followers: I’m sure there are a fair few folk who scout around in here on and off (if the Emails are any thing to go on!).
So, now I’m throwing the floor wide open! I want to know more! Drop me a line, leave a comment at the end of this post, tell me who you are, where you are from, and what brings you here (and if you come back, why!!). I am more than happy for you to leave feedback: likes, dislikes and things you would like to see, or think I can improve on. If you ‘Lurk, and you like it: that’s cool! You must still comment though: you can do so anonymously, or under another name if you like! so readers: the floor is yours! Please do respond, other wise I’ll look like a bit of a doofis when this thing falls flat! huge grin

Arbaeen: a lesson.

2011-01-25T15:22:00.000-08:00

40 days on. Its hard to register the fact that only 40 days have past since the tragic day of ashura: the most devastating, yet the most beautiful: the most painful, yet the most insightful day the world will ever see. No number of ashura days, no number of infinite Muherrams ever seem to be enough in which to tell of this grief, the beauty of the divine sacrifice. Then, 40 days on, we stand back, as though viewing the tragedy, not so much from a distance, but certainly within the framework of individual perspective. Ashura shook my world this year, (as it does every year), but this time, as I was at home, not working, not travelling, as the country was on holiday and I had no major deadlines to meet, I perhaps connected with Allah (SWT) and my Imam (A.S), with a depth I am not conventionally able to reach during these days, owing to external influences. The Muharram that has past is one I’ll never forget, and just as soon as ashura had past, Christmas came and went, (so badly placed this year), and New Year, and work issues, and health issues, and paperwork, and lawyers: and more and more!! We all have our own realms to keep us busy! But as I reflect on Muharram this year and the lessons it has taught me, one of them surely has to be the need to step back from the complex mesh of duties, long enough to see the needs right in front of my face!! I have a friend; a colleague, for the sake of his privacy here in Blog Land, we shall refer to him as Arif. I have known Arif for a number of years now: though we live on opposite sides of the world, we are close friends, and we try to be around for each other, as much as we can be, keeping in mind the constraints of distance etc! Arif is younger than me, but in our relationship, we have perhaps become more of mentors for one another: (with age, comes some sort of experience: whether positive or negative, its experience none the less!), and he too has skills I have been able to benefit from over the years. Any way, around this time last year, Arif contacted me, seeking my help. Again, to protect his privacy, I won’t go in to the issue: lets just say he had got in to a pretty big mess, far from home, and was looking for some guidance from me. To be honest, I was furious with my friend for being such an “idiot”, (sadly, those were my words!). I was shocked at one who I respected so much, being such a useless, feckless IDIOT! And doing something that I just knew he was bigger than and better than. I expressed my disdain, but offered little in the way of comfort or solution for him. After all, I was busy: I had a marriage to organise, a wedding to plan, journeys to make, jobs to find! My own life was in chaos at that point: and besides, Allah helps those who help themselves right? I figured my friend would either sink or swim, but he’d made his bed, …, what was it to do with me! Well, on one level it has nothing to do with me: every one is ultimately responsible for his or herself, only ever accountable to Allah (SWT), first and foremost. A year on however, I see my friend more and more entangled in his own chaotic web, and now that the dust has settled for Arif and I, the guilt has been able to set in. If you think I should be feeling disgusted, well, I do! I regret not helping when I could have, I regret not being a good listener, the counsellor, the friend, the support I think I am, the friend Arif needed me to be, when he needed me to be there. While we all have our own duties, our own tiny spheres to look after, we are not Islands, nor should we expect others to be so. While we may think that the West allows anonymity and desensitisation, Islam certainly does not! And while we may kid ourselves in to thinking that if our tiny microcosm is safe and secure that we’ve done our bit, we most certainly have not! Now, I’m not expecting that we all stretch ourselves to breaking point, but how many of us really know the impact our behaviour can have on others? Just a word, a smile, a prayer, a piece of advice from the heart, a small gift, an Email, a telephone call! Tiny things that take maybe 5 minutes from a person’s day, yet can mean so much! I often like to think that as a journalist, as an activist and so on, my contributions are valuable, and perhaps, in my weaker moments, I let myself believe they negate the more practical, ground-level responsibilities that I have. When I think about Arif, I don’t like myself very much at all, and on this arbaeen, my response to Arif warrants an apology, and some vows for the future. To Arif: my friend, my brother, I’m sorry I was not there for you. I am sorry I didn’t listen when you needed me the most. While you chose your way, I can’t help but think you’d be in a better place if I’d listened, done something, given you some practical advice. I want you to know that I’m better than that, I let you down and I let myself down. I can’t promise never to make mistakes again, but I can promise not to make this one again. I want you to know that you are strong, brave and courageous. I know that whether you stay in this situation or outgrow it, you’ll be successful in whatever you do with your future. The place you are in now will change your life’s course forever, but this need not be a bad thing: woonds that hurt are lessons learned: and once you’ve let the pain come, ache and go, you’ll dust yourself off and move on, because you can, because you must, and because you are strong enough not to let other people and places and circumstances get you down. I know that as disabled people we often limit our possibilities because of our social conditioning, and because of the boundaries we grow to believe we must exist within. I know that if I had spoken out, you might have come to see that other doors were open for you, but I didn’t, and this is my fault. I want you to know that I’m not mad at you though: who’s to say I wouldn’t do the same in your situation. I could say allot, most of which would be of little consequence now, but just remember: if you need me, I’ll be here: there is a door open: I’ll pray, I’ll help, I’ll do whatever you need me to: I’ll always be your friend, and your sister: and I’ll always believe in you to be the best, to do the right thing.
And to my readers, don’t leave a stone unturned, don’t fail to reach out when others call on you: help, and sometimes help at the expense of your own duties: for you will always get back, what you put in, so give, and don’t fear: for in heeling others, will be your success. If you take any thing from the message of Imam Hussain (A.S), it surely has to be giving for others. Give to humanity, so that next Arbaeen, Insha Allah, you look back on promises affirmed, rather than a garden of forgotten regrets!

He's back! Osama Wins Prizes!

2011-01-17T13:32:00.000-08:00

Greetings ya all!! So, here we are again: (if you feel like you’ve been here before, …, well, you have, in a manner of speaking!), that is to say: you’ve never quite been ‘HERE Before! And neither has the man in question! I’m sure you’ll all recall the man who wanted to be, a ‘MSP! (woohooo that rhymes!). Yeah, of course we are talking about the Wahabi’s friend, Osama Saeed! After being kicked out of the Scottish Islamic Foundation, attacked by the Newspapers and losing out on the Central Glasgow seat in the General Elections to a fellow Muslim crook from the Labour Party, you might have expected me to be running in to MR Saeed during my weekly visits to the DWP!! But no chance!! Osama is above all that! The difference between he and I is that, he gets paid to waste time on Twitter: I don’t (yet!). Rolled up trousers has definitely brought home the bacon (bad euphemism I know, but made me chuckle). In a shock tweet this Afternoon, Osama informed his faithful that he’d be joining Al Jazeera as “their International head of Media Relations”, and he’s “really excited!”. I bet he is!! I mean, how many X-Ekhwan followers with fraud allegations to their names and an equally dodgy political past on the record get such a gig!! As I reflected on this news, and started forcing my head past ‘what the …., why? …, I started to try and picture the gig, I’m sure you can pretty much map out the job description can’t you? A man with a proven media track record, an accomplished journalist, some one who has a contacts book to kill for, and who has worked in conflict resolution (as apposed to conflict generation of course!), who is non-biased, qualification in International relations: …, I don’t need to go on do I? So, I’m sitting here in my freezing flat, thinking of all my super talented journalist friends who are still on the shelf, not recognised for their work, or else, stuck in third-rate positions because they are women, or disabled, or disabled women, or Muslim, or because their face doesn’t fit, …, and then, I’m imagining the ‘sofa talk at the top: “Hey dood, I know this dodgy guy, he used to be a terrorist, but then he realised hot air pays more, and of course you live longer: he’s always blogging, always on twitter, he ran off with allot of Scottish Government Money, but what’s cool about him is despite all that, the Governing SNP in Scotland still wanted him to stand for them! He lost! But who cares: he’s still among the top 10 most Influential Muslims in the UK! We need him on our team!! Some one who’s been there, who can equalise the Evil, you know what I mean? Some one who can talk, ‘Osama to Osama!”. If you are not familiar with this guy, you soon will be, he’ll be repeating on you like an overdose of achaar on a television screen near you!! And if you are familiar: its all one and the same isn’t it? how many of us, whether in the UK, the US, or beyond, suffer governments, religious leaders, self-proclaimed founts of wisdom who, just because they come from the ‘right families, or know the right people, develop ideas, and postings, way above their stations!! How many of us, despise and loathe these individuals, but when they make it in to the mainstream, those self-same haters contribute to their ‘saviour status, by bigging them up, or voting for them because ‘its better the devil you know than the one you’ve witnessed in embryo!
Cream ought to rise, but these days, its hot air that rises among Muslims: and for the most part, we silently suffer the kinds of leaders we generate. All the same, its very easy for a pumped up wonnabe to install himself as the leader of a poorly represented minority! Whether it be Islam, Disability etc, every community has them! What worries me however, is when once respected media outlets choose to install them based on their own adopted labels! People like this were laughed all the way back to their front rooms when I worked at the BBC, and though their impartiality has been called in to question in recent years, the Beeb have largely held on to their original stance on this. Al Jazeera however, has recently become the first port of call for Muslims and non-Muslims alike, looking for an honest, unbiased, alternative view of world events! Its an accolade they have gained, not through their political positioning, but through cutting edge reporting, the kind of content that attracts the Likes of David Frost and Rageh Omar! But …, Osama Saeed? I’m somehow not feeling it! I can’t make up my mind if it’s a box that needs ticking, or some kind of new Minority political affiliation designed to boost the rating figures! After all, who wouldn’t want a wahabi made good, (or not least, a wahabi who can string 3 words together and fake intelligence!). (if Al Jazeera want any more, I know a few BTW: and some of them were the real deal in Afghanistan too!).
On a serious note, what worries me is that, by appointing such self-styled leaders is that, their massive salaries and 24/7 blogs and twitter presence eventually dupes media bosses in to believing they actually know what they are talking about, and thus negates the need for journalists to engage with the real world, and actually talk to real Muslims, (the silent majority as it were). I’m ashamed to say that I know way too many journalists today who’s day begins and ends with the computer screen as they flutter their mouse between blogs and wires, basing a story entirely on hearsay, or online insults aimed at their opponents!
Reporting Islam is a complicated business these days. Saudi has one agenda, Iran has a very different one, but the severity contained in non-compliance is one and the same, and then there is the US and the UK pressure to ‘play safe and avoid all agendas in the East (and follow their own). People like MR Saeed might not be well-versed in media, in the common opinion, or in the real politics of conflict analysis, but they know how to shmoos, what to say and to whom they must say it, they know when to spout hot, and when cold, when to roll up the trousers, and when to keep them at ankle-length, and sadly, that, seems to be all you need! Good luck Osama, not that you’ll need it! how does that saying go: …, the System looks after its own!
Now excuse me, I need to get back to the Jobcentre!

Oh City of Lights ... Honouring Karachi!

2011-01-16T16:27:00.000-08:00

I walked a little too far down ‘memory Lane this evening, and found myself missing Karachi like mad! Below is the result of said rambling: enjoy! (or at least reminisce with me!).

Oh city of lights, this is my song,
I’m still very broken, not yet growing strong.

Oh city of lights, what I left behind, beneath the soil of Gulshin, you’re sure to find,

My hopes, my dreams, my love dwells with you,
All those ambitions that will never come true.

Oh city of lights, your light like a mirror,
Reflecting the broken shards of my soul forever.

Oh city of lights, does the sun still burn,
Do you still create passion, does that restaurant still turn?
Oh city of lights, do you remember me?
Does my spirit still wander alone by your sea?
Oh city of lights, how are my friends?
And what of the traffic jam that never ends?

Roshnian ca sheher, that was your name:
Your light and my Roshni somehow the same.

2 broken entities, misunderstood,
We’re dirty, and annoying, and so bad that we’re good!

Oh city of lights, I have every thing, yet,
Alone here in Scotland, I just can’t forget.

Your streets and your truck art, your capray, and bling,
The pathans, the music, …, every thing.

Karachi, I love you, I dream about you all the time,
And I know you’ve a corner that will always be mine.

I miss all the fun stuff, that we used to do,
The mad dusty chaos that encapsulates you.

The UK, its comfortable, but it doesn’t mean jack!
If I had my way, I’d be flying straight back.

Those long summer days, and sultry nights,
Bathing in the rain, and then flying kites.

Oh city of lights, you live on in my heart,
United in longing, we never shall part.

Oh city of lights, I’ve not much to give,
Yet still I beg to return and live.

Though you took away every thing, you gave me so much,
And from this cold climate, I miss your warm, friendly touch.

There is lots I could say, but I guess I should end,
But on my unfailing loyalty, you can always depend.

Some say your hopeless, falling apart,
But to me you are beauty, the garden of my heart.

Karachi, know this, that I’m not here to stay,
Come Hell or High Water, I’ll return some day.