Burn baby, burn

disclaimer: this is, by no means, a religious post. Rather, it’s an interpretation of certain events.

There are certain things in life that make us see red. Where we can, quite literally, feel our blood boil, our vision haze, and are overcome by an overwhelming urge to rip into something. Well, at least I hope it’s ‘we’ and not just ‘me’ but either way it’s there, and when it rears its malicious head, you best stay out of my way.

That doesn’t happen all that often. Or perhaps all too often depending on your point of view. Injustice is one. Blind, stubborn ignorance. Racism. JEALOUSY, thuma jealousy, thuma al-jealousy!!

I was talking to a friend of mine, and she just bought everything rushing back. The hatred and the pointless, selfish jealousy yeah sure, but mostly the horrible affects you have to deal with and clean up after when they’re done with you. Let me explain.

But first, there’s a need to differentiate between the types of jealousy, I think. There’s the “Omg, I wish I could be as good/successful/etc as so and so, mashAllah!” This is productive jealousy. It’s good because you’re striving to be a better person using another someone else as a role model, and you’ve said mashAllah, which protects said someone.

The second is benign jealousy. This one is tricky. It can turn malicious at any second. An example would be “I wish I had that car!” Notice the lack of mashAllah. Not good, not good at all. But at the same time, you’re not actively wishing them harm; rather you just want what they have.

The third is straight malicious jealousy. “Bitch! What has she done to deserve that car? Burn and die, hoebag.” Pretty much self-explanatory. This is when one wants something some one else has, and actually wishes that person didn’t have it, or loses it in some painful/humiliating manner.

Now, I consider myself somewhat of an expert on the affects of jealousy. My grandma used to tell me I have a weak star. Translate: it means I’m more susceptible to the ‘evil eye’ than others. Now, I’m not going to get into the evil eye discussion. Suffice to say I believe nothing can harm or benefit you expect what Allah (swt) wills (yeah, I’m a predestined-ite), and that to ward it off there are certain things it’s your responsibility to do: specific ayas, dua’as you should read.

But, and this is a big but, that does not excuse those goddamned people who insist on harming others through their jealousy.

Examples? I have many, but here are ones that come foremost to mind:

1. “You rented a car?? But you’ve been in the city for less than a week! My, you sure work fast!”
   Result: Kitchen burns down later in the day
2. “You rented another car right after the first? You sure don’t wait before spending all your money, eh?”
   Result: Car accident in said rented car. Opponents: Our VW Golf vs a semi-truck. Not. Fun.
3. At work, my coworkers are in awe of my typing speed. They call teachers in from other departments to witness. All teachers start to come to me to type up their assignments/work rather than the people who get paid to do it. “Miss. S&S, you think you can walk in here, at 19, and just because you’re Canadian become a grade 6 teacher and take away my job?”
   Result: Over the weekend, I burnt two fingers, sprained three, had the door slammed on my left hand, and fell down the stairs, scraping two of the fingers on my right hand raw. I’m not exaggerating. I wish I was.
4. The most eligible bachelor in my Dad’s village asks me to marry him. Due to familial pressure (I’m threatened with bodily harm and ghadab (hate for life kind of thing) from my grandmother) I decide to give the guy a chance.
   Result: The day after I met him, I spend five days heaving till I vomit blood.
5. Day before our midterm: “You barely study and yet manage to get better grades than I do. I spend all night reviewing, that’s so unfair.”
   Result: day of our midterm I wake up sick as a dog, barely make it to class, fail the test.
6. “I love the way you dress.”
   Result: trip down stairs, breaking the heel on my boot and scraping my right hand raw (again).

There are more, but this is getting me pissed off all over again. Then you have those who, because you’re doing something they don’t have the dedication or balls to step up and do, belittle you, degrade you, and give you the worst time of it.

Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to stop. Whoever the heck you are, you’re going to be satisfied with what you have, and leave everyone else the hell alone. Jeez. And I, I’m going to pray to the good Lord that you learn to leave others the heck alone.

Even the Prophet said: “Jealousy eats up faith (good deeds) like fire burns dry wood.”

So, really, you’re actually benefitting your conceited self if you’d just leave everyone alone.

You feel me?

I’m Gonna Break the Cycle

Assiya Rafiq, right, in front of her mother, Iqbal Mai.

And I’m not talking about Madonna here.

As a Syrian and a Muslim it pains me to say this. But, there is an Arabic proverb that says “you see the sliver in other peoples’ eyes, yet fail to see the pole in your own.” So, just because I’d rather not be own of ‘those people’ I’m going to say it like it is.

By this day and age, everyone has heard of those horrific honour killings. Your daughter, sister, mother disgraces you and your family? Off with their head! Forget that there’s a God involved here, or a shariaa law that – as a Muslim – you’re bound to obey, or even basic concepts like humanity and familial ties.

When I first moved to Syria, a video was circulating depicting the public beating and killing of a woman. Oh Allah. My cousins held me down and forced me to watch. I’m not going to go into details but those images will be with me to my dying day. Thank God there is a God who will see that justice is meted out in the end, because we live in one cruel world!

It’s so sickening. When you hear of these people who contrary to everything they should know as humans and as muslims, acting in cruel, heartless ways. Don’t they fear God?? What goes around will come around… Ya Allah!

What bought this to mind was the story of Assiya Rafiq. Assiya Rafiq was kidnapped at the age of 16 and repeatedly raped and beaten by a group of thugs. A year later, once they’d had their fill, they delivered her to a police station. Unfortunately, salvation and peace were a long time coming, and Assiya was subjected to rape by the four police officers.

This all took place in Pakistan. Now, in Pakistan, the only option available to a woman who has undergone the shame of rape is to commit suicide. That was she cleanses herself and her family name. Never mind that she is innocent, or that suicide is FORBIDDEN in Islam.

But this particular woman isn’t having any of that. She’s fighting the system, demanding to have her rights recognized and the men who raped her prosecuted.

I’m in awe of her bravery. When I was in Syria, I faced that cultural wall quite a few times, when culture dictated I do something completely contrary to my beliefs. And even though it wasn’t something as oppressing and merciless as rape, I still felt as though I were being backed into the proverbial corner. It was not a pleasant experience. Some days I stuck by my beliefs. Others a faltered. May God give her the strength to see this through and break that damn cycle!

(source)

On Chinese Stereotypes

Picture this: an Arab working for a Chinese roofing company. What I mean by Chinese roofing company though isn’t that the roofs are redone in an Oriental manner but rather the owners of the company are Chinese. Who speak about ten words of English between the three of them.

Now as a first generation adult, my brother’s cool with that. He likes these guys and they like him – they’re teaching him Chinese and he’s teaching them English. They even gave him Chinese tea – yuummm!! – and buy him Chinese food for lunch every day.

Enter an uncle who hears William’s been working for a Chinese guy. Reaction?

“I never liked the Chinese! Did you watch all those movies? They’re all two-faced! They act good but what goes on in their lives is freaky!”

*laughing because I thought he was kidding* “Why do you say that?”

*he’s dead serious* “Well, you saw their movies. Drugs, and bad sex, and gangs. Not good people.”

“You do realize those movies were directed by none other than hollywood – America? And don’t necessarily represent real Chinese people?”

“Enough already! I know them. They’re all very two faced!”

*I’m getting mad now* “But uncle, you have a daughter and a wife! You have a beard! How do you like it when other people stick us under a certain stigma or stereotype?? I want people to respect me as an individual, not as some secretive Taliban recruit with a bomb under my hijab!”

“Nonsense! We’re not like that! The media is garbage! But they are. Their movies say so. Khalas. Enough. Uncle knows best.”

Oh my God in Heaven you did not just say that! This guy is an ARAB! His daughter and wife wear the SCARF! They’ve been suffering under all those stereotypes and misconceptions for so long, and I know them personally. I know myself and the struggles I’ve faced because people are narrow-minded, biased, media-garbage guzzlers who routinely fail to exercise the grey matter between their ears!! And now this Arab who is a victim of stereotypes is actually holding prejudices against Chinese people…. because of the media!!!???

*head-desk*

Cruel irony? Or just deserts?

During my jog today 02

I haven’t gone for about two weeks what with late nights studying, volunteering, and not being able to get up in the mornings, so today I said enough was enough. We didn’t wake up in the morning, so we went at around Maghrib time, which is about 9:20. I got my sweats on, my drink on (water bottle lol), filled up gas, picked up my jogging buddy and we were off down 69th like usual.

In the morning it’s quaint. Very little traffic, and all the other pedestrians are joggers who make a point to look you in the eye and smile a ‘hello.’ It’s a greeting, encouragement, and support all rolled into a flash of teeth. The world is waking and you’re witnessing it.

At night it’s a whole other world. That time of day is my favorite. A lot of people say sunrises are beautiful, alluding to fresh beginnings. But I’ve always been a sunset girl. Dusk is when I come to life, when the air fills with anticipation, the skies darken, the world comes to life in a dizzying array of colours. It’s fleeting though, close you’re eyes and open them and in that swift second the world has changed.

So there we were, collapsed on the curb  near my car in a parking lot, drinking water like it was going out of style, and discussing stand up comedians, of all things. When this car drives by twice, the first time zooming by, then slower for a closer look, with this white kid gaping at us. It parks a distance away, does  a U turn and comes in for one more go, this time outside the parking lot, on 69th. He leans out, screams a very eloquent “FUCK YOU,” and revs off.

By this time it’s full dark, and my friend was getting kind of antsy. It’s Sunday night and Calgary’s dead, or at least this area is. But why the hell should I?? Jugding by the look I got of the kid, he’s younger than I am! I was, quite literally,  here first and I’m not moving till I’m damn well good and ready to move!

After the spurt of anger, it was emptiness. These encounters, while rare, always leave me drained of hope. And soooo confused! Ugh.  I will never, ever understand racism or prejudice.

Alhamdulillah for the life I lead, which has taught me respect and tolerance above all else.

Yet another double standard

A while back the news was flooded with stories of David Carradine’s death in Thailand. The cause, the family’s grief, the ongoing investigation – the whole nine yards associated with any death. One article in particular stuck out. After a prominent Thai newspaper released photos of the Carradine’s body, there were outcries of insensitivity. How insensitive of the Thai media to publish those photos without any respect to the deceased’s family grief!

Yesterday the news focus story was on the drug cartel crisis in Mexico and how it affects American and Canadians. There have been numerous killings – eight alone yesterday – some execution style: crucification, beheadings, hangings.

How do I know this? Because I seen it. A crucified man, with a grotesque mask over his head. Another, hung by his neck off a bridge. Bodies, uncovered, strewn on the pavement. Clips of family members grieving.

I wonder if the Canadian journalists asked the grieving family members whether or not they could broadcast those photos first? And, if these were shown in America, did they ask permission?

Or do Mexicans not have the same feelings and reactions North Americans do?

Anybody would deny that. So, this begs the question: why is there a violent reaction to publishing the photos of a dead American celebrity, but not countless photos of murdered Mexican men? Why is showing photos of mutilated Mexican bodies bagging a hard hitting story, but the dead body of an American celebrity insensitivity?

This is not an isolated example. How many dead bodies do we see on the news? Both at home and abroad. If someone has a bone to pick with the media over its insensitivity, they should realize this is not a Thai problem. It’s the MO of media all over the globe… and people should look no further than their own backyards. “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” – Ghandi.

Does my butt look big in this?

Whether you’ve heard of, asked, or – God help you – replied to this question, everyone’s familiar with it. And it’s univeraly known that a ‘yes’ will not be met well.

So what do you do if you notice your boo packing on the poundage? How on earth do you get her to a) notice and, more importantly, b) actually do something about it? As in getting the message – don’t think for a second I’d want the damn milk if it’s coming from a fat ass cow – across in a way that won’t guarantee the immediate termination of your relationship – and thus milk privileges. What a predicament! 

But don’t get your tighty whities in a knot just yet, because Askmen, God bless their anorexic-lovin’ hearts, who are constantly and dedicatedly striving to better your ball-scratching ways, have foreseen such a dilemma and come to the rescue with their  Top 10: Subtle Ways To Tell Her She’s Getting Fat. (I kid you not)

No.10 - Buy her clothes that are too small

No.9 - Sign her up for yoga under the pretence of “stress relief” 

No.8 - Set out on your own weight loss plan

No.7 - Serve her unsatisfactory portions 

No.6 - Improve your own diet

No.5 - Playfully grab her love handles

No.4 - Ask her to wear an old dress

No.3 - Sabotage her chair

No.2 – Leave “now” and “then” photos lying around. 

No.1 – Take her to places where she has to wear a swimsuit.

Does anyone else see a problem with this? Because while I may have certain feminist leanings, I’m not nit-picky with it (case in point: saying ‘you guys’ or ‘(occupation)man’ does not get my woman’s lib panties in a knot) mainly because I have bigger fish to fry. And besides, women who are hung up on it sort of scare me. All that ranting and obsessing about the inequalities and sexification (b.k.a. sexual objectification) of women, why not just shut up and – here’s a thought! – do something about it! 

But this? This makes me want to hurl. Or find Thomas Foley, author of this particular literary gem, and rid the world of his misogynistic, neanderthalic ass. 

Ahhhh. Instant satisfaction.

If you really want to read in more detail, I’ve included the link. Be warned: if possible the paragraphs and explanations underneath surpass the headings in complete and utter idiocy. Almost all include deception and/or manipulation and attempts at shaming her into losing weight. And the pictures? En-freaking-joy.

SOL: Screaming Out Loud

A few, short months after the Gazan Massacre of 2008 – 2009, and apparently the Israeli Army morale is flagging. So what better way to get the boys’ spirits back in shape than with a few imaginative T-shirts?

I feel sick. Like I’m about to hurl my dinner all over my keyboard – sorry for the visual. What kind of sick minds come up with shit like this? Takes ‘heartless’ to a whole new level…

But where is the outrage? Or, at least, the shocked looks? The head-shaking, the continued breeding and strengthening of stereotypes, the reactions?? Or do those reactions only apply when some bearded fool is screaming “death to infidels!!” while brandishing his fist in some shady clip, the origins of which are obscure at best?

Sickening. Ladies and gents, the results of the creative minds of the IDF’s finest:

The smaller, the harder

Better use Durex

1 Shot 2 Kills

And the worst part? It’s a cycle with no end in sight. Tit for tat. This is the youth of Israel. Hate and racism that know no bounds. And no doubt the youth of Palestine mirror the sentiment. Tit for freaking tat.

Disgusting world we live in, no?

So like I said:

SOL

Operator Service

So I’m on the phone with Syria’s operator service, 147. The polite ones, aka Yellow Number, aren’t picking up today, so I called the not so polite ones, aka Public Service:

Guy: Eeellooo (drawled out, the two syllables convey a clear message: I have better things to do. Like maybe drink some chia and hit on my colleague. My sheesha and card game are beckoning. Get it over with.)
Me: Uh, Hi. Operator?
Guy: What do you want?
Me: DHL please.
Guy: (five second silence)
Me: Hello? DHL… the postal service?
Guy: Ahhh. DHL (only said in a fob accent. So that would be dee essh elle)
Me: Yub (my own fob accent)
Guy: Yallah. NIZAR! (I yank the phone away from my ear since he hadn’t taken the time to remove mouth from speaker before letting it loose) SHO RAKAM DHL? (what’s DHL’s number?)
Nizar (I’m guessing): undistinguishable yell. 
Guy: SHOOO? (what?)
Nizar: repeats yell
Guy: Write this down. 2238- NIZAR! (again, I hold the phone away. Far, far away.) SHO AKHERTA? (what’s the last bit)
Nizar: (more yelling)
Guy: 586. Bye
Me: Wait! 2238586?
Guy: NIZAR!! (owwww) Is it 2238586?? 
Nizar: (affirmative yell since next I heard was…)
Guy: Isn’t that what I said? (his tone of voice suggests he’s seriously doubting my mental capacities. He then hangs up.)
Me: (brightly) Thank you!! (said to the dial tone)

Huh. Wonder if this’ll ever make it onto my Why I (will) Miss Syria list? Probably. I mean Canadian operators are just so.. courteous and nice. Bland almost. I’d rather have my ear yelled off and my hearing/mental abilities questioned any day. Seriously though, why? Why the hell do I love this country so damn much?

DHL op. – Destruction or Detainment of Hoped for Letters [and other packages]

I, for those who are unaware, am enrolled in a distance university. I’ve recently completed two courses, so naturally said distance university mailed the final exams, via DHL, to Damascus Syria. Not to be confused with Damascus, VA. Five weeks, three emails and two voice messages – and a partridge in a pear tree – later, I find out that they’ve been here. The entire time. For over 5 weeks. Held because of a ‘bad address.’ 

To add insult to injury – that or just for the hell of it – they destroy one package and hold the other. That’s right. Destroy. Who on earth does that to a package?! And with no lurking bomb suspicion as incentive. Only a measly bad address. My mind’s picturing white suits and protective goggles, complete with air-tight containers,  spontaneous combustions, and ominous puffs of smoke. That or the paper shredder.  

I am raging. I want to rip someonething apart. I had a one, one month break before my next courses, which are piled up in one corner of my room, a seemingly innocent pile of processed tree for God’s sake, began. A threatening reminder of Hell to Come (i.e. more studying). And now it’s gone. And not because they (the exams) failed to make it over. Were they an ocean away I’d give in to the fact that I had no access to them. But no. All this time they’ve been here, less than a 15 minute drive away. And I’ve been going mad, not 10 minutes away. Err… 15. 

I want to kill. Preferably the DHL employee responsible for the destruction and detainment of my exams.

Exaggeration? Consider this the straw that broke this camel’s back.

Off note, but speaking of camels, I ran into one the other day. A Syrian exclusive, because honestly, “I ran into a camel” is something people just can’t say in all honesty. Honestly. 

Back to the point. My exam is this Saturday. The one that survived. The other is to be mailed. My university has kindly waivered the fee. Which is all around beneficial to all. I wouldn’t want to commit couriericide, after all. 

Tomorrow’s rant: “Self-righteous preaching of the sort only a Syrian male can pull off.” I’d heard of these people but up until a few days ago I hadn’t had the misfortune of actually meeting one. Revolting experience. Brace yourselves.

Tip of the ice burg

I’m sure most of your have either come across this study in your studies or seen it on The Contender (2ooo). The question is, how does company policy start?

Put five apes in a cage and in the middle of a cage, place a set of steps. At the top of the steps hang a banana. When the first ape starts up the steps, shoot all five apes with ice cold water from a fire hose for five minutes. When the next ape starts up the steps, do it again. That’s all you’ll need from the fire hose.

When the third time an ape starts up the steps, just wait. The other apes will beat the sh*t out of the ape. Now, replace one of the apes. He’ll start up the steps. Wait, and the other apes will beat the sh*t out of him. Repeat the process, one by one, until you have five ‘new’ apes in the cage. They’ll never let one of the apes up the steps. And if you were to ask why, the answer would be simple:

Because that’s the way it’s always been done.

And that’s what’s happened to us. It’s like there’re invisible lines, restriciting us. And the horror stories of the past keep us firmly within our limits. I know of many families who have felt the burn of the ice cold water. And so, their descendants aren’t willing to take the risk. But I was raised in Canada. Far away from the impotent and corrupt acts of the Middle East, the ignorance of America, and the deeply rooted ethnocentrism of Europe. It was so easy to be open minded. To be the ‘peace makers.’ We were raised differently. I was wearing my hijab at the time of 9/11, yet the majority of opinions I faced were ones of sympathy. I was shocked to my core when someone spat at me at work. But the man behind him literally grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, made him apologize, and threw him out of the store – to cheers from the remaining crowd. Recently, not so much what with the strong movement towards patriotism and being best buds with (or the lap dogs of) America. 

I don’t buy into the methods of Arabs. I’ve never burnt a flag to show my displeasure with a country’s policies. And I never will, God willing. I’m above and beyond those methods. It follows that I can not call my self a Muslim, and thus a follower of the prophet Mohammed, if I don’t follow in his example. And so, I refuse to resort to their level. And I refuse to shove all the blame onto the shoulders of the governments who refuse to take actions. I am a human. I have a voice and I have a brain. And thus, I shoulder some of the responsibility. 

But, while I’m all for peaceful measures – such as protests – a blind man can see the lack of effect they’re having. This is more than wearing your keffiyeh, marching in the streets, and writing articles. While those are important – the efforts have to be on two fronts. The short term and the long term. And as I’ve noticed, and please correct me if I’m wrong, Arabs tend to focus on the one – short term. So we get all riled up and storm our streets screaming “Jews are dogs” and burning the flags of those who offend us.

I believe the problems in the Middle East are more deeply rooted than that. We are the problem. These people need to revolt against themselves. They need to believe in the power they have. I don’t blame Hossni Mubarak when he decided to play the puppet for Israel and refused to open the gates and allow aid in. I blame the Egyptians who didn’t take matters in their own hands. And the same holds true for all the people who stood by and watched Gaza burn – especially the people of the neighbouring countries: Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, and Saudi Arabia (the last “Islamic” government). Myself included. The situation is now winding to a close (before Obama takes charge - clever, eh?). The question remains however, do we learn from our mistakes? Or do we continue down the path that lead us here?

One thing should be realized and taken as fact. The problem is not, as some believe, the strength of our enemies. The problem is our weakness. I’m sure you’ve heard the tag line “United we stand, divided we fall.” We are the divided. The weak. 

The corruption that runs rampant in our societies has to stop. Twisting of Islamic law to suit the needs of some has to stop. Our lies, jealousy, manipulations, immorality – they all have to go. Ya Allah! Sometimes I’m dazzeled by the beauty of Islam. It’s so simple, and so sweet! Look at this line: None of you truly believes until he loves for his brother that which he loves for himself – the Prophet Mohammed. It wasn’t until they pray, or fast, or wear hijab. Islam is in your soul and your hearts. 

So you can imagine, when a few days ago I walked into the elevator in my building and was faced with this, I was literally sick to my stomach.

And then later, in Bab Touma:

Why on earth?! When I saw people burning the Quran, or ripping its pages and stepping on them I was saddened. When I saw the cartoons of the Prophet Mohammed in that Danish magazine I was honestly exasperated. And I pitied the cartoonist. When I saw Fitna, the movie, I laughed. That’s what you’re reverting to? How pathetic! I know this won’t sit well with some. A lot of people believe I lack patriotism or dignity because I can look at the cartoons of the Prophet Mohammed and not go on a killing rampage, and see the genocide in Gaza and not condone the murder every Israeli man, woman, and child. I want to ask those people: what are we defending? What are we fighting for? If your answer is our dignity or Palestine, then you need to reorganize your priorities.

Personally, that’s not what I’m in this fight for. I’m fighting, as my brother Horseman taught me, under the flag of La Illah Illa Allah. And I fight using the methods of the Prophet I follow. I don’t stoop to their level. For those who disagree, read this article, by no2wars. I quoted the hadeeth of the Prophet and I will do so again: a neighbour of the Prophet (some say she is Jewish some say its a man) used to greet the prophet every morning by throwing her garbage at him. A few days went by and she didn’t show up so he goes and visits her to make sure she is okay. That is the prophet a follow.

If you still don’t agree, I’m really sorry. But please, bear with me for a moment When you see this

aren’t you filled with disgust? With hopelessness? Aren’t you struck speechless by the hatred and ignorance that went behind such an inhumane statement? Can’t you clearly see the hopelessness and redundancy of saying something like that?

So now the tables have been turned and I have to pity my own people. There are others of course, those who have posted more effective pictures such as:

but the thing is, Gaza is the tip of the ice burg. Below the murky waters lie problems and issues we’re too afraid to look directly at, for fear of being overwhelmed or having to finally owe up. And so we shy away from the responsibility, and hope it all resolves itself. Tomorrow Obama will become the president of the United States. I pray that he is a better man that Bush was, that he has the humanity not to commit Bush’s crimes. But that doesn’t mean I wait for him, and twiddle my thumbs in the meanwhile. I’ll improve myself. And you’ll improve yourself. And we’ll build for a brighter future. God willing.

Because: “Verily, God does not change the condition of a people until they change themselves.” 

If you want a quick recap of why we need to change ourselves, read these two posts that have been brought to my attention. By Desi Diva regarding Israel’s past actions (thanks to Nadia). And another article, Gaza: The Logic of Colonial Power. (Thanks to A Student’s Life)

Let’s stop being the apes that blunder blindly into the mistakes and pitfalls of our forefathers. The world needs a solution. One that requires planning for the long term rather than indulging in short term actions that gratify our need for immediate action. Don’t you agree?