From whose bourn, no traveller returns

There was a limo service awaiting my arrival at O’Hare International Airport. The driver was a Muslim, and greeted me with salaam; a welcome introduction given my tainted images of the United States. As large a city as Chicago is, he knew some of the people I knew, and we had a friendly discussion the whole way. I was extremely tired, and somewhat frustrated by the delays caused by my cancelled flight, but I tried my best to be an active participant in the conversation. As we pulled up to the conference centre and I was stepping out of the vehicle, he requested a favour of me.

“You’re travelling right now. Please pray for my child, he’s quite sick.”

I didn’t pay enough attention to what he said, presumably because I was exhausted and also because I never quite expected to see him again. I paid him, and walked towards the conference centre.

I spent two weeks there, among an international contingent of colleagues. I was amazed at just how American the Americans were; they all seemed to live lives inspired by television shows, from the goofy but lovable class clown to the young and melodramatic “southern gal”. I eventually got used to it, but it still bothered me how ignorant they were of the rest of the world. Even the Muslims among them were no different. One thought Ottawa was in Idaho; when I told him that there was a world outside the United States, he assumed I lived in Alaska. Another brother asked me this beautifully ignorant question:

“Why don’t you just live in United States instead?”

I enjoyed answering this question, drawing on all the things that I love about Canada: the relaxed lifestyle, the polite people, the functional and tolerant multiculturalism, free healthcare, among other things. I also mentioned how I would feel guilty for paying taxes to such an incredibly inept, violent, and dangerous government. That was a moot point, he argued, as the majority of Americans don’t support them. If the majority don’t support them, I replied, then how can it be called democracy? He changed the subject.

On a quiet and rainy Sunday afternoon, I happened to take a stroll outside despite my lack of appropriate clothing to handle the rain. Waiting in front of the Welcome Center was the driver who brought me there a week earlier; he had come to drop off someone else. He greeted me with salaam, and asked how things were going. He reminded me about the ijtema that was taking place in Chicago that weekend; unfortunately, I had already missed most of it, as did he.

“I wasn’t able to go myself,” he said. “I’ve spent most of the weekend in the hospital. My child just passed away this morning.”

I was stunned, having completely forgotten about his request a week earlier. Innalillahi wa inna ilayhi raji’oon, I muttered. From Allah we came, and to Him we will return. The child, an infant boy no more than three months old, was gone, and I had irresponsibly forgotten both him and his father in my prayers. I told the driver that I would pray for him, for his patience, and for Allah to compensate him greatly for his loss.

The news left a cloud over my travels for a while; the driver had become a friend, and I was saddened by his loss. He was a young man himself, only a year older than I, and had been married for just a little over a year. What struck me most about it was that in spite of his situation, he could not get any break from his job. Just a few hours after such a tragic loss, he was back in the car driving people from place to place. I’m certain that his passengers would often be rude and impatient, completely negligent of the fact that the driver was also a husband, a father, and a mourner.

Such is the nature of life, though. The demands don’t stop for anything, and there is rarely a moment of respite for those who struggle to make ends meet. Such incidents remind me of how thankful I must be for all the blessings I have in life. I live a very easy life, and have seen little of adversity in my quarter century of experience.

“And then which of the favours of thy Lord will you deny?”

Off the mark

So here I am, writing in the middle of the night when I would much rather be sleeping. Unfortunately, a scheduled flight to Chicago yesterday was cancelled, and thus I am now awaiting an early-morning flight which will just kill my sleeping schedule, and reduce my chances of staying awake at a Monday 8:00am meeting to zilch. I need to be at the airport at 4am, to arrive in Chicago by 7:15am.

Prior to the official cancellation of the flight, I waited patiently in the airport after a fairly lengthy security process. It’s frustrating that I’ll probably need to do this all over again because of the cancellation.

This will be my first time flying into the United States since 1999; much has changed since then. American Security had a field day going through my passport. I was asked many questions about my time in Saudi Arabia (lots of Arabic Hajj-related stickers in my passport); and when I affirmed that I had been to Pakistan within the last five years, the furrowed brow of the security lady was a sight to behold. I turned over all the papers I had that confirmed my business in United States, and finally the lady was satisfied.

Last week, I was the emcee at the annual graduation dinner for all the Muslim students in colleges and universities in the Capital Region. The keynote speaker was Maher Arar, whose story continues to worry me. With no evidence or charge against him, the man lost more than a year of his life to excrutiating torture, and his future will always be tainted by the nightmarish memories. His mistake was only being in the wrong place at the wrong time; a victim of wayward fire. The shots fired in the name of security have often missed their mark, targetting people with nothing but irrelevance to share; I always fear that another may be caught in the crossfire.

Notable pieces about the recent arrest

There have been lots of notable bits and pieces about the recent Toronto arrests. As Muslim Link is currently defunct, unfortunately, I’ll be writing and posting here more often than usual.

CBC News | Teacher witnessed transformation of some bomb-plot suspects
I found this news item interesting because of the following passage:

“Amiruddin said many mainstream Muslim organizations in Canada are really part of the problem, standing by as extremist propaganda spreads in the mosques. He cites the Al-Rahman centre in Mississauga, Ont., which he links to the Al-Maghrib Institute, which runs a popular educational website. It’s nominally run out of Ottawa, but Amiruddin says it’s really a Saudi operation.”

While it is true that alMaghrib tends to follow Saudi teachings on certain issues of jurisprudence which I disagree with, it’s disturbing that some would consider them to be a vehicle of hate. The founder of the alMaghrib Institute is a very classy and sincere person who truly loves this country; he can not be blamed for promoting violence or extremism. Some of the students tend to get a bit over-enthusiastic about their classes (omg are you ready for TPA???!!!!), but their hearts and minds are definitely in the right place.

SafSpace | T.O.’s Homegrown Terrorists
The brilliant sister Safiyyah has come out of her extended break to analyze the issue in depth, in her candid, objective style that is so refreshing in these emotional times. This is probably the best place to start for anyone wishing to understand the background, allegations, and possible motivations of the suspects, as well as the current and desired response of the Muslim community.

The Globe and Mail | We must root out the fringe elements in the Muslim community
This was sent out to a mailing list I am a part of. I disagreed with a lot of this article, and wrote a lengthy response which I may post later. Still, it is an interesting read, and presents what is probably the more mainstream view of the situation among Muslims.

The Toronto Star | So Many Possibilities … for courts
Another calm and reserved voice, this time in the mainstream media. The writer urges the public to avoid jumping to conclusions, and to let the issue work it’s way through the courts. This is also a good read for anyone wishing to get past the sensational headlines that have been dominating the papers in the last few days.

The Ottawa Citizen | The greater threat is ignorance
Deepak Chopra offers some practical responses to ignorance.

The bogeymen are coming!

As I walked through downtown Ottawa, I passed by a row of newspaper boxes, featuring the Ottawa Citizen, the Ottawa Sun, and Metro News. Each front page yelled the same message, accentuated by one word: BEHEAD. “There’s an allegation my client indicated he wanted to behead the Prime Minister of Canada.” “Plans to behead PM.” “Plot to storm Parliament Hill and … BEHEAD THE PM.”

This is just getting juvenile; the fear tactics are reprehensible. All the papers say the same thing: that one of the suspects is “alleged” to have wanted to behead the prime minister. Where these allegations come from, nobody will say. It’s not very different than if I were to say that you, the reader, are being accused of plotting to destroy the Alexandra Bridge. You would say, “what kind of allegation is that? No one would accuse me of that!” And I would say, yes, someone would accuse you of that: I just did.

But above all, the objective is to reduce the suspects to caricatures – evil, insane, Saturday morning supervillains, with sociopathic tendencies and no regard for human life or dignity. Once you’ve got the word “beheading” in the vocabulary, the lunatic must be guilty! He’s a crazy nutcase! How could someone even think of something so awful? And whether the allegations are proven or not is irrelevant; the image of the suspect has been tainted, and that alone is sufficient to destroy his future.

It’s very easy to paint a dirty picture of someone. Below are two descriptions that one might expect to hear in the media:

Case One

He was always a good and dependable student, and was highly regarded at the office where he worked. He was known for his charity and social work, and often spoke on behalf of the voiceless minority in the face of discrimination. He had a dry but unique sense of humour, probably inspired by his love of the daily comics. Most of his colleagues considered him a pleasure to work with, and respected his work ethic and dependability.

Case Two

He always appeared distant and reserved, even at a young age. Sources say he once accidentally stabbed a friend with a compass as a child, and that he frequently played violent video games such as Doom or Wolfenstein, where he would kill Nazis. He has spent a significant amount of time overseas, in places such as Saudi Arabia, and was in Pakistan shortly before the attacks on September 11th. On the morning of the attacks, he may have been flying towards North America from a formerly Communist state. He has publicly supported a charitable organization that briefly had it’s assets frozen due to suspicions of funding terrorism.”

At first glance, the first case appears to represent a model citizen; the poor soul who often ends up being the victim of tragedy. The second case appears to describe a much more disturbed individual, capable of some pretty nasty stuff.

Unfortunately, the two cases describe the same person. The statements may all have been true, but media spin is a dangerous beast. Get spun the wrong way, and you are now a heartless and insane bomber.

And for the record, Human Concern International has gotten past the completely baseless allegations that came against it several years ago, and continues to work tirelessly to alleviate human suffering around the world. Their overhead costs are remarkably less than most other charitable organizations, and their hard work deserves our support.

Again, my hope is for a transparent process, where the suspects will rise or fall based only on the proof brought against them. Let justice prevail, and let the bogeymen disappear along with the lies that created them.

The cartoon villain given above, “Evil Midnight Bomber what Bombs at Midnight!”, belongs to Ben Edlund and the good folks who produced the Tick cartoons.

Toronto Muslims held in alleged terrorism plot

17 people detained.

I don’t know what to say about this, really. All I can hope for is a transparent process, though I expect that this is unlikely. We still know very little about the circumstances around the last arrest, even though it hit closer to home. And their “leads”, if you can call them that, are so far out of the picture that it shows ineptitude on the part of the security officials.

If they can prove the guilt of the accused, then I commend their efforts. Canada is my home, and any threat to the country is a threat to me personally. I can see the Peace Tower out my apartment window; I look upon it with respect every day.

On the other hand, if nothing conclusive can be brought forward, then I can only pray that sanity prevails.

Lampshopping

My return to Canada also brought about another significant change in my life: I now live alone. My roommate left for India while I was in France, leaving the apartment all to myself. This is a significant departure for me, as it officially ends my student years. Though I’ve been out of university for a while now, I’ve still lived like a student, and would even occasionally spend weekends at the university labs helping my roommate with his project. Now the place is all my own, and I can do with it as I like.

My first course of action was to buy some lamps to brighten my bedroom. An old lady living by the university happened to be selling some lamps that met my needs, so I dropped by her place to take a look.

When I arrived there, I was greeted warmly by the old lady, who appeared to be in her 70′s but was actually only in her late 50′s. She spoke with a heavy British accent, having grown up there after her parents fled Poland during the second World War. I expected to just take a look at the lamps, perhaps buy them, and then be on my way. Little did I know that I would be there for well over an hour.

The house itself was over 100 years old, the kind of place you might expect to find a kind old grandmother. There were old books stacked up everywhere, dusty and untouched for decades perhaps. The hallways were narrow, dimly lit, and had a 19th century feel to them. And yet, between the creaking floorboards and the peeling wallpaper, there was something distinctly warm and uplifting about the place.

I had only intended to buy the lamps and leave, but she insisted that she introduce herself and tell me about her life, the house, and other stories. She lived in the house with her husband and a number of students who rented the rooms. The couple spent quite a bit of money on renovating the place to accomodate the students, whom she treated like her children. She cooked and cleaned for them, and did her best to accomodate their hectic student lives. She lamented about her own children, one of whom she felt she could not care for the way a mother should. I reassured her that she must have done a great job, and that eventually her children will realize it.

Having introduced herself, it was only proper that I introduce myself. I described my work, and told her I graduated from the university at the end of 2004. She mentioned her son graduated at the same time. “It’s a big university,” I said. “I probably don’t know him.”

“No, he was in engineering too! His name was..” She mentioned the name of a fellow classmate, among the top students in the program. It turns out I knew the son, though not very well. He was one of those students that lesser students tend to be jealous of: smart, witty, popular, and annoyingly sappy. I personally didn’t know him well enough to have any real opinion.

“I wasn’t the mother I needed to be for him,” the old lady whimpered. I couldn’t understand what mistake she could have made, seeing as how the son seemingly turned out fine. “He’s married now, you know. To some Canadian girl.”

And there it was. He didn’t marry a girl of Polish descent, and that didn’t sit well with her. She later went on to explain how her husband was invited to the wedding, but she herself wasn’t invited. I couldn’t understand that at all; how can someone possibly not invite his own mother to his wedding? The same mother who endured the pains of labour, cleaned up after him for years, fed him with the best foods, took care of him when he was down, and never asked for anything in return? Even if there was a disagreement, the mother is just too important to ignore.

It couldn’t possibly be a case of a negligent mother; she treated me with so much kindness that I couldn’t imagine that she would treat her own son any other way. She kept complimenting me for being so polite and courteous; I don’t believe for a second that she could come off as anything less but a proud, supportive mother for her own children.

Unfortunately for her, the son responded to her shows of affection with disdain and contempt. According to the old lady, the son did not want to be “mothered” any longer, and moved out fairly early on. The only other child went off to another city for studies, leaving her with no one to share her motherly love with. And thus, she had to rent out the rooms to students, which I believe she did subconsciously to fill in the void left by her ungrateful children. The students, however, treat her as no more than a landlord.

I told her about the value of the mother in Islam. Heaven is under the feet of the mother, as the tradition goes.

“Your mother must be very proud of you,” she said, holding back tears. She was breaking up, but she did not want to let me leave. She seemed so happy getting the chance to talk to a young man who cared. Unfortunately, I don’t come anywhere near fulfilling the rights of my own mother, but I suppose I do better than a lot of people from other cultures.

After an hour or so, I purchased the lamps. She walked out to my car with me, offering a few more bits of advice regarding family life, my beard, housing, and where to buy glasses. I noticed she waited until I had turned off her street before she went back inside; I could see her waving in my rearview mirror. A few minutes later, she would go back to being lonely, with my visit only being a temporary relief.

The most basic structure of any society is the family; if all the families run well, the society as a whole a chance to run well. But if the family structure has broken down, any social hierarchy built atop these broken families will inevitably break down.

The North American family can only last a couple more generations at it’s current rate of decay. When it has collapsed completely, the floodwaters will pour in, and society will be washed away. Only at the feet of the mother, one can stay afloat.

Back in the Saddle

On Sunday, May 21st, 2006, I returned to Canada after a five-week excursion to France. It was an eye-opening experience, and I was fortunate to have shared it with some highly charismatic Parisians. I learned a lot from them, but learned more from the disenfranchised youth that make up the most visible portion of the large Muslim population. Most are unemployed or working menial jobs, and were in awe that I, as a Muslim, was an engineer.

Unfortunately, the first escape for most of these angry youth has been drugs. At the very least, many of these youth – largely of Moroccan and Algerian descent – regularly smoke joints and occasionally heavier stuff. The one image that summed up my entire trip was that of a stoned Moroccan in his late 20′s, rolling a joint with three four-foot baguettes on his lap.

Which brings us to the baguettes. There are baguettes everywhere. I literally could not walk for more than five minutes, at any time of the day or night, without seeing someone carrying at least one baguette. But they’re fantastic – always fresh, buttery, and just plain delicious. I have no idea why the benchmark of all goodness is sliced bread – I’d prefer an unsliced baguette any day. To make things even more tempting, Nutella is cheap and socially acceptable for both kids and adults in France.

During the five weeks, we helped reconnect a son with his estranged father, bridged a decade-old gap between two communities, and spoke with several hundreds of angry youth, among other things. Hopefully, we’ve at least planted some seeds that will produce some fruit in the long run. From a personal standpoint, I learned a great deal about dealing with specific types of people, a lot about leadership and integrity, and vastly improved my French.

I didn’t expect to get a chance to do much sightseeing, but I did spend a day hiking through the mountains neighbouring Switzerland. Prior to this trip, the most naturally beautiful place I had ever been to was the mountains in Northern Pakistan. No longer; the natural beauty around the Cascades du Herisson in the Jura region of France tops it. Rolling mountains as far as the eye can see, with flowing streams dropping into majestic waterfalls… it was absolutely incredible, a true sign of the power of Allah. The same hiking trail also included a brief trek through a cave, which looked just like Faramir’s hideout towards the end of “The Two Towers”.

I’m back safely, and back to the usual routine now. I’ll write more about the trip later; there are thousands of stories to tell.

Hiatus

I won’t be replying to e-mails or checking my voicemail for the next five weeks, so if you don’t hear from me, it’s nothing personal.

Needless to say, there won’t be anything new at Irrelevant Opinions either until sometime at the end of May or June perhaps.

The Calvin and Hobbes comic at the bottom of the page will continue to be updated daily, though!

Have a great summer, everyone!

Wa salam,
Faraz

3:00am

I was awoken just before 3:00am by the phone ringing. The caller was apparently from England, and had discovered my resumé on-line and was interested in meeting me for an interview. I rudely informed the caller that my only job at 3:00am was to sleep, and that’s what I was going to do. I hung up.

A minute later, the Englishman called back, claiming that there was some confusion. He listed my particular business qualifications they were interested in learning more about. Something was very fishy, and finally I realized in my half-awake state that I was the victim of yet another prank call. Llama and Polar Bear again, still smoking too much shisha in an Arab coffee shop in the middle of the night.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t sleep after that. I was up from 3:00am until the time I had to leave for work. This itself didn’t bother me that much; what bothered me was the fact that I had to go to a meeting at my downtown office in a very sleepy state. I hadn’t fallen asleep in a meeting for about 5 months, though I had developed a somewhat notorious reputation for falling asleep in meetings when I worked downtown.

But I couldn’t keep awake, and those same people who saw me sleeping in 3:00pm conference calls back in October and November saw me dozing off again. They must suspect that I can never stay awake in meetings, which isn’t the case anymore. I’ve all but overcome the meeting-sleepiness problems, but the prank callers caught me on the worst day for sending me to work on three-hours sleep.

I know who they are. I know their phone numbers. I know where they live. I know their parents’ phone numbers back home in Toronto. Thus, I request my loyal readers to offer suggestions as to how I can get back at this devious duo.

Cryptic Voicemail

I received this voicemail today; not sure who it is or what they’re talking about, but it’s quite funny.