SIDDIQUN

More Reasons Why Not to Eat Pork

2011-07-17T18:49:00.002-04:00

Sublime Qur'an Subsumes Science

As a Muslim and a marathoner, I eschew pork following Islamic guidelines on proscribed foods. This, like other Qur’anic injunctions, has helped me to avoid a plethora of health problems, to stay out of the doctor’s office, and to maintain a rigorous athletic regimen free of injury. Recently, I participated in an exchange with friends (and some of their friends) on a social networking site. A young black (Afrocentric) Towson University student—not a Muslim—was recommending to all of his friends not to eat pork. This is an increasingly common phenomenon among activists of color—even those who do not claim the label of Muslim (or who do not claim it openly). Some of these are directly influenced by Qur’anic teachings, by their Muslim friends, or by the writings of Elijah Muhammad such as How to Eat to Live.

Pork and pork products are a major source of health problems in the Black community. Historically, White slavers fed Black slaves chitterlings (or chitlins, for short) and other pork products. Chitterlings are the worse part of the pig--a reminder to the slave that he was lower than an animal, worthy only of eating the slave master’s rubbish. I was proud of my Towson University friend who had thrown off his mental shackles and encouraged others to do the same. But immediately many of his friends assailed his position. Pork is no more deleterious than beef or chicken; some parts of it are white meat and quite lean—and therefore worthy of consumption—they said. Pork is intrinsic to soul food, said others; how can we possibly do away with it? I knew that the instinctive revulsion I felt for pork mightn’t be shared by others, particularly those who were not Muslim, and so determined to find intellectual support for my feelings. Here are the initial findings of my inquiry, which I shared in the course of the online exchange:

Pork takes longer than most foods to digest (4.5 hr, according to some reports). One of the reasons for this: It is rich in residues of the amino acid Proline.

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/20356084

I'm guessing that the high incidence of Proline, which contains a hetercyclic ring, may be one reason for the difficulty in metabolizing pork. Unfortunately, lengthy retention of food—in this case pork—in a digestive tract that is relatively short (compared to that of most carnivores) leads to elevated colorectal cancer risk.

Additionally, prevalence of Staphyloccus aureus bacteria in pigs is relatively high (e.g., 25-30% in the Netherlands). In fact, locating swine populations not afflicted to some degree by the Staph species in question is highly unlikely.

http://www.scientificamerican.com/blog/post.cfm?id=first-pork-invades-washington-then-2009-03-12

As a result, very high dosages of antibiotics are administered to most pig populations. So, consumers of pork are partaking of a product, which has been doused with antibiotics. And— by supporting the administration of antibiotics to this animal population, they are inadvertently contributing to the rise of drug-resistant strains of bacteria.

Staphylococcus aureus is thought to be carried by rats in a pig farm setting:

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/19523703

Unfortunately, the bacterium may be conveyed between the pig and rat population to humans:

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/19145257

So, the answer seems to be: Either administer massive dosages of antibiotics to pig populations (and then consume the antibiotic-laden pork products)--a strategy which may work in the short term, but has serious long-term implications for the production of drug-resistant strains of Staphyloccus aureus--or find other alternatives to pork products. While it's true that some cuts of pork contain a relatively low lipid content, comparable to those of beef or other meats, given all of the forgoing, as well as the dynamics of pork between White slavers and Black slave descendants, the choice of whether or not to partake of the pig seems rather obvious.

AIPAC Conference: An Exercise in Arm Twisting and Indoctrination

2011-06-01T21:30:00.002-04:00

Zionist Lobby Seeks Billions More in U.S. Tax Dollars

The weekend of May 20 - 22 saw the annual conference of the American Israel Political Action Committee (AIPAC) at the Washington, DC, Convention Center. It was a grand affair to which the 535 members of the U.S. Congress were “invited.” But such an invitation is seen by some as a pressure tactic. Conference attendees were recognized by a “Roll Call,” a lengthy public reading of their names. The implication is that no-shows will be noted for their absence in the next election. (According to Jewish Week, May 24, 2011, AIPAC was successful at drawing 10,000 delegates and “honored guests,” including 70 U.S. Senators and 270 members of the House to the conference.)

The goals of the conference, listed on the AIPAC website, included inculcating understanding among delegates of “how America and Israel are stronger together when they participate in joint military exercises and exchange intelligence” and “safer together when they share homeland security and counterterrorism techniques.”

“AIPAC has succeeded in creating an army of Israel supporters who are mobilised and constantly lobby elected senators,” wrote one AIPAC conference participant (Jewish Chronicle, May 26, 2011). Such militaristic lexicon, as well as AIPAC’s treatment of dissenters, has raised eyebrows, with some opponents of the lobby going so far as to say the AIPAC conference is a venue for exchanged allegiances among gangsters in Armani suits, the dissemination of Zionist propaganda, and the discussion of coercive and retributive measures to be used against those not willing to take a pro-Israel stance.

Special Session for Christian Zionists

The conference included a special luncheon for Black Zionists (and pro-Zionists), as well as a session for Christians, called "Understanding Christian Support for the Jewish State," geared at examining “the roots of Christian Zionism.” The latter targeted the sixty-six pastors in attendance.

Zionist Student Leaders in Attendance

The conference included a special session recognizing student Zionist leaders. One thousand five hundred (1,500) students, most of them white, attended the conference. These included 215 elected student government presidents (numbers from AIPAC’s website). The student government presidents came from campuses including the University of Chicago, UC Berkeley, Columbia, and Vanderbilt. Interestingly, Brigham Young University, a Mormon institution, and Morehouse College, a historically black college, also had Zionist student body presidents in attendance at AIPAC’s conference.

Zionist students from the University of Florida were awarded for “developing new models of pro-Israel leadership on and beyond their campus,” and for soliciting letters of support for Israel from campus leaders, as well as for lobbying local Congress members on “issues of concern to the pro-Israel community.” Additional student leaders at UCLA, Indiana University, the University of Oklahoma, and Liberty University received “Activist of the Year” awards in recognition of their pro-Israel political activity. The question of why they, as American students should expend such energies building support for a foreign power, seemed absent from the dialogue. One group of student Zionist leaders working on blackballing Iran to Congress was given an award. Another group of student Zionists were recognized for their efforts at countering the characterization of Israel as an apartheid state. Both the College Democrats of America and the College Republican National Committee received awards from AIPAC.

Gustafo Tactics Against a Sitting American President?

On May 19, just a few days before the AIPAC conference, President Obama mentioned 1967 borders as a starting point for co-existing Israeli and Palestinian states—a very weak position, and unacceptable to most Muslims who believe in self-determination. But apparently, even the slightest sign of “weakness” was not to be tolerated by the Zionists. On May 20, Israeli Prime Minister Netanyahu met with Obama for over two hours, and it is speculated, conducted the mafia-style arm twisting necessary to get his whipping boy back in order.

Obama at AIPAC

Then on May 22, Obama reported to the AIPAC conference, meekly telling the Zionist audience, “Israelis and Palestinians will negotiate a border that is different than the one that existed on June 4, 1967.” Clarifying his position further, he said, “The bonds between the United States and Israel are unbreakable, and the commitment of the United States to the security of Israel is iron clad.” None in the wildly applauding audience asked the question of why any policy matter in a changing world should be characterized as immutable, nor why the security of a foreign power should be of such paramount importance to the U.S.

Obama further “affirmed U.S. opposition to a Palestinian plan to seek a vote in the U.N. General Assembly on Palestinian statehood in September. He vowed to help Israel defend itself, promising U.S. military assistance on missile defense and pledging to block Iranian nuclear aspirations. And he assailed a recent Palestinian unity agreement that elevated the stature of the Hamas movement, which the United States and Israel regard as a terrorist group.” (The Washington Post, May 22)

Netanyahu’s pressuring of Obama (if indeed that is what occurred—some would argue that Obama is already so pro-Israel that he needed no pressuring) is similar to AIPAC’s pressure on members of the U.S. Congress. As Cynthia McKinney, former U.S. Congresswoman from Georgia, recently disclosed, every candidate for U.S. Congress must sign a pledge to support Israel, a tactic which changed shape slightly after it was made public. According to McKinney, “They were given a pledge to sign...that had Jerusalem as the capital city. You make a commitment that you would vote to support the military superiority of Israel, and the economic assistance that Israel wants, that you would vote to provide that." (Press TV, May 22).

Obama delivered his address to AIPAC, then retreated to Europe with his tail between his legs. In the meantime, Netanyahu addressed the U.S. Congress on May 24. He delivered a resounding “No!” to all of the (very compromising) positions put out by “moderate” Palestinians. The speech was characterized by opponents as containing more lies per second than perhaps any other speech in recent memory. In the course of the 50 minute speech, Netanyahu received 26 standing ovations. Opponents protesting the speech were dealt with very brutally.

Following the AIPAC conference and Netanyahu’s speech to Congress, thousands of AIPAC lobbyists descended upon Capitol Hill to further the Zionist agenda. According to the AIPAC website, “At the top of the lobbying agenda is U.S. security assistance to Israel—the most tangible expression of American support for the Jewish state. The AIPAC citizen-lobbyists will urge their House and Senate members to support $3.075 billion in aid to Israel for fiscal year 2012 as well as ask for support for the overall foreign aid budget.” [Note the double speak in “Jewish state” and “AIPAC citizen-lobbyists”]

“Move Over AIPAC”: A Challenge to AIPAC

This year, as the AIPAC conference went forth, things were a little bit different. An entire weekend of activities, including a major conference, called “Move Over AIPAC” was held in Washington, DC, by CODE PINK: Women for Peace. It was endorsed by over 100 peace and justice organizations, including the International Solidarity Movement, Fellowship of the Reconciliation, the Rachel Corrie Foundation, United for Peace and Justice, the U.S. Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel, Adalah-NY, Jewish Voice for Peace, and the U.S. Campaign to End the Israeli Occupation.

On May 20, as Netanyahu met Obama, “Move Over AIPAC” conference participants and others protested outside the White House. The following day, May 21, the “Move Over AIPAC” summit was held. The keynote address was delivered by Stephen Walt and John Mearsheimer, authors of the ground-breaking book, The Israel Lobby and U.S. Foreign Policy. This was followed by a “writers’ salon,” featuring Laila El-Haddad and other Palestinian and pro-Palestinian authors. A panel entitled, “Time for a New Foreign Policy” (Phyllis Bennis, Noura Erekat, and others) ensued. Workshops on topics like “Combatting Misused Charges of Anti-Semitism” (Rabbi Lynn Gottleib); “Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions: Campaigns that Work!”; Exposing AIPAC: Delving into the Nitty-Gritty of How the Israel Lobby Works”; “Israel, the bomb, and a Mid-east NWFZ (Nuclear Weapons Free Zone); and “Student Divestment Campaigns and the Role of AIPAC on Campus” completed the afternoon.

On May 22, while Obama addressed AIPAC and throughout the day, “Move over AIPAC” participants, and other friends and supporters of Palestinians protested outside the Convention Center. The protestors, including many Jews, lined up outside the DC Convention center, chanting “Free Free Palestine.” A die-in—where activists lay down in the streets, their bodies covered in fake blood to protest Israeli brutality—was held. Activists from the U.S. Boat to Gaza manned a float in the form of a ship, singing pro-Palestinian songs.

Change Comes But not Without Sacrifice and Struggle

As a result of the immense sacrifices of the Palestinian people, followed up by creative and heroic actions by a huge range of human rights and solidarity organizations throughout the world—of which “Move Over AIPAC” is an example—support for Israel is being reconsidered in the U.S., one of the last bastions of Zionist support.

As Jody McIntyre, describing the AIPAC conference, wrote in the Independent on May 24, 2011, “So yesterday, another conference commenced; a celebration of continued US support for Israel. The fact that is being ignored is that, as a wave of uprisings across northern Africa and western Asia are proving, US dominance and influence in the region is on the decline. Just like hundreds of millions of dollars in aid were not enough to keep Mubarak in power in Egypt, all the billions of dollars in aid will not be enough to prop up Israel forever….As Olof Palme, the Prime Minister of Sweden until his assassination in 1986, once said, ‘Apartheid cannot be reformed, it must be abolished.’”

DC Activists Commemorate Malcolm X Day

2011-05-22T20:01:00.003-04:00

Discussions of Marable’s Book: Scholarship or Smear Attempt?

Malcolm X Day, which commemorates the birth of the great Muslim leader, is an event ordinarily commemorated by leftists and black nationalists. Seldom does one see a remembrance of this brother, who made Islam and its revolutionary spirit beloved among vast numbers of Americans, at any mainstream mosque or Islamic Center, even for symbolic purposes. This year however, Muslims were among the organizers of events on May 17 – 18 to commemorate the occasion.

Around thirty people crowded into Ras Café (Ethiopian Restaurant & Lounge) for the May 17 event. Malcolm Shabazz, the son of Shaheed Malcolm X, was originally scheduled to speak, but did not make it to Washington, DC. Instead, he delegated Br. Shaka to speak in his place. Also speaking was J.R. Valrey of California’s Block Radio (www.blockreportradio.com). In spite of Shabazz’s absence, people seemed to appreciate the program.

Another 40 or so filled the seats at Sankofa Books the following night to hear J.R. and Malcolm Shabazz, who was, by then, in town.

According to Naji Mujahid, a lead organizer for both events, much of the focus of Malcolm X Day 2011 was on the recently released book, Malcolm X: A Life of Reinvention, by Manning Marable. “Manning Marable’s book is considered by some to be a slander,” said Mujahid. “We tried to provide a platform to dispel points in Manning Marable book.”

J.R. shared an excerpt from his own book where he’d interviewed Hajj Malcolm Shabazz. Addressing the Sankofa audience, the younger Malcolm analogized the Marable book with the Bible. “Like the Bible, shrouding lies in truth,” Marable’s work probably contained good points and analysis to draw people in, but it also contained some slanderous lies, Shabazz said.

Parts of the book suggest that Malcolm engaged in homosexual acts. Others suggest infidelity between Malcolm and Betty Shabazz. Another important was brought up by Voxunion producer and Morgan State University professor of communications, Dr. Jared Ball in a conversation with Mujahid. Ball pointed out that Marable claimed that Malcolm, in his later years, said that the ballot could be used to promote black people's interests and that the election of Barak Obama was an expression of that. Ball also compared Marable’s book to Spike Lee’s “X.”

Some of the more controversial points in the Marable book were devoid of reference, according to J.R. The book wasn’t aimed only at current audiences, but also to future ones, who didn’t remember Malcolm. And, as an attendee of the Ras Café event pointed out, the further removed in time an audience was from the discussion, the less likely they were to dispute points in the book.

And, as Br. Shaka pointed out, the tenuousness of Marable’s claims are evident from the fact that if the allegations against Malcolm were true, the FBI wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to use them against him.

Despite an exhaustive week of activities around Malcolm’s Birthday and political prisoner awareness work, Naji Mujahid, who is also an organizer for the Black August Planning Organization (BAPO), granted me an extended interview. (BAPO is a political prisoner advocacy group, primarily focusing on Black political prisoners held by the United States for some of the longest periods of any U.S. political prisoner.)

“I think it’s important for people everywhere to see Malcolm not only as exemplary of Blackness, but of Islam, and the ability of Islam to affect people, particularly those living under adverse conditions everywhere. Islam can provide the inspiration in people to allow them to rise above their circumstances. I think Malcolm is an excellent example of that.”

“Malcolm was certainly an exceptional figure. However, he wasn’t the only exceptional figure who developed out of that period. While they were alive, people weren’t big on following Malcolm, Martin, or many of the personalities who dominate our history, according to some elders I’ve spoken with. Now that it’s safe to do so, they elevate him to the level they do. Part of the reason why Malcolm has taken on this epic legacy is because he was assassinated. If he had lived, and been brought in on trumped up charges like Eddie Conway, or other political prisoners, he probably wouldn’t hold the stature he does. People should consider when they idolize Malcolm that others, such as Sekou Odinga, who worked with Malcolm in the OAAU [Organization of Afro-American Unity], who have been buried alive, don’t enjoy his fame and acknowledgement. You ask people about Odinga, and they say “Who’s he?” [Sekou Odinga is a Muslim and New Afrikan political prisoner, imprisoned on political charges, since 1983].

“Malcolm and Martin’s family haven’t enjoyed the material support which should correspond to their level of celebrity. If Malcolm’s family had a dollar for every t-shirt created to exploit his memory, they would be in a lot better position.”

“People who claim to love Malcolm should put it to some use. They could, if they wished, tell this government, ‘You killed Malcolm, but we’re not going to allow you to practice a slow death against Sekou Odinga, Eddie Conway, Veronza Bowers, and others.’”

American Muslims, the Osama Assassination, and the “We Sick Massa” Syndrome

2011-05-12T03:01:00.001-04:00

I’ve been thinking about the bizarre reactions across the Muslim community to the Osama assassination. The only viable explanation for Muslims and Muslim organizations endorsing an action which clearly violates International law, Pakistani sovereignty (the puppet Pakistani government’s signing away of Pakistani sovereignty notwithstanding), and the norms of human decency, and for Muslims endorsing such an action (or coming up with creative explanations for it and its target) is the presence of a deep-seated self-hatred in the American Muslim psyche. Muslims here can't seem to accept the fact that highly effective, organized, and disciplined Muslim opposition can—in the face of grave injustice and genocide--arise. They must write off Osama to other factors: he didn't really exist; he existed but he was a CIA operative; he existed but only up till two years, no wait, make that eight years ago; he existed but was on summer vacation for the last five years in Pakistan, and so the fairy stories go. It's getting to the point of hilarity.

Why not just ask the Saudi government (Osama's enemy is not likely to embellish his character or motives), or consult U.S. intelligence (with which some American Muslim leaders are sufficiently mated that they might easily acquire the inside scoop on this) as to whether or not he existed, and if he did, who, if anyone, was paying him, how much, and when?

I wonder why it is that we, politically-conscious Muslims and friends, can see through the lies of the government and its corporate media organs about Katrina. We see through their lies about the Black Panther Party, George Jackson, and Assata. We see through their lies about Kuwaiti incubator babies, WMDs, DU (depleted uranium) and anything else that stands in the way of the oil/U.S. hegemony in the Middle East. We are even beginning to see through some of their lies on Palestine. But, when it comes to Osama, we accept their (White House, Pentagon, and corporate media's) version of things about this man, and try to come up with oddball theories to convince ourselves that the Muslim world could not have produced the "monster" they say Osama was. We act as if we are certain that the government is telling the truth on this one, and our basic premises (about his CIA links etc) spring from hence.

I don't claim to know all (or even most of) the answers. But a bit of independent journalism or analytical thinking on this would be a delightful change.

Whose Hate Speech?

2010-12-23T15:01:00.021-05:00

Recently, my father, Dr. Kaukab Siddique, came under assault by the Zionists, after he gave a speech calling for the peaceful dismantling of Israel at the annual Quds Day rally in Washington, DC. The Zionist campaign reminded me of similar assaults on Dr. Tony Martin, Prof. Ward Churchill, Dr. Mazin Qumsiyeh, Prof. Francis Boyle, Prof. Norm Finkelstein and many others. The primary distinction was that unlike the others, my father is a Muslim and a Semite. This makes him even more a thorn in the side of the Zionists, who view him as one of those they would prefer to beat to a pulp with the butt of their Tavors (Israeli assault rifles), or torture in Israeli prison, but not debate.

In other words, to be a Muslim and outspoken against Israel magnifies the Thought Crime. One analogy which comes to mind: During slavery, the white power structure exhibited a degree of tolerance for the white abolitionists who quietly and theoretically challenged slavery. The same power structure screamed for a manhunt followed by public hanging for a Denmark Vesey calling for a slave rebellion. Hence the obscene response to my father’s speech by the Zionists.

My father did not advocate violence. He did not violate the law. He merely challenged prevailing paradigms, which say it is okay to allocate $2.55 billion dollars each year (one million dollars per day in military aid alone) of U.S. taxpayer money to a colonial settler state which oppresses its original inhabits. A firm believer in Freedom of Speech, he spoke out on his time, at his own expense, about an issue he felt strongly about.

This was not the first time my father has been in the Zionist crosshairs, as the ADL, AJC, JDL, and the Wiesenthal Center scrutinizing his writings, placed him on their McCarthy-style blacklist, and attempted to have him removed from his position at Lincoln in 2006.

This time, however, they appeared far more determined, launching their supporters to write letters to LU President Ivory Nelson, suggesting my father’s classes be monitored, and questioning the process that led to his tenure--all with the implication that he should be removed. In a campaign of harassment and intimidation, they and their supporters sent hate-filled emails and letters (including threats of violence and even death) to him. They galvanized a dozen state senators to visit the university. The threat of firing alone would have been enough to convince many academics, particularly immigrants, to abdicate their heartfelt political stance. In such a climate, how could one possibly claim that free speech is extant?

My father, who believes that Authority belongs to Allah alone, did not succumb to the Zionist pressure. It made me intensely proud to have him as a father.

He draws a salary from Lincoln University, which, while not a state school, receives partial funding from the state of Pennsylvania. In an action reminiscent of mafia-style blackmail of the historically black college, a group of state senators visited my Dad's boss at the behest of the Zionist lobby. They were concerned, they told the LU President, about state funds going (indirectly) to the salary of an individual engaging in what they claimed was hate speech. In other words, fire this professor who dares speak out of line with the Zionist lobby, otherwise we’ll yank your funds.

The issue that arises from all this is the allocation of free speech.

To call for the peaceful dismantling of a colonial-settler state on par with Apartheid South Africa, Rhodesia, French-occupied Algeria, or British-occupied Kenya is hate speech.

But saying, "that there’s not enough troops in the Army to force the Southern people to break down segregation and admit the nigger race into our theatres, into our swimming pools, into our homes and into our churches,” (Strom Thurmond, then presidential nominee for the States' Rights Party) is not hate speech.

Saying that poor blacks fail to acquire wealth partly because of their "habits;" that bilingual education teaches "the language of living in a ghetto;" that building an Islamic center near Ground Zero is like Nazis erecting a sign near the Holocaust Museum; or that Obama is engaged in "Kenyan, anti-colonial behavior" (Newt Gingrich)--all these are not hate speech.

Praising Strom Thurmond, an overtly racist politician, and saying the country would have been better off if they'd followed his agenda (i.e. of racial segregation, and hence complete exclusion of Black people from the mainstream) (Trent Lott) is not hate speech.

Telling a 15-year old black teen “You don’t f---ing belong here. Get out of here,” while beating him in the head with a radio (Eliyahu Eliezer Werdesheim, Shomrin Jewish patrol in Baltimore) is not hate speech.

Assessing the deaths of 500,000 Iraqi children as "worth it" (Madeleine Albright) is not hate speech.

Saying that all Taliban should be annihilated (many U.S. politicians), neverminding that a vast majority of Afghan Pashtoons support the Taliban as the only force effectively opposing the U.S. occupation of their country, and that Pashtoons make up the vast majority of the Afghan population, hence equivalent to saying tens of thousands of people should be annihilated--that is not hate speech.

Joking about an assassination attempt on (then Senator) Obama (Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee)--as long as one quickly apologizes--is not hate speech.

Calling for the assassination of U.S. citizen and cleric Anwar Awlaki, because he opposes the U.S. military presence in the Middle East and Africa (Obama administration)--is not hate speech.

Calling for the assassination of Julian Assange because he exposed the hate speech of various and sundry U.S. statesmen and their toadies (Tom Flanagan, former aid to the Canadian Prime Minister)--is not hate speech.

The cases of hate speech against Muslims, people of color, and anyone who stands up for us, are too numerous to mention. The small subset I mentioned are those who were on U.S. federal or state government payroll (or in the case of Tom Flanagan, teaching at a public Canadian university, on Canadian government payroll) at the time they made their hate-filled comments. It is okay for them to launch hateful, threatening, demeaning diatribes against people of color and Muslims while sopping up your and my tax dollars.

The Doublespeak dictionary says that hate speech is only hate speech if it is directed against certain select populations, and not others.
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Postscript: Want to see hate speech? Look at the youtube comments, following the posts of the video of my father's Al-Quds Day speech (link is below). Writer after writer--primarily racist Zionists, hurl obscenities and death threats at him—all for calling for the peaceful dismantling of Israel, in effect, an entirely new look at a failed U.S. foreign policy. It is something U.S. policy makers, if they care about their constituents more than they care about the European settlers in Israel, ought, in a time of economic depression, to be considering anyway.

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Dr. Siddique’s Quds Day speech is here.

Background on the Zionist assault on Dr. Siddique's free speech rights, as covered by the Philadelphia Inquirer is here and here. Coverage of the case by the Lincolnian (Lincoln University’s student newspaper) is here, here, and here.

Dr. Siddique’s response to the Zionist onslaught, aired on South African radio is here.

Happy Thanksgiving, Pakistan?

2010-12-06T21:14:00.003-05:00

So Dawn, Pakistan’s largest daily paper, picked up on my piece, Thoughts on Thanksgiving. Evidently, the Dawn Op-ed columnist, Irfan Husain, writes regularly for the pro-government daily. Amusingly, he is an old friend of my family, a testament to the variegations in mindset within a single family.

Husain’s December 1 Op-ed begins with a detailed description of his family’s thanksgiving turkey preparations, a practice they adapted during time spent stateside. He brags about serving the turkey to a Thanksgiving party. All of this occurs in Karachi, a Muslim city, in a Muslim land, whose very raison d’etre is Islam, and where the holiday does not exist. It is similarly absent from all neighboring countries, indeed from all of Asia. Amazingly, Husain claims Thanksgiving “is an entirely secular holiday, with no religious overtones.” He appears woefully ignorant of the identity of the colonists who initiated White celebrations of Thanksgiving in New England (the northeastern part of the U.S.). The colonists were Puritans—men and women who attempted church reform in Britain. Unsuccessful, they emigrated to what later became Massachusetts Bay Colony (the site of many massacres of Native people). They were devout Christians (according to their understanding of Christianity) who emigrated for the sake of their religious faith; to characterize a holiday of their initiating as “secular” is simply inaccurate.

Husain’s description of Thanksgiving? “A day that commemorates the feast provided to the early colonists by Native Americans, and is modelled [sic] after European harvest festivals.” He neither disputes or confirms the central idea of my piece, i.e., the coincidence of the holiday with massacres of Native people, for which there is overwhelming evidence, leading to the necessity for people of conscience to disassociate from it.

Bizarrely, he claims to feel strongly about the plight of Native people, and does not take issue with any of the historical facts I bring forth in my article, writing rather eloquently that, “White colonists have an appalling record of virtual genocide in the lands and continents they conquered since the 16th century. Indeed, the history of every country in the Americas, as well as of Australia, is written in blood.” But—he still insists on celebrating the holiday!

He delivers the rank old “If-you-don’t-like-it-then-leave.” In his words: “But surely Ms. Siddique should not be in America at all if she feels so strongly about the Native Indians, and what was done to them.” It reminds me of the daily redneck cries at the sight of my hijab during the Iranian hostage crisis. “If you don’t like it here, go back to Iran!” they would fling, not bothering to ask whether I was Iranian.

I wonder at such mindless response. Irfan Husain must have been sleeping in history class, when Emerson, Thoreau, Thomas Paine, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, and others were discussed. Even in the slanted dominant culture version of history currently taught, the tradition of dissent is extolled. Husain misses the boat on the abolitionist movement, the civil rights movement, the Underground Railroad, Seneca Falls, and many other movements throughout U.S. history which chose dissent over emigration (although there were some which encouraged followers to emigrate). Husain and others of his ilk should stop and think about what he propounds: Country X hosting only people of Creed A; Country Y populated with only those of Creed B. What an odd world his would be, of homogeneity of thought within national borders.

The idea that a Muslim, propelled by the command to amr bil mauroof and nahi unal munkari, should feel strongly about injustice, and should not leave but rather work for change, seems not to enter his mind at all.

He ridicules the idea of politely deflecting Thanksgiving greetings. I’ve done it plenty of times, taking care to employ a gentle, polite, friendly manner. It’s fruitless to be acerbic or use charged terms like “genocide” (as he facetiously suggests in his ridicule), since the aim is to convey one’s heartfelt sentiment, not denigration of the other. My deflection of the greeting is frequently met with questions as to why I don’t celebrate the holiday, appreciation, or an apologetic “Oh well I don’t really celebrate it either, it’s just a time to get family together.” The objective, to encourage thought—about popular celebrations and practices—is achieved. It is merely a starting point to get people thinking about injustices within society, and what can be done about them.

He claims that given the climate of Islamophobia in the U.S., Muslims should not be withdrawing from mainstream practices such as Thanksgiving. Husain continues, “Ms. Siddique should not then complain of not being accepted as Americans [sic] if they [sic] deliberately spurn American traditions.” To me, his assorted apologia for Thanksgiving indicates a hopelessly colonized mindset. As a friend in London commented upon reading the op-ed, “People like Husain are importing the totalitarian petty tyrant mindset from banana republics into western states.”

Irfan Husain and the ruling class of Pakistan should be aware that not all Pakistanis and Muslims living in the West yearn to blend into the woodwork, or to become groveling sycophants for the U.S. power structure. It is a matter of shame that my Pakistani “brothers,” whose country is being bombarded by U.S. missiles, exhibit such servility to the U.S., while increasing numbers of Black and White Americans question the holiday, (as they question aspects of U.S. foreign policy). Many of my American friends refuse to celebrate Thanksgiving to show solidarity with Native People. The Native people themselves gather at Plymouth, Massachusetts, near the site of the early Puritan landings, for a “Day of Mourning.” It is a gathering in which I’ve participated in previous years, and encourage others to do so as well. Pakistan’s great revolutionary poet, Allamah Iqbal, wrote about the indelible concepts of self-identity and self-love. His writings challenge the “love your slave master, more than yourself” paradigm promulgated by Husain. Although I’m no expert in Iqbal, I’m quite sure he would never be an apologist for “Thanksgiving.”

Husain’s comments exemplify the attitudes of Indo-Pak elites who visit or emigrate to the U.S. They ally themselves with the ruling class, insisting on self-delusion about American history, minimizing, denying, or overlooking the horrors of slavery, Jim Crow, and lynchings of Blacks. They are oblivious to Native peoples, whom they recall quaintly as noble savages seen in Westerns (popular in Pakistan), or spectacles to be viewed in a museum. These elites behave in arrogant and racist fashion, viewing themselves as superior to Black people, whom they view through the lense of Hollywood or corporate media, turning a blind eye to genocide, broken treaties, and treachery against Native People. As Steve Biko, the great South African freedom fighter said, “The most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed.” By ruling class measure, at least, the weapon is already had.

Thoughts on “Thanksgiving”

2010-11-27T09:15:00.002-05:00

As readers may be aware, "Thanksgiving" as it’s celebrated today has little or nothing to do with its historical reality. For time immemorial, Native people held feasts to give thanks to the Creator for all they had. So, the claim that the first Thanksgiving occurred only after the colonists arrived, is a racist statement from the outset, writing off Native celebrations. It is akin to saying that 9-11 was the first terror event on U.S. soil—never mind the many massacres of Native people, and lynchings of Black people. As the link at the end of this piece illustrates, the precise date of the first Thanksgiving was not 1621, as is claimed. It is unknown. However, numerous colonist-initiated thanksgiving celebrations were held in the Northeastern U.S. (in the area now known as New England), usually following a massacre of native people.

Among the more well-known of these was the “Thanksgiving” which followed the massacre of Wampanoag people (Native American--or Red Indian, per the Indo-Pakistani misnomer--tribe) and the butchering of their leader Metacomet (known to the Whites as King Phillip), his head hung from the village square by the colonists. Plymouth Colony then called for a day of thanksgiving for their “victory” over the Native people. The perfidy of the incident is particularly horrifying when one considers that Metacomet's father, Massasoit, had only a generation earlier hosted the White settlers who landed near Plymouth Rock, saving them from famine.

As Muslims, we are often in the difficult position of having to respond to a greeting such as "Happy Thanksgiving." Some Muslims feel that it necessary to return the greeting out of concern for adaab (Islamic etiquette), or to be in compliance with the Qur'anic injunction to return a greeting with one better.

But words are powerful. They are essential in the colonizing of minds. And they can help perpetuate a myth, in this case, that of a warm fuzzy Thanksgiving, in which Native people and White settlers feasted and cavorted in friendship. But Islam teaches us to stand with the oppressed, against the oppressor. As aware Muslims we have the option to politely deflect the greeting, then briefly explain why we do not celebrate it. It is an opportunity to educate people, and bust some myths.

It's odd how sensitivities of some groups in society are paramount, while others are completely disregarded. Why, for example, don't people who embrace "Thanksgiving" consider how a Native person would feel on an occasion commemorating the massacre of his ancestors? Carrying this point further, why is there not a public furor at such a celebration? In my opinion, there should be.

I’m almost certain a furor would result, if, for instance, there were a festive holiday commemorating/coinciding with the deaths of Europeans (this would be nothing more far fetched than what occurs on Thanksgiving). On the other hand, the near coincidence of Eid ul-Fitr—determined by the moon, not an invention of individual Muslims—with September 11 was a cause for major brouhaha (not to intimate that all the victims of that sad event were Caucasian, or that suffering did not occur on that occasion). But Thanksgiving—despite the fact that its celebrations throughout U.S. colonial history were nearly always announced or correlated with a massacre of Native people—seems to raise no such concern. This is part of the dehumanizing of Red, Black, and Brown Peoples, that their graves may be trampled upon at will, their genocide mythologized into national celebrations. So, clearly the desensitization alluded to earlier has been effective across broad sectors of the society.

Finally, the crushing of public sensitivities to a targeted population (in this case Native people) is a crucial part of a propaganda war, which allows their genocide to be perpetuated, or at least not redressed. It is up to us to decide if we wish to participate.

With thanks to L.C. for this valuable link:

http://oyate.org/resources/shortthanks.html

Youth Justice Sunday

2010-11-15T03:02:00.000-05:00

“Genocide means any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial, or religious group: ....Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group; Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part...”

UN Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of Genocide
Paris, 9 December, 1948

October 31, 2010

Baltimore, MD–It was the perfect day to break some chains. Hundreds of people rallied outside Paul Lawrence Dunbar High School, in the heart of black community and just blocks away from Baltimore’s infamous Central Booking detention facility. They were protesting the building of a new youth prison. If construction goes on as planned, this would be the city’s ninth prison, built absent any mandate from the majority black population. But Baltimore’s prison building rampage would not end there. Plans are underway for the subsequent building of a tenth prison, this one for women.

Under a fluttering red, black, and green Afrocentric flag, religious, student and community leaders condemned the city’s plan to jail the youth instead of educating them. The event began with the singing of the Black Anthem “Lift Every Voice.” Then Deverick Murray, a Towson University student, popularly known as the Political Poet, took the stage. Stating the rally’s goals in verse, he said:

"I greet you today and bring you our purpose,
Assuring you that under this alliance not one thing can hurt us.
With steadfast hearts, and no distractions may divert us.
We are here today not only to stop this youth jail,
But to convince us, to construct plans
Knowing that if God, Allah, and the elders are here,
Then the world can be against us.
We are here to let the state know we have ran out of fear
And showing that we will stand together to protect what we hold dear.
We are here because they had enough money for jails,
But they had no interest in making sure that we don't fail....”

Youth energies fueled the protest. Leamon Harris, of Leaders of a Beautiful Struggle, which organized the protest along with the Kinetics Faith and Justice Network, the Baltimore Algebra Project, and other groups, said that even the best inner city schools were a continuum of institutionalized racism. Speaking of black student athletes, he said “They become slaves to the brands at a young age because they are mentally colonized, helping a government that doesn’t support them or their people unless they play the game. What if they stopped playing football or basketball until construction of the youth jail was stopped, or the police officers taken out of the schools, or classes that offered a real discussion of black history put in place?”

Deverick Murray wrote a powerful rap in support of the event, entitled “ I’ll be Damned” (referring to the resolve of the protest organizers against the locking up of the youth). It circulated broadly on Facebook and elsewhere leading up to the event. Murray, Harris, and Towson University student leader Adam Jackson successfully mobilized large numbers of high school and college students for the protest.

The event was emce'ed by its chief organizer, Afrocentric pastor and community leader Heber Brown. Brown is known for his courageous and outspoken stance on many issues, and has spoken at rallies against Israeli attacks on Gaza.

A few days prior to Youth Justice Sunday, Pastor Brown and two companions stood with megaphones outside an endorsement party hosted by a local chapter of AFSME [a major U.S. labor union —editor] for Mayor O'Malley. As O'Malley passed, they called out: "Gov. O'Malley, what about the $104 million dollar youth jail? Can you speak to that sir? Yeah back to slavery for black children?" An AFSME representative approached the pastor, and wagging his finger at him, told Brown he was being “tacky” by challenging the governor. Since the pastor and his companions had officially been invited to the endorsement party, they went inside. Once inside, they were cornered by the AFSME director and his assistants, and threateningly ordered to leave the building.

At the rally, it was clear that the Pastor was not fazed by such gestapo tactics. Youth Justice Sunday, he proclaimed, was about self-determination for black people.

Delegate Jill Carter, the rare local politician who’d accepted Pastor Brown’s invitation to speak, took her turn at the mic. Jared Ball, of Voxunion—a D.C.-based independent media collective—spoke. In the audience were Maria Allwine, Green Party candidate for Maryland governor; Jack Young, City Council president; and Dr. Ray Winbush of Morgan State University, internationally acclaimed reparations activist and author.

Then Min. Carlos Muhammad came to the stage.

He is Louis Farrakhan’s Baltimore representative, based out of Muhammad Mosque No. 1. The mosque is located on the 3200 block of Garrison Boulevard. Much of the boulevard is impoverished, a showcase of slums (Indians and Pakistanis are amongst the biggest slum lords), liquor stores (frequently Arab owned), and cheesy corner markets (Korean owners, with their exorbitantly priced goods, hidden behind protective bars). The mosque has worked to uplift area youth for years, ridding the neighborhood of much of its vice. But a mile or so down the road from the mosque, drugs, alcohol, and prostitution are rampant.

The minister accompanied on stage by his wife and two FOI (Fruit of Islam), greeted the people with “As-salaam alaikom.” He asked for a show of hands by those who had a family member, close friend, or loved one in prison. Easily two-thirds of the crowd raised their hands. With the air of a battle-hardened warrior, he offered words of encouragement to the crowd before leaving the stage.

Six Baltimore Algebra Project youth took the stage.

The Algebra Project is a youth advocacy group which provides highly effective peer-to-peer tutoring for inner city youth. But BAP doesn’t only tutor. When I moved back to Baltimore around 2002, I was astonished to find very young students from the organization blocking the streets to call attention to the glaring disparities within the education system and racism in the schools. They are articulate, organized, disciplined, and unrelenting in their demands.

The youth began with solemn speeches, holding the complete attention of the crowd. Then, three of them broke into melodic chants: "Don't build it, don't build it, O’ Malley check the rally." Red “X”s, plastered on the jackets of Algebra Project members and supporters, swayed gently to the rthymn. One of BAP’s talented young hiphop artists performed. It was dusk, and the crowd seemed energized.

Adam Jackson, Towson University student and Leaders of a Beautiful Struggle activist, spoke briefly. Then Rev. Kinji Scott told the crowd, "We tired of being shoved around! Are you ready? You ain't ready! If you're ready, follow me!"

Scott, Jackson, Murray, and others led the march to the site of the proposed youth prison, chanting “Educate, don’t incarcerate!” The procession stretched for several blocks, finally arriving at a vacant lot, encircled by a fence—the site of the proposed youth prison. A sign read “State Property.”

In a dramatic action, reminiscent of the Storming of the Bastille, student activists pushed with their bodies against the entry gate. To the crowd chants of, “Break that lock,” they used the wire cutters to weaken and finally break the padlock holding the gate shut.

A small number of protesters flooded through the gate. March organizers blared a warning over the megaphone: no one was to enter the fenced area without having completed civil disobedience training. The activists inside the fence joined hands in a solemn prayer. They intended to be arrested to call attention to the city’s funding of prison building over education. It was Sunday, and the civil disobedience action was taking place directly across from an existing prison facility. The protestors committed to engage in civil disobedience waited. And waited. And waited. For once, the police were nowhere in sight.

Realizing the civil disobedience was not to materialize, the organizers gathered up the signs carried by the procession. Determined their message be heard, they symbolically scattered books across the property, and with some effort, hammered placards bearing the words “Educate, don’t incarcerate!” into the rocky ground. Then, against the backdrop of Central Booking’s fading red brick and barbwire, they held a brief press conference before departing.

On the empty lot slated to cage the children of the poor, the pages of books fluttered in the wind.

Epilogue

Islam says, “Free the slave.” References to “freeing captives” abound in the Qur’an. To me, Islam is synonymous with justice, and it is not justice to jail a man because he is hungry and stole a loaf of bread. Or lock up a youth who delivers a few ounces of marijuana across town to pay his mother’s rent. I know of grocery stores located near the projects where armed security officers guard the exits. This country hates poor people, and is willing to kill or at least jail them for stealing food. Islam, known for its stringent justice, exempts exactly one category of person from sharia penalties for theft: the person who is hungry or starving. Prisons were unknown during the time of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH). Ditto during the reign of the four rightly guided caliphs—Abu Bakr (RA), Umar (RA), Uthman (RA), and Ali (RA)—which followed immediately after. A person who violated social norms was banished from society, ostracized for a limited time, or in the case of a very serious crime, subjected to a one-time harsh punishment. He was not indefinitely placed in a tiny, insect-infested, filthy, overcrowded, freezing cell, to be sodomized, treated like an animal, or forced to urinate and defecate in front of others. Nor was his labor used to profit big business. Of the vast number of hadith (narrations of Prophetic tradition) in circulation, virtually none talk about locking up or harshly punishing children.

The U.S. boasts 7.3 million people in jail, on probation, or on parole at year end—one in every 31 adults. 2.3 million people are held in adult prison or jail (including some children). In addition, 92,800 children are held in juvenile detention centers. The rate of Black incarceration is 2,468 per 100,000 persons. For Whites, that rate is 409 per 100,000. So, Black youth are far more likely to be locked up than Whites. And unless one subscribes to some incredibly antiquated, racist, and scientifically invalid theory, it can’t be because one group is inherently more criminal than the other.

Imperial AmeriKKKa, which sends its armadas throughout the world teaching others how to live, needs desperately to rethink a system which is clearly unjust, for injustice cannot be indefinitely sustained. Just as Gaza is one vast prison camp for Palestinians, Baltimore [substitute virtually any major U.S. city here] through its School-to-Prison pipeline, is the slave labor pool for the Prison-Industrial complex. But not, inshallah, if Leaders of a Beautiful Struggle, Kinetics Faith and Justice Network, and the Baltimore Algebra Project have their way.

An Interview with Karima Al-Amin (Part 2 of 2)

2010-11-07T22:06:00.000-05:00

In the second of this two part interview, Karima Al-Amin, Atlanta-based activist, attorney, and wife of Imam Jamil Al-Amin (the former H. Rap Brown), speaks about her and her husband’s conversion to Islam, the effects of Imam Jamil’s incarceration on their family, and the many legal actions undertaken by the imam since his incarceration. Some of these he initiated without the aid of an attorney. Others were vigorously pursued by a legal team at a prominent Atlanta law firm, the imam’s first truly competent and committed legal representation, which appeared on the scene a few years after his conviction.

As I listened to Ms. Al-Amin, I was stunned by the resilience and resolve of the Al-Amins, undaunted by the challenges before them. Against all odds, they’d patiently continued a dignified and peaceful resistance. Most amazingly, they had not restricted themselves to the challenge of wrongs done to Imam Jamil, although this was, in itself, a huge litany. They were tackling the very constitutionality of laws which violated the rights of inmates, political prisoners, and other victims of the prison-industrial complex. In other words, from behind bars, the Imam, his wife at his “side,” was fighting to “free the slave”—while many seemingly free imams and others on the outside cowered in fear and silence.

Q: Tell me about Imam Jamil’s transition from black radical to mainstream Muslim imam. Did you feel you had to influence him to repudiate or reconstruct that image into a more moderate one?

A: My sister’s first husband was a Muslim from the Republic of Guinea. I remember they had a Qur’an on a stand, and they gave us a prayer rug before we were Muslim that we hung on our wall; consequently, that was one of our early exposures to Islam.

My husband took his shahada in December 1971, while he was incarcerated in New York City. Brothers from the Dar-ul-Islam in Brooklyn entered the jails as chaplains and volunteers to hold classes on Islam. The transition to Islam was very natural for my husband because it did not compromise any of his positions.

I took my shahada a few months later, in February 1972, when Imam Jamil gave it to me. I still was reading about Islam after he became Muslim because I wanted to make sure I was becoming Muslim based on my belief. It was a natural flow for us to become Muslim. We never felt we had to explain the transition from his past as H. Rap Brown to Jamil Abdullah Al-Amin, although the transition was confusing for those who did not understand my husband. After El Hajj Malik Shabazz, my husband was the next public figure in the Movement to become Muslim. We then saw other black liberators in the 1970s and 1980s become Muslims.

Q: What made you decide to attend law school?

A: Law was my third profession. Here in Atlanta, I worked for a 15-year period with two foundations giving money to grassroots organizations and working on desegregating public higher education and enhancing the traditionally black colleges and universities. I did not go to law school until 1992, while I was teaching English. When I was in high school, I considered law as a career. My mother worked at the NAACP Legal Defense Fund when Thurgood Marshall was the Executive Director, and lawyers were dispatched to the South to represent students and local people who were being arrested, brutalized, and killed. This certainly influenced my early thoughts on considering law. Also, once I married my husband, I was constantly with William Kunstler and at the Center for Constitutional Rights in New York, as he and the organization represented my husband. And lastly, the fact that the government was continuing its efforts, COINTELPRO-style, to incarcerate my husband, was another factor that moved me finally to attend.

Q: What did you see as your role in the Al-Amin household?

A: I saw my role as a stabilizing one. I was not making speeches, and I wasn’t out there in the public with my husband. I saw my role as maintaining peace at home. I was a teacher during our early years of marriage. My concentration was making sure we could eat together and be together as a family. It always amazed me when we heard people gasp and say, “I saw H. Rap Brown, and he was holding a child,” or “I saw the Rap and he was holding a cat.” Ordinary things he did shocked people because the media had dehumanized him. When things are moving wildly, it’s necessary to have normalcy at home, so I would try to maintain a sense of normalcy in an abnormal world.

Q: What attitude or outlook to life did you adapt after you realized that your husband would be locked up for a long time? What has been your biggest challenge since his railroading?

A: Naturally to be stripped of a husband, a companion, is devastating. Because I came up through the struggle with him, I understood the challenges. Many people refer to my husband as the “last man standing.” He was a COINTELPRO target and he has remained one. I understand his innocence, and the governmental efforts to silence him throughout a 43-year period. This gives me the strength to remain strong and by his side.

My biggest challenge was ensuring that I could provide for my family in my husband’s absence. I was doing so many pro bono cases that I realized that I had to begin charging for my legal services. I was faced with raising a 12-year old son, who was very close to his father, and I had to monitor the psychological impact on him. He was a basketball son, and accustomed to seeing his father at all of his games since he was five years old. I had to move quickly to maintain his life as a youngster, and I could not miss a basketball game or school activity. My overarching challenge naturally was—and continues to be—to work to free my husband.

Q: Has Imam Jamil’s incarceration influenced the career choices of your children? Do you think they will go to law school?

A: We have two children: Kairi and Ali. Kairi is 22 and Ali is 31. Kairi is in law school. He is in his second year, but wants to practice, perhaps, entertainment/sport or international contractual law. He graduated from high school when he was 16, and went to three universities before graduating, still on time. Kairi was in the eighth grade when his father was arrested, and during the trial he would come to court carrying his backpack. He was a trooper.

Q: Have the children visited their father in Florence, CO? Tell me about that visit.

A: Kairi and I visit Imam Jamil in Florence, Colorado. He is being held in the Supermax prison, 1400 miles away, which makes traveling very costly. It essentially takes a full day to travel there and another day to return home. It’s really been a struggle, and we haven’t been able to visit as often as we’d like.

Florence is seen by many as a concentration camp for Muslim inmates. Imam Jamil is handcuffed at the waist behind a glass when we see him in one of the legal rooms. On the days we are with him, we are able to visit for approximately six hours. If he receives food during the visit, he has to hold his hands chained in front of him in order to eat. It is a very difficult position, and his wrists begin to swell.

The law firm now representing Imam Jamil pro bono also worked on suits for Guantanamo prisoners. One of their lead attorneys said that if he had to choose between Gitmo and Florence, he would choose Gitmo. Imam Jamil is held in solitary confinement, and Florence is a “no contact” institution, so the conditions are punitive and deplorable.

Q: Imam Jamil’s projects to rid the West End community of drugs are well known, as was his mentoring of the youth. Have these projects continued, and what is the extent of your involvement with them?

A: I’m still involved with the community. It’s a community I helped start with Imam Jamil and it is dear to me. Many of our children now are active in the community, and taking leadership roles, and it’s wonderful to see and feel their energy. We have continued with classes, youth activities, and the Riyaadah that we started in 1982.

Our community under the leadership of my husband always included the youth in our family-oriented activities; therefore, mentoring the youth continues to be a focus.

Q: Do you feel that things have gotten worse in the city since Imam Jamil was locked up?

A: When he was around, there was some vibrancy in the neighborhood. We all miss his presence and his hard work to keep the ills from consuming our community. We can all agree these are drastic times for people, and this is reflected throughout the inner cities. My husband always reminded people that Islam is the medicine for the sick; it is the cure for all society’s ailments.

Q: Unfortunately, the number of political prisoners has increased exponentially since your husband went to prison. What is your advice to the current generation of Muslim law students, as to how they should operate within the U.S. justice system? What should be their contribution to the Muslim community?

A: Imam Jamil was instrumental in getting a Muslim lawyer’s group started. This was similar to what SNCC [Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee –editor] had, where attorneys represented civil rights workers on a pro bono basis. We have to get more attorneys who would be able to take on cases. Many Muslims who are arrested now have not committed criminal activities, but are arrested for “thought crimes.” We need a band of attorneys to be able to represent Muslims who are being entrapped by informants. Family members of those arrested are draining their resources and are receiving minimal assistance from the Muslim community. We need to recognize that the divide-and-conquer strategy is working very well within the Muslim community, with the result that dissent is crushed and support for political prisoners is diminishing. We need activist attorneys to challenge constitutional violations and the unjust arrests so that families will not have to go to court with attorneys who are concerned only with billable hours.

Q: What is the current state of Imam Jamil’s case?

A: Imam Jamil was convicted in 2002 on Georgia state charges. He immediately was transferred to the maximum state prison in Reidsville, Georgia, where he was held in administrative lockdown. Despite his physical isolation, his presence in the prison for other inmates had an electrical charge. While visiting him, we would see other inmates, passing by on their visits, raising their fists or giving salaams, and—their visitors would do the same.

In 2006, the FBI released a report called “The Radicalization of Muslim Inmates in the Georgia Prison System.” The report focused on the effort by Muslim inmates in the Georgia prison system to have Imam Jamil serve as imam over all Muslim Georgia inmates. Georgia officials realized that Imam Jamil did not initiate the effort, and although he agreed to stop the effort, the FBI launched its own investigation. We believe the report by the FBI was the final step in getting him moved out of Georgia, to the federal supermax prison where so many high profile Muslims are being held.

The Georgia conviction is still being challenged through a habeas corpus action to prove my husband’s innocence. [A writ of habeas corpus is a request for a reversal of a conviction. Imam Jamil’s habeas lists fourteen very compelling reasons why his conviction should be reversed. –editor]. That was filed in 2005. We are at the end of that state process, and attempting to move forward, and hopefully will have a ruling next year.

Q: So even though Imam Jamil was not convicted on any federal charges, he was moved from state to federal custody?

A: Yes, Imam Jamil was moved out of Reidsville without notification to his family or attorneys. The move was based on an agreement between the State of Georgia and the Federal Bureau of Prisons to take on state prisoners. Georgia pays the Federal Bureau of Prisons every month to house him. They whisked him away in a hot van, and had him sit for hours in 90-degree temperature until he developed chest pains, and had to be taken to an Atlanta hospital. We knew nothing about this. They kept him overnight, and then returned him to the airport for a flight to the Oklahoma City Federal Penitentiary. From there, he was taken to Florence, CO. The move alone violates the Bureau of Prisons’ rule that an inmate must be housed within 500 miles of his home.

Q: Tell me about some of the lawsuits initiated by Imam Jamil.

A: Imam Jamil filed numerous grievances while in Reidsville and Florence, Colorado, that ultimately ended in his filing various lawsuits:

Legal Mail Lawsuit

This lawsuit was filed because the Reidsville prison staff continued to open legal mail from me to my husband. The Department of Corrections in Atlanta was notified that opening his legal mail in his absence was a violation of the department’s standard operating procedure, and a First Amendment violation. The Southern District Court, in which the lawsuit was filed, ruled in his favor, and Georgia appealed. The case then went to the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals for argument. At that point, the 11th Circuit appointed a prominent Atlanta-based attorney and his firm to represent my husband on a pro bono basis. The 11th Circuit Court of Appeals ruled that the action of the staff in opening legal mail from me to my husband was a First Amendment violation. Georgia appealed to the U.S. Supreme Court; that Court refused to hear Georgia’s appeal.

Retaliation Lawsuit

From the day he entered the Reidsville Georgia prison, he was held in administrative 23-hour lockdown. He’s never done a juma’a since he was incarcerated—from 2002 until now. So, we do have fundamental constitutional issues. We will continue to challenge the inhumane and punitive actions of the Georgia Prison system to prevent Imam Jamil’s contact with other prisoners and the right to practice his religion during his incarceration. Additionally, we will challenge the retaliatory transfer from Georgia to a supermax “no contact” prison without his having a federal charge, conviction or sentence. We are very concerned about the impact solitary confinement has on the physical and mental condition of an inmate. [So, specific factors being challenged in the retaliation lawsuit include the imam’s 23-hour per day lockdown in Reidsville, the violation of his religion rights within the Georgia prison system, and the gratuitous transfer to the Florence Supermax. –editor]

Challenge to the Prison Litigation Reform Act

The State has refused to settle our legal mail case; therefore, we are preparing for trial. In doing so, we first are challenging the Prison Litigation Reform Act (PLRA). Our position is that a constitutional violation is sufficient to win punitive damages, just as a physical injury entitles one to punitive damages. Courts are divided on this issue. [The PLRA, as it stands, prevents Imam Jamil—and others in his position—from receiving punitive damages for violations such as the opening of his legal mail in his absence, on the grounds that the damage inflicted was not physical. –editor]. Our case will give the 11th Circuit Court of Appeals an opportunity to rule on this issue.

Q: What is the situation with Otis Jackson, the self-confessed shooter in the crime for which Imam Jamil was convicted?

A: Our attorneys have deposed Otis Jackson. His testimony, that he committed the actions for which Imam Jamil was convicted, has been consistent. So, we’ve made some headway, but it’s taken a long time. One of the reasons the State said Otis couldn’t have done it, is that he was wearing an electronic monitor. We talked to the maker of the monitor and learned that it is possible to beat the monitor. And in fact, he had a faulty electronic monitor.

Part of the habeas has been that Otis was not investigated. The prosecutor told our attorneys “Oh, he’s crazy, like the other ones,” and the attorneys froze and did nothing to investigate the confession or the monitoring device.

Q: Any final words for New Trend readers?

A: Imam Jamil was previously incarcerated [under the COINTELPRO era prosecutions of Black, Native American, and other leaders and activists –editor] for five years. He got out in 1976. Right after the 2002 conviction, the prosecuting attorney for the State said, “After 24 years, we finally got him.” This confirmed Imam Jamil’s position that it was a government conspiracy. Our immediate short-term goal is to have the Imam transferred back to Georgia, or to a federal prison within a 500-mile radius of his home. Our ultimate goal, naturally, is to exonerate Imam Jamil.

---
Donations for Imam Jamil’s defense may be sent to:

The Justice Fund
P.O. Box 115363
Atlanta, GA 30310

Write to Imam Jamil Al-Amin:

Reg. No. 99974-555
USP Florence ADMAX
P.O. Box 8500
Florence, CO 81226

For more information, contact:
thejusticefund@aol.com

Eid Fun at ISB (Islamic Society of Baltimore)

2010-09-13T23:45:00.000-04:00

On Eid morning, I was distributing New Trend at the ISB, located on Baltimore’s West side. It is Baltimore’s largest and possibly most “controlled” mosque. The mood of the mosque-goers was upbeat, and nearly everyone I approached took the NT (unlike some mosques, where worshippers run away from a sista trying to hand them of a copy of the anti-imperialist Islamic paper). I was more than halfway into the distribution when a balding gent in grey shalwar-kameez approached me. He was unremarkable in appearance, somewhat slender (lacking the characteristic middle class Paki pot belly), clean-shaven, and bespectacled.

“What is this, sister?” he asked rhetorically.

I gave him my standard, This-is-an-Islamic-paper, it-talks-about-the-issues-affecting-the-Muslim-world speal. I expected him to take the NT and walk away, but instead he faced me with a dark look on his face.

“You need permission to distribute anything here,” he said.

“Really?” I breathed, surprised. “Is this something new? We have always distributed our newsletter here and it was never a problem.”

What I told him was nothing short of the truth. Spineless mosque staffers had initially threatened to call the cops on the NT editor as he stood distributing the vanguard Islamic paper. He told them to go ahead, please do. After that, the mosque administration had stopped harassing him and other volunteers when they distributed the NT.

“Yes, we have a new policy in place as of last year. Everything has to be approved by the board,” he said, his slight Paki accent emerging. “We had to do this because we were getting a lot of complaints about literature which was unIslamic or anti-American. Law enforcement was also concerned.”

“I see,” I said. “Well, I can certainly understand you have a policy. Can you please look this over, and make sure it’s not unIslamic,” I proffered a copy of the NT to him.

He said, “No, I can’t. It has to go before the board.”

“Well you’re on the board, right?”

Yes, but this is not a dictatorship. I can’t simply okay it without consulting the other members of the board.”

“Well, what if there is no time to consult the other members of the board?” I asked. “This is the Eid prayer. Time is of the essence.” I was getting irritated because people were walking by, without receiving information I thought invaluable, while Mr. Unremarkable waylaid me.

“This is the policy,” he was adamant, as only a toady can be.

“Look I’m a visitor. I’m don’t usually come here, and I wasn’t aware of the new policy, because, as I said, in the past there was never any problem with distributing Islamic literature. I’m asking you to please check it, and okay it,” I was clutching at straws.

“As I said it’s not a dictatorship,” he said.

“Okay, I understand you have a policy. Excuse me while I....” I headed toward the road, but it seemed to concern him that I was going to distribute the NTs even there.

“This is private property. You need permission to distribute anything here.”

“The masjid belongs to Allah,” I said.

“Let’s not go there,” he said.

“Why not go there?” I countered. “Do you see anyone else talking about these issues?” I indicated the NT articles on Afghanistan and Iraq. That is why I’m distributing this paper. No one else is talking about it.” Despite the residual Ramadan sabr, exasperation was setting in.

“We do talk about the issues,” he said. “I talk about the issues. In fact I’ll be on NPR tonight, talking about anti-terrorism.”

NPR. This joker was going to be on airwaves where independent-minded Muslim leaders were persona non grata. I relinquished all hope of him “permitting” a NT distribution.

“Really?” I feigned interest. “What’s your name? I asked.

“I’m ---,” he said proudly.

“I’ll make it a point to listen. And I understand you have a policy. I won’t be distributing anything on your property,” I told him. “Thank you for standing up for Haq. I hope you do great on NPR tonight,” I said, my voice heavy with sarcasm.

I’d been retreating toward the property line all the while, and he’d followed me, as if to intimidate, with the same dark look on his face. When I got to the road, I immediately resumed distribution of the NT, and he walked off, pretending to check the mailbox. I found that this was actually a much more effective vantage point from which to hand out papers, eliminating duplicate copies of the paper going to the same family, and in fact, conferring a degree of officiousness on the distributor, as I greeted the brothers and sisters just outside the mosque entrance. Nearly all the cars exiting the mosque took the NT, some of them honking their horns to get my attention if I missed them.

The interlude raised a number of issues:

1) The mosque administration seems more concerned with the sensitivities of law enforcement, than either the genocide being enacted upon the Muslim world, or, the interests of its congregation. Additionally, intrusion of law enforcement into mosques may violate the U.S.’s own laws mandating strict Separation of Church and State (or Mosque and State, in this case).

2) The mosque appears to forfeit First Amendment Freedoms in disallowing the distribution of items with the tenuous label of “anti-American” (ie, which dare question U.S. foreign policy). So, Muslims have fewer rights to speak out on issues at their own mosque than non-Muslim Americans who criticize U.S. foreign policy (whether at a religious institution or elsewhere). On the other hand, Madeleine Albright, instrumental in the mass extermination of Iraqi children, was infamously permitted to use this very mosque, the ISB, as a mouthpiece. Similarly, U.S. politicians are welcome to canvass there, and distribution of literature, such as that disseminated after Eid salat, entitled “Islam on Capitol Hill presents Jummah Prayer on Capitol Hill,” is permitted. So, only pro-government views—and not others—may be heard at the mosque, a clear contradiction of democratic (and Muslim) ideals.

3) The extent of government control of this mosque is troubling. Surveillance cameras, reportedly supplied by DHS, are in place, on and around the property, ostensibly for the protection of the mosque. Exactly who has access to the surveillance garnered by the cameras is unclear. If the property is under surveillance, are the khutbas also approved, monitored, or otherwise scrutinized by the authorities, as, for example, under the Egyptian or Saudi dictatorships? If so, would this not constitute a clear violation of First Amendment freedoms?

An Interview with Karima Al-Amin (Part 1 of 2)

2010-07-29T06:06:00.002-04:00

The Fourth of July is my birthday. Each year, I seek an activity which expounds on Frederick Douglass’ renowned musing “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July” and my social consciousness as a Muslim. This Fourth, I visited Atlanta to run the Peachtree 10K race, the nation’s largest 10K (it boasts 50,000 participants) and to interview Karima Al-Amin, wife of Imam Jamil Al-Amin (formerly H. Rap Brown).

Imam Jamil Al-Amin is one of America’s foremost political prisoners, currently being held at the infamous high security prison in Florence, Colorado. I felt his case had received a degree of exposure, at least by independent Islamic media, but that far less was known about his wife and partner in the struggle, an activist in her own right.

Karima Al-Amin graciously granted me an interview at short notice, even though it meant according me her scant leisure time (the holiday was one of those rare occasions on which she closed her law office). I was to meet her soon after my race. When I called to confirm the details of our meeting, she expressed concern for my condition. Was I too tired and dehydrated after the race, being unaccustomed to Atlanta weather? And did I require more time to rest before our meeting? I was reminded of Imam Jamil, whose self-less concern for his visitors to the prison—even while he himself was being subjected to daily humiliation at the hands of prison guards—was fabled. And—she insisted she would drive to my hotel so that I would not have to attempt to navigate unfamiliar territory. We agreed to hold the interview in my hotel room.

She entered the room, a slender, bespectacled woman, with quiet manner and majestic bearing, dressed modestly in light green hijab. But, as she began to speak, I realized this was easily the most eloquent, self-confident, and politically aware Muslim woman I’d encountered. She was clearly very seeped in Islamic faith; indeed, it may have been what allowed her (and hence her family) to survive the incredible trials they’d experienced; yet she was not ostentatious with her Arabic, nor haughty or judgmental of me or others.

Q: How did you meet Imam Jamil, and what attracted you to him initially?

A: I met him July 31, 1967. I remember that day because it was the first day I had a job. I had just graduated from the State University of Oswego. I was there four years. I majored in English with the aim of teaching K - 9th grades.

Imam Jamil walked into the job. He was staying with my supervisor. The job was on 135th Street, in Harlem. It was with Job Corps. I thought I’d keep the job a while.

The Imam walked in. At the time, he had a cadre of bodyguards. He was meeting Minister Farrakhan, so he asked the supervisor “See if she’ll go to lunch with us.” I was the only female at a big table of only brothers. I remember it was a big, big table, and we got back to the job at 5 PM.

That evening, Nina Simone was performing. She had invited Imam Jamil. In later years, he kept in touch with her. She autographed a photo for him that night, which I still have.

Q: Tell me about yourself and your background.

A: My grandmother and mother were Canadian. In 1929, my grandmother brought my mother, her sister, and one of her brothers to the U.S. after divorcing my grandfather. They were deported, and then returned. Then, in 1938, my grandmother went before a judge to ask for her citizenship. In 1942, while my grandmother was living in Los Angeles, Immigration denied her case. By 1942, my mother’s sister had married. Her husband was in the entertainment business, and his father wrote “Dark Town Strutters Ball.” She was a little activist and traveled broadly.

My mother lived in the building where La Guardia, Duke Ellington, and other musicians lived on Fifth Avenue in New York. My father was from the U.S. (from Virginia), and was in the navy. He and my mother married in 1942, and I was born years later in New York.

We moved to Riverton, built and owned by Metropolitan Life Assurance, in Harlem on Fifth Avenue. It was built mainly for African Americans so that we would not reside in the company’s other private developments built for Europeans. In fact, my mother and father were considering being part of a class action suit to challenge the discriminatory practices of the company. Nevertheless, my parents moved to Riverton where I went to school in Harlem. and my mother was involved in the PTA.

My mother was involved in the PTA fighting zoning issues, and that was the first time the FBI came to the house. They thought the communists must be behind this, and we thought they were going to take our mother away.

My mother is from Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. We would go back and forth to Canada to visit our grandfather, our aunts and uncles, and cousins. My father didn’t want to tell a fib, so when they asked him is everyone in the car a U.S. citizen, he would just nod his head.

We’re actually the descendants of runaway slaves. My sister and cousins are being tested to determine where we are from, but so far Spain, Portugal, and Europe are coming up, and not Africa. So, my family members still are exploring further testing.

My mother, after 30 years of being a housewife, went for a job with the NAACP Legal Defense Fund. Thurgood Marshall was the head of it. He wanted her to be in charge of payroll. To do this, she had to be bonded. Thurgood Marshall sponsored my mother to this end. I became the baby sitter for Thurgood Marshall and various African American judges and attorneys of the Legal Defense Fund.

I remember that my mother would tell my friends to put their dresses on so we could go to the Apollo. During the intermission, she had us walk around with buckets to collect money for whichever case was being fought in the South at the time.

Q: What led to your personal involvement in the Black Liberation struggle?

A: In college, I helped organize the Friends of SNCC. That should have told me I’d wind up with the chair of SNCC. I graduated in June and met Imam Jamil in July. My sister and her husband got arrested. They were with RAM (Revolutionary Action Movement). This was the first case in which middle class African Americans were involved in supporting the Black Liberation struggle. RAM is mentioned in the original COINTELPRO papers along with SNCC, Stokely, H. Rap Brown, etc. My husband went to a rally for RAM before I met him.

By August 1967, the FBI had contacted me. They said, “You know your sister was framed. If you help us, we’ll clear her.” I told them I knew she’d be cleared because she was framed. The FBI wanted me to work for them to provide reports on Imam Jamil.

My parents were very involved with the community. We were a close knit family. I had a non-traumatic childhood (other than the fact that I was almost electrocuted). We did not go without anything. We traveled a lot. My father helped form an organization for African American city workers in transit.

My first trip to the South was in 1959 when a girlfriend of mine invited me to travel with her to visit her relatives. One day, we went shopping to look at earrings. I went to hand money to one of the workers, and she threw the money on the floor. Later, I was trying to buy a hotdog, and they would not sell it to me, because the hot dog stand was “Whites Only.” Up in New York, we protested White Castle (fast food establishment).

My mother was very proper. When my husband’s book came out, she would not say the name of the book, because it was called Die Nigger Die!

The FBI hounded my parents. They went to my father’s job repeatedly. Despite this, my parents continued to be very supportive. I came from very smart, compassionate parents. They both died young (at age 51). One day, we went to the grocery store. When we came out, we found our car had a flat tire. We said, “Oh FBI.”

Not long after, my father stopped at a gas station to fix a flat tire. He collapsed and died. Imam Jamil’s mother died the week after that. Then, my mother went into the hospital. They discovered an aneurism on the right side of her brain. Then, they located another on the left, and she died two months later, in June. Then, in October, Imam Jamil was shot and went to the same hospital where my mother died. In fact, he was in the room next to where my mother spent two months before she died. All this happened in one year. We just didn’t have time for grieving.
To be continued

Notes on March 20 Protest

2010-03-26T00:45:00.002-04:00

The energy of Saturday’s anti-war march proved yet again that questioning and anti-war sentiment is not dead among the youth. The crowd was overwhelmingly youthful, creative, and colorful in their modes of protest. Young Muslim women in hijab were out in force. Student activists, acting on ANSWER’s (ie, the organizer’s) suggestion to bring drums, pots, and pans (“anything to make noise against the war”) to the march, banged away just feet from the White House gates. The hugely talented Korean and Palestinian drum troupes, in particular, drew attention to the protest.

The commitment of the protesters was inspiring. Many had traveled all night or spent long hours on buses and trains to get to the protest. One young Caucasian man I met had driven from Chicago by himself. Evidently not of means, he’d intended to camp out while waiting for the protest to begin. He went to one campsite and then another, each time greeted by a sign “Closed Until April.” Undeterred, he slept in his car until the morning of the protest.

I am always surprised at the diversity of kaffiya-wearers at such events: there were the usual Palestinians, Arabs, Pakistanis, and Kanye West-ers. But then there were the kaffiya-wearing Caucasian males, whom, encountered elsewhere, I’d easily mistake for a redneck. That’ll teach me to stereotype.

Many leading voices in the struggle for justice were present: Ramsey Clark, Dick Gregory, Rev. Graylan Hagler, Hodari Abdul-Ali, Cindy Sheehan, and others. The local peoples’ radio station, WPFW (89.3 FM), which has told the truth about the war since its inception, was well represented. Representatives of D.R.U.M. (South Asian immigrant rights group) were there, as were Iraq Veterans Against the War, and Military Families for Peace. Representatives of the campaign to impeach Bush, as well as those from ArrestBlair.com, a group which challenges U.K. citizens to arrest Blair on war crimes (http://arrestblair.org/), made their presence felt.

Most striking was the line of pallbearers leading the march. In a mock funeral procession, they carried symbolic coffins bearing the flags of Iraq, Lebanon, Somalia, Yemen, and other countries invaded and occupied by the U.S. or its henchmen. There were also coffins draped with American flags, a reminder that predominantly poor, black, brown and Latino people have been the cannon fodder of America’s illegal wars. I noted the green and white flag covering the coffin of my native Pakistan, and immediately thought of Abdur Rasheed Ghazi (shaheed) of Red Mosque fame, lying there bleeding to death, forever changing the legacy of that centuries old Islamabad mosque, assaulted by Paki mercenaries in U.S.-supplied tanks.

Theatrics abounded at the protest. An American flag was burned on stage, by a former U.S. Army machine gunner and her youthful companion from the IVAW (Iraq Veterans Against the War). At one point, as the march proceeded past the offices of Halliburton, an effigy of Dick Cheney was squeezed, stomped, and finally trampled “to death.” At the end of the march, the coffins were delivered to the White House gate. Cindy Sheehan called Barack Obama a war criminal as she was led away in handcuffs (part of a civil disobedience action in which eight people were arrested), her supporters emotionally responding with shouts of “Let her go!” The Muslim American Society’s Mahdi Bray spouted anti-war rhetoric reminescent of pre-election Obama, into a megaphone tenderly held for him by Brian Becker, but carefully avoided mentioning a single Islamic resistance movement (even though without these, the war would be passé). A spacewoman, in intergalactic helmet, swayed to the drums of peace, while a short distance away, a hula-hooper kept rhythm to the beat.

Among the most insightful and relevant signs carried by the protesters:

• “Myth No. 1: This Time War will help Afghan Women” (carried by an older Caucasian woman)

• “End drone attacks” and “Northrup Grumen + One Drone = 35 Mil” (both carried by representatives of Code Pink, which did a particularly excellent job of calling attention to the inhumanity of the U.S. use of drones in killing)

• “Stop Israeli War Crimes, Stop Billions of Tax Dollars to Israel” (this was one of the largest banners)

• “US troops out of the Philippines, Iraq, Afghanistan, Haiti, and everywhere” (this was a beautiful, colorful sign, carried by members of Alliance-Phillipines USA)

• “Shariah law for a peaceful Iraq and Afghanistan” and “Is it terrorism to defend one’s land?” carried by brothers from the Islamic Thinkers Society, an independent group from Comstock, NY, which seems to have broken from the limited thinking of the big money Moozlem groups which take their queque from Riyadh/Cairo/Washington (more on this at a later date)

• “We need jobs and schools, not war” (preprinted, unfortunately, on hundreds of signs by the A.N.S.W.E.R. Coalition, but still helpful in drawing the interest of many bystanders)

(The march proceeded from Lafayette Park through downtown, past the corporate offices of Morgan Stanley, the Washington Post, Halliburton, and the National Bankers Association. Unfortunately, I missed the procession, as I came to the protest directly from the National Marathon, which I ran that morning, in dedication to Leonard Peltier, Native American political prisoner, whose case first made me personally aware of the many political prisoners held in U.S. prisons. So, alhamdulillah, I ran the 26.2 in a shirt calling for his freedom. I finished the marathon close to 11:00 AM, and left soon after, since I knew the anti-war actions would begin at 12:00 noon. Unfortunately, the many road closures that morning delayed me, until famished and dehydrated, I took a break to grab some Thai noodles, slurped these down, then abandoned my car, and hopped on the metro to catch up to the protesters.)

Alhamdulillah, we were able to distribute some JAMI literature. At one point, I was speaking to an older Caucasian woman who held a sign that said “Free Gaza.” She asked for a copy of the flier I was distributing. When I gave it to her, she looked it over and immediately asked for additional copies to pass along to others. This scene replayed itself throughout the day, as many people were pleased to receive JAMI’s now old, famous “Boycott Major Supporters of Zionism” flier, and wanted additional copies for their friends.

As I was about to leave the protest, I spotted a young man in a tee that read “I fund international terrorism.” I grinned and offered to buy the shirt from him. He grinned back and said rhetorically “Yup, I pay taxes to the U.S. government.” It was a heartening last view of the protest, the thinking youth, who are this country’s hope for the future.

An Exchange with the Hillel Director

2008-11-17T22:02:00.006-05:00

Last Thursday I had an interesting exchange with the Towson University (Baltimore) Hillel director, following an on-campus lecture by Imam Muhammad Al-Asi.

Hillel seems to carry some clout at Towson, as it does at UMBC, and other U.S. universities. At the University of Maryland College Park, the "flagship university of the University of Maryland system, the organization has its own student center, providing kosher meals for Jewish students. In years past, I watched Hillel and other zionist groups place a gargantuan Israeli flag just outside the Adele H. Stamp Union on Israeli "Independence Day," wondering how UMCP's Palestinian students might feel upon encountering the reminder of zionist power atop their student union. The lecture, organized by the Towson MSA, was by Imam Muhammad Al-Asi. For once, I was there to attend--and they were there to protest.

Here is the exchange (as close to verbatim as memory would allow):

Me: Is it true that Hillel offers students all expense paid tours of "Israel"?

Hillel Director: Yes, that's correct.

Me: Can Muslim students participate in such tours?

Hillel Director: No.

Me: I understand that Hillel's tours offer Jewish students an opportunity to visit or stay in a kibbutz. Does the tour also include a visit to a Palestinian refugee camp?

Hillel Director: No.

Me: What is the primary aim of Hillel's tours to Israel?

Hillel Director: Propaganda.

I was rather amazed that the man was as blunt as he was. To be honest, he didn't seem like the brightest bulb in the.... so he could have conceded more than is typical for men of his position. Or not. Whatever the case, the dialogue revealed an overtly racist, exclusionary policy, meant to benefit only a select group.

Muslim students groups and their supporters need to consider organizing tours/exchange programs to Palestine for Muslim youth and students who are interested in going. It will make the Palestinian issue more relevant to the community.

Daily Racism on Baltimore's MTA

2008-05-12T02:16:00.019-04:00

Ask virtually any Black person in the U.S., and he or she will tell you the police abuse Black people with impunity. Acts of police brutality are largely unreported for a variety of reasons, ranging from fear of reprisal and lack of faith in the System, to illiteracy and lack of awareness of legal options. Except within the Black community, the issue is rarely acknowledged or discussed. The notion that 9/11 was the first act of terrorism on U.S. soil is indicative of such tunnel vision. Centuries of lynchings, executions, rapes, and pseudo-scientific experimentation on Black people are somehow excluded from the rubric of terrorist acts on American soil.

I've discussed the issue of police brutality with a broad spectrum of Blacks and Whites. The difference in reaction is stark, and strictly divided along racial lines.

The reaction of Whites generally falls in one of four categories:

1. Don't you realize the predicament the poor cop is in? He doesn't know which suspect has a gun, and which one doesn't. If you were in that situation, you'd probably shoot first and ask questions later, too.
2. You deride them now, but I'll bet you'd call them in an instant if someone breaks into your house.
3. Oh, they pulled him over, searched his car, and held him for three hours? It happened to me, too.
4. He's in jail/dead/etc.? He must have done it.

Unfortunately, these reactions do not reflect the reality on the ground. The reaction of Black people is formulated through first hand experience. Nothing brings home reality quicker than being at the end of a police baton or stun gun. And judging from the number of Black men spreadeagled outside Jaguars and Lexuses in police stops, class offers little protection.

I'm not evidently Black, and am generally exempt from police harassment. As a Muslim, however, I feel strongly that I must speak out on this issue for three reasons:

1. Everyone living in the U.S. has profited from forced Black labor. We owe a debt to Black people. At the very least, we must oppose police brutality against the very people without whom this country's very infrastructure would not exist.

2. To remain silent against the racist power structure is to acquiesce--indeed profit from--that power structure.

3. The Qur'an commands opposition to injustice. And racism (with all its economic implications) is the leading form of injustice in the U.S.

Only the most blatant acts of police terror--such as those involving Amadou Diallo, Abner Louima, or Sean Bell--garner corporate media attention, and that too, usually after massive public outcry. But terrorism of the U.S. Black population occurs daily, and at many levels. Some are immediately life-threatening, such as the dragging of James Byrd, Jr., behind a pickup truck in Jasper, Texas, or the deliberate ramming of Black suspects with police cruisers in South Carolina. Others are not immediately life-threatening, but rather confer long-range mental and physical health problems on the victims.

Take for example, the case of a close friend, who is Black. He was accosted by MTA police on the Baltimore light rail enroute to work. The events as he related them:

Between commuting by public transportation and time spent at work, he is away from home at least 14 hours a day. Since he is very strapped for time, he occasionally pays bills via cell phone during his long commute. Recently, he boarded the train, sat down, and was paying a utility bill, when three hulking MTA cops approached him. My friend is 5'4," slender and slight, with a very quiet manner. He does not engage in illegal or threatening behaviors in public. The approach by three cops seemed grossly misplaced.

They demanded to see my friend's boarding pass (checking of boarding passes is standard procedure on light rail, but generally conducted by a regular MTA employee). He took a few seconds too long to hang up the cell and produce it, so they verbally assaulted him.

He challenged their rudeness. They removed him from the train without warning. Then, they wrote him a citation for "disorderly conduct". Since he was forced to miss his train and had to wait for a later one, he was late for work--a very serious matter, since he is the only breadwinner for his family, and could be suspended or fired for tardiness. And he was saddled with the added burden of going to court to contest the bogus citation.

My friend said what he'd experienced was not at all unusual. Poor and working class Black people riding Baltimore's light rail are routinely accosted by cops. He'd witnessed an incident involving an elderly Black woman with dreadlocks. Probably hungry after a hard day's work and facing a long commute on the slow moving train, she committed the mortal sin of eating a piece of bread on the light rail (eating on the train is technically prohibited by MTA rules). "MTA police jacked her up," said my friend. "They put her in a choke hold, and took her off the train."

He relayed another such incident involving a young Black woman with her child. She was quietly sitting on the train, talking to her mate on her cell, when she was accosted by two MTA cops. It was not clear what "crime" she'd committed. MTA police demanded her ID, frisked and verbally assaulted her--all in front of her child. Then, the cops forcefully removed her and the child from the train. When her mate arrived at the scene, the cops threatened to arrest him, too.

By contrast, the Whites who board the same light rail in Hunt Valley, Falls Road, or other affluent Baltimore suburbs enroute to their plush offices in downtown Baltimore, or to BWI Airport encounter no such police harassment. White and Asian tourists traveling by light rail for an afternoon of frolicking around Baltimore's sordidly gentrified Inner Harbor are untouched by racist cops. The rich, white drunks overflowing light rail trains leaving Camden Yards (stadium site) following a baseball game (whose tickets are so expensive as to be unaffordable to most of Baltimore's Black majority) are not harassed. Frequently, their fares are not even checked, nor is their public drunkenness.

Indeed police harassment appears reserved for Baltimore's poor Blacks, who often spend hours trying to get to work on the city's highly inefficient mass transit, to earn slave wages which they dutifully turn over to bloodsucking slumlords. All of this occurs in a majority Black city. I watch both sides of it from where I sit at work, and it makes me sick to the stomach. A People's Tribunal--to record and eventually try everyday acts of police terror against the U.S. Black population--is needed.

Defeated--For Now

2007-12-27T02:32:00.009-05:00

Today marks one year since I lost Abdul Hakeem. Unlike my ex-husband Asif, he could not be seduced by blond hair and blue eyes. Unlike my beloved friend Steve (without whom my science major would be a thing of the past) he was not alcohol’s marionette.

Abdul Hakeem lived on Baltimore's Garrison Avenue, a proverbial American ghetto. There he could live free of the daily taunts of “nigger” which pervaded his Anne Arundel County childhood, while affording the rent and court-ordered $700/month child support on his meager blue collar wages.

At that time, I had my ancient red Honda with “permanently” fused tail light (“permanently” because the entire fixture--not just the bulb, was in need of replacement, an expensive, if not impossible proposition for a student). Every trip up and down Garrison in the Honda was an ordeal. The pigs who haunted the block stopped and gave me a work order or citation nearly every visit. To me, a small-built Asian woman, the pigs were cordial. I could only imagine the harassment that poor and working class black residents of the area endured at their hands.

One block south of Abdul Hakeem’s apartment stood the trick. She looked sickly, her face ashen and devoid of emotion. Despite the freezing weather, she wore no coat. She stood shivering and looking miserable, as I wondered how I might safely help her. What a far cry from the pimps and hoes often the butt of jokes among the privileged and uninformed students on my campus.

Two blocks south, at Hilton and Garrison, was the nearest “grocery store.” Charging thrice the going rate for produce purchased at suburban grocers, it reeked with the stench of dead rats. On payday, the customer service counter was swamped with poor people with no bank accounts, trying to get money orders to pay exorbitant rents to Indo-Pak slum lords. The “grocery store” shared the strip with a liquor store and a dollar store. The shopping center housing the three was graced by a blue strobe light and surveillance cameras.

Adjacent to the strip mall but right on the main road was a bar and a pawnshop. Across from that was another liquor store. One block from Abdul Hakeem’s apartment was the bail bonds man. Another few blocks south was a McDonalds and a Duncan Donuts. And a block north was a church.

When I first visited Garrison Avenue, I was bemused: Where were all the grocery stores? Libraries? Parks? Restaurants (serving real food)? Coffee shops? Books stores? It made no sense. There were children living here. They needed playgrounds, libraries, community centers, grocery stores, toy stores.

Once, during a trip to New York, my father pointed out to me that Manhattan was the modern day Big House, and Bronx the Slave Quarters. In New York, the juxtaposition was glaringly evident, but a similar theme seemed to arise in many American cities. It occurred to me that Baltimore’s slave quarters included Garrison Boulevard and the area surrounding it. Slaves were not to consume nutritious food, or drink. They were there to eat chitlin’s and to serve the labor needs of the massa. They were not to read, study, or discuss issues. To do so could lead to a slave revolt.

Surrounded by depravity, Abdul Hakeem did not succumb. He did not patronize the liquor stores, the bail bonds men, the tricks, or the churches. He smiled, joked, laughed and loved his way through life, bringing joy to everyone who crossed his path. He enchanted me with his soft voice, gentle manner, and sweet smile.

He had a son, Hakeem, who lived with him. Abdul Hakeem adored Hakeem, and his whole life revolved around the boy. The first time I called their residence, the boy answered the phone in his high pitched child's voice, his impeccable manners coming across clearly on the phone line. He was a bright youngster, gifted in math, and deadly at chess. We clicked almost immediately, and I took him under my wing, tutoring him in math, buying him books and school uniforms, and taking him out for special treats when he did particularly well. I learned that the boy’s mother had died of breast cancer when he was very young. I knew that I could never take the place of the mother, but this made me even more protective of Hakeem.

Eventually, Abdul Hakeem and I became engaged, and I was thrilled at the prospect that I would be gaining a husband and a son. I picked out the red dress I would wear at our wedding. We debated where in Africa to hold the nikkah.

Abdul Hakeem worried a great deal about his son (and I—when I came to visit them) being in the drug-ridden climate at Garrison. After a great deal of apartment-hunting (between working ten hour shifts and commuting by public transportation), Abdul Hakeem found an apartment on the north side of town. The rent, while high, was not completely out of reach, as it was at some of the places he’d looked at, and it was, by all appearances, a “clean” neighborhood. By now it was summer, and while Abdul Hakeem worked long hours, Hakeem, on break from school, fraternized with the unemployed, marijuana-using neighbors in the apartment below. When Abdul Hakeem found out about this, he was furious and forbade Hakeem from subsequent visits. As a result, there was an altercation between father and son. Then another. And another. Then, tragically, the younger Hakeem called the police on his father, saying that Abdul Hakeem had threatened him. The cops came to the apartment and took the police report.

A few months later, the teenager ran away to Delaware, from whence his dead mother hailed and which he perceived as his Shangrila. Unfortunately for him, unemployment and poverty in the area was even worse than Baltimore, and the boy, who by this time was living with his mother’s unemployed, pothead relatives, joined their ranks. Within months, he was jailed for grand larceny. The charges were dropped, but an onerous pattern was emerging.

Abdul Hakeem and I went to Delaware to meet Hakeem and his social worker in court. We hoped to bring the boy home. But, Hakeem told his social worker that he would rather be a ward of the state of Delaware for the remainder of the time until he turned 18 than to return home with his father. In the waiting area outside the court, Hakeem barely spoke to Abdul Hakeem. When he did speak, it was as if he was addressing one of his homies, not his father. The last Abdul Hakeem heard from Hakeem was that he was attempting to enlist in the National Guard, but having trouble getting in due to his athsma.

That fall, Abdul Hakeem’s mother, Delma, died of cancer. He’d been very close to her, and was profoundly affected by her loss. Abdul Hakeem had two brothers, Mark and Andre, both of whom lived in what had been Delma’s apartment. Before passing away, she had asked Abdul Hakeem to take care of Andre, who was “a little slow.” Since neither of the other two brothers was responsible, and Hakeem was out of the picture, the need for a space of his own was less. So, Abdul Hakeem assumed Delma’s lease. No sooner had he moved into his mother’s apartment, which still contained her special scent, to take care of his retarded brother than he found out that both of his brothers were on crack.

The following May, Abdul Hakeem and I visited the National Zoo (it was his birthday). It was a beautiful day, and we spent much of our time in the Ape House, philosophizing on the inhumanity of imprisoning such intelligent creatures as primates, and sharing dreams of liberating them, before going on to have dinner at a favorite restaurant.

Ironically, the very next day, when Abdul Hakeem visited Child Support Services to make sure he was in good standing with his child support payments (he had two little girls—one from a previous marriage, and another from his jahilliya days), he was locked up. They nabbed him without warning, saying he was behind on payments (the notifications ostensibly mailed to him never arrived). He called me from Central Booking, and told me he was being held in a vastly overcrowded, steamy hot cell with 20 other men.

I immediately put down the carbohydrate biochemistry book I was reading, and ran across town to collect money to bail him out. As a student, I was quite broke, and so had to be creative. I called his employer and advised him of the situation. Abdul Hakeem was a well-respected and reliable employee, and the employer, to my amazement agreed to advance some of the money. The remainder I acquired as a cash advance on my credit card. I posted the money, and then called the employer to update him. Abdul Hakeem was released two days later. Central Booking officials refused to tell me his release time, and though I waited as long as possible to receive him, he was ejected, along with others being released, around midnight, when no public transportation was available, and spent hours traveling home. He went back to work shortly thereafter, and it seemed that things were finally getting back to normal.

But it got worse.

Tony was Abdul Hakeem’s nephew. He never knew his father, and was raised by a mother who brought different men home nightly. Like many young black men, he got caught up in the game, and went to prison for minor offenses. Martial arts, which he’d engaged in since very young, seemed to keep his focus while in prison, and the third degree black belt emerged to acquire his ASE-certification. He was a talented young mechanic, highly sought after by his employer’s patrons. Like Abdul Hakeem, he did not drink, smoke, or take drugs. Abdul Hakeem was proud of him, and considered him a success story in the family, even wishing at times that his son could have been more like Tony.

One day, Abdul Hakeem called to tell me that Tony had been shot to death in his home by the cops. Since Tony’s mother, Carla, was nowhere to be found (she was gallivanting about California with her Italian boyfriend), Abdul Hakeem went to the morgue to claim the body. He was clearly very shaken when he returned. After giving me the initial run down, he entered into a period of depression and refused to speak further on the incident. It was my penultimate semester at school, and, after a very long drawn out academic career riddled with trials and tribulations of every sort, I was doing my darnedest to focus so I might finally graduate. Abdul Hakeem and I started to talk less frequently by phone.

One day, shortly prior to my graduation, Abdul Hakeem became fodder for the prison industry. I feel a complete and utter sense of loss. Although he was not directly involved in the struggle at the time he succumbed, he’d demonstrated the possibilities of daily resistance. I weep at his loss. It is, indeed, a big blow for the Black liberation struggle. My Black shining prince, with whom I’d dreamed of living happily ever after, resides in the Ironhouse of Greed.

Quds (Jerusalem) Day 2007

2007-10-06T23:57:00.008-04:00

I arrived at Dupont Circle around 11:15 AM., hoping to participate in the annual Quds Day procession down Massachusetts Avenue (Embassy Row). The street was unusually quiet--no protestors, no Palestinian flags, in fact nary a Muslim. Disappointed, I walked down Embassy Row to the Islamic Center. Outside this well-known Washington landmark, a small but spirited group, including some of the organizers of the Quds Day event, regularly hold juma'a prayer, known to locals as the Sidewalk Juma'a. The juma'a is held outside--not inside--the mosque, for reasons to be discussed later.

The imam of the Sidewalk Juma'a, Syrian-born Muhammad Al-Asi, had not yet arrived. About a half dozen people milled about, waiting for the khutba to commence. I asked one of them, an Iranian named Yousaf, who seemed to be in charge, about the Quds Day protest. He explained that the procession was cancelled due to the lack of a permit. In my backpack, I carried a Palestinian flag, picturing Masjid Al-Aqsa in the center. Given to me by a dear friend who is a Palestinian artist, activist, and imam in North Carolina, it has special meaning. I expressed my regrets at the march's cancellation, and asked if it might be okay to display the flag as a gesture of solidarity. Yousaf said yes.

I looked around for someone to help me hold the flag. The only brother I knew rather well was busy talking to someone, so I thrust one end of the flag in the direction of two older Iranian gents, figuring one of them would hold it, considering it was the flag of our beloved Palestine, or at least give it to someone else to hold.

One of them took it, but seemed rather embarrassed to be doing so. Although significantly taller than me, he insisted on holding the Palestinian flag much lower than me (almost at waist level), as if hoping no one would notice us. Ah well.

Yousaf, on the other hand, seemed smitten by the flag, because a short time later, he asked if I had any more. I didn't. No one else had any placards or flags, other than a Caucasian brother, who'd brought a yellow Hizbollah flag, with the famous depiction of the kalima in the form of a machine gun.

A short while later, Imam Al-Asi arrived. The khutba was about to commence, and I realized I was at the back of the men's section (necessary to hold the flag with the poor gent I'd impressed into service). The men, predominantly Iranian, were very respectful of me, and no one asked me to move. But, I voluntarily relinquished my end of the flag to a brother, and moved over to the women's section, which, interestingly, flanked the men's section, rather than posterior to it, as is the case at many juma'a congregations.

Asi's khutba powerfully commemorated Quds Day. He quoted verses from the Qur'an naming the characteristics of the Bani Israel. Their nature, as delineated in the Qur'an, he said, was to wreck havoc not just in a single city, country, or even continent--but throughout the earth. The "Muslim" heads-of-state who recognized Israel were complicit in the subjugation of Palestine, said Asi. Imams who refused to speak out against such misguided rulers were "Scholars for Dollars," he said, gesturing towards the Islamic Center.

The grey-haired, bespectacled khateeb's excoriation of corrupt Arab/Muslim rulers partly explained why he was outside a multi-million dollar Islamic Center rather than inside it. It is clearly a role to which he is accustomed. The Sidewalk Juma'a began after Asi was ousted from his elected position as the Center's imam by the Saudi government with the help of U.S. authorities in 1983, and briefly jailed. I asked him what would happen if he attempted to enter the Center today. Asi said he'd variously been barred outright from the Center; been told he could enter but not talk to or interact with anyone; and banned from preaching there. I noted that such actions appeared to constitute particularly flagrant violations of Asi's First Amendment rights (his Islamic right to access the Islamic Center notwithstanding).

Worshippers emerging from the Islamic Center proper appeared stunned at Asi's powerful message, and several of them stopped in the middle of the street, gawking at the kaffiyeh-adorned Sidewalk imam. Notably, few other imams around the DC area commemorated Quds Day, although ostensibly the freedom of Jerusalem--second most holy site to Muslims--is an issue on which Muslims are in complete agreement.

The King David Hotel Bombing—Min al-Erhabi (Who’s the Terrorist)?

2007-07-22T19:05:00.000-04:00

July 22 marks the anniversary of the 1946 bombing of the King David Hotel in Palestine by the Zionist Irgun organization. Palestine was then a British mandate, and the headquarters of the British Secretariat were located in the hotel. Ninety-one people were killed in the bombing. Forty-five more were wounded.

Irgun claimed responsibility. Chaim Weizman, then President of the World Zionist Organization and soon to be first president of Israel, cried when he learned of the bombing, saying he couldn’t help but be very proud for "our boys." (Crossman, A Nation Reborn, The Israel of Weizmann, Bevin and Ben-Gurion)

The lead terrorist was an Israeli named Menachem Begin. Begin was commander of the Irgun at the time of the attack. Irgun’s stated philosophy was that "political violence and terrorism" were "legitimate tools in the Jewish national struggle for the Land of Israel." (Perliger and Weinberg, Jewish Self Defense and Terrorist Groups Prior to the Establishment of the State of Israel: Roots and Traditions, Vol. 4, No. 3)

Indeed Irgun’s actions were congruous with its philosophy. According to author James Gelvin, “Irgun perpetrated some of the most appalling terrorist atrocities committed in modern Palestine,” including a campaign of bombings in Arab markets in 1937. From 1936 – 1939, Irgun carried out at least 60 attacks against Palestinian Arabs. In 1948 the organization carried out the Deir Yassin massacre, in which more than 250 Palestinian villagers were slaughtered (The Israel-Palestine Conflict, Cambridge University Press).

Begin went on to become Israeli Prime Minister in 1977, overseeing the bombing of Iraq’s Osirak reactor in 1981 (while keeping Israel’s nuclear weapons--developed around 1967--a well-guarded secret), and the invasion of Lebanon and Sabra-Shatilla Massacre in 1982. He won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1978.

My American friends tell me that Israel is a bastion of democracy—indeed the only democracy—in the Middle East, and that Palestinians are terrorists. I laugh. And laugh. And laugh.

HPV Vaccine Mandate: a Human Rights Violation?

2007-04-28T03:50:00.000-04:00

The DC City Council passed legislation on April 19 stipulating vaccination against Human Papilloma Virus (HPV) as a requirement for public school attendance for young girls. On April 4, a similar bill was passed by the Virginia legislature. I find the HPV vaccine requirement very troubling and an infringement on the rights of the U.S. female population. (Imagine the hue and cry if an Islamic country were forcing its female population to take an untested vaccine for any reason.)

Some reasons for my objections to the HPV vaccine mandate:

90% of HPV serotypes do not result in cancer.
Sexual activity is required to contract the virus.
The HPV vaccine (Gardasil) has not been adequately tested on the subject (teen) population.
So, 100% of sixth grade girls in Washington, DC (including the significant Muslim population), will be required to take a vaccine for a virus which is non-lethal 90% of the time, which occurs only as a result of sexual activity, and which has yet to undergo proper testing in their age group.
HPV was simply not on the public agenda until (artificially) placed there by a multinational corporation. The vaccine requirement in DC and Virginia--and its very consideration in other states--resulted from extensive lobbying by the manufacturer, Merck. And Merck, like any self-respecting pharmaceutical company, has profit as its primary interest, not public health. The vaccine costs $360 per person to administer, so the bottom line in vaccinating the entire school age population of a major city such as DC is huge. It is clearly a case of corporate interests driving public policy.
Gardasil's use was endorsed by the Centers for Disease Control (CDC) upon the recommendation of the Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices (ACIP), without full disclosure of who sits on the ACIP (for instance, the number of Merck board members).
While the option to opt out on behalf of their children is available to parents, it is feared that the procedure to do so will not be clear to many parents.

So, young girls will be Merck's lab rats. Side effects may not become evident for years, making it difficult to demonstrate Merck/U.S. government complicity in case of complications. And the U.S. government has a long and unsavory history of experimenting on its own population. My suspicion is the HPV requirement may even violate the Geneva Convention on the Rights of the Child--but that is something I'll have to research further.

Protesting the Death Penalty

2007-03-27T22:41:00.000-04:00

On March 24, a UMBC friend and I attended a protest organized by the Baltimore Coalition Against the Death Penalty, and the Campaign to End the Death Penalty at the Super Maximum Security Prison in Baltimore. In recent years, conditions at the facility, including several incidents in which prisoners died while awaiting trial, were the subject of protests. The event at hand, however, focused on the death penalty, as Death Row, evidently, is housed somewhere within the confines of the sprawling, barbed-wire encircled facility, which encompasses several city blocks. Our spirited group of about 40, paraded around the perimeter of the dungeon-like facility, chanting “Death row, hell no!” My friend, who wore a Palestinian kaffiyah, proudly carried a freshly prepared placard which read “Money for jobs and education, not for racist incarceration!”

At an informal rally following the march, the moderator drew attention to the fact that the death penalty targets predominantly black and poor people, and that almost no wealthy, white men are put to death by the state.

A speaker from Physicians for Social Responsibility drew parallels between the killing of poor black prisoners in the U.S. with the killings of innocent Iraqis and Afghans. Another, from the Baltimore Coalition Against the Death Penalty, said that the policy of scapegoating, prevalent in the U.S., blamed Iraqis for U.S. foreign policy woes, immigrants for unemployment, and prisoners for social ills. He deplored the 70% increase in the U.S. prison population in recent years.

Kevin James, of Son of Nun, a socially conscious hip-hop group, told protestors, “Poverty exists because the system relies on it,” before launching into a potent, politically conscious rap. I have the utmost respect for James, who took it upon himself to personally invite me (and many others, I am certain) to the protest. For more on Son of Nun:
http://myspace.com/socialistmc

The mother of Vernon Evans, a well-known death row prisoner, spoke. Evan’s sister was recognized, but did not take the mic.

Afterwards, I extended Islamic greetings and support to the organizers and gave them information about the case of Imam Jamil Al-Amin. My view is that the death penalty, when administered by an unjust, racist state playing God (astagfirullah) should concern all people of conscience, but particularly Muslims, since our faith is about justice. Many death row inmates are imprisoned as a result of inadequate legal counsel, and later found to be innocent of the crimes with which they were charged.

Notes on March 17

2007-03-23T00:22:00.000-04:00

Okay, so I broke my “no-political-activities-during-the-semester” rule and went to the March 17 March on the Pentagon. What better way to start Spring Break, right? ANSWER (Act Now to Stop War and End Racism), which organized the protest, must be credited with a keen sense of history, in planning the event to coincide with the anniversary of the historic 1967 March on the Pentagon. It had been a while since I'd experienced the joy of participating in an independent Muslim contingent, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. As we marched down the hill overlooking the Citadel of Death (the Pentagon) reciting “Allah ho akbar” and “Free, free Palestine” I felt as if I were in a dream. Maybe the rednecks sending me hate mail were right, that I should thank ma lucky stars to be in this great country where I could spew such things and not get arrested. Then again, the protest was on a Saturday afternoon, sparing the tender feelings of the Pentagon brass in particular, and government officials in general. And why not let the proles blow off some steam if it’ll prevent a revolution, especially with Dick, Condi, and Alberto outta town for the weekend. So, I won’t lick Unca Sam's boots outta gratitude for allowing me to be there just yet.

I’ve gotten mostly negative feedback on the protest from Muslims: the protest was lackluster; ANSWER has no program; the turnout was miserable; the Muslims were few in number, disorganized, and undisciplined; and the ever popular it was too cold. My view is that the protest gave us badly needed experience as Muslim organizers. It should have taught us the importance of being on time (or, in some cases, simply showing up); of marching in formation; of good communication (both prior to and during the protest); and of making our voices heard (through distribution of literature, sloganeering, etc) instead of simply blending in. And it should have increased collaboration and trust between Muslims of diverse racial, educational, and socio-economic backgrounds, as is necessary for the building of an independent Muslim movement. Should have.

That the Muslim voice was much more evident than at previous marches was a victory in my view. I do not recall, for instance, hearing takbirat, or very evidently Islamic slogans at previous ANSWER, UFPJ, or MoveOn.Org protests. Distribution of Jamaat al-Muslimeen's "Boycott Israel" fliers, Free Imam Jamil postcards, and CDs of Imam Musa's speeches in defiance of the finger-freezing cold was another victory (thanks to Br. Nabil, Br. Aqueel, and Br. Bilal).

Some have asked me why the need for an independent Muslim contingent for the March 17 (and other) protests. After all, the Muslim American Society (MAS) was a major signatory to the protest, so why not simply join hands with them?

The answer is simple: MAS’ credentials are questionable, to put it mildly. In a July 25, 2005 press conference at the National Press Club, MAS leaders called for support of “law enforcement,” and promised to hand over Muslim dissidents to the FBI. The video is unfortunately not yet on youtube, but is available for purchase through C-SPAN:

http://www.c-spanstore.org/shop/index.php?main_page=product_video_info&products_id=187913-1

The self-described "pioneering Muslim organization" has yet to take a strong stance on any major political issue in advance of the winds of political correctness. Even on the Palestine issue, MAS' position is feeble:

“It is not our argument to deny the fundamental right of the people of Israel to survive in peace and security. But it is our position that the long-term interests of the United States would be advanced if American foreign policy in the region supported the demilitarization of the current conflict between the State of Israel and the people of Palestine....”

http://masnet.org/articlesandpapers.asp?id=3974

According to its website, MAS has always worked very closely with ISNA, a pro-establishment organization which helped organize the bloc vote for Bush, among other things. On the same webpage, MAS refers to NAIT, a reactionary Saudi government-funded organization, as a “pioneer” in the Islamic movement.

http://masnet.org/aboutmas.asp

I would like to know why a seemingly radical political organization such as ANSWER would select the reactionary and reformist MAS as its liaison with the Muslim community. Why is MAS' announcement that it would effectively infiltrate and snitch on Muslim dissidents of no concern to ANSWER, particularly in view of the Left’s historical victimization under similar programs during the McCarthy witchhunts?

While working closely with ANSWER on a previous anti-war protest, I asked Brian Becker these questions. The reply was an odd one: ANSWER worked with MAS because they were out there (ie active). And the July 2005 press conference? Perhaps MAS did this to keep the authorities off their back, said Becker. And something is rotten in the state of Denmark....

Another Heroic Hugo

2007-03-10T14:01:00.001-05:00

The American Gulag was not birthed in Guantanamo. However ugly the conditions of incarceration for Muslim prisoners on the Cuban Island, black revolutionaries in the U.S., in particular those affiliated with the BPP and the BLA during the 1960s and 1970s, were among the first to be subjected to subhuman treatment a la Abu Ghraib. Today I celebrate the birthday of a forgotten warrior, Hugo Pinell. He is a black Nicaraguan, one of the San Quentin Eight, held in U.S. custody for the last 42 years. Pinell's "crime" was being black and a close comrade of the late George Jackson during the 1960s. Although the feds ostensibly dismantled COINTEL, and the racial motivation behind the prosecutions of the period are undisputable, Pinell remains in jail, denied parole eight times.

Through exercise, vegetarian diet, and writing, Pinell has survived 36 years of solitary confinement. The highest suicide rates across the prison system occur in solitary.

A summary of the Pinell case, by Mumia Abu Jamal, is here.

A look at Pinell's parole denial, by New Orleans native and long-time community activist Kiilu Nyasha, is here.

Israeli Propaganda Finds a New Home in UMBC Commons

2007-02-28T20:28:00.000-05:00

So UMBC, where I go to school, now features Israeli propaganda in the main corridor of its Commons (student union).

It takes the form of a display described by the organizers as follows:

"Inside Terrorism: The X-Ray Project is an art installation that exhibits x-rays of terror victims together with their medical accounts and personal stories; the x-rays come from two major Israeli hospitals. The exhibition personalizes and universalizes the issue of terrorism and urges the understanding that terrorism is not a legitimate tool, that it must be strongly condemned."

Funded by the David Project for Jewish Leadership and sponsored by Hillel, the project appears to exploit students' fascination with technology as well as their susceptibility to the corporate media version of events in Occupied Palestine.

A complete description of the project is here.

The David Project claims its mission is "to promote a fair and honest understanding of the Arab-Israeli conflict."

However, the 5,050 Palestinian men, women and children killed by Israeli state terror in the last few years are not represented in the exhibit. Ditto for the 49,760 wounded, and the 10,4000 detained during the same time period (source: Palestinian State Information Service). Nor is there any mention of the fact that the Israeli victims were killed in an internationally recognized liberation struggle against occupation.

The net effect is a one-sided and racist portrayal of loss as unique to Israeli side, reminescent of the slavery-era treatment of black people, whose deaths were dismissed because they were thought to be "soul-less."

An excellent letter of protest written by a good friend to the Retriever Weekly (UMBC's student newspaper), may be seen here.

I just sent my own brief letter of protest to the Retriever, and encourage others to write as well.

For Freedom

2007-02-22T01:30:00.000-05:00

Another work by Bobby Gene Garcia, Native American political prisoner, which has personal meaning for me, and also relates to the looming Febrary 27 habeas corpus hearing of Imam Jamil Al-Amin. I pray for Imam Jamil, that Allah give him renewed strength, and for the People, that they may not forget his legacy:
--------------------
Great Spirit, I chant for your help
once again
The strength of the four winds braced,
my mind.
My song set me free for I have
dared to dream
before of life-giving
freedom.
I'm free as an Eagle flying over
spacious prairies
that stilled the soul.
Unconstrained,
life-giving freedom
soaring under the
aspect of eternity.

Mountains and seas are no match
for my wings.
What matters if I fly alone?
Where freedom lies
there I find
home.

--Bobby Garcia
January 7, 1980

Mumit: Free at Age Fifty-Plus

2007-02-15T19:51:00.000-05:00

A few days ago, I was messing around on the FBOP website. For once, it was good news: one of the brothers to whom I wrote regularly, at Lewisburg U.S.P., named Abdul Mumit (slave name: Lincoln Heard), was released some years ago.

Originally incarcerated for armored car heist(?), he was not a political prisoner in the sense of Sundiata Acoli, Geronimo Pratt, or the Sheikh. Like El-Hajj Malik Shabazz, he'd reverted to Islam while in prison. Because he stood up against the dehumanizing ("cruel and unusual") treatment accorded him and other prisoners, he was considered a "trouble-maker" and was repeatedly relocated from one prison to another. In between transfers, he was periodically thrown in the Hole. The relocations and the lockdowns created severe mental stress for Mumit, and he wrote me long letters expressing his fear that he would be murdered while in solitary. I did what little I could, writing letters of complaint to the prison bureaucracy, and letters of concern and support to him. He, like many Muslim inmates, felt isolated from the Ummah and craved Islamic literature, delighting when I sent him copies of New Trend (then in paper format), In the Shade of the Qur'an, the Burning Spear, and other literature.

I'd lost touch with him after my own (relatively insignificant) trials and tribulations, and so wasn't aware of his release. I exult in the thought that physically, he has survived, and is (technically) free. But, he is in his fifties now, robbed of his youth by the System, which continuously builds prisons for black youth, while closing libraries and cutting school budgets. I pray Allah help Mumit to survive the unemployment, disenfranchisment, and (more) racism which undoubtedly greeted him outside the gates of Lewisburg, and allow him to walk strong on the Sirat al-Mustaqeen.

Film Clip: "Victory for Palestine"

2007-02-05T23:03:00.000-05:00

I felt inspired today, watching a film clip, forwarded to me by a returning Haji:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dzygb6vf_6w&mode=related&search=

The song, said to be the Palestine Liberation Anthem, is by Tareq Jaber. Inshallah, justice will prevail.

They Took the Typewriter Today

2007-02-02T03:52:00.000-05:00

The recent railroadings of Muslim and Black political prisoners, brought to mind a poem I first encountered years ago, as coordinator for the Leonard Peltier Support Group (LPSG) of Washington, DC. It is written by Bobby Gene Garcia, Native American political prisoner, who was found dead in his cell about a month after this writing:
-------------
The U.S. Government will kill me
in their Iron Houses
where they have killed many
Warriors before me
but I smile a smile
for I know
something.

Not an Army,
certainly not death,
no one can keep her away from me
while I bleed and die
and my blood covers
Mother Earth

My dreams
My hopes
Live forever,
In the People,
In the Village,
In the Children.

From They Took The Typewriter Today
--Bobby Gene Garcia
November 8, 1980

Panther Bonds Set at Three Million Each

2007-01-31T17:23:00.000-05:00

Bail has been set for at least $3 million for each Panther ($5 million for some of them)! Can anyone--with the possible exception of some in the current administration--really be that dangerous? Clearly, the plan seems to be to ensure the defendants' inability to defend themselves, even within the severely limited scope of the Just-us system.

New Website to Support the Panther 8

2007-01-30T23:00:00.000-05:00

The corporate media sensor seems to have eliminated all mention of the Black Panther re-arrests from the Tube. Thankfully, a new website has been set up to cover the case, by the producer of A Legacy of Torture:
http://cdhrsupport.org

Black Panthers Rearrested

2007-01-28T11:10:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, at the protest against the Iraq War, a young Muslim-activist brutha was telling me about the recapture of eight members of the BPP, and their treatment during the their earlier prosecutions in the 60s/70s. Abu Ghraib, all over again. COINTELPRO is ostensibly defunct and discredited. (For those of you who live in the U.S., and are unfamiliar with COINTELPRO, please, please educate yourself on it. The U.S. fascination with torture did not begin at Abu Ghraib.) Yet, in the selective application of justice characteristic of the U.S., its perpetrators have gone unpunished/unprosecuted for the murders and torture committed under the program. Not a single leader--Black or Muslim--who claims to stand for justice and for the rights of the People, from Jesse Jackson to WD Muhammad, or even Farrakhan, has called for an inquiry into COINTELPRO. Today the system continues to victimize these innocents, as if they haven't suffered enough. Muslims and people of conscience must speak out against this injustice.

I'm not sure what's being done, if anything, to organize against this outrage. The Jericho Movement may be posting updates, as they become available:

http://thejerichomovement.com/

-----------
http://bombsandshields.blogspot.com/

Eight veterans of the Black Panther Party (BPP,) seven of whom are accused of belonging to the Black Liberation Army (BLA,) were arrested today on charges stemming from the 1971 shooting death of San Fransisco Police Sgt. John V. Young.

The August 29, 1971 attack on the Ingleside Police Station came only eight days after San Quentin prison guards gunned down BPP Field Marshal "Soledad Brother" George Jackson. The murder of Jackson provoked threats of retaliation and even sparked the Attica Prison rebellion.

Seven of the men arrested, all suspected BLA members, were charged with murder and conspiracy. They are Ray Michael Boudreaux, 64, of Altadena; Richard Brown, 65, of San Francisco; Herman Bell, 59, and Jalil Abdul Muntaqim formerly known as Anthony Bottom, 55, both currently incarcerated in New York state; Henry Watson Jones, 71, of Altadena; Francisco Torres, 58, of Queens, New York; and Harold Taylor, 58, of Panama City, Florida.

Another suspect, Ronald Stanley Bridgeforth, 62, was still being sought on murder and conspiracy charges. Authorities believe he could be in France, Belize or Tanzania.

Taylor and two others faced murder charges in 1973, but the case was dismissed after a San Francisco judge that torture was used to extract confessions from the men. San Francisco Police Department Inspectors Frank McCoy and Ed Erdelatz were present for the interrogation and torture which consisted of stripping the men naked and beating them with a lead pipe, blindfolding them and throwing wool blankets soaked with boiling water over their bodies, placing electric probes on their genitals and other body parts, inserting an electric cattle prod in their anus, punching and kicking, and slamming them into walls while blindfolded.

McCoy and Erdelatz came out of retirement to lead investigation when the case was reopened sometime in 2002. The decision to re-investigate the incident followed the Department of Justice's expanding prosecution of political crimes in the wake of the September 11th terrorist attacks.

Bell's attorney Stuart Hanlon called the arrests a "prosecution based on vengeance and hate from the '60s." "There's a law enforcement attitude that they hate these people, the Panthers," Hanlon said. "Now they're going after old men."

All I Need to Know, I Learned from a Brutha in tha Pen

2007-01-24T23:15:00.000-05:00

What will convey unto thee what the Ascent is!
(It is) to free a slave...
--Qur'an 90: 12-13

At the age of 14, I began writing to (primarily Muslim) inmates in federal penitentiaries. The correspondence brought me to the realization that imprisonment is one of the worst forms of man's inhumanity to man. My view is that imprisonment raises grave ethical concerns. One who imprisons another human being controls when or if that human eats, drinks, bathes, procreates, or gets vital medical treatment, in effect, "playing God." The extreme example of "playing God" is, off course, capital punishment, where the State's irreversible act places it in the role of the Creator (nauzo-billah)--potentially taking the life of an innocent person lacking adequate counsel. Alternatives to imprisonment were practiced by indigenous societies through the ages. Considering the dismal failure of the U.S. prison system today, these examples merit rigorous study for potential adaptation to modern times.

Since the U.S. in-Justice system is unlikely to willingly capitulate to those whom it oppresses, an inquiry under the U.N. or other international fora on black males in the U.S. prison system is required. The question must be asked: Are black men inherently more criminal than all other segments of the population? If not, why do they constitute the preponderance of the prison population? Is the current prison system a continuation of the system of slavery and genocide of black people? If so, what remedy can be enacted by the international community--international sanctions, U.N. inspections of U.S. prison facilities, or peacekeepers to prevent U.S. mistreatment of its black population?

A few years after my first exchanges with Muslim inmates, I expropriated a copy of the Gulag Archipelago from my father's library. The work left an indelible impression. Imprisonment--dehumanizing by nature--is exacerbated when it is enacted as punishment for unpopular words, thought, and speech. Today, tens of thousands of primarily Muslim innocents suffer in the U.S. Gulag, spanning from Guantanamo to Afghanistan and beyond. And political imprisonment is the sword of Damocles which threatens any Muslim leader who advocates or exercises the internationally recognized (Geneva Convention affirmed) right of his people to self-defense against Zionist or imperialist aggression.

To me, the existence of such a Gulag--and the threat that any independent-minded Muslim is a candidate for it--is a major crisis, warranting the focus of Muslims and humanitarians alike. I believe the time for Picnics has passed, and Muslim leaders who insist on Picnicking--well, perhaps their leadership ought to be questioned according to the Islamic tradition of accountability of Muslim leaders to their constituents. Recall the famed example of Hazrat Umar's (RA) roughing up and questioning by a Bedouin, on the simple matter of the former's possession of a shawl. When will we finally seize our leaders by the shawl, and ask them why they silently allow the innocent Muslim imams, hafiz-e-Quran, Muslim fathers, husbands, and brothers to languish in U.S./U.S.-administered prisons, often under medieval conditions?

Clearly, a truly Islamic leadership must prioritize: 1) effective, legal organizing for the rights of the political prisoners; 2) a massive public awareness campaign, aimed at lifting the curtain of fear from the Muslim community, while also countering corporate media propaganda with objective information on political cases; and 3) providing necessary assistance to the families of political prisoners.

None of Us Are Free (If One of Us Is Chained)

2007-01-24T01:58:00.000-05:00

Solomon Burke's excellent work:

http://www.informationclearinghouse.info/article8199.htm

Runoko Rashidi and Afterwards

2007-01-23T22:45:00.007-05:00

During winter break, I attended a thoroughly fascinating lecture on the African Presence in Early Asia, by historian Runoko Rashidi at Howard University with a UMBC friend. After the lecture, we mulled over where to have dinner. Options were somewhat limited by the fact that it was late and a weeknight. I am partial to African cuisine, and thought immediately of Dukem, an Ethiopian establishment on U Street nearby. Ethiopian troops were in Somalia, and my politically conscious friend and I did some soul-searching before deciding it was okay to visit the Ethiopian restaurant given the late hour.

On my last visit, I'd thought Dukem rather mediocre (in comparison with other Ethiopian spots around town). This time, however, was different. The place was bursting with African rhythms. Our server, a young woman with beautiful dark skin, aquiline nose, and thick lips, in traditional Ethiopian garb, reminded me of Cheikh Anta Diop's writing on the incredible diversity of native African features prior to Asiatic and European invasions. I glanced at my friend. A musician himself, he appeared immersed in the music. Four stunningly beautiful Ethiopian women in traditional garb--flowing white dress, accented with colorful red, green, and black sash--swayed to the reverberations of a drum, in a graceful, perfectly choreographed classical Ethiopian dance. At times, they were accompanied by a male dancer. I marveled at their movements, as graceful and coordinated as the dance of swans I'd seen on the bay near my house.

The food arrived--my perfectly prepared spicy doro wat, one of my favorite Ethiopian dishes, and my friend's spicy spinach entreé, both with spongy ingera bread. We ate with our hands from one huge round plate, an African tradition common to Afghan, Arab, and other Third World cultures, which I believe leads to harambee in these communities.

The night was perfect--almost. Shortly after the dance started, a white woman in a tight sweater, mini-skirt, and boots rose to her feet at the next table. Making moronic sounds and gestures, she poorly mimicked the dancers' every move. After a while, she abandonned any semblance of accuracy, and simply started shaking her volumptuous body. Then she progressed to grabbing at her own mammary glands, while shaking her buttocks. Earlier, I'd noticed that nearly all the restaurant patrons were Ethiopian or African. Now they stared at her, some with contempt, some with anger or pity. They were either too polite or too shocked to tell her to shut up and sit down. The security personnel had evaporated into the woodwork.

"It's a free country, and it's her right to demonstrate what a moron she really is," I thought to myself. The problem was that she was directly in my line of sight to the dancers, and instead of enjoying the performance, I was forced to watch her vulgar flailings. Elevated testosterone, the price of female athleticism, surged through my body, and I willed myself not to re-seat the b----. "Now you know understand where the term 'Ugly American comes from,'" I remarked loudly to my friend.

The woman looked over at me for a moment, then continued to gyrate at her table for a moment. Then she said something in what sounded like a Hebrew accent to her friends, and made her way onto the dance floor. There she partnered up with the male performer, who seemed to be trying to humor her random shaking, earning very dirty looks from the female performers. Her buds cheered her on. Deferred shame or alcoholic toxicity caught up with her, for shortly thereafter, she and her drunken friends staggered out of the restaurant.

Afterwards I wondered: Who exhibits utter ignorance of other cultures and customs? Who violates the social norms and protocols of other cultures and communities with impunity, here and on a global scale? Who proudly wears her ignorance and ignominy on her sleeve? Who else but Whitey.

African Presence in Early Asia:Runoko Rashidi Speaks

2007-01-22T17:55:00.000-05:00

Having been the only practicing Muslim at my suburban, all-white high school, I developed an understanding of racism early on. Yet the recent Howard University lecture of renowned historian and scholar Runoko Rashidi on “The African Presence in Asia” opened my eyes to the fact that I, too, had unwittingly swallowed racist ideas. The standing-room only, primarily black audience exuded afrocentricity and political consciousness with their red, black, and green caps, locks, and politically astute questions. Regrettably absent—in light of the subject matter—was HU’s significant Asian student population.

Rashidi’s first act, upon taking the podium, brought to light the unconscious eurocentricity of most of us living in the West. Employing a long-neglected Africanism, Rashidi recognized the elders. He asked their permission to speak. Only then did he begin the lecture. How often do we, Muslims, Africans, and others—whose religions and cultures emphasize respect of the Elders—bother to do this? In one stroke, Baba Rashidi, as he is respectfully called, returned us to our roots.

A solidly built, dark-skinned brother with bald head and gold frame glasses, he spoke in a no-nonsense manner devoid of rhetoric. “I’m tired of hearing of a black history which begins with slavery,” he began. “A perfect example is the popular black history book, From Slavery to Freedom.”

“I differ in my view of history. I don’t view it as Africans waited around for some white man to come and take them captive,” he told the appreciative audience.

Nuclear DNA polymorphisms have been used to study the origins and relations between ethnic and racial groups, said Rashidi matter-of-factly. “Mitochondrial DNA, inherited from the mother, is more important [in demonstrating relatedness]. This indicates that Africa is the mother country.”

Rashidi’s research focuses on black people in Asia and the Middle East. To this end, he has traveled to Syria, Jordan, India, Vietnam, Cambodia, China, and a litany of other countries. “Israel,” explained Rashidi, “Is the only country I haven’t visited—for political reasons.”

Denial by Local Officials

At the start of each visit, Rashidi was invariably told: “There are no black people here.” Undaunted, he headed straight to the national museum. Almost without exception, he found artwork—often centuries old—depicting people with unmistakably black (Africoid, in archeological terms) features. Then, traveling the countryside, to remote and inaccessible areas seldom frequented by tourists—he found black people. The pattern repeated itself in nearly every country he visited.

Beyond his extensive travels throughout Asia, Rashidi has visited Africa 20 times. “Wherever I go, I meet Africans who are literally dying to leave Africa,” he said. Twenty-five hundred people line up at the [U.S.] embassy in Ethiopia each day. This is because things are so bad. They are the new boat people.”

The implication is that such was not always the case. As Ivan Van Sertima (with whom Rashidi co-authored African Presence in Early Asia) wrote in They Came Before Columbus, there was a time when Africans were leaving Africa because—as the ruling power—they had the wealth, resources, and naval capability to explore what was then uncharted territory.

Rashidi launched into his slide presentation. It is a small sampling of the thousands of slides of artwork from museums across Asia and the Middle East he has painstakingly collected through decades of research. There are black natives of the Andaman Islands, whose inner radar, said Rashidi, allowed them to flee just before the tsunami; an African nobleman from Laos; a 2,000 year-old bust of a Syrian African nobleman; and Antara the Lion. All have clearly Africoid features.

Then there is the tomb of Bilal (RA).

African Presence in Early Islam

“Bilal [RA],” Rashidi told the predominantly black, non-Muslim audience, “had an Ethiopian mother. He was one of Muhammad’s [PBUH] closest companions. His tomb was found in Syria.”

“There was an African presence throughout early Islam,” said Rashidi. “Ishmael [AS] was a black man, as was the grandfather of Prophet Muhammad [PBUH]. A well known saying of the Prophet is: ‘He who brings an Ethiopian man or woman into Islam, brings his house blessings.’”

Rashidi described a mural he’d observed at the Pantheon (burial site of Rousseau, Voltaire, Marat, Victor Hugo, and other notables) in Paris: “It is a painting of a very handsome black man. This is an African crusader.”

Other slides depict not artwork, but photographs of indigenous black people across Asia and the Middle East, which Rashidi has collected in the course of exhaustive field work: photographs of a black Saudi cabinet member, who held the position in 1954; black men of Kuwait’s Sabah family; and a black Iraqi.

Black Iraq

This last is perhaps the most astonishing. The black Iraqi is holding a submachine gun. This is not a U.S. soldier, Rashidi emphasized, but an African Iraqi.

“There was a population of Black captives in Southern Iraq, called the Zanji,” Rashidi explained. “They engaged in three major insurrections, with some success. Iraq has a 10 - 15 % African population in the South, but you don’t see them on TV,” he told the mesmerized audience.

At this point, Rashidi could have seized the occasion to bash Arabs/Muslims. But, he uttered barely a word on the Arab identity of the slavers. I wondered if this was due to a consciousness of a common oppressor, who today subjugated Arabs and Africans alike. Or was it perhaps in recognition of the efforts of the young Muslim graduate student, Sharron Muhammad, who’d worked hard to organize the Howard lecture?

Whatever the case, I was struck by the stark contrast between the attitude of this strong afrocentric brutha, actively engaged in uplifting his people, and that of the “Free Darfur” movement—Zionists who contributed nothing to black liberation, but were quick to spoon-feed black people news of their Arab “enemy,” feigning common ground with black people, while both blacks and Arabs continued to suffer and die disproportionately under the Zionist/capitalist/imperialist agenda.

Rashidi’s next few slides depicted women: “An Israeli sister” wearing hijab (“She looks very African”); an African-Palestinian woman, who attended Howard University (“The Black Panther Party was established among Palestinians”); and a group of African Turkish women. [All quotes describing Rashidi’s slides are his—editor]

Rashidi, who displays few pictures of himself, appears with the latter group. “These are African women of Southwest Turkey,” he explained. “Their husbands are dead, and they are discriminated against.”

There are so few blacks in Turkey, he continued, that these women had never seen a black man other than one from the Sudan or Chad. “I knew it was time to leave when one of the ladies started stroking my arm, and telling me I reminded her of her late husband,” he quipped.

There is a painting of black slaves standing in a line behind their Ottomon regent (“The Ottoman Empire had many blacks, but this is not acknowledged”); and a bust of an African-Afghan (“probably destroyed by the Taliban”). I longed to ask the scholar the reason for his latter supposition.

Indus Valley—A Great Black Civilization

Then there is the figurine of a black woman from the Indus Valley (“We know she is a sista--from the hand on the hip” joked Rashidi); and a painting of a black woman with long braided hair pinned up in a bun.

Amazingly, museum officials tried to convince Rashidi that the beaded appearance of the woman’s hair in the latter painting was not African hair in a braid, but “snails” which crawled on to the woman’s head!

“I am a very patient person,” said Rashidi, “So I spent the next 48 hours reclining under the same type of tree she was under, in the very same area, and no snails crawled on to my head.”

Rashidi’s main research interest is India. “In Greater India, more than a thousand years before the foundations of Greece and Rome, proud and industrious Black men and women known as Dravidians erected a powerful civilization....the Indus Valley civilization--India's earliest high-culture, with major cities spread out along the course of the Indus River,” says a handout accompanying the lecture. “The Indus Valley civilization was at its height from about 2200 B.C.E. to 1700 B.C.E.”

I thought back to discussions of the Indus Valley civilization in my high school world history classes. As in the treatment of Ancient Egypt, “they schools” somehow managed to overlook the minor detail that the Indus Valley civilization was a black civilization. But, they did not mind discussing blacks and slavery, slavery and blacks, I mused.

“The decline and fall of the Indus Valley civilization has been linked to several factors, the most important of which were the increasingly frequent incursions of the White people known in history as Aryans—violent Indo-European tribes initially from central Eurasia and later Iran,” Rashidi’s handout continued.

Oppression of Dalits

As the lecture reached its peak, Rashidi hit upon the major focus of his research: Dalits, or “untouchables” in India. Dalits—who are black—“are victims of Hinduism,” he explained. They are literally treated as untouchable—in other words, unclean. Even the shadow of a Dalit is believed to be polluted, and Dalits must announce themselves by beating drums or making loud noises, to allow others to avoid them. They live under apartheid-like conditions.

Then, Rashidi offered a startling statistic: Three hundred million people are Dalits in India. The significance of this? “This means there may be more black people in India than there are in Africa.”

Rashidi is a powerhouse of knowledge, dropping facts at lightening speed.

As the lecture wrapped up, he showed slides of a black Brahmin (“Very unusual”), and an early depiction of a black Krishna (“Initial depictions of Krishna were always black”), before moving on to speak briefly of his travels to the far east.

The Far East

Rashidi had no desire to visit China, and said he traveled there only for the completeness of his research. Predictably, he was informed by Chinese officials: “There have never been black people in China.” Rashidi had difficulty traveling around China, and, for once, did not encounter black people. However, in the course of his research, he found that one of China’s earliest dynasties, the Shang, were said to have “black and oily skin.”

In Japan, he found proverbs with references to African roots (“For a samurai to be brave, he must have a bit of black blood”); in Angkor Tom, Cambodia, he found bas reliefs depicting black people (shown on the cover of his book, Africans in Early Asia); in Central Vietnam, he discovered an entire living population of black people; and everywhere in the far east, he found black Buddhas (“All early depictions of Buddhas were black, and this did not change until much later”).

“Wherever there is humanity, you find black people,” said Rashidi, concluding the lecture. “I want all black people to embrace their African-ness. Why is this important for us? Because we are trying to become whole again. What you do for yourself, depends on what you think of yourself. And what you think of yourself depends on what you’ve been told.”

During Q&A, the question of Dalits came up again, as many audience members seemed shocked by what they’d heard. Elaborating, Rashidi told of a Dalit woman being paraded through the village naked, because she stole some vegetables to feed her family, and of a Dalit boy forced to drink urine in punishment for some very minor infraction.

“There is an affirmative action policy in India,” said Rashidi. A Dalit headed India’s Supreme Court for a time; another was President of India. The appointment of these token black people, like the appointment of Clarence Thomas and Condoleezza Rice to high positions in the U.S., evidently had little impact on the condition of the majority of their people. Clearly U.S. foreign policy makers—in their embrace of the Hindu-dominated Indian government as a foremost U.S. ally—were unfazed by the apartheid-like conditions experienced by 300 million black people.

Reflections

The lecture was the most thought-provoking I’d attended in recent memory. Afterwards, I greeted Baba Rashidi with “As-salaam alaikom” and extended him my solidarity as a Pakistani and a Muslim. I told him that were it not for his book, I, like most Pakistanis, would be woefully ignorant of the African contribution to our subcontinent, and that the incredible history he’d presented was completely absent from schools across Pakistan and India. His lecture, coupled with my reading of New Trend coverage of the Dalit struggle greatly added to my awareness of the specter of racism and classism plaguing the Indian Subcontinent. The lecture brought me to the realization, that Bollywood’s (Indian cinema’s) acute racism closely paralleled that of Hollywood. Both popularized negative and de-humanizing stereotypes of black people, targeting them for genocide. Remarkably, Indian cinema is hugely popular in West Africa.

Like many Indo-Pak households, my childhood home featured Indian movies blaring in the background every evening. Although the sexism of Indian cinema sickened me even then, its racial intonations initially escaped me. Most of the movies featured Milky White Indian Hero and Milky White Indian Heroine, frolicking through gardens and fields in their glorious courtship dance--paragons of goodness and morality. Adivasis—a major black Indian ethnic group—were, almost without exception, depicted as savages, drumming and dancing around an open fire in remote areas far from “civilization,” encountered by Milky White Indian Hero only when he came to rescue Milky White Indian Heroine from their evil clutches. Dark-skinned actors were frequently cast as villains of various sorts, usually bent on raping the Milky White Indian Heroine. In addition to his work with Dalits, Rashidi worked closely with Adivasis, and he listened with interest as I mentioned this to him.

As I left the program, I started thinking how I would explain the relevance of the African presence in early Asia to Muslims. I knew a good many brothers and sisters would try to convince me that racism is an American problem; that Muslims don’t think along racial lines; that in Islam, the sole relevance of skin color is “so that ye may know one another;” and that one is judged solely on taqwa (level of Allah-consciousness). They would try to convince me that it is a waste of time to ponder the question of who settled where and when, and that these things were in the past.

The Pakistani sister who secures her coach bag walking through the garage because “a black man may be lurking there;” the Arab/Indian/Pakistani man looking for an arranged marriage whose stated criteria is “anyone but a black woman;” the Nigerian parents who teach their son or daughter not to hang with African-Americans, because “they no good”—all these, as well as others afflicted by more subtle and subconscious racial notions, reveal that racism has penetrated our oh-so-pious Muslim consciousness, whether we acknowledge it or not.

Racism is cemented by a myth which refuses to acknowledge the immense and positive contributions of powerful African civilizations throughout history, insisting that black people be viewed only in the context of slavery and its aftermath. As Baba Rashidi stated in his closing remarks, “The people of Sumer lost their history, so they died.” For Muslims to maintain the myth is to assist in the oppression and cultural genocide of black people. A Muslim, by definition, bears witness to the truth, even that truth which is discomfiting.

For more information on the Dalit struggle, Africans in early Asia, and related topics, visit Runoko Rashidi’s website:
http://cwo.com/~lucumi/runoko.html

Saddam: Demon or Demonized?

2007-01-18T04:33:00.000-05:00

The psychologists in my extended family tell me that black and white thinking--the idea that something or someone is all good or all bad--is characteristic of (a) children; (b) people with certain psychiatric disorders (Borderline Personality Disorder, for example). It seems to me that demonizing a person is a classic example of black and white thinking. With the Ayatollah long dead, and Bin Laden out of reach, Saddam Hussein was the most recent to be demonized. Clearly, the picture painted was necessary to fuel the illegal U.S. war. Now that he is dead, it may be a good time to examine the extent of the reality behind the Saddam-Demon. Here is one website--evidently censored by Google and Google-News and restored only after massive reader protest--which challenges the conventional wisdom:

http://uruknet.info

Free Imam Jamil—An Evening at Masjid Al-Islam

2007-01-10T19:09:00.000-05:00

He is one of America’s best and brightest orators. He is a nationally known and respected religious leader. He rid entire inner city neighborhoods of drugs, encouraged the establishment of small businesses, and established mentoring programs for black youth. For his efforts, he is currently serving a life term in Georgia State Prison. His name is Jamil Al-Amin.

Jamil Al-Amin was convicted for the murder of a sheriff’s deputy after a trial in which very significant exculpatory evidence was never presented. The reason for this, given by some Al-Amin supporters, is that his attorneys were not paid, and hence plea bargained with the prosecution. The neglected exculpatory evidence includes: 1) the absence of wounds on Al-Amin’s body when he was taken into custody (although the deputy involved in the incident which led to Al-Amin’s imprisonment clearly stated that the suspect was shot and bleeding); 2) a confession for the shooting of the deputy by another man, Otis Jackson; 3) ballistic evidence showing that the deadly shots were not fired by any weapon which could be associated with Al-Amin.

A habeas corpus hearing determines whether a person is serving a lawful sentence and/or whether he or she should be released from custody (Blackstone). It is viewed as an opportunity for the defense to convince the court that previously suppressed or unknown evidence warrants a prisoner’s release. In Al-Amin’s case, the prosecution has repeatedly requested postponements of this hearing, perhaps indicating the strength of the unpresented evidence. The hearing is currently scheduled for February 27, 2007.

For an excellent background article on the case, see:
http://www.thenation.com/doc/20020318/thelwell

On December 30, I attended a fundraiser for Imam Jamil Al-Amin at Masjid Al-Islam. The masjid stands proudly at the corner of Benning Road and C Street in Southeast DC, two blocks from the subway, in a poor black residential area, a far cry from the exclusive suburban mosques hidden away in the countryside, away from bus lines and poor people. I could imagine El-Hajj Malik Shabazz preaching at Masjid Al-Islam. The AmeriKKKan flag, found at the entrance of many U.S. masajid today, was nowhere to be found.

Inside, Imam Abdul Alim Musa was scheduled to lecture—but not before he personally served dinner to the men who were there to hear about the Jamil Al-Amin case. Imam Musa, for some reason, had determined that he—and only he—would serve food to the men. The result was a long line of hungry bruthas—perhaps an exercise in sabr? Just yards away, across the prayer hall, two sisters served food to the women. I found Imam Musa’s wife, and introduced myself. She greeted me with a warm hug and welcomed me. I was seated with three young women--Amatullah, Tazkiya, and Hajure. As we talked, I realized how politically astute they were. Tazkiya, a college student, had spoken in public forums on Imam Jamil’s case. Two of the sisters were either readers or contributors to New Trend (Muslim e-journal). Masjid Al-Islam clearly did not limit its women to the baking committee.

Finally Imam Musa began his presentation. A tall, built brother with dark skin, graying beard, and just the hint of a stoop that betrayed his position as a veteran in the Islamic movement, he looked distinguished in all black as he took the podium. He spoke comfortably without notes, his speech articulate and sprinkled with wicked humor.

“What makes Imam Jamil so special?” he asked the audience.

“He is the only one on the COINTELPRO list who’s still alive,” he said, referring to the U.S. government’s counterintelligence program, which used highly questionable means to target Black, Native American, and other activists during the 1960s and 1970s. “And he was the only non-immigrant imam on the Majlis-e-Shura [of North America.] The immigrant imams on the Shura Council, they couldn’t forecast things like Imam Jamil.”

“The big crews have not helped,” Imam Musa continued. He’d asked Muzammil Siddiqui and others for support for Imam Jamil—to no avail. Then he’d suggested if they didn’t want to help directly, they could just give him a letter of support for Imam Jamil—again to no avail.

I was aghast. The very Shura Council of which Imam Jamil was a member up until his arrest, refused to support him! What happened to the “Muslims are part of one body; if one part hurts, the rest feels the pain” popularly spouted at ISNA conventions and elsewhere?

“All the big fundraisers, they done sold out” said Imam Musa, shaking his head. “We Americans, they say, we going to stand up for America.”

“Remember when they kicked in the doors in Virginia, tore through their homes, with the wives sitting there with no hijab on?” said Imam Musa, referring to the March 20, 2002 FBI raids on the homes and offices of officials connected to IIIT, SAAR, WAMY, Safa Trust and other pro-government Muslim organizations. “Well, they [the Muslim leaders] stayed mad for two days. After that, it was business as usual.”

Imam Musa started fundraising. The atmosphere was solemn, quite unlike other fundraisers I’d experienced in the past, perhaps in the realization that the collective efforts of the community could determine whether a beloved imam-political prisoner would continue to suffer in jail.

Imam Musa teased and cajoled the congregation into emptying their pockets. During a lull in the fundraising, he told the audience, “Yeah I know, if you or I donate $50, we may not eat for a week. Them that got it, ain’t givin’ it. So, we gotta do this for our brutha.”

The resident Muslim women’s organization, An-Nisa of Masjid Al-Islam, donated $250, which they’d worked hard to raise, encouraging others in the audience to follow suit. Masjid Al-Islam’s working class Muslims, slowly but surely donated their hard earned dollars to Imam Jamil’s case. The imam himself donated a large bundle of bills, all one dollar bills, he jokingly assured the congregation.

The fundraising came to an end, and Imam Musa talked in a somber tone about Al-Amin’s condition. The Atlanta imam had already been imprisoned for six-and-a-half years; serious psychological changes occurred in a prisoner after his sixth or seventh year, said Imam Musa. The prisoner’s mind gets used to the concrete and the bars.

“Meaning he may be broken, disoriented, his spirit destroyed” I thought to myself. No wonder Islam talked extensively about freeing the slave, the modern day versions of whom, off course, fill America’s jails.

“That is why it is so important we get him out. We need him out here,” said Imam Musa.

During Q&A, a non-Muslim progressive, one of the few whites in the audience, brought up the important point that the very Habeas Corpus rights, which Imam Jamil had invoked as a legal defense, were under attack by the Bush regime.

Had any lawyers expressed an interest in representing the imam pro-bono, I asked. Imam Musa said they had not, running scared after the Lynne Stewart witchhunt.

The shooting in which Imam Jamil was railroaded and the Saddam execution both occurred on the eves of Eid, the former in 2000, the latter in 2006, pointed out a sagacious Caucasian brother. Subjecting the Muslim community to such acts on a major Muslim holiday exhibited the arrogant character of Dajjal.

I left the event inspired that this independent mosque, with its fiery leader, not only refused to celebrate the Eid on the incorrect date, despite the Saudi dictate, but used the eve of the holiday to bring to light the victimization of an innocent Muslim imam. And the next morning, the congregation would again come together for an Eid prayer, held according to sunnah. This, it seemed to me, was the true spirit of the Eid!

Further donations for Imam Jamil’s defense are badly needed. Checks may be made out to the Masjid (with "Imam Jamil fund" noted on the memo line) and mailed to:

Masjid Al-Islam
4603 Benning Road, SE
Washington, DC 20019

For updates on the case, and what you can do to help:
http://myspace.com/freetheimam

Saddam--U.S. Stooge?

2007-01-03T00:14:00.000-05:00

Muslim, progressive, and Zionist agreement on an issue should be an occasion for raised eyebrows. The recent execution of President Saddam Hussein and the celebrations of a “dictator meeting his just deserts” were such an occasion. And the Zionist media’s characterization of the Iraqi President as American stooge was quickly adapted and parroted by Muslims and progressives. Cozy.

The question is: How does one become an American stooge?

By defying U.S./U.N. sanctions for a decade, ensuring decent healthcare, education, electricity, and clean water for the Iraqi people against overwhelming odds for that hellish period which we all seem to have forgotten?
By providing free housing to the burgeoning population of Palestinian refugees then in Iraq?
By honoring Palestinian freedom fighters with streets named in their remembrance?
By helping widows and orphans living in the squalor of Palestinian refugee camps more than any other Arab ruler?
By refusing to accept offers of political asylum, and remaining in Iraq after the invasion, to fight the imperialists to the death?

There is no shortage of stooges in the Muslim world, but I dare say Saddam, who died saying kalima, was not one of them. I am amazed and saddened that Muslims/progressives have adapted the corporate media refrain on Saddam: “He was America’s man.” Even after the destruction of Iraq, Muslims are regurgitating the official line of the party complicit in its destruction. We have, once again, failed to recognize wartime propaganda. Goebbels—no Wolfowitz—would be proud.

I do not doubt that Saddam made a grievous error in allowing himself to be used by the imperialists, during the Iraq-Iran war—an error for which, he will no doubt answer to Allah (AWJ). And yet, which national leader—Muslim or non—has not erred in their political life? The current discourse almost makes one believe that Saddam's reign ended with the Iran-Iraq war, and that he was somehow incapacitated from participation on the world stage thereafter. Accordingly, the man is tried in the realm of our imaginations only for actions he took decades ago. And the entire sanctions period has vanished from our minds.

The claim that Saddam was a U.S. stooge brings to mind similar Western claims of "blowback." The idea seems to be that any actions taken by Muslims, for good or for ill, cannot occur without the stewardship of the West—an arrogant premise to say the least. Such views, when embraced by Muslims, are symptomatic of a self-hatred, perhaps the residual effect of our colonial heritage, which has convinced us that we are incapable of any endeavor without the help of Gora Sahib (the Great White Master).

Eid al-Adha

2007-01-01T03:54:00.000-05:00

I visited the Islamic Center in Washington, DC on Dec 30, Saudi-mandated Eid. The Center, located on Massachusetts Avenue in the Embassy District, is unusual in that its constituency includes a great many diplomats, and others affiliated with NGOs and government agencies. The police presence was much more muted than previously, with only an officer or two circulating about the courtyard and joking with administration members and other friends. Yet the iron bars surrounding the Center invoke a gated community. Symbolically, outside the iron gates of the Center where Washington’s most affluent pray, three beggars, toting small brown paper bags, waited to collect money.

After the prayer, I stood alongside the beggars, distributing fliers entitled "Boycott Major Supporters of Zionism.” Unlike New York, where I've conducted similar actions and encountered many more bleeding hearts trying to help out a begga woman (they assume that's what I'm doing--why else would a sista in her right mind be standing in front of a mosque distributing pieces of paper), only one person--an Arab woman who did not understand English--came to offer me charity. I thanked her anyway, and indicated that I was not in need. The overall mood of the worshippers seemed somewhat subdued, with less bantering and laughter than observed at many Eid gatherings. Oddly, although there appeared to be no prohibition on leafleting, no one else distributed anything--not even the usual "Eid bazaar" or “Eid picnic” literature, and certainly nothing on the Eid-day execution of the President of an independent sovereign Arab nation, under the auspices of the U.S. occupying power. Most of the worshippers accepted the fliers, but rejection came primarily at the hands of Arab men in expensive-looking djalabias and Pakistani men in voguish suits.

An Afrikan brother requested extra copies of the flier. An Iranian brother donated $20 towards its distribution. The flier displays the logos of various businesses (e.g., McDonalds, Disney, Coca-Cola, and Starbucks) with strong ties to Israel. A Pakistani brother asked if the businesses were Israeli. I told him, "No, but they might as well be. For example, the CEO of McDonald's is an honorary director of the American-Israel Chamber of Commerce, and the Chairman of Starbucks has received awards for his services to Israel." In all, I handed out 240 "Boycott Israel" fliers to the Eid gathering.

Progressive Media and the Sattar Case

2006-10-19T22:35:00.000-04:00

Principle dictates that civil rights advocates be concerned about the rights of political prisoners on principle, not on creed. Yet, progressive media and organizations concern for civil liberties seems wholly absent in the cases of "high profile" Muslim prisoners. Perturbed, I wrote to Democracy Now's Amy Goodman.

---
Subject: Why No DN Coverage of Ahmed Abdel Sattar Case?
Date: Thu, October 19, 2006 4:58 am
To: mail@democracynow.org

Dear Amy,

In this time of corporate media and embeds, I have long regarded your show as one of the last bastions of independent journalism, and you, as personally restoring dignity to the word “journalist.” While I appreciate and agree with your pointed analyses and views on most issues, I am very disappointed by your failure to cover the railroadings of most high profile Muslim political prisoners, previously Imam Jamil El-Amin and the Virginia Seven, and now notably, Ahmed Abdel Sattar.

All proceedings in Ahmed’s case were held in New York, where his wife and children also live. You are based out of New York, yet you did not bother to interview any of them.

You might consider that a government which lies about WMDs, spies on its own citizens, and engages in McCarthy-style labeling, blacklisting, and jailing of opponents just might have lied, labeled, and blacklisted--in order to jail--in this case as well. The government spent tens of thousands of dollars to railroad Ahmed, and held him for 4.5 years, while creatively building a case against him. Sadly, Democracy Now!’s excellent coverage of Lyn Stewart was sorely juxtaposed by its corporate media-style blackout of the railroading of Ahmed Abdel Sattar.

You might also consider that defense lawyers are not the only ones whom this trial was meant to terrorize. The Egyptian dissident community is ever more terrified of speaking out against the considerable abuses of Hosni Mubarak, after observing the jailing of yet another outspoken and courageous Egyptian patriot. Democracy Now! missed a prime opportunity to educate its listeners on the U.S. government’s silencing of foreign dissidents on U.S. soil.

Ahmed is not so different from the Filipino dissidents, assassinated on U.S. soil during the Marcos reign; or Orlando Letelier, murdered at Sheridan Circle in Washington, DC; or Alex Odeh, blown up as he worked in his own office. They are/were all courageous dissidents who fought to wrest their countries from imperialist domination, whether under Mubarak, Marcos, Pinochet, or Israeli apartheid—and paid for it with lives or, in this case, liberty.

I am hopeful that you will investigate this case independently, and not simply swallow the U.S. government’s characteristic unsavory labels (“Islamic fundamentalist,” etc) and fear mongering, used to ensure the conviction of this and other innocent Muslims, regardless of evidence.

Sincerely,

Mark Steiner Show: A Discussion on Lebanon

2006-08-07T21:39:00.000-04:00

I listen quite regularly to the Mark Steiner show on NPR (WJHU in Baltimore). Steiner's show, in my view, is generally far more balanced than other programming on NPR, which is so littered with double-speak and official apologia that it makes one's stomach turn.

Today Mark had Mayssam Zaaroura on. She is the Lebanon editor for the Daily Star, and was speaking to him from there. Mark's other guest, an Israeli Professor named Menachem Kellner, was speaking to him from Haifa. The topic was the current situation in the Middle East.

Mayssam gave a heartfelt account of how it felt to suddenly and unexpectedly be under siege, with no escape route—totally trapped, with one’s life on the line. Kellner, although he did not proclaim affiliation with the Israeli government or military, echoed the official Israeli line on how Israel really didn't want to be in Lebanon, and that it was forced to be there as a result of Hezbollah’s action.

Mayssam said the conflict between Israel and Hizbollah did not start with the kidnapping of the Israeli soldier, and that she totally disagreed with Kellner's statements. Prefacing her remarks with the standard disavowal of support for Hizbollah, she said that the organization had been created as a result of the 1982 Israeli invasion of Lebanon. She said Hizbollah was the only entity providing order to the situation at the time, that the organization set up schools, hospitals, infrastructure, that it fed the Lebanese people. Remarkably similar, I thought, to the Black Panther Party in 1960s AmeriKKKa. So Maysaam continued, unknown to many Americans, there was much more to Hizbollah than just its military wing.

To his credit, Mark Steiner let her continue on at length: Lebanon had 82 bridges, she said, and Israel did not have to knock out all eighty two bridges--but it did. She said that Israel was deliberately targeting civilian areas, where there were no Hizb. Who in their right mind would not evacuate after leaflets issuing an ultimatum to do so were dropped on their village, she asked. Mainly poor people, with no transport, no money, nowhere to go.

Steiner asked the Israeli Prof to respond. In a condescending tone usually reserved for rebuking school children, he said he was very disappointed in the level of discourse, and that he did not expect to hear a propagandist on the program. He refused to refute Maysaam’s multitude of very specific and hard hitting points. Bizarrely, he accused her (and Lebanese in general) of being more interested in bridges than people, and declared that he (and Israelis in general) were more concerned about the suffering of the people than anything else. And Big Brother is right, I thought to myself. Big Brother is always right.

Mark Steiner did not seem impressed by the Israeli Prof’s attempt to label Mayssam a “propagandist.” He intervened, saying that one person’s truth might be another’s propaganda, and that this could be applied to both sides.

Prof Kellner continued that Hizbollah used civilians as a human shield. Was it Israel’s fault if Hizbollah deliberately and willfully situated their rockets on people’s front lawns or basements? Couldn’t we see, he said, what a difficult situation Israel was in, when Hizbollah did this?

Mayssam countered his argument with a first hand account of her own relatives, who were living in a village targeted for Israeli bombing. Hizbollah came to them, she said, and told them what was about to happen, begging them to evacuate. In general, she said, Hizbollah, tried their best to evacuate people from areas expected to come under Israeli bombardment. Again the Prof had no answer for her argument.

The Prof’s strategy was the classic Zionist/Neocon one, which Muslims and others of conscience should well recognize: 1) Refusal to answer your opponents specific points, and feigning of superiority; 2) Branding of the opponent as propagandist/terrorist/anti-Semite, to support one’s lack of response (or inability to respond); 3) A Big Brother style role switch, painting the aggressors as victims (eg, the Israelis are the main ones who have suffered injury, and who really never wanted to fight anyway).

The one point of consensus reached by Prof Kellner, Mayssam, and the host (Mark) was that Hizbollah should be disarmed. I found this idea—that one side, which has light arms, should be disarmed, and the other, which has cruise missiles and thermonuclear weapons, should be allowed to carry on--very troubling. Since the show accepts emailed comments, I borrowed a point from a recent New Trend edition, and emailed this in the hopes that it would be read on the air:

"I'd be very curious to know why Mr. Kellner thinks that one side in the conflict has a right to defend itself, and the other does not. If Hizbollah should be disarmed, then why not disarm Israel as well? I don't understand why both the U.S. and Israeli militaries seem to want to disarm their enemies before they fight them--quite a pusillanimous stance, totally contrary to the old days, when one would fight an equally well-armed opponent."

Unfortunately, it was the last few minutes of the show and my comment was not aired.

Abeer Al-Janabi and the Case for Burka

2006-07-18T22:18:00.000-04:00

Like the abuses at Abu Ghraib, the rape-murder of fourteen year-old Abeer al-Janabi by U.S. soldiers was labeled an aberration, excused under the now stale label of "work of a misguided few," by the military and their corporate media apologists. The obvious question is: How many "bad apples" can there possibly be?

Rumsfeld is the Secretary of Defense. Rumsfeld (and other U.S. military leaders) opined that torture is okay. Rape is one type of torture. So, the syllogism holds that rape is okay. Why then is it surprising that that U.S. troops, under Rumsfeld's chain of command, might engage in rape-murders?

Military atrocities are almost always underreported. I would bet my car (one of my few assets) that hundreds if not thousands of similar attacks on Iraqi women have occurred. In my view, the attack was not an aberration, but wholly congruous with the savage way in which the war has targeted Iraqi civilians from start to finish. Time and again, U.S. soldiers themselves have attested to attacks on civilians.

Another angle to the perfidy visited on Abeer: Since this was not just a random attack, the soldiers had to see her before going after her specifically. So, she was not wearing a burka.

Burkas were rare in both Iraq and Afghanistan prior to imperialist invasion. In Bagdad under Saddam, next to nobody wore the burka. Now burkas are pervasive in Afghanistan, though not as common yet in Iraq.

In light of the U.S.-style liberation of Abeer Al-Janabi, the rants of how Islam/burka-wearing oppresses Muslim women rings hollow. Why wouldn't the Islamists want the women to wear the burka, given the circumstance of occupation by a party which abides by no international law, does not recognize the ICC (or any other body which would hold it accountable for anything), and insists on immunity for its troops? What nation in good conscience wouldn't want to protect the weakest segment of its population against war-time rape, rampant in just about every conflict? To me, what's odd is not that the Islamists want the women to wear the burka, but rather that many, even in the (Eurocentric) anti-war camp, with which I align myself, want Iraqi Muslim women to shed the hijab so they can look more like Barbie--never mind the unrestrained dogs running around their country.

The occupying power, which—under international law—bears responsibility for the welfare of Iraqi women, has shown itself incapable of guaranteeing their safety. And Bosnia should have taught women like Abeer not to wait around for Muslim men to defend them. Muslim women under occupation would do well to wear the burka, as well as to learn self-protection.

Lebanon Invasion: the Question of U.S. Leverage

2006-07-15T22:53:00.000-04:00

The U.S. response to Israel's invasion of Lebanon and the corporate media reporting on it are a textbook study in Zionist propaganda. Every propaganda technique--from obfuscation and prevarication to transference, name calling, and direct censorship--is represented. Here I write to NPR's "All Things Considered" on the obfuscation of very direct leverage which the U.S. could exercise in reigning in Israel--if it so chose.

---
To: All Things Considered
Date: July 15, 2006

I am writing in response to Michele Norris' July 14 interview with Edward Djerejian. When Norris asked the former U.S. ambassador to Israel (and Syria) what steps the U.S. should take to address the current situation, the ambassador blithely came up with a mouthful of diplomatic-sounding niceties, like a U.S. call for cessation of hostilities by all parties, getting the opposing sides to talk, and possible prisoner exchange.

He did not mention--and Norris did not dare ask about--the most obvious leverage the U.S. has in the conflict--the six billion dollars plus, which the U.S. doles out to Israel every year. Does that mountain of U.S. tax payers' money come with no accountability whatsoever?

It would seem that attempting to unseat a duly elected government (Hamas), bombing the Beirut Airport, and destroying vast civilian infrastructure in Gaza are violations of international law, whatever excuses Israel makes for these actions. If an Arab state engaged in such violations--for any reason--it would be under international sanctions or other forms of economic strangulation, like yesterday. A perfect example is the U.S. rush to block previously promised aid to Hamas, in the absence of any provocative acts by the latter, subsequent to the PA election.

It is high time to hold Israel to basic standards of International Law, or stop sending them our tax dollars.

Sincerely,

U.S. Military Man Responds to "Taliban Country" Film Review

2006-06-15T22:30:00.005-04:00

Evidently my review of Carmela Baranowska's film Taliban Country, posted on Indymedia, was noticed by other than the usual Lefty suspects. I received this email from one David Tate:

I have read your comments... especially this one:

"An audience member (at the U. of MD screening), who said she and her husband worked for an aid organization in Kandahar, tried to convince the predominantly student audience that the film was an unfair treatment of the U.S. military, and that a tiny minority of U.S. troops engaged in this sort of behavior. I wondered, "Do you think your aid would be needed over there, if the U.S. hadn't gone in and destroyed that country in the first instance?" I politely remarked to her that wartime atrocities by occupying troops are statistically underreported, not over reported, and that the numbers were probably much higher. The bar on war crimes was set early on in the Afghan War, with the U.S. refusal to prosecute members of the Dostum militia who massacred prisoners in Mazar-e-Sharif; and the U.S. troops who murdered Taliban by suffocation in metal boxes. I commended Baranowska for her courage and integrity in reporting the reality of the situation in Afghanistan. U.S. presence in
Afghanistan violates the sovereignty of that country, and U.S. troops there, as in Iraq, are occupiers. Hence their behavior is not surprising."

You should have listened to these people. Not only was Carmela NOT the only journo in S. Oruzgan, but she wasn't even first. I, myself, got Carmela her embed... long after me. I left long after her and can tell you that her report is VERY one-sided. If you want to learn more, maybe I could come and present my film that shows a MUCH more complete picture regarding this issue.

Regards,
David Tate

http://battlefieldtourist.com

I checked with Baranowski, who was in E. Timor on a subsequent assignment, and she confirmed that Tate was U.S. military--a fact he'd conveniently omitted in his mail. So much for his "complete picture"....

Destruction of Islamic Art—Another Aspect of the Iraq War

2006-04-29T22:21:00.000-04:00

Recently, a friend of mine, who is a docent at the Walters Art Gallery in Baltimore, and is both an art afficionado and a friend of the Iraqi people (she is very anti-war) sent me the following:

“AAM/IPAM Iraq Program: Terry Weisser gave an update about the Walters’ plans to participate in the AAM International Partnership Among Museums (IPAM) Iraq program. Two museum professionals from the Iraq National Museum system in Baghdad will arrive at the Walters at the end of April for an intensive 4-week training and mentoring program in our conservation lab. A translator will be provided. Other participating museums include: The Field Museum in Chicago, the California Science Center and Japanese American National Museum in Los Angeles, the Chicago Historical Society, and the National Gallery of Art in Washington.”

This is what I wrote to her:

"On a personal level, the Iraqi government representatives coming over for training with the Walters are probably good people. The mothers of Iraqi torture victims and Iraqi dead planned to come to the U.S. for the Women's Day solidarity action, but the U.S. government denied visas to many of them, so that their stories might not be told. So, it is important to realize that the folks coming over for training at the Walters would not be given U.S. visas if they were not okay with the U.S. occupying force.

Imam Abu Hanifa's mosque (one of the oldest in Islam) was attacked by U.S. artillery. The personal Qur’an of the Caliph Ali (RA) was destroyed by U.S. forces. Keep in mind that Ali (RA) was a contemporary of the Prophet Muhammad (SAW), making his Qur’an nearly 1400 years old. More than a dozen mosques--some of them very old--were leveled, during the destruction of Fallujah. Since Iraq was a center for Islamic learning, numerous centuries old Qur'ans (roughly 500 - 1100 years old), similar to those in the Freer and Sackler Galleries, were destroyed by occupying troops. The occupation and destruction has not ceased, and although these actions may not be directly attributable to the Iraqi government representatives who will be visiting the Walters, you might understand why such a visit at this time might be construed as hypocrisy. There is great angst not just amongst Iraqis, but also in the Muslim community at large about the destruction of ancient Islamic sites as a result of this war.

So, it is the height of cynicism that U.S. authorities--which allowed the Bagdad Museum to be looted, and who are clearly implicated in the destruction of Islamic antiquities--are now feigning interest (through their proxy government) in "conservation" of artifacts."

My Reply to Dennis Prager

2006-04-02T22:32:00.000-04:00

Dennis Prager, a conservative talk show host on KRLA-AM (870) in Los Angeles, evidently wants Muslims to answer five burning questions he thinks non-Muslims would like answered. I'm not sure which non-Muslims he means, but regardless, I attempted to answer. Not sure this was worth my time...

(PRAGER): The rioting in France by primarily Muslim youths and the hotel bombings in Jordan are the latest events to prompt sincere questions that law-abiding Muslims need to answer for Islam's sake, as well as for the sake of worried non-Muslims.

Here are five of them:

Why are you so quiet?

Since the first Israelis were targeted for death by Muslim terrorists blowing themselves up in the name of your religion and Palestinian nationalism, I have been praying to see Muslim demonstrations against these atrocities. Last week's protests in Jordan against the bombings, while welcome, were a rarity. What I have seen more often is mainstream Muslim spokesmen implicitly defending this terror on the grounds that Israel occupies Palestinian lands. We see torture and murder in the name of Allah, but we see no anti-torture and anti-murder demonstrations in the name of Allah.

There are a billion Muslims in the world. How is it possible that essentially none have demonstrated against evils perpetrated by Muslims in the name of Islam? This is true even of the millions of Muslims living in free Western societies. What are non-Muslims of goodwill supposed to conclude? When the Israeli government did not stop a Lebanese massacre of Palestinians in the Sabra and Chatilla refugee camps in Lebanon in 1982, great crowds of Israeli Jews gathered to protest their country's moral failing. Why has there been no comparable public demonstration by Palestinians or other Muslims to morally condemn Palestinian or other Muslim-committed terror?

(ME): The first issue here is how one defines terrorism and evil. Suppose a crazed criminal breaks into Dennis Prager's house, and forces Dennis Prager out. If Dennis Prager resists, is he wrong for doing so? Can he rightly be designated as a terrorist?

According to international law, it is the right and indeed the duty of an occupied people to respond, with arms if necessary, to end their occupation. The attempt to paint the Palestinians as the violent party in the conflict is perhaps the most masterful propaganda of the century. It is a classic colonial strategy, as practiced by the British in Kenya or the French in Algeria: Occupy a country; crush or disarm the resistance; label those who still resist as "terrorists;" then jail, torture, or kill them out right.

It may be that Muslims don't demonstrate because they're rooting for the Palestinians to win their land back after 58 years of occupation. It is natural to feel empathy for the underdog--certainly the Palestinians in this case. Israel has received $84,854,827,200 of U.S. taxpayers money since its inception (source: Washington Report on Middle East Affairs), and yet has been unable to crush the Palestinians. It is clear that the Palestinian resistance is a popular movement which represents the sentiments of the overwhelming majority of Palestinians. So, should we start demonstrating in protest because David has finally scored a hit against Goliath?

Recall the Jews in the Warsaw ghetto, who engaged in violent acts against the Nazi occupiers. Were they too, terrorists, or somehow wrong in fighting back? Would it have been appropriate for other Jews to be out in the streets demonstrating to condemn the Warsaw ghetto Jews for fighting back against the Nazis?

The second issue is of collective guilt. Suppose that the acts popularly labeled "terrorism" might by some stretch of the imagination be considered as such under international law. Why should each and every Muslim feel responsible for demonstrating against, or otherwise repudiating these acts, when neither they, nor their elected representatives have committed them? Do Americans (with the exception of a tiny conscientious minority) go out and demonstrate against their government's actions each time a Palestinian child is killed by Israeli Defense Forces..a near daily occurrence--with weaponry purchased with their tax dollars? In our democracy, did we stop our elected representatives from killing in excess of 100,000 Iraqi men women, and children? We were too cowardly even to impeach Bush, when he clearly lied to the nation about the existence of WMDs, and continued to let him kill in our name. We don't even accept responsibility for acts committed by someone whom we put in office twice. Why then should Muslims feel guilty for acts committed by people who are not their elected reps, and in doing so, accept responsibility for the acts committed by others?

It is laudable if masses of Israeli Jews demonstrated against Sabra-Chatilla. Did they demonstrate against Deir Yassin, Kafr Kassim, and all the other massacres of Palestinian peasants perpetrated by Menachem Begin's terrorist Irgun gang, clearing the way for the "birth" of Israel? Did they continue to demonstrate against the Jenin massacre and other recent massacres and near daily killings of Palestinians?

Did the Israeli Jews demonstrating against Sabra-Chatilla take note that the overseer of that massacre, Ariel Sharon, was rewarded for his atrocities with the post of Prime Minister? Imagine how 9-11 victims might feel if Osama Bin Laden (or whomever one imagines responsible for that attack) was appointed governor of New York. Then imagine how Palestinians who lost family members in Sabra-Chatilla might feel at Sharon's Prime Ministership.

(PRAGER): Why are none of the Palestinian terrorists Christian?

If Israeli occupation is the reason for Muslim terror in Israel, why do no Christian Palestinians engage in terror? They are just as nationalistic and just as occupied as Muslim Palestinians.

(ME): In a Doublespeak-free world, this question would be: "Why do some Palestinians defend themselves with arms, and others do not?"

Because a victim does not respond violently, does not mean he or she is not victimized. Different people respond to injustice in different ways.

One reason for the absence of Palestinian Christians from the armed resistance may be: Palestinian Christians are far fewer in number than Palestinian Muslims. If the total number of Palestinian Christians is smaller (than Palestinian Muslims), then so is the number of Palestinian Christians who are part of the Resistance. If there are not as many of them in the Resistance, then it follows that there is a smaller number of them to resist with arms.

Another reason for the difference of response may be: Muslims are not allowed to accept oppression, racism, colonization, or other forms of subjugation. The Qur'an commands Muslims to fight back when attacked or occupied. Off course such a command would be anathema to Israeli settlers bulldozing Palestinian homes and destroying Palestinian crops. Hence the labeling of Qur'anically mandated Palestinian Muslim armed resistance with terrorism.

When Palestinians--both Muslim and Christian--and their supporters choose to oppose occupation by non-violent means, they are mowed down, like Rachel Corrie and Tom Hurndall. The decades long racist policy of excluding the Palestinians from "Peace Talks" ended, only to be replaced by talks in which true representatives of the Palestinians were barred. Even in these bogus talks, the agreements made were repeatedly violated by the Israelis. Today the Palestinians are disenfranchised from most Israeli decision-making bodies and processes, much as Black people were disenfranchised in the U.S. under Jim Crow. The recent PA election showed that when Palestinians attempt to forge a government of their choosing through suffrage, the U.S. and Israel do all they can to choke it out of existence. So after excluding the Palestinians from all democratic alternatives, is it really a surprise that some of them, who don't wish to remain colonial-settler subjects the rest of their lives, resort to the only avenue for change left open to them..violent resistance.

(PRAGER): Why is only one of the 47 Muslim-majority countries a free country?

According to Freedom House, a Washington-based group that promotes democracy, of the world's 47 Muslim countries, only Mali is free. Sixty percent are not free, and 38% are partly free. Muslim-majority states account for a majority of the world's "not free" states. And of the 10 "worst of the worst," seven are Islamic states. Why is this?

(ME): The question is a complicated one. The answer lies in part in the U.S. foreign aid budget. For example, in 2005, U.S. aid to Muslim countries included:

Afghanistan $980,460,000
Algeria $850,000
Bahrain $19,498,000
Egypt $1,821,520,000
Indonesia $147,820,000
Jordan $456,212,000
Lebanon $38,220,000
Morocco $45,835,000
Nigeria $130,099,000
Oman $21,340,000
Pakistan $537,550,000
Saudi Arabia $25,000
Sudan $305,219,000
Tunisia $11,795,000
Turkey $38,328,000
Uzbekistan $48,717,000

(Numbers are FY 2005 Estimates. Source: Federation of American Scientists, Arms Sales Monitoring Project.)

Many U.S. aid beneficiaries are military dictatorships, heavily criticized by Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch. So, the absence of democracy may be attributable at least in part to U.S. aid to these dictatorships. It's like paying a gangster who terrorizes people on a street corner, and then wondering why the people are terrorized. American taxpayers are unwittingly financing torture and murder in not just Afghanistan, Iraq, or Gitmo, but across the globe.

The second major obstacle to "freedom" in Muslim countries is the legacy of colonial rule, which many Muslim countries endured. Just as a few decades of affirmative action could not erase the legacy of 500 years of slavery in the Americas, a few decades of independence from overt colonialism did not end many deleterious colonial practices, which continued in the more subtle form of neo-colonialism. Colonialism nurtures a class of elites to serve the interests of the colonizing power. That elite survived the transition to independence; in the Muslim world it acts as neo-colonial agent of Western powers. Alienated from the masses, it squanders the wealth of the country, often through trade practices which harm the country. These actions often occur with the encouragement or support of the U.S. and other Western powers, and earns the elite the wrath of the masses. The ruling elite must then purchase massive weaponry, often through arms deals with the U.S. (placing the U.S. in the position of interested party maintaining these dictators) to subjugate the restless natives and maintain power.

On the other side of the coin, many countries popularly deemed "free" or democratic are today experiencing monumental challenges to freedom. In Austria, for example, a man was recently convicted for making politically incorrect statements about the Holocaust. Ditto for another man in Germany. Hark the Era of the Thought Crime! In London, imams can only preach what they are told, or risk jail sentences (very similar to Cairo or Riyadh), and police can shoot immigrants and "darkies" on suspicion and ask questions later.

Here in the U.S., special interest groups buy votes at every juncture, third party candidates are excluded from debates and have next to nil chance of election, and candidates are selected for high office under highly irregular circumstances, using Diebold machines with no paper trails. Political dissidents are subjected to officially sanctioned spying, thousands of people are rounded up and jailed and/or deported because they are the wrong race/religion, and American citizens are held for years without trial or charge. In New York, protestors, exercising their Freedom of Assembly in a permitted anti-war march, were harassed, photographed (for intimidation), and--in many cases--arrested by police. Closer to home, in Baltimore, Black residents are arrested for congregating on their own doorsteps, in violation of their elementary right to Freedom of Assembly, under the pretext that they may be selling drugs (although such harassment does not occur in predominantly white neighborhoods). This is the "democracy" we want to export to other countries?

(PRAGER): Why are so many atrocities committed and threatened by Muslims in the name of Islam?

Young girls in Indonesia were recently beheaded by Muslim murderers. Last year, Muslims - in the name of Islam - murdered hundreds of schoolchildren in Russia. While reciting Muslim prayers, Islamic terrorists take foreigners working to make Iraq free and slaughter them. Muslim daughters are murdered by their own families in the thousands in "honor killings." And the Muslim government in Iran has publicly called for the extermination of Israel.

(ME): I don't know--because Muslims are inherently violent and criminal? (If I didn't know any better, I would think Dennis Prager is trying to paint an egregiously stereotyped picture of all Muslims as violent.)

Beheadings and church burnings don't occur in the U.S.? Rapes, assaults, prostitutions, or beatings to death by boyfriends, husbands, fathers, and uncles of the predominantly female victims don't occur in the U.S.? Poor Black people..unable to acquire adequate legal counsel--weren't legally lynched by the President of the United States? In many of these cases, the perpetrators are self-proclaimed Christians or Jews. The only difference is that Muslims don't have the media savvy (or deviousness perhaps) to label the perpetrators of these crimes as Christian, Jew, etc.

As far as the "foreigners working to make Iraq free": under international law, workers employed by an occupying force are considered agents of the occupying force, and thus may be dealt with in the same way as the occupying force.

As far as Muslims murdering Russian schoolchildren in the name of Islam: Independent investigations after the fact showed that the hostage-takers did not murder the children; rather Russian forces, which cut off negotiations with the hostage-takers, and prematurely stormed the school, caused the death of the children. In fact, a furor arose in Russia when the premature storming became public knowledge (reported in all the major Russian newspapers). Further, the event followed the destruction of an entire Muslim city, Grozny, including its main orphanage. One major reason cited by the guerrillas for the hostage-taking was Grozny. Even then, the mainstream Chechen Muslim Resistance repudiated the hostage-taking. It is telling that Western media quickly forgot about the aerial bombardment of Grozny, which killed 100,000 Chechen Muslims (reported by BBC), in their efforts to make it appear as if Chechen hostage-taking had occurred in a vacuum.

In terms of sheer numbers, U.S. forces, and previously the U.S. acting through the U.N. Security Council, killed more people in the last two decades than any Muslim country. One hundred thousand (100,000) Iraqi people have been killed during the course of the current U.S. occupation of Iraq. A half million (500,000) Iraqi children died as a result of U.S.-spearheaded U.N. sanctions. These innocent lives were taken by U.S. forces, or the U.S. acting through the Security Council, not by Muslims. The question "Why are so many atrocities committed and threatened by Muslims in the name of Islam?" might only be asked by someone with complete and utter tunnel vision to world events in the last several decades.

(PRAGER): Why do countries governed by religious Muslims persecute other religions?

No church or synagogue is allowed in Saudi Arabia. The Taliban destroyed some of the greatest sculptures of the ancient world because they were Buddhist. Sudan's Islamic regime has murdered great numbers of Christians.

Instead of confronting these problems, too many of you deny them. Muslims call my radio show to tell me that even speaking of Muslim or Islamic terrorists is wrong. After all, they argue, Timothy McVeigh is never labeled a "Christian terrorist." As if McVeigh committed his terror as a churchgoing Christian and in the name of Christ, and as if there were Christian-based terror groups around the world.

(ME): Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Kuwait, Egypt, Bahrain, and Pakistan, among others are monarchies or dictatorships. Islam, by definition, prohibits kingship and dictatorship, so the categorization of these countries as "Islamic" (or governed by religious Muslims) is itself incorrect. Additionally, for reasons elucidated in Q3 above, few, if any, truly Islamic states have emerged in modern times.

On the prohibition of churches and synagogues in Saudi Arabia: Islam itself has no prohibition against the building of churches or synagogues, so this question is better directed at the U.S.-supported Saudi monarchy.

On the destruction of the Buddhas: According to the Taliban's public statements, they were destroyed as a protest to the international community's apathy to millions of starving Afghan children. Recall after the Soviet withdrawal, and the years of internecine conflict which followed, the Taliban government brought peace to Afghanistan for the first time in decades. They also eliminated opium-trafficking. Yet they were rewarded by a near total cut in international aid. At the same time, U.N. agencies were moving to spend millions of dollars to refurbish the Buddha statues. The Taliban, infuriated at the world's concern for statues over Afghan children, destroyed the statues. The incident was cleverly manipulated by corporate media, and the original reasons for the Taliban protest were forgotten.

On Sudan's Islamic regime murdering Christians: Sudan's Christians live primarily in the south of the country. Until recent years, they lived in peace with Muslims. To understand how the conflict between the Christian SPLA and Muslim Sudanese arose, one needs simply to examine the case of the Nicaraguan Contras, and their funding by the Reagan Administration in furtherance of the overthrow of the Sandinista government. So, it's not quite as simple as the Sudanese government waking up one day with blood in their eyes and targeting poor innocent Christians. If an armed rebellion arose within the mainland U.S., the U.S. government would similarly squelch it.

In Pakistan, Christians and Muslims have historically lived in peace. Recent incidents, in which churches were attacked occurred under highly suspicious circumstances, and are thought to be the work of provocateurs.

In Palestine, Muslims, Christians, and Jews, peacefully coexisted, prior to 1917, when immigration of Zionist settlers was artificially accelerated..by the Zionist Founding Fathers..to the very high rates required to fulfill their political agenda. Historically, Muslims, Christians, and Jews have co-existed peacefully throughout the Arab world.

Notably, no Muslim country has bombed the U.S. or another Western country on Christmas or Easter. Yet the U.S. bombed Afghanistan during Ramadan, the holiest time of year for Muslims. Numerous mosques in Afghanistan and Iraq have been bombed by U.S. forces, many at prayer time. In Palestine, Arabs are stopped at checkpoints and prevented from reaching mosque services, if they happen to be on the wrong side of the Wall. In Jerusalem, Baruch Goldstein, an Israeli Jew entered a mosque full of worshippers and opened fire on them with an automatic weapon. In Iraq, Afghanistan, and Guantanamo, the Holy Qur'an was thrown on the ground, in the toilet, urinated on, and otherwise desecrated by U.S. occupying troops.

In light of all this, the claim that "countries governed by religious Muslims persecute other religions" is indeed a bizarre one. Persecution of non-Muslims probably does exist to some small extent in some Muslim countries (as does the persecution of anyone who is different in most places). But Muslims generally don't come to non-Muslim countries and bomb and desecrate the Holy places of non-Muslims, and try to murder them on their Holy Days.

Muslims in many Western countries face varying levels of persecution. For example, in France, Muslim girls are forbidden by law from wearing hijab (Islamic head cover) to school. In the U.S., Islamic rituals not attacked at an official level; rather hostility and misunderstanding..where it occurs--seems more the result of public susceptibility to Zionist anti-Muslim propaganda, and to a xenophobic foreign policy. Many U.S. Muslims are harassed and intimidated from wearing headscarf or saying the obligatory five Muslim prayers in public for fear of physical assault. Many U.S. mosques are wiretapped or infiltrated by agents provocateurs. U.S. intelligence agencies set up booths at Muslim conventions. Muslim students at universities and colleges are harassed and tracked by DHS. Muslim professors are threatened with termination by Zionist interest groups if they question U.S.'s one-sided Middle East policies.

(PRAGER): As a member of the media for nearly 25 years, I have a long record of reaching out to Muslims. Muslim leaders have invited me to speak at major mosques. In addition, I have studied Arabic and Islam, have visited most Arab and many other Muslim countries and conducted interfaith dialogues with Muslims in the United Arab Emirates as well as in the U.S. Politically, I have supported creation of a Palestinian state and supported (mistakenly, I now believe) the Oslo accords.

Hundreds of millions of non-Muslims want honest answers to these questions, even if the only answer you offer is, "Yes, we have real problems in Islam." Such an acknowledgment is infinitely better - for you and for the world - than dismissing us as anti-Muslim.

We await your response.

(ME): I hope this answers it.

Dennis Prager's nationally syndicated radio show is heard daily in Los Angeles on KRLA-AM (870).

Las Vegas--A Muslim View

2006-03-22T04:47:00.000-05:00

As an internationalist with a deep interest in history, there are a vast number of places I would like to visit in my lifetime. Las Vegas is not one of them. For some odd reason, my little brother and his fiancee decided to get married in Vegas, and that too, during Spring Break, never mind that the bride was in school herself (imagine returning to midterm exams a few days after getting married!) Initiallly, I balked at lil' brother's invitation, since I loathe Vegas and all that it stands for. It was quite a conundrum, since I am close to my brother emotionally, though not politically and spiritually. It seemed he really wanted me there, even buying my plane ticket and hotel, and finally, I spinelessly capitulated. And so, I found myself in Sin City during Spring Break 2006.

My Abba (father) and I had travelled separately to Vegas for the wedding. On our first morning there, we decided to meet over breakfast. While waiting for him, I went on-line. The anniversary of the Iraq War was the next day, and I needed to check the United for Peace and Justice (UFPJ) website for the rundown on University of Nevada (UNLV) protests marking the anniversary of the Iraq War. The protest was scheduled for Monday--Wedding Day. Sighhh, what a tough choice.

Since our hotel, Treasure Island, was huge and getting lost would have required little effort, my father and I met, well, in the casino. It is, unfortunately, the first thing one sets upon emerging from the hotel's elevators. The casino is huge, and one literally cannot exit the hotel without traversing it. And, since it is a casino, patrons smoke (indoors) without qualm. It was a bizarre sight for me, coming from the East Coast, where the penalty for smoking indoors is often immediate expulsion.

The other bizarre thing was the presence of waitresses in mini-mini-mini (I mean mini) skirts a la Hooters and torturously high stilleto heels. They were serving casino-goers. So, this is the land of women’s lib, I thought, and all the poor burka-clad women in Muslim countries are terribly oppressed. Phew!

Walk Down the Vegas Strip

So, Abba and I had breakfast, then left Treasure Island, and walked toward the main throughway, Las Vegas Boulevard, about a block away. We could see the Wynn, the newest and grandest of the hotels—correction, resorts—on the Strip, where my brother, his fiancee, and her father were staying. All the major hotels on the Strip, including ours, insisted on referring to themselves as resorts; they were no mere hotels. No sooner had we turned the corner from our “resort,” we saw some beautiful fountains. My stepmother had asked Abba to bring her some pictures of Vegas, and so I volunteered to take one there.

Then we were at Caesar’s Palace. It was huge, bigger than Grand Central Station. Everywhere there were nude statues, and people being photographed with nude statues. I joked with Abba, whose nom de plume is butshikan, that the buts better look out, here comes butshikan. Call me culturally deprived, but I am thankful for the Islamic prohibition on depiction of the human figure.

“Caesar’s Palace is famous; maybe you should take a picture of its main facade with the laurels (minus the human statues) for Stepmom,” I told Abba.

He refused, in what was perhaps a symbolic gesture. Butshikan does not glorify Caesar, either through photography or other means.

Caesar’s Palace continued on for what seemed like blocks. One of its most prominent statues was—what else--Caesar himself. Abba went off on a discourse about Caesar’s most famous speech, recalling much of it verbatim. You might think I am just a chamcha of my Abba, but I marveled, for the umpteenth time, at his knowledge and wisdom of even those things that were anathema to him. My Christian friends have told me on many occasions that Abba seemed to know more about Christianity than most Christians.

A bit further down the strip, we encountered the Statue of Liberty replica. This time, Abba agreed to be photographed next to it (am I surprised?). I tried to take the picture, but it was virtually impossible to photograph the gargantuan statue without completely crossing the street--and then the picture would be terribly obstructed by the substantial passersby and traffic--or using a wide angle lens, and I eventually gave up.

The Luxor Hotel

Near the end of the Strip, we found a resort called the Luxor Hotel, modeled after the infamous original in Egypt, complete with gambling, liberated waitresses, and free flow of toxins (liquor). I felt disgusted that this was the only representation of Luxor presented to Vegas visitors thirsting for knowledge (well, there had to be some who were thirsting). It was representative neither of the greatness of Ancient KMT, with its mathematics, physics, and engineering genius, nor of the more recent Islamic Egypt.

Abba and I realized roughly simultaneously that the Luxor Hotel, like all the major Vegas resort-hotels, were modeled after existing structures, and that this one had to be modeled after a center for drinking, gambling, and prostitution, in modern day Luxor--thrust under the noses of Egypt’s Muslim majority. I could imagine why Egyptian Islamists were so angry. But Luxor in Vegas wasn’t all bad: Like dissolves like, as they teach us in biochemistry, and here at least, jahiliyyah fit in perfectly with jahiliyyah.

We were nearing the end of the Strip, and with it, the end of Vegas’ glamour. A few yards on, young Latino immigrants were handing out glossy postcard size circulars. They handed one to my father, who looked at it briefly, and then dropped it on the ground. It was a completely nude picture of a woman, probably with the offer of sex (neither he nor I looked at the circular long enough to scrutinize it for details).

The Porn Distributors were nearly all Latino, some of them very young, and some of them women. There was an art to dissemination of porn. The worker shuffled the stack of nude pictures making an attention-catching smack! Then, attention captured, he handed it to a potential patron. I was not exempted from this depravity: one youth, eager to get rid of his stack as soon as possible, even gave me one. My father and I were shocked and saddened to see Latino immigrants in such a state. As we walked, we discussed what causes a people to stoop to such a level. Latino immigrants, if such a generalization can be made, were overall very dedicated to family and to the church. It seemed that just as wealth could grossly change a person, eliciting behaviors previously alien to them, poverty sometimes induced horrible and desperate responses in people.

By this time, we were more than two miles from our hotel, and decided we’d better make our way back, in order to have enough time to prepare for the evening’s wedding-related events. Walking back, we saw MGM, Coca-Cola, McDonalds, and Hooters.

“That’s great,” I remarked to Abba, “All my favorite things in one place. I think I’ll need therapy when I get back home.”

Heading in the direction of our hotel, we encountered the Paris Las Vegas Hotel, with its Eiffel Tower replica (built half scale to the original). I went inside to use the restroom, and Abba waited for me in a relatively quiet corner of the resort’s casino (since it was virtually impossible to be on the main floor of any of these resorts without being in a casino). When I returned, I found Abba sitting at a slot machine—an odd site indeed. But, it was the first available seat he found. I pointed out to him that all the signs, including those for the bathroom, were in French! See, who says Vegas doesn’t have couture?

The Mosque-Casino

Then we saw something that really blew our minds: a mosque with a casino on the first floor. Really. The architecture was not just Middle Eastern-looking, but precisely that of a mosque, down to the mimbar. This was Aladdin Resort and Casino. Here are a couple links, showing how it looked:

http://govegas.about.com/od/downtownvegas/l/bllongwalk8.htm
http://www.lasvegas.com/shopping/desertpassage.html

Adjoining it was the Desert Passage Shopping Mall. We did not go inside, but I later learned that inside the shopping mall was Starbucks, the Nestle Toll House Cafe, and other attractions. (Starbucks and Nestle are both closely linked to Israel, and as such are part of the boycott Israel movement. Their placement inside a shopping mall with a very clearly Islamic appearance is indicative, at best, of a gross lack of awareness of Muslim sensibilities.) Immediately adjacent to the Aladdin Resort-cum-mosque was Krave, a gay bar. I shuddered. Nothing but nothing was sacred to these “people.” Abba and I were both very disturbed by the Mosque-Casino. We wondered if some of the other patrons realized the significance of such a presentation. Almost like Rushdie all over again. I jotted down names and details, so that I could register my objections upon returning home.

Along the route, we’d been looking for a tee shirt for my stepmother—a souvenir she’d requested. If mental septicemia were a true to life condition, I would say that it overtook us after the Aladdin Resort, and we stopped looking for the tee.

Finally we were back at our hotel. After what we’d seen that day, Treasure Island suddenly seemed very wholesome. I’d completed my first (and hopefully last) traipse along the Strip. I felt strange being there, where the people seemed so oblivious to EVERYTHING going on around the globe. They appeared egocentric and corpulent in carriage; self-absorbed and brainwashed in outlook; glutinous and sybaritic in habit.

A Quiz for the Aware Muslim/Internationalist

2005-12-27T22:04:00.000-05:00

Let's see how much of an internationalist you really are. Please honestly attempt to answer the question before scrolling down for the answer. No cheating!

Q: Which country fits this description?

In the past two years, the President of the country, and his entire cabinet was removed by force by outsiders. Many of the cabinet members were imprisoned. A puppet government was installed in the country, and remains in place with U.S. backing. House-to-house searches are carried out, to uproot "militants." Particular cities and towns are identified as resistance strongholds, and subjected to massive assault by the occupying force, resulting in large numbers of civilian casualties. The reporting of such massive assaults and the concomitant suffering of civilians was almost completely censored by corporate media. Prior to these events, the country refused to succumb to the designs of the imperialists and their allies, and was placed under embargo, aimed at starving the country into submission.

Um....

Ah....

Let's see....

Er....

Could it be....

Perhaps....

Hmmm....

Heck if I know...

Why does she ask such annoying questions anyway...

A: Iraq? No, the description is that of Haiti. The similarities to Iraq are astounding:

Forced removal of the President of an Independent, Sovereign Nation
• Iraqi President Saddam Hussain was removed by force after he refused to succumb to U.S. and Israeli designs.
• Haitian President Jean Bertrand Aristide was effectively kidnapped by the U.S. military, and taken from Haiti to the Central African Republic on a U.S. military plane accompanied by U.S. soldiers, after he refused to comply with U.S. demands.

Initial Imposition of Puppet Government
• In Iraq, Iyad Allawi—who’d lived for decades in the U.K, and was a British citizen--was named interim Prime Minister by the U.S. after the invasion.
• In Haiti, Gerard Latortue was appointed interim head of the new puppet government, while still living in the U.S.

House-to-House Searches by the Military
• In Iraq, U.S. troops search homes and terrorize inhabitants on a daily basis.
• In Haiti, Haitian puppet government, their death squads, and U.N. troops carry out house-to-house searches primarily in the slums, where the resistance is based.

Destruction of Major Centers of Resistance
• In Iraq, Fallujah and other cities, labeled as resistance strongholds, were brutally assaulted and destroyed.
• In Haiti, Cite Soleil and other impoverished townships, known for resistance to the imposed regime, were targeted for ferocious military assault. Cite Soleil is Haiti’s Fallujah.

Criminal Censorship by the Corporate Media
• In Iraq, the destruction of Fallujah was censored for days by corporate media.
• In Haiti, the assault on Cite Soleil went almost completely unreported. In fact, the media blackout of the Cite Soleil assault may be seen as more complete than that of Fallujah, because Haiti has no Al-Jazeera.

Embargo: the Policy of Starve, then Kill
• After President Saddam Hussain refused to bow to U.S./Israeli pressure, Iraq was placed under U.N./U.S. sanctions resulting in the deaths of millions of Iraqis.
• After the Haitians threw off the chains of slavery around 1804--in the first successful slave uprising in the Americas--the U.S. launched an embargo against Haiti, to starve the Haitians into submission and to punish them for daring to resist.

And countless other similarities.

Muslims must wake up and see that the modus operandi of the Oppressor is the same whether against Black people in Haiti, or against Arab people in Iraq. Qur’an kareem commands us to resist oppression, in all its forms. Just as Muslims must support the struggle of the Iraqi people to eject the occupying force, we must support the Haitian resistance, carried out by Fanmi Lavalas (party of President Jean Bertrand Aristide)!

Remembering the Babri Mosque

2005-12-06T22:54:00.000-05:00

“If that is civilization, I prefer savagery.”
--Dessalines, Haitian Revolution leader

December 6 is the anniversary of the demolition of the Babri Mosque by Hindu mobs in North India. It is an event of enormous international significance; yet most Americans, seem wholly unaware that it ever happened.

The Babri Mosque (also known as the Masjid-i Janamasthan) was built some time between 1100 and 1600 c.e. Its construction or refurbishment--it’s uncertain which--is attributed to the first Moghul Emperor, Babur during his reign (1526-1530).

The largest mosque in Ayodha, (Uttar Pradesh Province, India), it exhibited classic Jaunpuri architectural style, characteristic of the period commencing with the Delhi Sultanate and subsequent to it. The sturdy exterior of the mosque relied on rectangular sandstone bricks. It had one large, and two small elegant domes, and a beautiful fountain for the performance of ablution. Long walls enclosed the main courtyard, lined with intricately decorated pillars and arches characteristic of the period.

The acoustics of the Babri’s main hall were the stuff of legend: a whisper from the mihrab could be heard clearly at the opposite end of the hall, 200 feet away. The Babri’s well of curative water, said to heal all manner of ailments, drew people of all faiths from far and wide.

The Babri was older than the Taj Mahal, the other famous structure built by a Moghul emperor. It pre-dated the Arc de Triomphe, and was approximately the same age as Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel and St. Peter’s Basilica.

No matter.

On December 6, 1992, the Vishwa Hindu Parishad (VHP, or World Hindu Council) and the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) held a rally outside the Babri, inciting Hindus to tear down the c. 900-year old mosque! Although, Muslims and Hindus had peacefully shared access to the site for decades, and the Muslims had not denied the Hindus claim to it, the VHP and BJP leaders claimed that the mosque must be removed, so that an ancient Hindu temple, which lay beneath the site, might be re-constructed there.

Mobs of Hindus amassed outside the mosque. Over the course of the day, their numbers gradually rose to around one million! As members of the ruling BJP openly incited members of the mob to violence, destruction of the mosque began in earnest.

While the Babri was being demolished, as well as for hours afterwards, Hindu mobs pillaged the town of Ayodha, killing, burning, looting, and destroying. Only two of Ayodha’s many mosques escaped damage or destruction in the rampage.

Following the destruction of the Babri, the BJP continued to maintain excellent relations with the U.S. government, as well as with other Western nations. Remarkably, the BJP’s popularity skyrocketed immediately after the demolition. The party remained closely allied to the Bush administration--and to Israel--for the duration of its term in office.

International Significance of the Destruction

On the anniversary of its destruction, a comparison of the Babri’s “death” with the destruction of the Buddhas of Bamiyan--at the hands of Afghanistan’s Taliban government—is useful. Several major differences between the two incidents of artifact destruction exist:

Publicly Declared Motivation
* The Taliban said: the destruction of the Buddhas protested the fact that UNESCO, NGOs, and the West were pouring money into restoring statues, when Afghanistan’s people had endured more than two decades of war, and vast segments of the population were literally starving.
** Acharya Dharmendra, VHP leader, said: “Although the local Hindu residents did ask me to hold the crowds from burning Muslim homes I would have never stopped them. This is the only way in which Ayodha could become like the Vatican." (Quoted in the Times of India).

Sanctity of Human Life
* The Taliban attacked no human in the process of their action.
** Hindu mobs attacked Muslim households, torching and plundering for nearly twelve hours (per BBC reports) that day. They also attacked journalists.

Time of Construction
* The Buddhas of Bamiyan were built in the fifth or sixth century.
** The Babri mosque was built c. eleventh century.

Right of Worship by Indigenous Populations
* Afghanistan has no known Buddhist population; the Taliban action did not violate the religious rights of any local population which may have used the statues for worship.
** Uttar Pradesh province has a Muslim population numbering roughly thirteen million; the Babri was in active use when it was demolished, violating the right of worship of the Muslim population.

Reconstruction Efforts
* UNESCO and various NGOs were pouring money into restoring the statues—prior to the destruction by the Taliban. Currently, the Japanese government, and many other contributors are funding the rebuilding of the Buddhas.
** Currently, no initiatives have been put forth by the Indian—or other governments or NGOs--for the reconstruction of the Babri Mosque. The only efforts to this end have been by the local population, who are very poor.

Aftermath
* After its destruction of art, the Taliban government was largely destroyed by the U.S., and many of its leaders tortured or killed.
** After its destruction of art, the BJP is regarded as a friend and ally of the U.S.

The Babri mosque destruction once again reveals the hypocrisy of the West in its putative concern over the protection of art and artifacts.

(Background information on the Babri taken from Wikipedia)

Shima Khala and the She-Monkey

2005-11-15T04:12:00.000-05:00

The dog was not my Great Aunt Shima's only pet. She had her own bandar-nee, or monkey (bandar is urdu for monkey and nee at the end of a word denotes that it is a female). Amazingly, the monkey was kept, not at the village house, but in her upscale city house in Lahore (in the neighborhood known as Model Town, considered very exclusive by Lahori standards).

The monkey was given to her by some friends/clients who perhaps bred them (or somehow had an extra monkey on hand). Mahboob, her adopted-son, who told me about the monkey, never got to see it for himself, but heard about it when he accompanied Shima Khala to Model Town (she was then in the process of moving from the city to the village house, which she had just built).

One more way in which my Great Aunt Shima was a rather amazing woman!

Shima Khala and Mr. Dawg

2005-11-12T04:27:00.000-05:00

I learned recently that my great aunt Shima had a dog at her village house (same site as the recently closed school). Oddly, she had the dog the entire time I was visiting there, but for some reason I didn't realize it (although I may have heard the dog barking); and since I was busy running around to various government offices for my husband Asif's immigration papers, or helping him with his English, when I was not teaching in Shima Khala's school, I didn't take the time to find out whose dog it was.

The dog was by all accounts, a very good dog, and very loyal. Mahboob and Shima Khala evidently used to bathe the dog regularly (give him ghusal as Mahboob jokingly says), and although he was kept outside, he was part of the family. Other family members, as well as visitors like Asif and I, also slept outside in the courtyard on charpoys customarily.

Shima Khala habitually went to bed early and rose early. But the night of my youngest uncle Laulak's wedding in Lahore, Shima Khala stayed up much of the night talking and enjoying the company of her guests--my grandmother Mahmudah, my other great aunt Nazrat, and my great uncle Razi and others who were in town for the wedding.

The next morning, Shima Khala did not get up bright and early as she usually did. The dog seemed to sense something was amiss. With his teeth, he pulled a sheet over the sleeping Shima Khala as if he thought she might be sick or dead. Then the dog took her hand gently in his mouth and shook it lightly. She awoke and asked sleepily "Which of you silly people woke me up, I'm tired!" (or words to that effect). Great aunt Nazrat told her, "It wasn't me; it was the dog!"

The dog eventually passed away, and Shima Khala was sad. She never got another dog.

Who is the Real Chand Khala?

2005-11-11T00:34:00.000-05:00

On the anniversary of my great aunt's death, I have some very special memories of her I wished to share.

I spent parts of my eighteenth, nineteenth, and twentieth year in Marake, the tiny village on the outskirts of Lahore, where my great aunt Shima lived. She was extraordinarily generous in her hospitality to me, although she heartily disliked Asif (my husband at the time), who was accompanying me on the later visits. I was in Pakistan to research the effects of war on the Afghan women and children in the refugee camps, about which I was writing at the time.

To my face, Shima Khala (aunt; also used for great aunt, as in this case), ever the Pakistani nationalist, told me I was a fool, and that I ought learn my own history first. At the time, I was indignant, only later realizing the truth of her words. We Pakistani expats (and descendents of expats) drain intellectual and material wealth away from Pakistan, and return nothing but curses to the land of our heritage. We are, indeed, the mentally colonized, in our ignorance of the importance of the ideal of Pakistan, and Pakistan's rich history.

My presence in the refugee camps and in the tribal area did not go unnoticed by the ever-vigilant Pakistani authorities. I was eventually picked up by Pakistani police in Parachinar, who wondered why an eighteen year-old English speaking girl in delicate cotton shalwar kameez, army boots, and thick eyeglasses should be wandering around a dangerous Pakistani border town. I was detained for three weeks while they investigated my presence there.

Since I, not surprisingly, looked Pakistani, they could not charge me with being in the border area illegally, a stipulation that applied only to non-Pakistanis. They looked unsuccessfully for another charge to pin on me to elicit the requisite bribe.

After that I was transferred to the thana in Peshawar. I stayed there for another two weeks, held without charge and disallowed from making phone calls. The Pakistani lady police-wallas felt sorry for me, and treated me well, bringing me fantas to drink.

One day, without warning, the DSP (Deputy Superintendent of Police) informed me that I had a visitor. As I entered his office, I was astonished to see Shima Khala standing there.

This was one of the few occasions on which Shima Khala missed a day at her school. She disliked road travel, but today she had made the long hot drive from Lahore to Peshawar, after handing over the reigns of the village school to a trusted teacher, so that she could bail me out. I felt a twinge of shame at all the trouble I'd caused, but was relieved that at
last I could leave the stifling, roach-infested Peshawar jail. She spared me the well-deserved "I told you so," paid the substantial jurmana and dragged me home by the ear.

I put my writing on hold, and spent the remainder of the summer with her, before returning to university in the States. Once, while I was staying with her, I mistakenly referred to her as Chand Khala, or "Moon-Like Aunt." (It implies an aunt who is very rare, special and priceless.) Chand Khala was a title reserved for my other great aunt, Nazrat. Shima Khala gently corrected me, "No, bay-tay, I am only plain Khala."

During my second visit to the village, I tutored Mahboob and Ali Usman, two of the village children at Shima Khala's request. Mahboob and Ali Usman were both eight years old, with the archetypical, bright eyes and gaunt build of village children. Mahboob was particularly sharp, and one had to continually struggle to come up with new lessons to teach him.

After a long and tiring visit which involved staying almost entirely in refugee camps when not in the village, with no AC in the summer months and no heating in the winter (nor modern facilities in the former case), I returned to the States.

A few years later, I heard that Shima Khala, perhaps seeing the same potential in young Mahboob that I'd seen, had unofficially adopted the young man. They were inseparable. She would not eat dinner without him, nor he without her. When he started going to college a distance away, he would return home late in the day after classes, and become upset to find that Shima Khala had not eaten because she was waiting for him. And when Shima Khala made up her mind, she could not be swayed. She refused to eat without Mahboob.

The first year I was there, Shima Khala's school, which was set up in the side wing of her house, was in its incipient stages, with a relatively small number of children. But the need for the school was so great, attendance grew spontaneously to nearly 400 pupils. Shima Khala, with Mahboob's input, named it Madina-tul 'Ilm (the City of Knowledge). The co-ed school was the sole source of literacy for the indigent village kids, and operated on a sliding scale: free for poor kids, and a nominal charge for the relatively well off. Shima Khala would get up at the crack of dawn each day, and prepare for the school day, no matter how exhausted and drained she might be from Lahore's extreme heat, or how bad she felt, with the high blood pressure and diabetes ravaging her.

During my stay in the village, I taught in the school off and on, and enjoyed the exuberance of the children, so poor in wealth yet rich in life--and blessed with a woman who believed in them. I am sure it was some of this exuberance that kept Shima Khala going on her particularly bad days.

The school was Shima Khala's pride and joy, and an expression of everything she believed in.

For his part, Mahboob clearly loved Shima Khala like a mother, and went to excruciating lengths to take care of her. He was a constant companion to her, eating most of his meals with her (except when he was away at school), listening to her when she was in pain from the diabetes, massaging her, and helping her with all her personal hygiene. He was the primary care giver, as Shima Khala's relatives rarely visited, especially in her final years. Even when they visited, some of them elected to stay in a hotel, although clearly Shima Khala craved visitors and was an impeccable hostess.

At one point, Mahboob even offered to marry me, although he knew I was much older than him, and divorced--something not well looked well upon by conservative Pakistani society--so that I might come there and assist in Shima Khala's care, since he was initially rather embarrassed at the level of personal care he had to provide for her, in the absence of a daughter. Shima Khala had no children of her own and her other female relatives were largely absent.

One night, Shima Khala took a bad fall. She called for help, but there was nobody around to assist. The spacious layout of the house would have made it difficult for the village women, who helped Shima Khala with home chores, to hear her entreaty, even if they had been around. Mahboob became so worried that it might happen again that he started sleeping on the floor at the foot of Shima Khala's bed.

Almost as soon as Shima Khala died, our relatives, who were living in Europe and elsewhere descended upon the estate. They determined to extricate Mahboob from the house he had lived in with Shima Khala for nearly 13 years, and close Madina-tul 'Ilm. This would facilitate the sale of Shima Khala's school, and transfer of the proceeds to (literally) Swiss bank accounts. Eventually Mahboob was thrown out, and the Deaf, Dumb, and Blind ones were successful in whittling down the school.

As I watched all this, I realized that Shima Khala was actually the real Chand Khala, for she had a heart of gold, so rare amongst any in a world filled with greed and materialism. The attitudes of our relatives sickened me to no end. Are any of us, living in the West, really so needy as to necessitate our auctioning off a school like Madina-tul 'Ilm--with all that it symbolizes--to the highest bidder? To me, the actions of my expat Paki relatives resounded of the depravity and ignorance of the looters of the Baghad museum, who could not see the real value of something which was priceless.

I dare to believe the status quo can be challenged. The poor--like Mahboob--will not remain dispossessed indefinitely. And the rich--like my avaricious relatives--will not always remain rich. Inshallah.

The People Speak: Millions More Movement

2005-10-24T22:25:00.000-04:00

The scene is almost surreal: Pan-African flag fluttering against the backdrop of the Capitol Rotunda, as if it is the Flag; reggae great Wyclef Jean singing “Bismillah ar-rahman ir-raheem” in his softly accented voice; the Capitol lawn full of Black people with fists raised saying “Black Power!” Is this a beautiful dream shortly to be interrupted by the sahoor alarm clock?

The National Capitol Police fumbling through my backpack remind me that it is not a dream. I am at the Millions More Event, in Washington, DC. The organizers of the Millions More Movement have, perhaps for dramatic effect, set up their stage immediately at the foot of the U.S. Capitol Building, and anyone wishing to enter the area is searched.

I am here to extend solidarity from the Pakistani people to Black people in their fight for justice. One of the ten points in the Millions More agenda was enough to draw me here: the reparations issue. Millions of black people died on board slave ships en route to the Americas; many more suffered and continue to suffer as a result of slavery and its aftereffects. As a Muslim, I know that there cannot be peace without justice. And justice demands that reparations be paid to the descendants of Black slaves.

When I finally get through security, I thrill to see Damu Smith, a longtime DC –based community activist at the mic. Damu personifies internationalism, and years ago lent a helping hand to Jamaat al-Muslimeen, when we organized a forum in Washington, DC, drawing parallels between the Native American, Kurdish, and Palestinian struggles. He is the founder of Black Voices for Peace, which was very vocal against the Iraq war from its inception. His voice emanates strength, as he names Bush a war criminal, and I almost forget that he is recovering from cancer.

The agenda of the Millions More Movement includes the issue of political prisoners as one of its ten points.

I am pleased to see Jamil El-Amin’s supporters everywhere, with pants drawn up to their ankles “wahabi-style,” and shirts which say “mujahideen” and “Free H. Rap.” Just feet away from the Capitol, they are energetically hawking the imam’s Revolution by the Book and Die Nigger Die. The books are going fast.

Representatives of Malachi York, Mumia Abu Jamal, and other political prisoners are present. A young woman from the Jericho Movement--which calls attention to the hundreds of Black political prisoners who remain in U.S. prisons after decades of imprisonment—hands me a flier with Assata’s picture, condemning the bounty placed on the sister’s head.

NOI women in hijab are everywhere. A young man in a turban sells roses. A man in a dazzling golden West African outfit strides by. Indeed, many of the event participants proudly sport colorful Afrocentric or African garb. The attire seems to signify pride in Africa and a deliberate departure from the mass culture of racist fashion designers.

In a tone reminiscent of the sixties, nearly all the speakers call for Black power. Red/Black/Green Flags—more than I’ve seen in one place--flutter in the breeze.

Numerous international representatives extend solidarity to the Millions More Movement: a representative of the Cuban government; Jamaican Prime Minister P.J. Patterson; and Native American leader-turned-Hollywood actor, Russell Means, who says, “I want to be a part of Farrakhan’s community.”

Women are among the most powerful speakers of the day:

Viola Plummer, of the African Support Organization, entreats the audience to compel “the lying, blood-sucking government of this country to remove the sanctions against Zimbabwe.” The sanctions, she says, are in place because Robert Mugabe took the land back. She ends with the stirring Pan-Africanist cry: “Free the land!”

Marlene Bastille, of the Haiti Action Network, beseeches the audience: “Haiti needs you. The people of Haiti are suffering. I am asking you to ask Haiti to free all prisoners of conscience. Haitians are the only ones [who are non-political prisoners--ed] held in this land indefinitely without trial.”

Eryka Badu comes to the mic. At first, she refuses to sing, speaking in such a sombre manner that the crowd falls silent—for the first time in several hours--taking in her stirring words.

“I am not my hair. I am not my skin. I am not my clothes. We forget we have the power of thoughts and words. “

“I’m not going to stand here and ask for reparations. I’ll be standing here another four hundred years.”

“I want you and me to stand in direct opposition to oppression, negativity. It’s time to realize you are the one with the power to change this world.”

“We have no more time. There will be no more leaders...The earth is tired. It’s ignorance to continue to hate each other. The revolution begins with you,” she tells the people.

A Black elder, who noticed me with pad and pen in hand, tells me he drove up for the day from Richmond, VA. Playing devil’s advocate, I ask him whether Farrakhan’s association with the event discouraged him from participating. “I’m not a Muslim,” he says. “But Farrakhan is the theological leader for all religions.”

Many of the orators blast the government’s criminal neglect in New Orleans. Ron Daniels, of the Center for Constitutional Rights, says, “We must make sure the Afrikan city of New Orleans is returned to the Afrikan people.”

Renowned rappers Chuck D (Public Enemy), Professor Griff, and Dead Prez are in attendance. Unlike the commercialized rappers, they have sacrificed big contracts and remain steadfast to the original message of rap, opposing racism and oppression.

Perhaps the most masterful delivery of the day is that of Attorney Malik Zulu Shabazz. He begins with the slogan: “Free all political prisoners!”

“Free Mumia! Is Mumia the real criminal, or is George Bush?”

“Free Jamil El-Amin! Is Jamil El-Amin guilty, or is it the criminals who allowed our people to drown in New Orleans?”

“How can you have a war on terror when George Bush hasn’t been arrested?” he continues, to thunderous applause and laughter.

Then the fiery young attorney brilliantly launches the delivery of a mock verdict: “How do you find George Bush on the issue of racism?”

“Guilty!” roars the crowd.

“How do you find George Bush on the issue of human rights?”

“Guilty!” is the unanimous cry.

“How do you find George Bush on handling New Orleans?“

“Guilty!” roars the crowd.

You can almost hear the gavel slamming down, as Malik thunders “Impeach George Bush!”

By this time, the fast is catching up with me, and I decide to take a rest, carefully collecting the folds of my sari, and join the brothers and sisters sitting on the grass to finish watching the event on a giant video screen a few blocks away from the stage.

Minister Donna Farrakhan takes the stage. Although I’d heard Farrakhan himself speak on many prior occasions, I’d never heard any of his family members. Her style of delivery resembles that of her father. A fiery speaker in her own right, her eyes sparkle as she rouses the crowd to welcome her father.

Farrakhan appears on the video screen, majestically making his way across a landing with his entourage of FOI. That he has preempted others to speak at this juncture in the program, and that he looks rather frail, walking with some difficulty, concerns me. But when he reaches the stage area and takes the mic, all sign of weakness are gone.

“I believe that we can charge the federal government with criminal neglect of the people of MS, LA, and TX,” he declares. “We can’t sue the federal government, but we can sue the Department of Homeland Security. I strongly believe that if the people on those rooftops had blond hair and blue eyes, they would not have waited five days.”

“We charge the government with criminal neglect,” he repeats.

“Now they are saying they won’t re-build the ninth ward,” he says, referring to the impoverished New Orleans district. “The government will never do for the poor and oppressed of this nation, unless and until we organize to make them to do it.”

“Are you sure you want a movement?” he asks. “Are you sure? If you are sure, then be ready for opposition. We are going to be tested by opposition.”

In a style that is uniquely his, he throws out ideas to the people, soliciting feedback—and gets it. He suggests the need for peoples’ ministries: a Ministry of Health and Human Service, a Ministry of Agriculture, a Ministry of Education, a Ministry of Defense, a Ministry of the Economy, a Ministry of Justice, and a Ministry of Information. The brothers and sisters around me are enraptured--clapping, cheering, and shouting encouragement. Farrakhan is clearly speaking to their needs. It is an engaged audience reminiscent of Malcolm’s.

The Ministry of Agriculture is needed, Farrakhan says, in order to provide for the people, as “the merchants of death, the pharmaceuticals and fast food industry, are not going to do it.”

The Ministry of Defense is needed, he says, because “Our people are natural born warriors, but they are fighting the wrong war.”

The Ministry of Justice is needed to counter the prison-industrial complex, and the Ministry of Information is needed to counter the propaganda of the likes of UPI and Reuters, he continues.

The people are thirsting for change. The suggestions for Ministries of Justice and Education draw the loudest cheers. The people do not view the government as theirs. No editorializing here.

Then, Farrakhan refers to the Democrats as the House Negroes. He seems to be proposing action independent of the two-party system.

Farrakhan ends his speech with comments about the international scene. He notes the hypocrisy of Blair, in offering to forgive some of Africa’s debt, when Britain has robbed Africa for decades. He calls on Caribbean nations to unite against foreign exploitation. He draws a powerful analogy between the Iraq war, and a contest between a quadriplegic who has been thrown in the ring to compete with the heavyweight champion. It is no big achievement if the heavyweight champion wins against the quadriplegic, he proclaims.

My final impressions: 1) The Millions More Movement went to great lengths to be as inclusive as possible, specifically inviting all races and genders to the event; Farrakhan spoke as an internationalist, invoking unity among black, brown, yellow, and poor people throughout the world, and emphasizing the issue of workers rights; 2) the event drew numbers far in excess of a million people, signifying a need among the people to take action, after New Orleans; 3) “Sunni” Muslims, Indo-Pakistani and Arab communities (my people) were still largely absent, demonstrating their lack of grasp of both U.S. history, natural allies, and the need to build bridges with the oppressed communities of the U.S.

Behind the Scenes on September 24

2005-10-16T21:44:00.000-04:00

Having spent years as an activist in the Washington, DC area, I’ve been fortunate enough to participate in dozens of protests in my time. I decided it was time to experience the protest from a new angle. And so, I volunteered to help out for 12 hours at the anti-war demonstration in Washington, DC, on September 24.

I was one of the lazy ones. Other volunteers had been up for 72 hours straight, setting up for the protest. Some volunteers had traveled from as far away as Alaska; others came from little known towns with bizarre-sounding names I’d never encountered.

I arrived for my volunteer duties at what seemed to me, a hideously early hour. At Freedom Plaza, buses were unloading protestors from many cities. The Plaza was already teaming with people. From here, the White House and the Washington Monument grounds—the focal points of the protest--were only a stone’s throw away.

As I walked from Freedom Plaza to the Ellipse, I was pleased to see the creative side of the anti-war movement in full swing: four activists were dressed in orange prison jumpsuits with Bush, Cheney, Rice, and Rumsfeld masks donned; two more activists posed as “Billionaires for Bush” (a man wearing a tuxedo and a woman wearing an evening gown and carrying a Saks-Jandel shopping bag); several people wearing Halliburton uniforms, and carrying a sign saying “Enough war, little man,” (no theatrics here, I think they actually worked for Halliburton, but were fed up with the lies); and a wise guy carrying a graphic placard juxtaposing “Good Bush/Bad Bush” (use your imagination).

Finally, I was at the volunteer booth for the ANSWER Coalition (one of two major coalitions organizing the march). There I was outfitted with a yellow security jacket, a badge identifying me as an official march volunteer, and a bright red bucket to carry through the crowd, collecting funds to defray the costs of the march.

I traversed the crowd, red bucket in tow, making mental notes to myself. The place was packed; the march was clearly a success. A young black sister, wearing head wrap, her fist in the air, responding to a speaker. A tall black brother, moving closer to the stage to hear Lynne Stewart when she spoke. A contingent of brothers dressed in striking African garb, walking proudly as a contingent toward the stage. A small group of young men in kaffiyas, having themselves photographed near the stage, while chanting “Allah hu-Akhbar” just quietly enough not to disturb the speaker on the stage. Americans wearing tee-shirts that said “We are all Palestinian;” one of ANSWER’s young black woman leaders on stage sporting another unique tee (my favorite): “Palestine will be free” (in English and Spanish).

All this in a sea of middle class white Americans.

As a person of color, I could not help but be struck by how few Black people and how few Muslims were at the march.

Cindy Sheehan was one of the first speakers to address the rally. She spoke in a voice permanently marked with longing for a son who would never return home to her. But, she seemed very relaxed, perhaps sensing the support of the people. She even made a few jokes.

Cindy’s immense sacrifice and courage had made their mark, and at least some of the turnout at the protest might be attributed to her. Cindy had single-handedly made it okay for the average, middle class white American to be anti-war. The tide had turned against Bush. But was this another anti-war movement disturbed only when it was American boys coming home in body bags, I thought to myself. Where were they when the Lancet reported that 100,000 Iraqi civilians had been killed in the war? Or when the horrors of Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo surfaced? Or when an entire Iraqi town, Falluja, was destroyed?

Eldridge Cleaver did not lie when he said “Racism is as American as apple pie.” An anti-war movement which doesn’t work hard to disassociate itself from racism, will inevitably be afflicted with it. (The same may be said of many Muslim communities and organizations in the U.S./U.K.) That racism is present in the anti-war movement was evident in the negotiations between ANSWER and United for Peace and Justice--the two major coalitions organizing the September 24 protest.

http://internationalanswer.org/
http://unitedforpeace.org/

ANSWER—which stands for “Act Now to Stop War and End Racism”--views the issues of war and racism as inextricably linked. In the days leading up to the protest, ANSWER had to fight to keep the issue of racism as one of the major demands of the demonstration.

ANSWER’S Brian Becker speaks softly but firmly. He does not back down from an issue he views as just. The war, he said, is a racist war in the following ways: 1) It is racist against the Arabs; 2) It is racist in terms of how Iraqis are presented; and 3) It is racist in terms of who is fighting. ANSWER was very consistent in its stance against racism, whether in New Orleans or in Iraq.

United for Peace and Justice (UFPJ) wanted to focus strictly on the war itself, and wanted to eliminate “racism” from the march agenda altogether. Becker and ANSWER, to their credit, stood firm in their demand that racism be included in the agenda, and eventually UFPJ capitulated.

I walked by rows of crosses, symbolizing graves of fallen servicemen, and realized that I had stumbled upon Camp Casey. It had been transplanted from Texas to the Washington Monument grounds. A group of women were busily preparing a long line of picket signs they would carry, each bearing the black-and-white photograph of a young fallen soldier.

There was an element of race, even in the success of Camp Casey. What if a black woman had been camped out in close proximity to Bush’s ranch? How long would she have been allowed to stay there before being tasered into submission? Or shot outright, like Sr. Assata? Because that is the treatment reserved for Afrikans in this country.

My thoughts were interrupted by the thunderous voice of British MP George Galloway. With his delightful accent, he blasted Bush’s illegal war. Exhibiting none of the preoccupations of American politicians, Galloway openly expressed support for the Palestinians.

Galloway was followed by former U.S. Attorney General Ramsey Clark. In his characteristic incisive and yet non-rhetorical manner, Ramsey Clark reminded the audience about the Iraqi dead, and the war crimes of the Bush administration. He repeated his call for impeachment.

Then Attorney Lynne Stewart took the dais to talk about attacks on civil liberties. She cited her own case as evidence of the clamp down on the rights of the accused, as well as on lawyers who chose to defend unpopular clients. I walked over to the stage area and met Lynne after her speech. I hugged her, marveling that she had not changed in appearance or manner, despite years of government prosecution and harassment. Always concerned about others, she mentioned not a word of her own personal suffering, instead asking me about Sami Al-Aryan’s case.

MAS Freedom Foundation’s Mahdi Bray spoke. Oddly, Bray started his speech by informing the audience that he had no interest in being invited to the White House. “How dare they speak of bringing democracy to places like Iraq while clamping down on our democratic rights here at home,” he thundered. He did not mention that his MAS Freedom Foundation had volunteered in a press conference (See NT dated July 27, 2005) to help DHS clamp down on those rights by turning in Muslim “extremists.”

Other speakers of note were Brian Becker, ANSWER’s National Coordinator; Etan Thomas, Washington Wizards Basketball player; and Jessica Lange, actress.

Then it was time to march.

ANSWER had prepared signs for march participants who hadn’t brought their own. One of the volunteers handing out the signs told me that people were vying for the “Impeach Bush.org” sign over the others on offer.

For the first time in my life, I was at a major, national protest—and not marching. My fundraising duties complete, I was instead busy taking down banners, boxing up materials, and picking up components of the security fence and covers from the outdoor audio system. In my spare moments, I distributed New Trend’s “Boycott Major Supporters of Zionism” fliers, which were well received.

http://newtrendmag.org/boycott.html

I found I had done well to stay at the ANSWER volunteer booth (instead of marching), as the streets were flooded with so many people that the march was immobilized for two and a half hours. Some people became impatient and jumped in front of other protestors who were already lined up to march. Brian Becker, said that the front of the march, where he and other ANSWER leaders were located, was left behind. The “front of the march” soon became “the middle of the march”--a first for him, he said with a smile.

The march under way, the Raging Grannies started singing, “Georgy Porgy, You’re all wrong...”
http://raginggrannies.com/

Meanwhile, I attained proficiency at hand truck operation, loading boxes, and crates of fliers and brochures onto the truck.

The march was—miraculously--permitted to pass right by the White House—something which had not been allowed since 9-11. The wrath of the protestors at the Bush regime was particularly evident as they passed this point.

The volunteers were under orders from Park Police to finish removing all the equipment by 10:00 pm. Around 8:00 pm, we were down to removing the last of the equipment from around the stage area, but everyone was starting to feel the long hours. We finished just before 9:00 pm. For me, it was an extraordinary and inspiring day, working alongside activists—many of them very young--dedicated to the cause of justice. It made me realize the enormous amount of organizing involved in bringing together 300,000 people for a mass march. But September 24 showed that it could be done.

Code Pink Protest at Walter Reed Military Hospital

2005-10-08T21:42:00.000-04:00

On September 23, I attended the Code Pink vigil outside Walter Reed Military Hospital in Northwest Washington, DC. Code Pink’s demands are: 1) an end to the Iraq occupation and withdrawal of U.S. troops; 2) proper medical care for injured troops (predominantly poor people) when they return home.

The vigil participants numbered perhaps 40-50, many of them wearing pink. Too late, I remembered I should have worn my pink shalwar kameez. Attendance was higher than usual, for the weekly vigil, with many activists in town early for the national anti-war protest the next day.

Directly across the street from the vigil was a group of counter-demonstrators, whose numbers very nearly matched those of Code Pink. These numbers were an odd contradiction of the polls, which show that an overwhelming majority of Americans now oppose the war.

Code Pink’s members are primarily Caucasian women. Many of them dress in very feminine fashion, decked out in beautiful, old-fashioned pink hats, frilly pink dresses and pink shawls. But they are very tough, for it was some of their members who lay down in the streets and refused to move, protesting the inhumanity of the war very early on.

“We wear pink,” one of them told me during a previous vigil, “because it is a peaceful and soothing color, and also to draw attention to the farce of the Code Red, Code Orange, and other alerts issued by the Bush administration post 9-11.”

I’d just walked up to the vigil when a petite, fashionably dressed brunette, with shoulder length hair, came up to me and introduced herself, “Hi, I’m Medea.”

So, this was Code Pink’s gutsy co-founder, Medea Benjamin. Earlier this year, Medea had disrupted Condoleezza Rice’s San Francisco speech. Dressed in a black hood and cloak similar to that worn by Iraqi prisoners, she’d stood up screaming, "Stop the torture. Stop the killing. U.S. out of Iraq," until she was removed from the hall by authorities. She had all my respect.

I shook her hand and thanked her for her efforts against the war. At the time, I was not aware that Medea planned to be arrested in the mass civil disobedience two days later. She exuded a tranquility that comes, perhaps, from working for justice.

The Code Pink women are very organized. Someone offered me a candle with a nice holder; someone else handed me a flier. The flier instructed me not to interact with the counter-demonstrators. Don’t talk to press members, unless they present ID, the flier said.

Don’t talk to press? That’s a little extreme, I thought.

Later, after some searching on the web, I found articles from Cybercast News Service (CNS) and other right-wing sources attacking Medea Benjamin, quoting the right wing demonstrators at length, and offering only brief quotes of questionable authenticity from Code Pink protestors. Yes, this is the same CNS which attacked Dr. Siddique at the behest of the Zionists. Now you know why not to talk to the (Zionist) media, stupid!

A few weeks ago, a young soldier had joined the Code Pink vigil. He’d returned from Iraq thoroughly disillusioned by the war. Still angry and emotional at what he’d experienced, he was provoked into a physical confrontation by the taunts of the counter-demonstrators. Police quickly broke up the incident, but the Code Pink women were determined there should be no repeat of this.

I found that young soldier and talked with him for a few minutes.

He said “Those guys across the street, look at their hair. It’s too long. They can’t have been over there. That is why they support the war. They have no idea what the U.S. is doing over there.”

A Vietnam veteran who stood with us agreed. The current administration, he said, are all cowards and draft dodgers, hiding behind their power and wealth. Most of them don’t have any military service under their belt. That is why they take war so lightly.”

I squinted to read the counter demonstrators’ signs, in an effort to understand their argument. There was none. They carried bizarre signs, such as “Code Pink Funds Terrorists,” and “America’s Armed Forces: Bringing democracy to the world, toppling one dictator at a time.” Some of them wore tee-shirts saying “Club G’itmo.”
Their main point seemed to be that Code Pink--not an illegal war--is the problem.

It was the classic propaganda tactic: when you can’t answer your opponent’s argument with facts, create as much confusion as you possibly can, with wild accusations.

A young Italian-American woman wearing camouflage pants handed me one end of a Code Pink banner. “I made this banner,” she announced proudly. It read “Money for the Wounded, Not for the War.”

A $3 billion shortfall is expected for Veterans Administration (VA) funding; many veterans hospitals (including Walter Reed) are under threat of closure. The Code Pink banner was on point, elucidating the hypocrisy of the Bush regime, in its dealings with its own fighting men and women.

While I held the banner, a conservatively dressed Code Pink woman, who appeared to be in her sixties or seventies, with entirely grey hair, darted out into traffic. As I watched in amazement, she energetically handed out fliers announcing the anti-war march the next day to passing cars as they pulled up to the Georgia Avenue traffic signal.
I chatted with two elderly woman in bright pink Stetsons. They had come from Texas for the national march the next day. One of them told me she had been in Camp Casey for several weeks, and then joined a contingent to deliver a protest letter to Laura Bush, in response to her racist comments following Hurricane Katrina.

Just as I was about to ask her if they’d been successful in delivering the letter, the entire group of Code Pink women broke out in song to the accompaniment of a banjo: “I ain’t going to study war no more,” a very creative anti-war version of “When the Saints Come Marching In”, and other well known peace songs.

(The vigil continues every Friday night at 7:00 pm – 9:00 pm outside the main entrance of Walter Reed Medical Center, in Northwest DC).

Protest Calls Attention to Bush Regime's Racism in New Orleans

2005-10-05T22:02:00.000-04:00

On September 7, a Jamaat al-Muslimeen supporter and I joined protestors at the White House decrying the racism of the authorities in dealing with the New Orleans situation. The protest was called by A.N.S.W.E.R. (Act Now to Stop War and End Racism). The small but spirited group was led in chants by Eugene Puryear, a student activist from Howard University. “From Iraq to New Orleans, Fund Peoples’ Needs, Not the War Machine,” we chanted in the direction of the Rose Garden.

The protest reminded me of the many Jamaat al-Muslimeen protests I’d attended as a teenager. But where were all the other Muslims?

Caneisha Mills, ANSWER’S youth and student coordinator, spoke at a forum following the protest. She had just returned from a fact-finding trip to New Orleans. Tall and slender with beautiful, dark skin and a proud walk, she brought to mind some of the Panther women. With no makeup, her hair simply done, she might have been a Muslim. Most striking was her seriousness.

Caneisha is in her senior year at Howard University, yet she took time off from her classes to go to New Orleans, along with filmmaker Gloria La Riva, and photographer Bill Hackwell. They took as many relief supplies as they could for the people of New Orleans.

Caneisha’s anger at the injustice in New Orleans was evident, yet she was able to speak articulately and confidently. Her main points were: 1) the military is in place in New Orleans, but only to protect property, not to help the people evacuate, nor to provide for their needs; 2) supplies and volunteers are available, but they are not being allowed to reach where they are needed; 3) supplies brought in by the government are strictly for government personnel, not for the people who are in need.

She traveled through seven police/military checkpoints before arriving in the district of Algiers, where she, La Riva, and Hackwell were to be hosted at the home of community leader, Malik Rahim.

Malik Rahim is a former member of the Black Panther Party. Some activists suggest that if the BPP with its original platform been around today, the suffering in New Orleans might have largely been averted.

Malik is an example of grassroots leadership at its best. Algiers, where he lives, sits on higher ground than the rest of New Orleans. It was not as badly damaged as other areas, and much of it would still be habitable, were it not for the lack of electricity, food and water. Malik suggested using parks, schools, and other parts of Algiers to set up camps for people displaced from other parts of New Orleans, but so far, his efforts in this arena have fallen on deaf ears.

Malik told Caneisha: “Imagine being in a city, poor, without any money and all of a sudden you are told to leave and you don’t even have a bicycle. Ninety percent of the people don’t even have cars.”

Malik, along with three of his friends, go door-to-door three times a day, taking food, water, and ice to the people. When he returns from his “rounds” he is on the phone with community organizations, religious groups, and reporters, amassing more food and supplies to deliver the next day. His street is the only one with telephones still working, and black and white neighbors alike come in periodically to use his phone.

Malik spoke of white vigilantes riding through Algiers in pickup trucks, gunning down any blacks they thought didn’t belong there. His friends and neighbors feared for his safety, and many parked their cars in front of his house to fortify its entrance.

Caneisha remarked on the extraordinary hospitality of the Rahim family, despite the long-term difficulties facing them.

She spent considerable time walking around the Superdome and interviewing people. Most stories pointed to the abject disregard of the authorities for the predicament of the people. One black woman she interviewed tearfully recalled the trauma of waiting on her roof for days with her entire family, thinking they would all die there, as they were repeatedly bypassed by helicopters. The woman and her family remained on their roof until they were finally rescued by relatives. Only later did they learn that the helicopters had orders not to take larger families.

Caneisha interviewed a group of five young black men, who had taken it upon themselves to rescue people stranded in the flooded areas. Their leader, a handsome young man with shining eyes, told her “By the grace of Allah, we were able to commandeer a boat.”

He and his friends filled the boat with twenty-five people each trip. They would ask for volunteers who had the strength, to cling to the outside of the boat, and leave the seats for the weaker ones. Thus they were able to evacuate as many people as possible each trip. Many of the people had already been stuck their attics or on their rooftops for days with very little food or water, so they tried to get to them as quickly as possible. After the young men had been at this a couple days, they finally saw some official rescue boats bringing in people, but never more than five or six people at a time. “We did not bring our own families in till last,” he said.

Such stories of the peoples’ heroism abounded; one report that particularly inspired this writer was that of prisoners who broke into stores and got food out for the elderly and weak.

Caneisha and the ANSWER delegation returned from New Orleans and immediately set to work on the September 24 anti-war protest in Washington, DC. Few thinking people can miss the connection between the racism evident in the Bush Regime’s reaction to Katrina and the racism of the illegal war on Iraq. Appropriately, the original anti-war theme of the march was modified to: “From Iraq to New Orleans, Fund peoples needs, not the war machine.”

A Christian Funeral

2005-08-06T03:18:00.001-04:00

Attending funerals, or simply visiting the graveyard is highly recommended in Islam, to remind one of one's own mortality, and how all life is a gift from the Creator, and may be taken away at any moment. Yet, it’s been a few too many funerals for me lately. And I was not even affected directly, since I wasn't particularly close to any of the deceased. My recent flurry of funeral attendance reminded me of the imams’ admonition to: "Live each day as if it is your last"—not including drinking up the Henessey as if it's going outta style, aiight.:-). In all seriousness, a funeral is a call to that profound aphorism "Practice random acts of kindness, and senseless acts of generosity."

That said, I was a bad girl, and cut class this morning to go to the funeral of a close friend of my mother, named Lou. The funeral was at 11:00 am in Perry Hall, an hour drive from me. The summer course I am taking meets at 9:00 am, so cutting class was the only way I could attend. Arnold Schwarzennager (my physics prof) better understand.

I was glad I went. Ellen, the widow, seemed strengthened by having so many caring friends and relatives around. Nonetheless, it hurt to look in her eyes, and see the loneliness which accompanies the realization that one will never again see one's best friend and beloved companion on this earth. And Lou had, without a doubt, been just that to her.

To me, Lou and Ellen symbolize the best of the Christian faith, walking in the Path of Hazrat Isa (Jesus--AS). They were high school sweethearts who, in defiance of the statistics, married at a young age and stayed married. They played tennis competitively, cooked, danced, socialized, and participated in church and many other activities, always together.

Then Lou developed diabetes at a relatively young age—a surprise for his family, since he was not overweight, led an active lifestyle, and followed a healthy diet, consuming no red meat nor alcohol, and few sweets. The disease progressed unusually rapidly, indicating a significant genetic component.

Following mainstream medical protocols (“if it don’t work, chop it off”), he was soon amputated just below one knee, and became wheelchair bound. Months later, the other leg was taken. Because of this, he was unable to perform many of the household tasks he’d considered his responsibility as “man of the house,” a circumstance which depressed him greatly. He worried how his delicately built, very feminine wife would handle the gamut of household chores, while continuing to work outside the home.

Ellen reassured Lou that everything would be okay. She embarked on a weight training program, which enabled her to perform the tasks he’d done. She was pleasantly surprised to find she could now lift his wheelchair into the car trunk, which she'd previously struggled to do, allowing his inclusion on many outings. As Lou’s health deteriorated, Ellen’s rose to new heights, as she gained strength from lifting weights and won more tennis matches than ever. Her real estate sales soared, she bought a Lexus, and she and Lou moved into a new home. She looked beautiful, vibrant, and full of life. And she stayed with Lou—loving and caring for him till the end.

The pews of St. Joseph’s Catholic Church were two-thirds occupied, a significant turnout in this large church, and testament to the many lives Lou had touched. The service was heavy on Catholic ritual, to which I don't subscribe, but very interesting nonetheless.

My brother and I were there primarily to accompany my mother, who had been close friends with Lou and Ellen since we moved to Baltimore around 1986. My mother then worked as a real estate agent in an all-white brokerage. As a hijabi Muslim woman, she met snide remarks from co-workers, who speculated that she would never make it in real estate “with that thing on her head.” By then, Lou had risen to the position of office manager. He assured her that the nay sayers knew nothing, and that she would excel. He supported and encouraged her every step of the way. Under his tutelage, she rose to become the top selling agent in the office.

As the service continued, communion was offered, and my mother, who seemed a bit dazed and confused was about to take it, when I told her the significance of it. For a Muslim to take communion is about as appropriate as a Baptist to perform the Muslim sujood (putting one's head to the ground in prayer).

My roving eyes noticed a tall, handsome, built bald man in suit and tie sitting in the front pews. He cried openly, albeit in manly fashion, during the service. I appreciate a man who is not ashamed to cry. Later, he served as one of the pall bearers, and I learned that he was Lou's cousin.

Then, it was time to walk to the graveyard, which adjoined the church. In contrast to the emotion-filled church service, the burial was conducted in what seemed to me, a rather cold, business-like fashion. Before I knew it, it was over, and we were marched back to the church. Muslim burials--which entail ghusul, or washing of the corpse by (same sex) family members of the deceased; ritualistic throwing of handfuls of earth into the grave by male family members; and namaz-e-jinaza, or funeral prayer, conducted at the gravesite--are more elaborate and afford more physical contact/proximity with the corpse and with nature, an unmuted reminder to funeral-goers of the inevitability of death, and of the Hereafter.

The burial was followed by a banquet. My brother and I itched to leave, but stayed on a while longer to keep our mother company. As a consequence, we were introduced to Lou and Ellen's relatives and friends.

Lou and Ellen's son, Jeff, who attended the same high school (Perry Hall) as I, looked sharp in a crisp oxford shirt and tie. I'd met him on a previous occasion, and he seemed to be a well-adjusted young man. The joys of his high school graduation were dimmed by his father’s amputation a few years later. At first, the youth was rebellious at the added responsibility resulting from his father's condition, but soon came to cooperate with Ellen in the running of the household. Since the funeral was attended largely by older people, I was pleased to see Jeff surrounded by a group of young friends, offering him support. He greeted us, and said he planned to continue living at home for some while to make sure his mother was okay.

In between sampling hors d'oeuvres, I met Lou's sister, named Eleanor.

(Aside)
Lou's wife = Ellen
Ellen's best friend = another Ellen
Lou's sister = Eleanor

Ellen + Ellen + Eleanor = Mass confusion!

So, I met/greeted the Ellens/Eleanors, all of whom treated my mother as if she were family. Then it was over to the rainbow table.

Eleanor's daughter (ie, Lou's niece), named Christine, is lesbian. She was there with her partner. Both of them are very open about their sexual orientation. Since both Lou and Ellen's families are quite conservative, I wondered how Christine's announcement of her orientation was received and (later) asked my mother about this. My mother said the family did not take the news well initially, but eventually came to accept it.

My mother seemed to know everyone, from friends and relatives of Lou's, to associates of hers from real estate days. She introduced me to Bill Parisi, a multimillionaire banker friend, who used to process her loans for her. Perhaps my prejudice, but he had the character and charisma of, well, a rock.

I was re-introduced to Anne Kemp, a real estate agent friend of my mother’s and Ellen’s, whom I'd met briefly, years prior. Anne was beautiful, with blazing red hair and bright blue eyes. Her husband had passed away a few years earlier. Eleanor’s husband died a little more than a year ago. And now Ellen’s Lou had returned to the Creator. All three men had been relatively young. Undoubtedly, life and death are the dominion of the Creator. And yet, as I left the funeral, I could not help but think that at least some of this suffering and premature aging/death were linked to the Great American diet.

Wild Beasts

2005-07-28T14:35:00.002-04:00

I had an energizing speed walk at Down's Park today, just short of an hour. I went there with my mother, but we walked separately, at our own pace. Down's, off course, is on the Chesapeake Bay, and the number and variety of sea birds found there is always impressive, but today was extraordinary. An astounding thousand or more scaup and other wild diving ducks (which I couldn't definitively ID without binoculars, as they were at a distance from the shore) dotted the vast blue expanse. I finished the walk, my eyes relishing the majesty of the sparkling blue water with every step. It was a perfect walk--almost.
I was doing my cool down (three to five minutes, per 55 minute walk) when I heard someone screaming as if being murdered. Off to one side of the walking path, and adjacent to the Bay lies a small, sheltered pond with an observation deck. It seems a perfect refuge for waterfowl from the ravages of the ocean, particularly on days when the Chesapeake is rough. A pair of beautiful wild swans have taken up residence there; on my last visit, I observed what I believed to be a nest on the far side of the pond (fortuitously unapproachable from the observation deck).

The swans were there today. To my horror, they were being assailed by three little white girls who stood on the deck screaming at the top of their lungs, as one might at a charging grizzly bear. Their father (or whoever the in-duh-vidual was) was sitting placidly on a bench a couple feet away, watching.

"Where in hell is the park ranger, when you need one?" I thought.

I walked onto the deck and stood a few feet away from the girls, who briefly rested their lungs. They screamed again, though not as vociferously, perhaps due to my presence. Again, not a peep from the father-adult.

Since I'm not a parent, I try very hard to keep out of other peoples' child discipline issues, but this desecration of nature (noise pollution) put me on the warpath. I looked the girls in the eye and then over at their father and said sternly, "I'm a biologist, and I really wouldn't recommend screaming in such a manner around here. It's up to you, but it stresses the animals, and is not very good for them." They looked rather stunned, as though the idea was totally alien to them. I walked away slowly, and sat on some nearby rocks watching the diving ducks. Miraculously, the screaming had stopped. I wondered if these children thought it okay to carry on in similar fashion in a kindergarden class, or in their family home, let alone in the perfect tranquility of a park---clearly a sanctuary for wildlife.

Tomorrow, I think I'll get a dog.:-)

Seattle to Join Boycott?

2005-06-25T22:58:00.000-04:00

I arrived in Seattle late Thursday. It is a picturesque town, very hilly (somewhat as I'd envisioned San Franciso), and rife with of economic disparity. I'd heard that it also had a reputation for being anti-corporate and anti-war (recall the city was the site of major demonstrations against the WTO a few years back). Indeed, soon after arriving, I saw signs calling for the impeachment of President Bush.

In the first area I visited (off International Boulevard) there were several halal meat/grocery shops on one block, a kebab house, and an Abysinnian resturant. I bought some figs, bananas, and apples for breakfast from the halal meat store. A Somali sister worked the cash register, and several other East African looking women in hijab visited the store while I was there. I asked the Somali for directions to the mosque. It was only a few blocks away. Enroute, I saw a hijab-clad Muslim woman walking along the hilly road, carrying an umbrella to shelter herself from the sun, at home as she might be in Cairo or Karachi.

This part of town seemed quite poor, with very small houses made of siding, many of them old and ramshackle.

Just blocks away was the gargantuan Boeing Plant, responsible for the manufacture of machines used to kill Muslims in other countries, perhaps the friends or relatives of some of those living here.

The East African Muslims in this neighborhood were friendly and welcoming. I saw the mosque, but did not visit there yet. I will probably go there tomorrow and give them some NT boycott fliers.

I wound up going to juma'a prayers at the Eastside mosque. The road it's located on is discontinuous, and I spent half an hour looking for this mosque, after arriving in this upscale neighborhood. A chamelion-mosque? I had almost given up and was about to leave when I found it. The parking lot was full of benzes and BMWs.

I handed out about 100 boycott fliers, which were received without resistance. One Arab brother, after looking over the boycott flier, asked for a stack of them, and then set his son to distributing them.

It's funny that Starbucks, on which I personally squandered a goodly fraction of my income prior to the boycott, is named on the flier as one of the companies subject to boycott for their investment in Israel. And Seattle is one of the cities known for its independent coffee houses (including Seattle's Best, which even those of us stuck on the East Coast are familiar with), a dire challenge to the Starbucks monopoly. Together, Seattle and I will put Starbucks out of business:-)

Tomorrow, inshallah, I will take more boycott fliers to some of the progressive bookstores and coffeehouses in downtown Seattle.

May Allah reward the NT team which put together the materials educating people about Israeli apartheid. They have been a great help during my trip.

Baltimore’s Abu Ghraib

2005-06-18T20:57:00.000-04:00

This Tuesday, I found out what it feels like to look into the eyes of a mother whose son has been beaten to death while in custody. Joey Gilbon's mother walked proud, carrying a picture of her son. She had beautiful dark brown skin, a crown of white hair, and deep contemplative eyes, which would make you cry if you looked into them long enough. I hugged her, hardly knowing what to say. "Your son will not be forgotten," I managed to mumble.

I stood with her and the mothers at the entrance of Baltimore's Central Booking Facility on Falls Way and Madison Street. They were there to protest the deaths of their loved ones in custody. So they were in jail in Iraq, you say? Nope, right here, in AmeriKKKa.

Twenty-seven people, mostly black, have died in custody at Central Booking and City Jail in recent months, while waiting to go to trial. Many of them were locked up for very minor, non-violent offenses, like non-payment of child support, or loitering.

Baltimore's zero tolerance law prohibits assembly in certain areas. Although the law ostensibly is aimed at drug dealers, it means that a city resident who steps outside his house, if it happens to be in an area targeted by "law enforcement," may be arrested after one or two warnings. (The zero tolerance laws are also an attack on the First Amendment freedom of assembly of some sectors of society--but that is a separate issue.) So, in effect, some of the detainees held at Central Booking were locked up for standing outside their own homes. And while there, they could be the target of murderous prison guards.

One of the recent murders was of 52-year old Raymond Smoots, who was beaten so badly by guards that his family could barely recognize his body. But, his mother was determined to fight for justice in her son's case. In the days leading up to the protest, she stood on a West Baltimore street corner with activists handing out leaflets with the heading "Is Baltimore's Central Booking our Abu Ghraib?" It was from her that I learned of the protest.

The protest was called by the Emergency Coalition for Justice, an umbrella organization which included many of the families of the victims, the All-Peoples Congress, the Million Worker March Movement, the Nation of Islam, the Troops Out Now Coalition, and others. I found out about the protest too late, otherwise, I'd have recommended that Jamaat al-Muslimeen add its endorsement.

At the start of the rally, the organizers symbolically wrapped yellow police tape around the front steps of the Central Booking facility, calling it a crime scene, and demanding the prosecution of the prison guards and police responsible for the deaths in custody. They charged that prisoners were forced to lie in their own vomit and that essential medicines were withheld from other prisoners. One, who had AIDS, was denied anti-retroviral medication, and another, a diabetic, was refused his insulin. A female detainee, Debby Epifanio, died after being denied her medicine.

Despite the heat advisory, nearly 300 people showed up for the rally. Most were people of color. I was pleased to see there was a significant youth continent--mostly anarchists and predominantly white.

Some of the mothers spoke. Other speakers included an NAACP representative in stunning African garb, a Nation of Islam representative, a Christian minister, and others. Notably absent were the "Sunni" Muslims.

Strange, I thought, the NOI Muslims don't pray (formally). But they work for justice. The Sunni Muslims pray. But they (with notable exceptions) don't work for justice. Shouldn't one lead to the other?

A particularly interesting speaker was a prison guard, who decried the abuses of his co-workers, and apologized to the families for what they had endured. He wore shades and a hat to disguise himself so that he would not be fired from his job.

While the speakers blasted prisoner abuse and police brutality, I ran up and down the road handing out fliers explaining why we were there to passing motorists. An hour handing out fliers was like a Racism 101 class. Many of the motorists were leaning out of their car windows, clearly intrigued by the protest. Nearly all the black motorists to whom I offered the flier took it; the only black people who refused the flier were prison guards who were getting off work. But the majority of white motorists refused to take the flier. A white ex-convict, who said he'd spent twenty-five years in the facility we were protesting, helped me pass out the fliers. He said, "Sh--, the white people, they won't take it. They all close-minded." It seemed a willful ignorance of injustice.

The rally over, it was time to march.

"Stop the killing, stop the lies, Raymond Smoots didn't have to die!" we chanted as we marched around Central Booking. The facility is a veritable modern day dungeon, encompassing several city blocks, with thick concrete walls protected by cameras and electronic gates.

On the next block, we found ourselves strolling along side the City Jail. It is a dilapidated old brick structure with grates and barbed wire covering the windows on every floor. We turned the corner, chanting, "Tear down the walls," and "No justice, no peace!" The prisoners could hear us, and some of them yelled back words of appreciation and encouragement. I could almost hear some of my reactionary relatives and colleagues saying, "Would you prefer if these common criminals were running the streets?"

But, the real criminals fill the corporate boardrooms, the halls of Congress, and the Oval Office; they are never the ones to be warehoused when they can't afford bail or a good lawyer.

For Peace in Pasadena

2005-03-20T21:59:00.000-05:00

Pasadena still seems very much of a Republican stronghold. In the run-up to the election, nearly every yard on one street I observed was littered with pro-Bush signs. Confederate flags are common place here. The local high school athletic center is named Cecil Rhodes Stadium (after the white supremacist leader of the former Rhodesia). A few months ago, a 15-year old black high school student was killed--allegedly by four older white males--at a party, where he dared appear with his white girlfriend. Some of the accused killers were charged only with manslaughter, and it appeared that charges against the others would be dropped, until the boy's mother raised hell, and the NAACP intervened on her behalf. Hardly the ideal town in which to hold an anti-war protest. Or so I thought.

On March 19, wonder of wonders, I attended a small but spirited protest held by local Pasadena peace activists. Yes, there is such a group! The protest marked the anniversary of the illegal war (held in conjunction with worldwide anti-war protests that day). It was held on a small, well-located bridge on one of the busiest streets in Pasadena (heavily travelled that morning, perhaps due to the football game at the nearby high school). We stood on the bridge, our placards instructing drivers to "Honk for Peace." All six of us. Not exactly the massive DC-area protest that I'm used to, but the sincerity and commitment of the participants compensated for the numbers. The slogans on the placards were rather subdued (my dissident self might have preferred a bit stronger language). But the restrained language perhaps reflected the sagacity of the organizers, who said they'd been protesting in the same spot regularly, since the beginning of the war.

Everyone in the group seemed very genuinely nice. Linda, the organizer, is a retired GWU history professor. I asked in what area of history she specialized. The answer: "Women in military history." I was intrigued and resolved to explore the subject further with her. She seemed very well informed on Middle East issues, and we chatted a bit about the courage of the Israeli "refuseniks" (conscientious objectors in the IDF). She corrected my notion that display of the Confederate Flag (displayed on many of the pickup trucks which drove by us) necessarily made one a racist and pro-war. The Confederate Flag means different things to different people, she explained. Her students were fortunate to have had a professor who made them think outside the box.

Another woman, who is also an environmentalist, had just returned from a trip to Chile. Quite an outgoing group. I felt rather humbled to be amongst these leaders, who had stood protesting on the bridge before it became fashionable to be against the war, flinching neither at eggs nor curses thrown by ignorant passersby, while I hid amongst the 100,000+ protestors in Washington, DC area actions held during the same time period.

A Moment of Silence

2005-03-17T20:23:00.000-05:00

Is there a new wave of propaganda against the Sudanese government to detract attention from the numerous and sundry anti-war actions around the anniversary of the illegal Iraq war this weekend? It seemed like something was underfoot, judging from my ordinarily apolitical Philosophy class today.

The kids in many of my college classes look really young. I mean, junior high (or in some cases, elementary school) young. One of the elementary school-looking kids, a tiny white boy with a perfect bowl-over-the-head haircut walked into the Philosophy class ("Intro to Moral Theory") with an agenda. He mumbled something to the prof about "Sudan" and "moment of silence." The Prof, named Jim, a young-ish redneck type from Arkansas, complete with accent and jackshirt (but not necessarily attitude) to match, is perpetually late. Today he arrived ten minutes late and was in a hurry to start the class, and so rapidly brushed off Elementary School Boy after agreeing to the latter's mumbled request. Jim lectured for a half hour on Kant and Hume and their views on the origin of morality. When it was almost 3:00, he stopped his lecture and handed over the floor to the Elementary School Boy.

Elementary School Boy introduced his subject, "Sudan is a country in Africa, where terrible killings are taking place. The Sudanese goverment has attempted to force 'Shari'a' or Islamic Law on the country..." He went on a la O'Reilly that the Sudanese government had turned a blind eye to the Jan, Janja-weed, killing of non-Muslims in Darfur," stumbling over the word "Janjaweed." "No one knows for sure how many had been killed there, but it could easily be 300,000."

No one moved. In an honors class, with very bright, young students who actually read, everyone was sitting there, swallowing the propaganda.

Prof was adding his two cents: "And as you say, nothing is being done about this. So, just like the Nazi Holocaust, or the Rwanda genocide, just knowing about a horrible tragedy is not enough to get people to act. Like Hume would say, reason is not enough to elicit action. Sentiment, or how you feel about something is what finally gets you to act."

Sudan...what in hell did this have to do with Philosophy, I thought. "Excuse me, but I don't agree with you, " I abruptly told Elementary School Boy. "Actually the Sudanese government HAS done everything it could to stop the killings including applying corporal punishment to Janjaweed militia members. The stats that you mention are very questionable. No one who quotes them seems to be able to identify their source, and the number is probably highly exaggerated. We tend to demonize governments and individuals against whom we have an agenda, as we did in Iraq, but things are not black and white."

The Elementary Boy had a slightly agaust look on his face, which said "You can't be saying this." He had no answers. Jim stepped in suavely and said, "Okay, I don't want to turn this into a debate. It's almost three o'clock. Do we want to have the moment of silence, or not?"

They held the moment of silence. When it was over, I said, "Considering that it is the anniversary of the invasion of Iraq on Saturday, perhaps it would be more appropriate to hold a moment of silence for the 100,000 Iraqis who have died as a result of our aggressive war." "Yeah sure," quipped Jim, trying to turn it into a joke. "Anyone else want a moment of silence?" So it was that the class, complete with its collection of rednecks, drawn from the local KKK-supporting population for which Catonsville (location of my University of Maryland campus) is famous, held a moment of silence for the Iraqi dead.

Stranger things have come to pass.

Some Afterthoughts

Suppose even one tenth the number of alleged Sudanese deaths occurred. That would mean 30,000 dead African brothers and sisters--a tragedy which should concern any person of conscience. That said, I am deeply suspicious of the motives behind the current "Free Darfur" campaign, since it carries a veiled threat of U.S. intervention in yet another independent sovereign nation. Only after my interlude with Elementary School Boy did I learn of the sponsor of the Moments of Silence--Hillel. Evidently the Moments of Silence were part of a coordinated Hillel campaign at campuses around the country. The questions I would ask: Since when did Zionist Jews become so concerned about human rights in Africa? Considering Israel's treatment of the Palestinians, what high moral ground have they? And why the call for moments of silence for Sudan at this particular time?

Hillel has not, to my knowledge called for moments of silence for victims of the Iraq war. It seems to me that would be much more appropriate for three reasons: 1) the U.S. was directly responsible for the murders of innocent Iraqis; 2) unlike the numbers of Sudanese dead, the numbers of Iraqi war victims have been thoroughly documented (in the British Medical Journal, the Lancet); 3) this past week--when Hillel was conducting its moments of silence for Sudan--was the anniversary of the illegal U.S. invasion.

In Darfur, the U.S. is, for once, innocent of direct involvement in the killings. Unlike in Iraq, Darfurian civilian deaths are not the consequence of U.S. taxdollars at work. This is not to say we should not be concerned about Sudan, but we should question the motives of propaganda which demonizes an independent Third World nation. If, as in the Iraqi case, a successful Zionist-instigated Free Darfur propaganda campaign transitions into a Free Darfur military campaign, the consequence may be the lives of hundreds of thousands more Sudanese.

Imperialist propaganda directed at Third World nations--particularly those revealing any semblance of independence from Western powers--assumes a predictable pattern:

PANAMA INVASION: "Noriega is a drug dealer. He's not governing his country responsibly. Panamanians are oppressed under him. He needs to be removed." U.S. overthrows and imprisons Noreiga.

AFGHANISTAN INVASION: "Taliban are bad. They abuse their women. Everybody hates Taliban. So let's help the Afghans." U.S. bombs Afghanistan to smithereens, installs puppet in Kabul, and takes control of Afghan natural gas and other natural resources.

IRAQ INVASION: "Iraq's leaders are bad. They killed Kurds in Halabcha (during the Iran-Iraq war, with U.S. support). Iraqis hate Saddam. So, let's go liberate them." U.S. destroys Iraq, installs yes-man, and pilfers Iraq's oil and other natural resources.

HAITI: "Haitians are starving under Aristide (nevermind the U.S. veto of all World Bank and other aid to Haiti during Aristide's last term). He's had years to improve conditions for his people and he couldn't do it. Maybe it's time for a change." U.S. kidnaps Aristide. Pro-U.S. government is installed.

Documentation for 300,000 Sudanese dead is nonexistent to my knowledge. I am still looking for it, and will look at the U.N. website today (recall that the U.N. refused to call it a genocide). Reports from independent observers which I find credible say killings have taken place, but that the numbers are much lower than is spewed by the U.S. media. Recall that the U.S. was funding the SPLA (Christian militia) in Southern Sudan. So while the Khartoum government was trying to contain the SPLA (U.S.- instigated) rebellion, the situation in Darfur was deteriorating. By the time the Sudanese government turned its attention to Darfur, many killings had already occurred. The government imposed harsh measures against the Janjaweed militia carrying out the atrocities, including literally cutting off the hands of a number of them, in accordance with Sharia (Islamic Law).

My opinion is that Americans are finally realizing that they were completely and utterly duped into attacking Iraq, and that public sentiment is finally turning against the war. The DOD cannot simply keep issuing denials of reports on torture and other violations of the Geneva Conventions, which are now carried even by the NY Times and BBC among mainstream media. So Darfur is the red herring, which will keep the outrage of the U.S. masses distracted from the consequences of their own government's genocide, and from demanding resignation, impeachment, and other actions in a system where elected officials are ostensibly answerable to their constituents.

“Taliban Country”—Film Review

2005-02-23T19:55:00.000-05:00

In this age of CNN and O'Reilly, "Taliban Country" is a documentary that restores dignity to the word "journalist." Carmela Baranowska, an Australian filmmaker, was originally embedded with U.S. marines in Afghanistan's remote Uruzgan Province. The mission of the marines is to "hunt for Taliban and Al-Qaida." They are under the command of Asad Khan--the only "Muslim" to have attained the rank of lieutenant colonel in the U.S. military. Together with Jan Muhammad, a Pushtun warlord, who cooperates with U.S. troops, they regularly patrol Uruzgan villages.

Baranowska's camera effectively captures the tranquility of the Afghan village. Birds are singing, children are playing, and one can almost feel the breeze circulating through the sunny courtyards of the traditional Afghan clay houses. The viewer gets a sense of what (state) terrorism means, when the marines descend upon this quietly serene village, with submachine guns and RPGs drawn, breaking down doors, and violating the sanctity of households. I was struck by the similarity in the behavior of the U.S. military with that of the Red Army--with their infamous house-to-house searches during the Russian occupation of Afghanistan, also aimed at striking terror in the hearts of the Afghan population.

Still, in this scene, perhaps due to Baranowska's presence, the troops are relatively restrained. They find no Taliban, instead arresting a young local, named Janan, and confiscating only nine guns. Janan is turned over to Warlord Jan Muhammad for questioning. His interrogation of the young man is little more than a steady stream of explicit Pashto epithets, capable of making the most seasoned hoodlum in the American inner city blush. Jan Muhammad, master of homosexual innuendo, is the quintessential U.S. approved/appointed Afghan "leader," in the Karzai/Dostum tradition: ego ridden, power hungry, and willing to sell out his people for a small price. The contrast between the arrogant and scurrilous speech of this Tom, and the humility of the soft-spoken Taliban leadership so demonized in the U.S. controlled media is inescapable.

The marines and Jan Muhammad, accompanied by Baranowska, visit a second village, called Passau. They sit down with the townspeople to discuss their concerns. Despite the threat posed by armed U.S. troops and by the ruthless warlord, a villager bravely tries to raise questions about abuses enacted by the U.S. military. He is quickly silenced, by the marines' translator, who condescendingly tells him his concerns are more appropriate as a post-evening prayer topic.

Baranowska, a seasoned journalist with years of experience investigating atrocities in E. Timor and elsewhere, is immediately suspicions. She decides to return..unembedded--to the area, to find out what is really underfoot. She returns first to Janan's village of Masazai. Janan tells her that U.S. troops can't capture any Taliban fighters, so they make a show of nabbing innocent and helpless villagers like him.

She learns that militias like Jan Muhammad's exploit the U.S. presence in the region to gain the upper hand over their traditional tribal allies. Tribe I turns Tom, and falsely accuses their rival, Tribe II, of harboring Taliban. U.S. marines attack Tribe II based on false information provided by Tribe I. Atrocities are committed against Tribe II, which then vows revenge against Tribe I. Thus the exogenous U.S. presence fuels civil war, exacerbating conflicts which otherwise would be minimal and fought on equal footing. Imperialist instigated civil war is an old theme, common to many countries suffering from U.S. "democratization."

Baranowska returns to Passau, where the villagers had raised questions about U.S. troops' atrocities. The reason why this issue was censored during her previous visit immediately becomes apparent. In a raid conducted June 23, 2004, U.S. helicopters landed in the village fields and destroyed the crops, setting the stage for what was to come. According to the villagers, the troops broke china, pottery, and anything else they could find. They hacked through the mosque door, threw Qur'ans on the ground, and defecated in residents' living rooms. Thirty-five villagers were arrested, and taken away by helicopter to be interrogated by U.S. troops. Some were threatened that they would be taken to Guantanomo. The prisoners were tagged like animals before they were finally released.

The filmmaker finds that the villagers have been physically and sexually abused by the troops. Noor Muhammad Lala, a village elder wearing turban and traditional Afghan baggy pants and shirt sorrowfully tells his story. "They tied my hands and put me in a container," he says. He was then forced to take off all his clothes, and spread-eagled against the wall. Marines pulled at his testicles and jabbed at his anus. The elder had a bladder problem and became incontinent in front of his captors who stood laughing at his predicament. I could not help thinking of the resemblance to my own dear, elderly Afghan (ex-)father-in-law, his long white beard, gaunt face with hollow cheeks, and gentle manner. How would I feel if this were done to him?

Wali Muhammad, Noor Muhammad's son, was also held for questioning. The marines beat him, fingered his anus, and took pictures of him naked. There were twenty marines according to Wali Muhammad, and they stood around laughing and taking pictures of the nude captives. He and the others were held for three days, he says; they become hungry and repeatedly asked for food, but were denied it. An elderly woman, whose veil was removed and who was subjected to a body search, tells of the village women being pushed around by the troops. " We'd prefer death to this humiliation," the villagers tell Baranowska.

Back in Masazai, she learns that Major Cook, of the Civil Affairs Unit, has just visited. One of the village leaders tell her that Cook tried to give him medicines, corn seed, and a radio. Cook asked him if he needed anything. He told Cook, in a message that might have been the cry of the Afghan nation:

"We don't need anything. Don't humiliate us. Don't rob our country. Don't commit crimes. We don't need anything."

Before leaving Uruzgan, Baranowska returns to Passau a final time. The villagers tell her that "due to abuse and maltreatment by the marines," almost all of the families are gone. Of a village of two hundred, only fifteen or twenty people remain. How history repeats itself, I think to myself: During the Soviet occupation, too, millions of Afghans left their homes and possessions to escape life under occupation. Afghans are a dignified people for whom honor and respect are everything. Time and time again, they have chosen exile or death to life under occupation.

The film ends with a footnote that with the initial release of "Taliban Country," the army launched an inquiry into the abuses. They confirmed the detention of thirty-five villagers on June 23, 2004. Answering questions after the screening of her work at the University of Maryland Baltimore Country (UMBC), Baranowska told students that the inquiry had found the charges against the marines to be unsubstantiated; Lt. Colonel Asad Khan had been removed from his position; no others had been prosecuted. Baranowska has called for an independent inquiry.

An audience member at the UMBC screening, who said she and her husband worked for an aid organization in Kandahar, tried to convince the predominantly student audience that the film was an unfair treatment of the U.S. military, and that a tiny minority of U.S. troops engaged in this sort of behavior. I wondered, "Do you think your aid would be needed over there, if the U.S. hadn't gone in and destroyed that country in the first instance?" I politely remarked to her that wartime atrocities by occupying troops are statistically underreported, not over reported, and that the numbers were probably much higher. The bar on war crimes was set early on in the Afghan War, with the U.S. refusal to prosecute members of the Dostum militia who massacred prisoners in Mazar-e-Sharif; and the U.S. troops who murdered Taliban by suffocation in metal boxes. I commended Baranowska for her courage and integrity in reporting the reality of the situation in Afghanistan. U.S. presence in Afghanistan violates the sovereignty of that country, and U.S. troops there, as in Iraq, are occupiers. Hence their behavior is not surprising.

Baranowska's findings cry out for a war crimes investigation.

Eid Mubarak

2005-01-21T21:33:00.000-05:00

January 21 is the death anniversary of my son, Hanzela. He was born in Lahore, Pakistan, on November 13, 1989, and returned with me to the States by the end of that year. Three months later, he died of SIDS (Sudden Infant Death Syndrome) in our suburban family home.

When he was born, I named him Hanzela in honor of the great Afghan freedom fighter of the same name, who was martryed fighting against the British in the earlier part of the century, and whose name is folklore amongst the Afghans. My great aunt, Shima, who was also my son's godmother, called my son "Khairat Muhammad." I never quite understood the name, and was rather irked by her insistence at referring to him as such. "Khairat," off course meant charity, and Muhammad (SAW) was the last in the line of great Prophets, and to whom the Qu'ran was revealed. But why "Charity of Muhammad (SAW)"?

Today as I watch the state of affairs in the world, I wonder what would have become of Hanzela had he lived. Would he have died of suffocation in a tin box, at the hands of U.S.-sponsored warlords somewhere in the Hindu Kush? Would be be one of those held indefinitely on a small island concentration camp, charged with no crime, and tortured from time to time depending on the mood of the torturers? Or would he be in a tiny U.S. cell, awaiting deportation for being the wrong race, religion, creed?

My son's death is a blessing. It is Allah's constant reminder to me that death and life are His dominion, and His dominion alone; even those who exhibit perfect health and youth, like my son, may meet death any instant, if He wishes. I believe it is meant to remind me to live each day as if it were my last, and that I will indeed be held accountable for all my actions in the Hereafter.

Today is also Eid ul-Adha. How appropriate the coinciding of the dates. I think of my cherubic, bubbling son and how I awoke one morning to suddenly find him dead. I look over at the green Book sitting on my bed side table. "Authority belongs to Allah alone," it says to me. Prophet Ibrahim (Abraham) (AS), when he chose to sacrifice his son, at Allah's command, recognized just this command:Innal Hukumo Illah Lillah. Perhaps it is this special reminder from Allah that is the "Charity of Muhammad" to me.

This Eid day, let us remember that Authority belongs to Allah alone, and not to any human being, no matter how large an armada they may amass, and let us pray for the Muslims fighting injustice and imperialism worldwide.

A Test of Faith

2005-01-20T00:05:00.000-05:00

One of my core values is standing up for the rights of the oppressed. But it is not always easy, especially if doing so involves living in a hot dusty village in the Third World, at the mercy of bureaucratic red tape....

For several decades now, Pakistan has hosted a very large Afghan refugee population. This has helped the Afghans to survive the perpetual destruction of their county by the various superpowers. Unfortunately, it has also placed a tremendous drain on the Pakistan economy, creating deep-rooted resentment among many Pakistanis for the Afghan refugees. The treatment of Afghan refugees by Pakistani society may be likened to that of migrant workers by the U.S.

Asif, my ex-husband, was among those Afghans who fled to Pakistan when the war came to their country. He and his family lived in a hot, dusty sprawling refugee camp called Camp Munda Pul, near the Pakistan-Afghanistan border. In writing my book on the effects of war on Afghan refugee women, I stayed in this and other refugee camps. Every so often, Asif and I left the camp to travel into town (Peshawar), to buy groceries, toiletries and other supplies for his family, or to meet with various officials whom I wanted to interview. Frequently, we were stopped and harassed by Pakistani police, who resented seeing a Pakistani woman (which I appeared to be, in my native dress) with a lowly Afghan. They feigned concern for my safety: Perhaps I was being held against my will? Most of the time, the underpaid Paki cops just wanted a bribe. Since we generally refused to succumb to the bribe demand, Asif would periodically be marched off to the local police station and held for a few hours, until the cops realized he wasn’t going to pay up, and the Chief of Police showed up and demanded to know what his underlings were doing holding an innocent man.

But that was not the worst of it. Paki police frequently harassed refugee families, tearing down their tents, in clear violation of Qur'anic injunctions to support those who have performed hijarat. Asif’s family was relatively fortunate to have a mud hut in Camp Munda Pul, remote enough that it seemed to escape most of that negative attention. Asif’s female relatives rarely left the camp, and he was their liason with the outside world. Every time he went into town, I worried that he would be harassed. His brothers, tall, lanky, and bearded—clearly Afghan in their style of dress—were also frequently harassed by the authorities. For Asif and his brothers, getting a job in Pakistan, without the recommendation of a U.S. or European national, was nearly out of the question.

By this time, Asif and I were married, and I had filed for an immigrant visa for him. Originally, I’d planned to return to the States, and wait for him to follow me after his papers became available. Although I was teaching him to read and write English in our spare moments, I worried that his inability to understand follow-up paperwork through the lengthy immigration process would lay my efforts to waste, and that he would continue to suffer harassment at the hands of the Pakistani authorities while awaiting processing. A few weeks into the application process, I decided I would wait for my beloved husband to get immigration, and that we would return to the States together—or not at all.

I was worried that Asif’s immigration papers might not be delivered easily to a refugee camp address, and so taking a gamble, I took him to the house of my Aunt Shima (really my great aunt), just outside Lahore, Pakistan’s largest and oldest city. The U.S. Consulate was also in Lahore. Aunt Shima had never met Asif, and had not seen me in years. She disliked him instantly, and, it seemed, me--for my selection of a lowly Afghan, and that too, without first consulting her. But fortunately for Asif and I, Muslim customs dictate that one take in visitors even if one can’t stand them, and Aunt Shima extended us her hospitality.

My great aunt was a towering figure in her village. Her father had been a big land owner in the area, so much of the village property was now hers, although she occasionally gifted small plots of land to a villager getting married, starting a new business or some such. Her house was one of the few permanent structures in the village, the walls of its compound rising high over the smaller clay houses like a castle. It was probably the only house around for miles with marble floors, AC (albeit old fashioned), modern plumbing, and (cheesy, Pakistani) TV. The villagers were like her serfs, bringing her offerings of food, and requesting audiences of her, to seek resolution of their problems. And she, being a school teacher at heart (she had an MA in education from the University of WI), reciprocated by running a school—the only one around for miles—for their children in one wing of her compound.

So, our new abode was considerably more comfortable than Camp Munda Pul. But the puny efforts of the feeble, old-fashioned AC unit against the 110°F heat, and the periodic “load-shedding” (scheduled rolling power outages, common in India and Pakistan) made me long for home. The months rolled by, and the U.S. Consulate was taking its time in sending Asif’s paperwork. I called and badgered them periodically, to no avail. A Pakistani friend, who worked for the U.S. Consulate in Peshawar, told me they were probably checking us out, to make sure ours was not one of the many “paper marriages” between Pakistani/Afghans and U.S. citizens. Or that Asif wasn’t the sterotypical Afghan heroin smuggler. Ah well.

It hadn’t rained in weeks, dust was everywhere, and some parts of my aunt’s village were afflicted with TB. I was running out of money, patience, and time--as I was pregnant, with our first child. Common sense told me I should go home before my due date, so that I could be around my family and modern health facilities when the time came. But, my promise to my husband came first.

To preserve my sanity, I determined to maintain a regimen. For several hours each morning, I gave Asif his English lesson. Then, we would play badminton in the sweltering heat for an hour. After that, we had lunch, sometimes with my great aunt, if she had finished her teaching for the afternoon. After lunch, I tutored selected pupils from her school, and then washed clothes (by hand), since clothing tended to get sweaty very quickly in the heat.

Asif left for a visit to the refugee camp, to make sure his family was doing okay. I was even more miserable alone, tortured by thoughts of returning home. Shakespeare had it all wrong: To stay or not to stay—that was the question. Asif returned from the village and shortly thereafter, I delivered our first child in a clinic in Lahore. I stayed there for about a week, recuperating. My aunt and other relatives were incredibly kind and supportive, and even seemed to have developed a semblance of liking for Asif by this point. Yet, the whole experience was surreal, for I had never imagined I would birth a child in a “foreign” country.

After I felt strong enough, I paid the U.S. Consulate another visit, this time with my infant son, for whom I was requesting a U.S. passport. Incredibly, the U.S. authorities were very cooperative, delivering my son’s passport to me in a matter of days, and Asif’s papers shortly thereafter. The three of us returned to the U.S. to live happily ever after.

Fahrenheit 911 – Film Review

2004-08-11T21:54:00.000-04:00

Michael Moore's film Fahrenheit 911, exhibits all the strengths and weaknesses of the liberal left. Moore, an outspoken opponent of the U.S. war on Iraq, brilliantly titles the film after science fiction writer Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451. In the original sci-fi novel, it is the job of the firemen, who work for the authoritarian police state, to burn books. The temperature at which the book burning is achieved is 451 F. Moore's analogy here seems to be that the conditions under which unprovoked and–under international law–illegal war by a superpower on an independent, sovereign nation is achieved is when an incident such as 9-11 has occurred, or been permitted to occur.

Moore appropriately begins the film by reminding viewers of the conditions under which the "President" of the U.S. assumed office, focusing on the disenfranchisement of Black voters in several Florida counties. For readers of the NT Forum who have been following the reactionary role of Fox News in the railroading and blackballing of Muslim leaders and causes, Fahrenheit reveals an interesting point about Fox: With the polls still open on Election Day 2000, and all the major television stations broadcasting that Gore was well ahead in the Florida race, suddenly and gratuitously, the Fox News Channel announced that Bush had won that state. The other stations, embarrassed at their perceived mistake, quickly followed suit, retracting their original broadcasts and announced the putative Bush win–a win so dubious that the case eventually resulted in dozens of Congressional Hearings and ultimately wound up in the Supreme Court. But on Election Day, the announcement by Fox News of Bush's win might well have influenced results at the polls; more importantly it raised questions of whether Fox reported or fabricated the news. (For more on Fox News, see the critical documentary Outfoxed now playing in selected area theaters and available on video soon.)

In Fahrenheit 911, Moore uses humor to cover an otherwise heart-wrenching story: the story of a president who covers his own ineptitude in neglecting the national security interests of the country prior to 911 by going to war to destroy an innocent and defenseless Iraqi nation. Off over 500 members of the U.S. Congress, only one has a son or daughter in the armed forces in Iraq, says Moore, who in the movie is shown somewhat comically accosting these fast-retreating legislators before the cameras, audaciously requesting them to volunteer a son or a daughter to fight for freedom and democracy in Iraq. He rents an ice cream truck and drives around Capital Hill reading the Patriot Act over the loud speakers of the truck as a service to Congress members, who have signed away the First Amendment Rights of the people, with scarcely a glance at the text of the draconian bill they have signed.

Fahrenheit has the integrity to show extensive footage from un-embedded journalists: Iraqi children screaming with pain from napalm wounds, trucks laden down with civilian corpses, and the terror experienced by Iraqi women during house-to-house searches by U.S. soldiers. Moore's interviews with U.S. soldiers revealed the diversity of attitudes among these young men and women. One young black marine, a Muslim, said he preferred jail to being returned to Iraq to fight other people of color, who had done nothing to him. Another, a bespectacled Caucasian youth, reported that once the adrenaline was pumping, and the right music was playing in the tank or humvee, he would shoot up the enemy without qualm, preferably to the tune of "The roof is on fire..."

In a profoundly personal touch, Moore juxtaposes the bombed out areas in Iraq with scenes from his hometown of Flint, Michigan. Footage of Flint's slums with their rampant unemployment and ramshackle housing shows a striking resemblance to parts of Iraq. Ironically, this desperately poor U.S. town, and many others like it, is prime recruiting area for the U.S. military. Here, says Moore, the children of poor Blacks and Whites, who have few employment options, and often view the military as a means of paying for college, are picked up for military service–to go and kill the children of poor Iraqis.

In contrast with his clarity on the inhumanity of the war, Moore seems confused about the driving force to go to war. Through various interviews, Moore brings up the point that plans to attack Iraq were clearly laid out well before September 11. Perhaps the first quarter of the film amply emphasizes Bush's ineptitude, inaction, and his vacation panacea–when the going gets rough, the Prez goes on vacation. And Moore cuts poor Bush no breaks for going on one vacation after another early in his administration. In one scene, Bush appears in a Florida kindergarten classroom (actual footage) reading a children's book with the class as part of a photo-op. As he sits in the classroom, an aid enters to inform him that the first plane has crashed into the World Trade Center. The Commander-In-Chief remains exactly where he is in the kindergarten, calmly reading the kiddy book, with a slightly moronic look on his face. Moore's voice over explains that perhaps Bush's inaction stems from the fact that no secret service members are around to suggest an appropriate response to the President. It is clear from this and numerous other scenes that Moore might not put money on Bush's intellectual ability.

Someone more focused, agenda-driven, and amoral even than Bush had to come up with a plan to attack Iraq--in defiance of the Security Council, the U.N. General Assembly, the EU, and NATO; in contempt of traditional U.S. allies France and Germany; and in utter disregard for worldwide protests. And that someone had to be determined enough to persevere with the plan, even if no WMDs were found; even if the U.S. image and alliances throughout the world were tarnished; even if it meant years of U.S. occupation of Iraq, at costs threatening to bring down the U.S. economy; and even if it meant heightened hatred for U.S. imperial policies and increased risk of terrorist attacks on the U.S. itself. Yet the illustrious film-maker offers no suggestions as to the masterminds of such a well thought out scheme. Perhaps in consideration of his career as a Hollywood film-maker, Moore carefully sidesteps scrutiny of the political allegiances of the men formulating policy for the Bush Administration: Wolfowitz, Rumsfeld, Perle, or any of the other AIPAC affiliated-Neocons to whom Bush routinely reports. Interestingly, Wolfowitz and Perle, despite their vociferous and unabashed push to attack Iraq, barely appear in the film. Instead, Administration mouth pieces--Rice, Powell, and George Dubya himself–are shown repeatedly throughout the film. They are like puppets with unseen puppeteers.

The film spends considerable time exploring links between the "Saudi" royal family and the Bush family, and the fact that numerous Saudis were permitted unencumbered exit from the U.S. immediately after 9-11, when all other flights were grounded. Moore hints that perhaps these Saudis ought to have been detained and interrogated before they were sent on their merry way. He mentions joint investments by the Bush family and members of the Bin Laden family, intimating that the Bin Laden family might not be as estranged from Osama as previously believed, and that this, too, is cause for inquiry. Shockingly, the otherwise politically shrewd Moore seems almost completely unaware of the servile role of Saudi Arabia, and the subservience of its military, intelligence and judiciary to U.S. interests. Without the use of Saudi airspace and intelligence sharing, the "success" of both Gulf Wars, might have been in question. But no Saudi sits on the President's cabinet or in his closed circle of advisors which formulate U.S. foreign policy. Several self-described Israeli citizens, however, do sit on these boards, determining the allocation of U.S. taxpayers money. In his preoccupation with the Saudi royals' imaged role in 9-11 and his complete inattention to the very real Zionist role in the Iraq War, Moore misses the boat on who is the policymaker and who is the obsequious executor.

Sadly, the release of Fahrenheit 911 in the heat of the election summer and well after the decimation of the Iraqi population, leads one to wonder if Moore may be a dupe to the Other War Party–the Democrats.

Each One, Teach One

2003-12-20T23:05:00.000-05:00

During the spring 2003 semester (my first at UMBC), I tutored my stepmother, named Jameelah, and other students studying pre-calculus at Morgan State University (an HBC). Jameelah, a returning student, had not studied math in decades, and had a severe math phobia. Unfortunately for her, pre-calc was a requirement of the education degree she was pursuing. The professor's apathetic attitude did nothing to uplift Jameelah's spirits.

The prof was a character. A black woman with blond hair, she periodically arrived late, and lectured for a fraction of the class time. Once, she traipsed into class twenty minutes after it had started, sporting spandex tights with leopard spots. She flung down her belongings with an air of annoyance, and began the lecture. A few minutes later, a student dared raise a hand to ask a question.

The prof almost exploded. "Have any of you even read the material!" she asked shrilly, in response to what she viewed as an uninformed question. Throwing up her hands in exasperation, she retreated to one corner of the room, where she sat and munched on potato chips for the remainder of the period. Another time, she taught for the first half of the class, then disappeared down the hall, in pursuit of her daughter, who was busily exploring the math building while mom taught class. And so it went. Not only my stepmother, but many of the other students were floundering, and terrified of failing the class.

When Jameelah told me of this situation, I thought immediately of the words of Dr. Abdulalim Shabazz, distinguished professor of math at Lincoln University, and an old family friend. Formerly with the Nation of Islam, he is an Afrocentric and a champion for his people. I consider him the standard bearer of math pedagogy, particularly when it comes to black and brown students.

We were attending an Islamic conference together. During one of the breaks, I asked him about his teaching method. He said simply. “If my students aren’t grasping what I’m teaching, then I have failed. If students don’t understand something one way, it is up to the teacher to find other ways to explain it until they understand.” He impressed on his students that their ancestors, black people of Ancient KMT—not Newton or Euclid—were the first to elucidate geometry, trigonometry, algebra, and physics, and that they were to strive for the same high standard. He taught them to think, and not to memorize. Not surprisingly, Shabazz produced one of the highest numbers of black mathematics doctoral students in the nation. (Bizarrely, he was demoted from the position of Math Department Chair at Lincoln University, to an ordinary teaching position. Even more bizarrely, he was replaced by a white, Jewish, woman who did not hold even a math degree.)

I developed a tremendous admiration and respect for Shabazz, in his dedication to math teaching and his love for the people. Looking at the dearth of black and brown people in my field, life sciences, I felt strongly that math was the major stumbling block for black students, which precluded them from entry into the life sciences. They attended the worst schools, with high student-teacher ratios, and little academic support (vital for success in math); had parents in jail or on drugs; endured school closures due to teacher strikes, trashcan fires, and shooting incidents; or some combination of these, causing just enough disruption for students to fall behind in math. And since math builds upon itself, even one tenuous semester could endanger their later learning. Worse, because a strong understanding of math is vital to a science/engineering major in college, weakness in math precluded many black students from these fields. All this, coupled with racist bio-science department faculty and chairs (often vestiges from the era of scientific racism) at university level ensured that the numbers of black students earning bioscience degrees remained at a slow trickle.

I personally struggled with high school math, earning an “F” in ninth grade Algebra (initially) and a “D” in eleventh grade Trig. But I did not give up. And math, unlike men, rewarded me according to the effort I expended. Today, I have a great love of math, and employ it on a daily basis. As a result of my struggles with the subject, I have some understanding of the problems math students face. And although it is not my field, it is my passion to help black and brown students with their math struggles. The community must ensure that academic support, particularly in math, is available to our youth. In the near future, I plan to contribute to this goal by offering math/chemistry/physics tutoring (enlisting the help of other community members) through local inner city masajid. Given such academic support, if students choose non-science majors, it will be of their volition.

When Jameelah mentioned her troubles, I was thrilled that I might be able to share the knowledge I’d acquired through blood, sweat, and tears. Not wanting to be too pushy, I initially just gave her a pre-calculus book and solution manual, which I thought explained the subject with clarity. When I called her the following week, she said the new book was much easier to grasp than the horrid class text, but that she was still confounded by certain types of problems. She would be stuck for hours, unable to move ahead, and become very frustrated and depressed. My semester at UMBC was heating up, and I knew that tutoring at this juncture could easily detract from my own academic advancement. But, I also knew I would not be true to myself if I did not step forward now. I arranged to meet with her once a week, alternating between her home and MSU. Our first tutoring session was held in Morgan's math building. To my surprise, several other students, whom Jameelah had told of the tutoring, showed up. They were experiencing many of same difficulties as Jameelah.

I hadn’t tutored since my brief stint at Antioch College years prior, where I informally helped friends with calculus in the common room of our dorm. So, I was nervous, standing before Jameelah and her classmates at the chalkboard, afraid I would forget some elementary concept, like the limit, as x approached zero, of sine x divided by x.

The class members also seemed uncertain of me, perhaps expecting a similar lack of caring as they’d experienced from Ms. Leopard Tights. Initially, they did not ask me any questions, and talked among themselves, trying desperately to solve seemingly elusive homework problems. Finally, I asked a young dark-skinned sista, named Chantal, to select a problem she did not understand, and to write it on the blackboard, so that we could work it together. I asked the others to try to work the problem at their seat, and Chantal to work the problem as far as she could on the board. When she got stuck, I guided her (mainly by asking her directed questions), until she was able to solve the problem. After that, she and I explained the problem step by step to the other students. Then, I asked Jameelah to pick a problem which gave her difficulty, and did the same thing with her. Gradually, I was able to get the participation of nearly every student, giving each individualized guidance, followed by a sharing of the lessons learned with each problem with the rest of the class. Since many of the students had similar difficulties with the problems, working with one helped me realize what stumbling blocks might arise for others.

Except for an inverse function problem, whose terminology I was unsure about, I was able to answer all the students’ questions, and did not embarrass myself as I had feared. They shared with me their fears, phobias, and gripes about math exams, the math portion of the Praxis (which several of them were preparing to take), the despised class text, and their infamous prof. I tutored them through the semester, becoming their friend, coach, and in some cases chauffer.

Once, the Prof came by our study room, and the normal banter of the group stopped. A couple of the students cozied up to her, trying to make her feel important. Then Jameelah introduced us. With an icy cold glare, she returned my greeting, but just barely. After a few minutes, she left, with a flippant “Looks like y’all got it under control.”

At the end of the semester, Jameelah received an "A" in the class; at least two others in our small study group got "A's" and "B's;" and nearly everyone brought up their grades significantly. I was very proud of them. They thanked me in many different ways. Pat, another returning student, sent me a gift basket and a card as a token of appreciation. Chantal asked for my help with a summer stat class (which, alas, I declined, because of an intense summer class I was taking), and put me in touch with her nephews and nieces, who also needed tutoring. John, a sharp, young, engineering major invited me to his birthday barbeque. All the students tried to pay me as a token of appreciation. I refused, since it was they who had done all the hard work, and they who had helped me, giving me the opportunity to share my knowledge. As Malcolm said, "Each one, teach one."

And the Mullah's Voice Droned On:The Story of an Afghan Holocaust

2002-06-05T13:51:00.000-04:00

In 1987-1989, I visited the Afghan refugee camps of Munda Pul, Jalozai, Akora Khattak, and Pabi, near Peshawar, as well as others near Chitral. Conditions were bad in the camps, and almost every refugee to whom I spoke expressed the common sentiment of wanting to return home to their beloved Afghanistan, where everything was better. At that time, most of these refugees were at least somewhat confident that they would indeed one day return home. Today, there remain 2 – 3 million Afghans in refugee camps. What remains of the beautiful homeland to which they dreamt of returning, is unrecognizable after three months of U.S. bombing, far beyond the war-ravaged product of ten years of Russian imperialist war, which yet exhibited some signs of infrastructure. Today’s Afghanistan is reminescent of Cambodia in the horrors which have been visited upon it by both the U.S. and U.S.S.R., completely devoid of infrastructure and incapable of supporting its population. Indeed its landscape has been so disfigured by war that returning to it is a dangerous if not unlikely proposition. Both the U.S. and Russia are guilty of war crimes against Afghanistan. The country is in dire need of rebuilding. One obvious way to rebuild the country, without reducing it to the status of perpetual slavery to the World Bank and other cut throats, is for the parties responsible for its destruction to pay reparations. In an epoch purportedly governed by International Laws, Geneva Conventions, War Crimes Tribunals, and United Nations mediation, why then are reparations not in the offing?

One of my most vivid recollections of the camp is of one Friday (in the summer of 1988), when I tried to attend juma’a prayers at the little mud mosque in the camp. I was peeved because I was excluded from attending. Women didn’t go to the mosque for prayer, my hosts apologetically told me. To dispute this was to invite accusations that one was communist (recall that this was during a period of forced Soviet-style “emancipation”). Only communists advocated such outlandish things as women in the mosque. Finally the Friday prayer was over, and the men should have been on their way home. But, for some reason, the mullah’s voice droned on. I was getting impatient. And he was reciting names. Children’s names. The list was long. I counted fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen....twenty-three children were named. How nice, I thought, he must be reciting the names of all the children who finished the Qur’an, or who had won some Islamic contest, as they did at the posh mosque I attended in White Oak, Maryland.

Suddenly there came a sound of sobbing from the neighboring compound. Then further away, in the distance, a wailing became apparent. Sensing my confusion, the elder of the household, who had stayed home from the Friday prayer due to illness, came to my rescue: “The imam is reading the names of the children who have died in our camp this week,” he told me solemnly. “Zamana karab ast,”—it is a bad time—he said, echoing the words of dozens of refugees whom I met. It was a particularly difficult time for the children, he continued, growing up in the refugee camp. Beautiful Afghan children, dead from malaria, T.B., hepatitis, diarrhea, rickets, or generalized malnutrition. The refugee camp was no longer a refuge, but a mass grave for the children of the mujahideen and the mohajireen.

The children were trying to memorize their lessons for the day, as I sat trying to learn my Dari lesson. It was very hot and humid as we sat in the courtyard outside the “bedroom,” a single room mud structure which functioned variously as sleeping quarters, living room, and storage area. We sat underneath the shade created by some overhanging branches thrown over the mud house as a makeshift roof, the sweat dripping from our backs and from our brows, our backs tingling with heat rash. Large, buzzing, biting flies kept settling on the children, as they tried diligently to recite their lessons. I kept swatting at them, only to have them return a few moments later. But the children kept at their lessons with admirable persistence. A few yards away, a baby slept on a small mat on the ground in the courtyard where we were studying. Her mother worked hard kneeding dough for the afternoon meal a few feet away in the makeshift kitchen. When I looked again, the baby’s body was covered with flies. Horrified, I jumped up and shooed them away. The baby, Malalai, became to me a metaphor for Afghanistan. Sweet, naive, innocent, with no animosity for anyone, she is preyed upon by the American and Russian parasites who wish to drink her life blood, in the form of oil, natural gas, and mineral resources.

Afghans love their children. In a country full of widows and orphans, it was next to impossible (at the time of my visit, although this may have changed due to the desperate conditions arising after the U.S. bombing) to locate an Afghan child for adoption, as even those who had lost parents were immediately taken in by their extended family. Truly it is a society in which the aphorism “It takes a village to raise child,” comes to life. In 2001, when the Taliban were approached by the United Nations representatives who wanted to refurbish the Buddhist statues in Bamiyan province, they asked the U.N. reps if they might take a fraction of the money to feed hungry Afghan children. The U.N. response was a point blank "NO." No money to feed the children who cannot sleep at night because they are so hungry; whose viscera risk permanent damage from malnutrition; whose entrails are running out of them in fatal diarrhea; but plenty of money to repair statues. Just as in the U.S., the dogs and cats of the rich have more access to everything from toothpaste to surgery than do the children of the poor in most Third World countries.

In response to this categoric denial of their humanity, and anguished at the impending death of tens of thousands of Afghan children, the Taliban, angry and frustrated, decided to destroy the Buddhist statues. The mentality which cavalierly dismisses the impending death of Afghan and Iraqi children is the same mentality which cuts school lunches for impoverished children in America’s inner cities, and evicts welfare mothers for the misdemenors of their family members, while funding ventures like, in the words of Gil Scott-Heron, “Whitey on the moon.”

Recently, an expatriate Afghan sculptor was given much kudos in the U.S. press when he announced his intentions of returning to “liberated” Afghanistan to refurbish the largest of the Buddha statues destroyed by the Taliban. He melodramatically told the tale of his escape from Afghanistan as the Taliban came to power, and how he had tearfully smashed his own sculptures himself before fleeing the country, so that the Taliban might not get their hands on them. He declared that he would not restore the smaller statues, so that the nation might never forget the barbaric nature of the Taliban. Immediately, numerous pro-zionist organizations jumped to his assistance with promises of funding.

Let’s think about this: the original statues have already been destroyed by the Taliban. Much of the country is starving, due to the combined effects of severe weather, war, and apathy on part of the world community. But hundreds of thousands of dollars are going to be spent on making a copy of a Buddha statue, whose very value was in its antiquity, never mind the five million Afghan people who face starvation. Clear as mud.

Recently, the U.S. press lauded the first celebration of Nowruz (New Year) in “Free” Afghanistan. For the first time since the Taliban’s rise to power, the people could finally dance, prance, and yes—drink in the streets with complete abandon. The media seemed to overlook the minor detail that Afghanistan is a predominantly Muslim country, and Nowruz, haram under Islamic law, is a Zorastrian holiday not celebrated by most Afghans. Ramadan, on the other hand, is recognized and celebrated by the vast majority of Afghans. Indeed the importance of this holy month, central to Afghan tradition, was recognized by the U.S. government—with some of the heaviest bomb tonnage dropped on a country in modern history. Sort of like bombing New York or Washington on Christmas Day. As for the liberating celebrations of Nowruz, I’d venture that most of the folks celebrating that holiday might be Karzai’s homies, part of the democratic government that George Dubya “put in.”

It has been ten years since the Russian withdrawal from Afghanistan, and not a word about reparations for the incredible war crimes committed by the Red Army in that country. What exempts the Russians from paying reparations to a people against whom they perpetuated every possible atrocity, from the near universal distribution of landmines, to killing, jailing, and torture of the civilian population, and widespread use of chemical and biological agents?

What off U.S. violations of international law in Afghanistan: bombing and decimation of whole villages and cities; destruction of hospitals, relief centers, and food supply lines; cold-blooded murder of 4,000 Afghan civilians by U.S. estimates (with independent local media estimates placing the civilian death toll as high as 60,000); and more landmines to add to the existing Soviet ones. For that matter, the U.S. has to date presented no evidence to the World Court at the Hague, against Osama (r.a.), the putative puppeteer behind 9-11. Who, in truth, is the war criminal?

Does none of this warrant reparations? Or perhaps reparations, like holocausts, Nobel Peace prizes, and suffering, are the domain of one and only one privileged group?

In the camps, and in Afghanistan herself, the mullah is reading a longer and longer list of children’s names each Friday—dead not just from malnutrition and diarrhea, but from daisycutters, cruise missiles, and American landmines to augment with the Soviet ones.

The Other Ascent

2001-12-20T02:07:00.007-05:00

Bismillah, Ir-Rahman, Ir-Raheem, I breathed, starting my usual five-mile run during break (at work). It was late afternoon, almost evening, my optimum running time. I’d slept well the previous night, stretched well before the run, and eaten well earlier—the three essential components of a good run.

I felt myself picking up speed as I raced down the ramp near the beginning of my run, but the feeling of lightness didn’t end with the descent. Today, unlike some days, when the ascent required effort, I felt as powerful on the first uphill, as I’d felt on the initial downhill. The absence of sidewalk, and the fact that I was sharing a major roadway with 40 – 60 mph traffic did not strike a ripple in the utter calm of my mind. Nor did it diminish the feeling of power in my legs. Ujjayi Pranayama (yogic breathing technique) really worked.

Ahead was a light rail crossing which I traversed each day during my run. "Please God, don't let a train come through just as I arrive at the crossing," I prayed. Even if I ran in place while waiting for the train to cross, such an event killed the momentum of the run. Then it would be "The thrill is gone, Bernie."

As I got close, I heard the whistle. I’d just raced up a hill which some might consider a monster, but I was in the zone, barely breathing. Alas, the train was approaching, and the gates began to lower, barring traffic and the odd runner from crossing in front of it.

In an instant I knew what I must do. I speeded up, and in a few swift strides, I’d crossed from the road shoulder, to the center of the road, where there was a small gap between the railroad crossing gates. Then—to the consternation of motorists patiently lined up at the crossing—I slipped through the gap. I flew over the tracks and to the other side, just ahead of the train, epinephrine pouring out of my adrenal gland. So much for calm. I completed the remaining several miles of run in overdrive, and made it back to work just in the nick of time, with only my secret smile betraying my workout victory to my co-workers.

Ramadan at Camp Munda

1999-12-09T11:30:00.000-05:00

Ramadan greetings, and may the strength of this holy month bring us close to the Creator, and close to those who struggle against oppression the world over. In particular, this Ramadan, please join me in praying for the people of Iraq, against whom the U.S. government has instigated a criminal policy of submit or starve. The courage of the people of Iraq brings to mind my experiences in Afghanistan and in the Afghan refugee camps on the Pakistan border....
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I remember one Ramadan spent in the Afghan refugee camp of Munda Pul. Afghan mujahideen moved in and out of the camps, where their families lived, with regularity, their movements dictated by the timing and direction of the various guerrilla offensives. It was the night before Ramadan, and I, filled with an immense energy and excitement, which I could only attribute to the power of the Holy Month, could scarcely sleep as I lay on my matt outside the single-room mud dwelling which my hosts called home. I awoke to the sounds of people talking in muted tones, and others crouching a distance away, washing arms, legs, feet, etc. with water from ancient-looking ceramic urns, in preparation for prayer. To my surprise, it was still dark; in fact, it seemed, it was still the dead of night, and not the pre-dawn hour when I would expect to awake in my suburban Maryland house back in the States, to rapidly microwave and consume food cooked and refrigerated for a week (with my busy student schedule). What are they doing up this early, I wondered. As I washed up, I noticed the children already moving about. One little boy chased a chicken around the compound. The women waited to pull water from the well in aluminum buckets just outside the single mud wall of the compound. Soon tea was boiling merrily in a heavy black cauldron over an open (cow pie) fire. As we sat cross-legged on a sheet which had been spread across the floor, and ate delicious, fresh, Afghan bread with a bit of jam which my muj hosts had somehow managed to acquire in my honor (peanut butter, jam, and other spreads are extremely expensive and difficult to obtain in the refugee camps) and cups of green tea, I reflected on how little the people had in terms of material wealth, and yet how much at peace they seemed with themselves, particularly surrounded by constant reminders of the war as they were.

A beautiful young Afghan woman sat a short distance away from me, breast-feeding her wide-eyed infant. Even the infant seemed aware that this was a special morning, the first morning of the most powerful month, in which forces of good are at their strongest, and the forces of evil can and must be challenged. Through the doorway of the single enclosed room, a gangly boy of six or seven, named Bilal, sat reading his Qur’an, in preparation for his morning lesson; his mother, Qanita, sweetly kept offering me more bread and jam. We finished our suhoor with a simple du’ah, common to most of the poor Dari-speaking Afghan mujahideen and their families, in whose homes I was a visitor—a prayer which seemed to reflect their attitude toward the incredible sacrifices they had made in leaving their homes and their beloved land:

Alhamdulillah-e-lazii
ataman-nah
wa sakanah
wa ja ulna minul muslimeen

(We give thanks, o Allah, for giving us food, for giving us shelter, and for placing us on the Path of Islam.)

A short while later, the relative silence of the camp was broken by the powerful and awe-inspiring azaan. Quickly and quietly, the mujahideen filed out of the compound in the direction of the mosque. As if heading to battle.