From Lama J…

I grew up in a family that used the word “Mashallah” (God’s blessing) all the time. I’m sure many non Arabs living in the region have heard the phrase many times over and that’s because, it’s a very Arabic thing to say.  When you see a nice baby, a lovely car, or recognize the good work someone did, you say”mashallah.” everything is mashallah.” For us Arabs, it gives us a nice feeling when saying it and those we say it to are always happy to hear it.

The reason we say this to show we are not jealous, to cancel out any envy or resentment, even if unintentional, directed towards the person to whom you are talking.  I feel sad to see this wonderful word being abus buy many jealous people who can’t help it, when they see other people feeling happier, or life is treating them better.

Our jealous and envious natures make us worse. For some reason, I find a lot f this in my region. It seems so many of us just cannot be happy for others. People are turning into jealous monsters and their bad thoughts can hurt others. God says in his Holly Quran “You get rewarded, as per your intentions.” In other words, if you think bad thoughts, you will get bad in return; if you think good thoughts, good things will happen.

It seems almost normal these days that when someone buys a new car and they’re happy to tell your friends, they have hear in return that they have chosen the worst brand. When we’re happy to find a good job and want to tell people about it, we often hear something like, “Oh really? They offered me a job there as well, but this company is loosing allots of money and not paying salaries so I turned it down.”

A friend of mine commented back when I told her my finance (my husband now) proposed to me she said oh believe me he will never marry you. Is that what you say to someone who is happy? Is that what you say if you are happy for them?

Recently, another friend of mine who knows I’m now working on my immigration papers for Canada told me the city I am planning to live in hates the Arabs. “People will talk about you behind your back, they will stare at you… point at you when you walk down the street.”

But why? I’m not carrying a sign up that shows I am so and so. Why would someone say this to someone who is happy? He also told me that Canada is a terrible place to live although he’s Canadian. “What’s going on here?” I asked myself.

I find this kind of behavior almost creepy and more than a little odd. We are an envious people and we just can’t see others making themselves better. I think it just kills some of us to see someone happy.

When I think of all I have, when I think of my friends being happy and wanting more, all what I can say mashallah. I only wish more of us would do the same.

Muslims are all too often referred to as being radical, but some Muslims are referring to one of their own in such a manner these days. Hamza Yusuf, born Mark Hanson in Washington State in 1960, is an Islamic scholar and professor currently lecturing in California. Yusuf offers a more tolerant and open-minded perspective of Islam and one with which some conservative Muslims strongly disagree.  Famously quoted as saying “the worst enemies of Islam are not the Israelis, but  themselves” and claiming that “the real Muslim way is life is best found in the West,” he is seen by some as poisoning traditional Islamic values. Others see him as the future and the symbolic figure of a much needed Islamic reformation. You be the judge.

Before America’s invasion and occupation of Iraq, the Sunni / Shia divide was lost on most Westerners. Setting aside the more complex issues surrounding Wahabis, Druze, Sufis, Ismailis or even Bahia’s, on its most basic levels, Islam is broken down into two primary sects. When one searches for the fundamental source of all differences between Shias and Sunni’s, it lies in the paramount disagreement between who was the last true prophet or great imam. Over the centuries, this disagreement has evolved into distrust, dislike and at times even hatred. RELATIVTY OnLine’s Saudi Arabian corespondent Eman Al Nafjan takes us across Islam’s dual-sided coin of identity.

Long before the Madinah affair, I’ve thought about writing a post on the difference between Shia and Sunnis and then I thought why put myself in a minefield of misunderstandings. After reconsideration, I reasoned that nothing ever gets resolved by keeping quiet so I might as well write. When the Madinah affair happened this week, I tried to get informed but that is not possible with our “on a strict need to know” basis news organizations and biased websites. Youtube is even worse, all I could find on there was a bunch of chaotic crowds that could be either Sunni or Shia. So this is not a post on that particular incident, it’s a general post from someone who was raised Sunni, visited Qatif (where Saudi Shias are concentrated) and taught hundreds of students of both sects.  

Before the international spread of the internet and Iraqi war, not much was heard or written about sectarian differences in Islam. The majority of Arabs are Sunnis with Arab Shias concentrated in Bahrain, Lebanon and Iraq. In Saudi Arabia they are a minority with most originating from the eastern region. The break in Islam into the two sects reminds me of the break between Catholic and Orthodox Christianity, with Shias resembling the Catholics with all these saints and rituals and Sunnis resembling Orthodoxies with an emphasis on puritanical practices. I have seen paintings of Ali bin Talib (RAA) that could just as well have been paintings of Jesus in a church with the beard and long hair. Saudi Sunnis interpretation of Islam could be considered as parallel to the Amish and Mormon interpretations of Christianity. If you squint and glaze over the details, the history looks quite similar, with Islam currently being in its own version of the Dark Age.  

At a more personal level my experience has been mostly neutral with phases of mystification with what I hear about Shias. However my sources were questionable as they were other Sunnis like myself. I have attempted a few times to ask Shias I know about their interpretation but it was awkward and uncomfortable. Online it’s even worse when you are looking for answers from a Sunni to Shia perspective and vice versa because those forums are just a bunch of narrow minded idiots exchanging vulgar insults.

Growing up, I would hear about Shias, mostly students studying at the colleges here in the capital. Within Saudi Sunni circles controversy surrounding the Shias centers around four claims:  

1- Warnings that Shias gain religious points by harming Sunnis

2- Watch Shias the day after Ashoora (Islamic day) because they always wear long sleeves and turtle-necks to hide their injuries

3- They reject and insult some of the prophet’s closest companions.

4- And of course Mutaa’ marriages (pleasure based marriages that are temporary and require no witnesses or legal papers). And I would like to note here that I was shocked to learn that this was also ok in Sunni Islam until very late in the Prophet Muhamed’s lifetime (PBUH).

When my family lived in the US we became good friends with another Saudi family who happened to be Shias from Qatif. Once back in Saudi Arabia, we visited them at their home in Qatif. It was quite fun. The family was liberal and we all sat together men and women. They also introduced us to the man’s brother and we got invited to the brother’s house as well. It was generally a pleasant experience. Qatif itself is similar to Qaseem; lots of old building and a whole bunch of areas that are called villages but to me might as well be one great big city because the distance between them doesn’t qualify them to be separate villages. They returned the visit when they came to Riyadh and the wife did something that my whole family thought was strange. They were over for dinner but she would not eat or drink anything. This could be something idiosyncratic especially considering that her husband was natural and dug in with the rest of us. But my family could not help but think that it was rude and that she might have done something to our food when we were over at their house. Again this might have nothing to do with religion or she might have thought that we meant to harm her as part of our Sunni practices. The friendship originated with the men and was strong between my father and her husband. The ladies, my mother and the wife were just playing nice and her not even drinking a cup of tea put a damper on things. Later on I got to know a lot more Saudi Shias as colleagues and students. What makes them stand out is their Arabic accent which reminds me of the Bahraini Arabic accent and the fact that they are generally more serious and hard-working than my Najdi and Hijazi students. They rarely have the spoiled materialistic air about them that the others do.

I predict that sectarian differences will remain for awhile and some warfare will be based on it, as is the case in Iraq. But eventually Arab Muslims will see the pointlessness of their squabbles and inequities. They’ll learn to be more religiously introspective rather than the current state of self-righteousness and fixation on correcting everybody else’s beliefs.

photo courtesy of AP

It’s become a sight all too common. Madmen in Indonesia, India, the United States, the U.K. and more, committing acts of terrorism and claiming they do so in the name of Allah and in the defense of Muslims.  RELATIVTY OnLine’syoungest contributor, Abdullah Adulsalam Belal, offers us a heart-wrenching view the effects and reminds us all of sense of loss that lingers on long after.

 

 

How do I feel when people blow themselves up in front of innocent bystanders, hijack planes, bomb hotels, or crash planes into buildings and all in the name of Allah? It makes me sick.

The word Islam translated into English means peace. The religion itself is a peaceful one and Allah does not tell people they have the right to kill other human beings, unless they are defending themselves. Allah punishes those who take the lives of others, or their own lives. Killing others or killing yourself is forbidden in Islam.

Terrorists think they can use the Islamic Religion to justify their horrific crimes against humanity, but they are wrong. I’m angry with those who kill innocent people and then say it’s in the name of Allah. How can anyone say such things? In the name of Allah?? How can those criminals wake up every morning and look at themselves in the mirror? Don’t they have a conscience? How small-minded are those who think they can play God? Don’t these cowards have children? Don’t they have families?

I remember September 11, 2001 when hijackers crashed two planes into the twin-towers of the World Trade Center. I was just 9 years old and too young to understand what happened. Now I’m nearly 18 and about to start college.

I’m ashamed of what they did on that day; ashamed and angry. How could a Muslim commit such a hennas act? My heart goes out to all families who lost someone dear to their heart, because there are people out there who think if they kidnap someone, bomb cities, or hijack planes everybody will listen to them.  These people apparently believe they can force people to do anything they want, that people will be scared of them, and as a result they can control the world.

But all of you terrorist out there, wake up, the world will not rest until we’ve wiped out you all out for good and the day will come.  Who could have known that September 11, 2001 would be the day on which the world would change forever? Before the attack, Arabs liked to go to America to peruse higher studies, to live and to work. Many Arabs travelled there with their families. Back then we felt quite safe in going.

Now everything has changed, as some American people view Arabs as their enemies. They think all Arabs are terrorists, men and women alike. Many of us don’t feel safe anymore. I would love to see America one day. I still look at it as the land where dreams can come true, but there is a part of me that worries I won’t be welcome there.

I’m scared that some Americans will view me as a terrorist or even attack me for something some crazy Arab terrorist did. I can understand their pain and anger, but please, don’t judge all Arabs by the actions of so very few. Those Arab people, who in the name of God kill, are not real Muslims. They just use our religion for their own evil doings. Whether in this life or the next, every last terrorist will get what they deserve.  

We here in the United Arab Emirates embrace people from all walks of life, we respect other people’s religions, and we don’t want to harm others. We want to help those in need and spread the message of peace and love. Our religion does not teach hatred, it teaches us to care, to forgive, to love and to respect one another. In short, it teaches peace.

I’m proud to be an Arab. I love my religion and I’m proud to be a Muslim. I would never harm another human life. Once again, I ask you all please don’t judge us all because some Arabs use our religion to play out their dirty games.

I pray to God for all the victims of crimes committed by terrorists. May there souls rest in peace. I hope that the American people try to get to know who we really are and that they will learn and understand that it’s not our religion that kills people. I love America and the American people. America is a great nation and the West as a whole is something the Arab world should strive to emulate. I hope that one day the American people, and the rest of the world, can say the same about us Arabs.

The human experience offers us more perception and less reality. RELATIVITY OnLine’s own Editor in Chief takes us inside his journey into the desert. David Anthony Hohol’s tale of a Canadian farm boy’s Middle Eastern adventure is one of surprise and enlightenment and conversely, one that brings his heart closer to home than ever before.

Sometimes I wonder how I ended up in the middle of the desert. I grew up on the other side of the planet, in Canadian small town, on a farm in the middle of an ocean of prairies. It’s been years since I’ve lived there, but every time I return to Canada from another year in the Middle East, the vision in front of me is always the same.

After walking through the markets of Cairo, the streets of Amman, the ruins of Baalbek, and the bridges of Esfahan, I climb into my 1973 Chevy pick-up on a glorious summer morning, and make the short drive in from the family farm just north of town. As I make my way down Main Street, the little town has been awake for a while is bustling with activity. The bank and supermarket parking lots are full, mothers are dragging their little kids down the sidewalks, people are darting in and out of the pharmacy, and farmers drive by in their trucks, still half-loaded with hay bales.  As the warm sun sparkles through the thick white clouds, nearly everywhere I look, people have stopped for a quick chat. As a young boy, this was something I took for granted, but in a small town one can rarely take more than a few steps down the street without saying hello or stopping to talk to someone.  I’ve had the privilege of spending time in places ranging from less than one hundred to tens of millions people, and have developed the ability to feel comfortable in either. A small town, however, to those who have lived there to then occasionally return, is a place that will always feel safe, comfortable, and familiar. In other words, it will always feel like home. To this day, my hometown of Two Hills is the only place where my feet truly feel as though they’re firmly planted beneath me, and while under the soft and comforting wing of my humble beginnings, the rest of the world often seems like a noisy, cluttered, and fast-paced dream.

My journey started in academia and upon graduating from the University of Calgary, I took a job teaching at small local college. Not long after, I left for Asia and chose Tokyo as my initial destination. One of our planet’s most amazing cities, for more than three wonderful years the center of the Asian world was my home and I will forever be indebted to the Japanese people for teaching me the virtue of humility, the necessity of patience, and the importance of respect. After spending time in places like Indonesia, Thailand, Korea, and China, in the summer of 2004 I decided to leave Asia behind and make a rather adventurous move to the Middle East. I wanted to see for myself what made this part of the world tick and was drawn to it in a way that is difficult to explain; and with the world in a post nine-eleven haze, a part of me felt it was almost my duty to do so. I suddenly found myself living in the little country of the United Arab Emirates, in the booming city of Dubai. I was soon provided with an opportunity to learn about a part of the world so many have an endless amount of pre-conceived notions about. With Saudi Arabia to the west, Kuwait to the north, Iran to the East and Yemen to the south, I was right in the middle of a culture and lifestyle I knew little about and I sunk my teeth into all that surrounded me. So much of what I had been force fed via CNN and the North American mass media was debunked in less than a year.

When I first informed family and friends of where I was planning to go to next, almost everyone asked me why, told me to be very careful, and often enough even tried to change my mind. “What? You gotta be kidding Dave. Why? It’s so dangerous over there,” was something I heard over and over again. Time and again I was told that because I was a white Westerner, I was placing myself in harms way simply by choosing to live in the Middle East. “They don’t like anyone who isn’t Muslim, they’ll think you’re American, there’s wars breaking out all the time,” and more was directed my way, right up until the day I once again left Canada behind. I didn’t agree with what people had to say or I never would have come to this part of the world. With that said, even my liberal minded thought process was surprised at the openness and acceptance from the world that was soon to be my own.

The vast majority of the U.A.E. is indeed Muslim, but with that said, there are churches available for all those who need them and Christianity is practiced freely. In fact, after having traveled through a variety of Middle Eastern countries, I can safely say I was never once made to feel conspicuous about who I was. The average minded Middle Eastern citizen seems to be more aware than we are that a nation’s people and its government are two very different things. Most even counted the United States as a good country filled with good people, who just happen to be represented by a rather unfortunate administration. If only more of us Westerners could make the same distinction in terms of their corner of the world. Whether it was Syria, Lebanon, Egypt, Jordan, Oman, UAE, Qatar, or Bahrain I was made to feel welcome and times, even treated like VIP of sorts. Even while venturing into Iran, and spending time in part of the so-called ‘Axis of Evil,’ I saw a church in downtown Tehran. Further still, the hospitality and kindness of the Persian people made me feel more welcome than I ever expected. Iranians were as hospitable and curious as any I’ve encountered in all my travels, only to be matched by the Jordanians in terms of kindness and hospitality. Whether it was an older gentleman introducing himself and spending nearly two hours walking me through the streets of the ancient capital of Esfahan, before taking me to a tea house and insisting on paying; or a young university girl, who asked me if she could practice her English by offering to answer any questions I had about her country, before taking me to her family’s shop and introducing me to her mother, I was made to feel like a true guest. This is certainly not what we see playing out on our televisions nearly every night. In my experience, no matter where I was in the Middle East, I was never once made to feel apprehensive and further still, was never expected to be anything expect who I am.  

With a population of just over five million, my current home base of the United Arab Emirates is a small country indeed, but when taking into consideration less than one million are actual Emirati nationals, it becomes even smaller. This means well over three million foreign workers, or expatriates, live there. Within a few weeks of my arrival, I’d met people from Pakistan, Afghanistan, Russia, Ukraine, China, the Philippines, Iran, Egypt, Iraq, Lebanon, Hungary, Turkey, Armenia, the United Kingdom, Australia, Belarus, Romania, the U.S.A and of course, a my beloved Canada. There is indeed a hierarchy in place steadfastly based on the immovable capitalistic pillars of education and finance. Those from G7 nations fill out the large majority of professional jobs, while those who stem from the poorest countries work as laborers, and the rest then fill out the many vocational possibilities that lie in between. The lifestyle choices of expats, most especially those from the upper tier, are thus readily supplied with all the trappings of Western culture. There are posh night clubs, low-key bars, casual pool halls, well stocked shopping malls, high end beach resorts, five star hotels, and upscale restaurants serving food from every conceivable corner of the world. Whether it’s The Dark Knight or Indiana Jones, you can catch the latest summer blockbuster at the Cineplex, after which you can grab a coffee at Starbucks or Mister Donuts. If fast food is your game Burger King, KFC, and McDonald’s outlets are located on every other street, with places like Chile’s or T.G.I. Friday’s readily available, if you want to take things up a notch. The Emirati nationals, an extremely likeable group of people, for the most part, stick to themselves. By extension, the country is an eclectic expat mix of race, religion, and values that result in making the UAE a most unique patch of earth.  

Following several years in Tokyo, the Arab world, a collectivity of 22 countries stretched throughout Asia, Africa, and the Middle East, has been my home for the last five years. We plan a return to Canada soon, but living here has quite simply changed me forever. I’m always telling my family and friends not to take what they see on their televisions and in their newspapers as the absolute truth. I also say the same to my Arab friends from countries like Lebanon, Jordan, Syria, Kuwait, and the U.A.E. about the image of North American life they see on their televisions and in movies. One thing I know for sure is that the many souls on this amazing planet are all simply people, working hard, wanting the best for our children, and hoping for a better future. We all love laughter and take pride in who we are; we all cherish our families, and count dignity as paramount to life. All that is needed to bridge the gap between cultures is to remove the biased middle-man that is the mass media and replace it with simple exposure; simplicity is often the truest form of beauty and so much of the world has forgotten.

We can live our whole lives and not know who we really are, until we see the world through the eyes of another. When we first get to know someone, all we notice are the differences, but as time passes we begin to notice the similarities – that’s how any relationship begins.  My wife, a Jordanian National, and I, a Canadian from the Alberta Prairies, learn from one another everyday, as do all those around us. It’s at least a start, but then again every great journey will always start with a single step towards to that which we do not know. Sometimes in life we need to remove the glasses prescribed to us by the culture from which we stem and step closer. Give it a try. Afterwards, you just might be surprised at what you’ll find.