Coming Home: Singing Soliders

Watching TV with my husband I saw the ad for Coming Home: The Soldier’s Album. I couldn’t help but remember the movie, ‘Flags of our Fathers’.

Just in case you haven’t seen it, the movie tells the story of the six men that held up the flag in Iwo Jima (Japan) during WWII.  A photograph was taken of this and it became a symbol that represented hope to the American people. As a result the three surviving men in the photo were brought home, to raise money for the cause.

The movie gives a more intimate look into what was really going on. Then men on both sides were being slaughtered and were left traumatized by the whole experience. When the three soldiers were brought back to the U.S. to go on a sort of fund-raising tour they were disgusted by the way the entire thing was being handled. The real heroes had died in Japan (or were dying) and they were being dragged around from state to state being forced to perform like trained monkeys. They were told to tell the masses to  “Buy the War Bonds to help the soldiers.” The men felt exploited and disgusted that they were being paraded around like the saviors of the American people, when their only real contribution was having been there at the right moment to be photographed.

So now with wars being fought in Iraq and Afghanistan, three soldiers from the UK have recorded an album of songs that is being heavily marketed to the public. The underlying message is to buy the album and support the troops.

See the resemblance now?

However, it can never be as successful as the campaign in WWII to buy “war bonds” was. Simply because the public is better informed thanks to the advent of the internet, which has made access to live footage and news reports available instantaneously. However, capitalizing on the fact that its almost Christmas added to the  sentimental value the public associates with the album, producers are expecting to cash in. (One outlet even offered a free Christmas card with the purchase of the single.) The album made the UK Albums Chart and reached a peak position of 4th place.

I have no doubt that the resemblance between the feelings the soldiers are struggling with today and those in WWII is uncanny. The troops are wondering what the heck they are doing over there in the first place. They are watching their men die on a daily basis, and want nothing more than to just come home.

The case is always being made that those who don’t support the war don’t support our soldiers, and are thus unpatriotic. That is nothing but the proponents of the war’s way of giving themselves the upper hand in the public eye. Focus on who is unpatriotic and call each other names, instead of asking why the boys are being sent off in the first place.

The truth is that the best way to support the troops is to bring them home.

When we realize that, and it is actually turned into a reality, then maybe all the troops will have an opportunity to sing.

Unprofessionalism in the Muslim Community

It’s the end of the month, but there will be no paycheck for another week.

As though being late wasn’t bad enough, to top it off, you are made to feel as though the money you’ve worked for isn’t your right, and they are doing you a favor by paying you anything at all. This Islamic Organization is simply out of money at the time, and you have to wait until they get some. It coincidentally comes to your attention that some employees in higher positions had their checks issued on time and without any delay.

An Islamic school wanted you to teach 2 subjects and pay you as a quarter-time employee. Apparently if you don’t teach 4 subjects to the entire school then you will not be considered a full-time teacher (that isn’t a sarcastic remark). In addition, you were told that your pay was based on 1/4 of the full-time teacher’s pay. When you find out what that rate is, you know that it is much lower than what an actual 1/4 is. They are trying to take advantage of the fact that you are new there and don’t know anyone, or how much they make. Sadly, you do know another teacher, and you realize their dishonesty. As a result, you quit.

Another school refused to pay you your last paycheck after they were informed that the you wouldn’t be returning next year. They claimed that withholding the pay was their right since you breached your contract. When in fact you had signed no contract in the first place. Now you have to take legal action in order to get your money. Contracts are made on a yearly basis, so the option to leave at the end of the year is simply a choice not to renew a contract. There should be no conditions on getting the pay for work that was already done. That same school was telling you and all of  its employees to report lower income than they were actually getting, in order for the school to be eligible for a tax break.

A Muslim-owned business approaches you and requests a redesign for their website. When you gave them your price, they said it was too high. So you agreed to do it at a lower price, and explained your terms for design work (limiting the number of revisions to the design once you finalize it, requiring 50% pay upfront, and overtime will be charged at an hourly rate). In response you get a horrible attitude, and they requested your references, and more samples of your work and said they might consider hiring you. When they had approached you in the first place and offered you the work, based on a design you did, that they saw, and liked. Other Non-Muslim Businesses you work with have gladly paid you the 50% and agreed to abide by these same terms.

Subhan Allah. All of these are real stories.

You start to wonder if these organizations  had planned to abuse you from the get-go?

But, you haven’t done anything wrong to them, so why would they bother, then you remember Allah SWT’s Words from Surat Al-Hujuraat, “O ye who believe! Avoid suspicion as much (as possible): for suspicion in some cases is a sin.”

Is it because you are working with Muslim organizations, then your work is “Fe Sabeel Illah” – for the sake of Allah – that people pushing the boundaries shouldn’t bother you?

The short answer is, No. Because if it was, we would all be willing to sacrifice to help get things done, and more importantly to help each other. That executive would give up part of his salary to help you pay your rent on time.

Is it because this is my Muslim brother or sister I should let them fall behind on the payments?

It can’t be, because they are the ones that want you to be there on-time, every time, to work for them. They want flawless work, in a hurry, with an impossible deadline and an insane volume of work to be completed by then. This is a paid position, you were promised a paycheck in exchange for specific tasks and duties, and it is an agreement between you and your employer.

Allah SWT requires us to respect these agreements, as stated in Surat Al-Israa, “…and fulfill (every) engagement, for (every) engagement will be inquired into (on the Day of Reckoning).”

Are all employees doing right by their employers, and inherently the victims?

Of course not. Obviously both cases exist, but, unprofessionalism just breeds more unprofessionalism. The employee that slacks should be fired. The employer that mistreats their worker should loose that employee to a more deserving firm.

Woe to those that deal in fraud, – Those who, when they have to receive by measure from men, exact full measure, – But when they have to give by measure or weight to men, give less than due. – Do they not think that they will be called to account? - On a Mighty Day, A Day when (all) mankind will stand before the Lord of the Worlds?” Al Mutaffifeen (1 – 6)

Allah SWT warns us specifically about this type of behavior in the Holy Quran. Yet it seems as though Muslims are failing (repeatedly) to recognize this as the case, or abide by this obligation.

In Project Management there are three main areas that need to be in balance in order to successfully complete a project.

1. The Budget, or how much money is allocated to completing the project.
2. The Schedule, which breaks the project into smaller tasks and their respective deadlines.
3. The Scope of work, which are the things that need to be completed and delivered by the due date.

Whenever any of these three factors are changed, the entire project will be thrown off.

How is that?

Here’s the situation (Bear with my poor example):

You gave me a 20 and asked me to go to Giant and get some items on a list. The list costs exactly $20 including tax. So I have 45 minutes to go and bring the groceries home. The project here is getting the groceries. If you were to call me on the phone, and tell me you need some meat from the Halal shop as well, that would throw me off. Mainly because of the money, I am now over my budget, also it will increase the time I’ll need, and I won’t be able to deliver on schedule.

You see?

So changing any of the three factors in any project will change the other two. If you push these limits then either the project will fail or it will be completed with poor quality.

Bottom line: When the balance is lost, the project suffers.

I believe that to be the exact case with these Muslim businesses and institutions. They are attempting to ‘milk’ employees for work they aren’t willing (or able) to pay them for. They have expectations which exceed their ability or willingness to fairly compensate for. Employees come in with higher than usual expectations from a Muslim employer and expect über-ethical and fair treatment. Employees’ morale and trust in their employer drops, as a result the quality of their work suffers.

Expectations have to be made clear, and fulfilled by both sides. If we all know Allah SWT is watching us, then we should act like it. Muslim businesses and Islamic Organizations are the pillars of our community, when we build our Ummah on broken principles it can fall apart overnight.

Anyone reading this knows that sadly, this is the situation in general. I am sure there are exceptions to the rule, but I have traveled, searched and am yet to find a case where this doesn’t stand true in some way or another.

We have reached rock bottom when Muslims sincerely warn other Muslims against getting jobs with Muslim companies or Islamic Organizations, because of the suffering. Why should it be that in exchange for being in a so-called Islamic Environment you will face all sorts of head and eventually heartache?

I’m not writing this with the intention to bash other Muslims or talk smack about the Ummah. On the contrary, I want to point this out and have it addressed and remedied, so that it is no longer the case. I make dua’a that Allah SWT guides us all to the best of manners and etiquette, and that we are among those that take heed of good advice and follow the best of it.

How to Wash Your Cat – Humor

Some people have the misconception that cats never have to be bathed. That somehow they “lick” themselves clean. Well contrary to this popular belief, cats do NOT have some enzyme in their saliva that resembles Tide (with or without bleach). Cats, like their nemesis, the dog …. do get dirty and have a variety of odors… from smelling like the outhouse where you camped last year to the same odor as your dog’s breath. (Remember… your dog will try to eat anything.)

Now we all know that cats HATE water. And we know that giving the cat a sedative to ease this process of a bath is out of the question. So, the best approach is both sneaky and direct. Remember now, this is not the dumb dog who can be led to tub with lies and a trail of Kibbles and Bits. Although your cat has the advantage of smarts, quickness and total lack of concern for you …. you have the advantage of size, strength, and the ability to wear protective garments.

1. First …. dress for the occasion. A 4-ply rubber wet suit is suggested, along with a helmet, face mask and welders gloves.

2. A Bathtub with a glass enclosure is preferred to the one with a shower curtain. A frenzied cat can shred one of these in about 3.5 seconds.

3. Have the Kitty Bubbles and towel in the enclosed bathtub area before hand. No … blow drying the cat after the bath is not suggested.

4. Draw the water, making it a little warmer than needed as you still need to find the cat. Position everything strategically in the shower, so you can reach it even if you are face down or prone in the tub.

5. Find your cat. Use the element of surprise. Pick the cat up, nonchalantly as if you were simply carrying him/her to the supper dish. No need to worry about the cat noticing your strange attire… the cat barely notices you anyway.

6. Once you and the cat are inside the bathroom …. speed is essential. In one single liquid motion .shut the door to the bathroom, step into the shower, close the sliding doors, and drop the cat into the water. While the cat is still in a state of shock, locate the Kitty Bubbles and squirt whatever part of him is above the water line. You have just begun the wildest 45 seconds of your life. Remember that cats have no handles and add the fact that he now has soapy fur. His state of shock has worn off and he’s madder than a wet hornet.

7. As best, you can, wearing welder’s gloves, try to field his body as he catapults through the air toward the ceiling. If possible, give another squirt of Kitty Bubbles with his body now fully exposed.

8. During the 5 seconds you are able to hold onto him, rub vigorously. No need to worry about rinsing. As he slide down the glass enclosure into the tub, he will fall back into the water, rinsing himself in the process.

9. Only attempt the lather and rinse process about 3 times. The cat will realize the lack of traction on the glass by then and will use the next attempt on the first available part of you.

10. Next, the cat must be dried. No…this is NOT the easiest part. By this stage, you are worn out and the cat has just become semi-permanently affixed to your right leg. We suggest here that you drain the tub and in full view of your cat . reach for the bottle of Kitty Bubbles.

11. If you have done step 10 correctly, the cat will be off your leg and hanging precariously from your helmet. Although this view of the cat is most disgusting, he will be in a much better position for wrapping the towel around him.

12. Be sure cat is firmly wrapped in towel before opening tub enclosure. Open bathroom door …. put towel wrapped cat on floor and step back quickly. Into tub, if possible, and do not open enclosure until all you can see is the shredded towel.

13. In about 2 hours …. it will be safe to exit the bathroom. Your cat will be sitting out there somewhere looking like a small hedgehog while plotting revenge.
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Hustling London Transport

I was leaving my place, running late, to catch the 197 to Croydon Town Center, and I got to the bus stop only to find it empty. Not only that, there was a nice yellow sign that said, “This stop is not in service.” So I walked across the street to follow the route to the next stop, only I didn’t know where that was exactly. So I saw a gentleman who looked North African coming along with a buggy, read: stroller, and asked him for directions. He answered, in a Moroccan accent, “sister you cross there and go left”.

So I did, and my temperature began to rise as I power walked uphill to the next stop, only to find another yellow sign. “Come ON!!!” I thought while exhaling heavily in objection to the unfair treatment I was getting by the London Transport Authority. That was not all though, there was an old couple, or I thought so at the time, standing at the stop.

Pause for a second.

The reason the stops are all closed is because of construction projects that are surfacing all across Lewisham this week. These projects are part of a scheme the council gladly pulls every March. As the new fiscal budgets are assessed in April, they engage in all the large scale construction, repairs, and renewals to prove their worthiness for more funding the following year. God forbid if nothing needs repairs then they might actually loose money in the new budget. Money they don’t need, but apparently can’t do without.

Resuming the walk uphill I got to the stop almost out of breath and said, “excuse me.” Neither of them turned around. Then when I tried again, they heard me, so I asked if the 197 stopped here. Obviously the sign said it didn’t, but their standing there and the long walk to the next stop, made me hope otherwise. The old man stated the obvious while pointing at the sign, but told me that they were waiting for the 197 as well. And, told me not to worry.

This is the part where they let me in on their malicious plan.

“When the driver sees how old she is, he WILL stop”.

It sounded as reasonable to me, as the walk to the next stop did tiring, so I waited.

Minutes later the 197 made the same left I made a little while ago and began chugging up the hill.

Our plan was in motion.

Yes, OUR plan, I was in on it too. The little Muslim girl who probably doesn’t read English needs a ride as well.

The man whispered to the woman, “you come right to the edge”, helping her walk a couple of steps, “yup just like that.”

I was holding my breath and I walked two steps closer to them, as not to get left behind.

For some reason I recall the events that followed in slow motion.

The man flagged the bus, with his left hand, supporting the woman with his right.

Then I looked towards the bus, still chugging up the hill.

The tension was building, as I looked back at the old lady who had now lifted her cane to flag the bus.

Hoping this gesture was more convincing, I looked back at the bus.

Specifically his turning signal, hoping he would have the heart to stop for an old bird.

Then in slower motion the signal lit bright yellow and he began to approach the side walk.

Victory, I thought. These old folks were gangster and I was glad I met them.

The driver stopped the bus and let us on, while telling us the stop was out of service.

We didn’t care. He stopped.

We won.

The old man to my suprise didn’t get on with us.

I thanked him as I got onboard.

He winked, nodded and was out of sight.

That was the most interesting thing that I experienced in a long time.

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Gaza

STOP the cold blooded murder, torture, and isolation of innocent civilians.

Cry about justice and democracy.

Scream “Human rights violation!” America is disgraceful for letting this happen and supporting terrorism.

Blatant murder of innocent people.

War on terror? How can the US or better yet Muslim nations ever talk about fighting terrorism when they let something like this happen and turn their backs like nothings going on.

Even a hypocritical condemnation would look better than nothing at this point.

Stop bullying people with no defenses.

Stop killing innocent people after occupying their land.

You know damn well you have no business there in the first place.

Bits & Bobs – Lewisham Hospital

Clearly I have chosen the wrong shoes for this adventure, my boots were soaked and I hadn’t even been outside the house for two minutes. It is musty and wet, the rain still dripping, harmoniously if I might add, off tin rooftops onto the already saturated sidewalk. Both Asma and Zakariyya have blatantly refused to let me hold their hand and I feel like a lost mute that has no sense of direction and don’t have a clue where to head next. To top it off, their mom, Auntie Raaliyo, can only speak a handful of English words, the other handful is reserved for my poor Somali vocabulary, incase you were wondering where that went.

So we’re on our way to Lewisham hospital to visit Deeqo, my husbands sister who just had her baby girl, Safiyah. Chugging along with the kids taking turns slipping we made our way to a convenience store, or a corner shop (as Amina chimed in while watching me type this entry) where we picked up some juice and other small things, unfortunately he was out of daily bus passes. We went to the bus stop and caught one headed toward Lewisham. We passed a few stops one of them being PC World, big place, I’ll stop by there some day.

Then we made our way off the bus at the hospital that wasn’t really the building we think it to be but more like a compound with small connecting roads. In we went, I was naturally walking ahead because I am a fast walker, then reading the signs and confirming with Auntie Raaliyo’s nods, I began heading towards the Green Zone: Maternity Ward. There were pencil drawn portraits of ugly, and probably dead judging by their fashion sense, white people on the walls. That’s not the interesting part, its that they were screwed to the walls, 4 screws each. The idea that someone would want to steal such a hideous piece was mind-boggling.

Five stories higher we made it to Deeqo’s room where she lies in bed looking small and helpless. The baby on her lap, looking quite relaxed. Across from her was a teenage girl balled up in her blanket fast asleep. The other beds empty, a nurse came in and woke the girl asking her if she was done eating, “ I haven’t eaten yet, I will.” Then the nurse exclaimed rudely, “I’m cleaning up in half an hour, if you want it eat it.” She turned over and went back to sleep. Deeqo asked me if I was well and how I liked London. I answered politely and briefly.

Minutes later the balled up blonde had two visitors come in, joined by two more blonds in school uniforms. One of them a lady in her 40s clearly a drinker and a smoker the other a young man I assume to be the baby’s father. The girl didn’t want them there, “Leave me alone!” she moaned the mother responded in an inaudible voice urging another, “Just leave me alone.” Then she sprung out of bed and realized she was attached to an IV and screamed, “just cut it”.

After a few more minutes of awkward silence and two trips to the bathroom with Zakariyya and Asmaa, Auntie Raaliyo suggested that we get back to the house. Deeqo said her goodbyes and we headed out. On our way out of the room we passed the blonde’s bed, now empty, and walked through the double doors. We got on the elevator only to get out on the ground floor back out into the musty rain. It felt like about 40 degrees outside, and Sara Barelleis’s “Bottle It Up” began playing in my head as we began walking along. I saw the blonde’s visitors ahead of us, and in a corner to the right I saw the blonde herself. She was standing with her presumed “baby daddy” holding her IV in his hands, with her still attached to it. She was taking a smoke and looking troubled and relieved all at the same time, we headed on for the main road.

We stop, yet again, in a corner shop to pick up some more odds and ends – aka bits and bobs – paper towels, salt, bleach and fish sticks to be exact. When we got up to the register two gentlemen came into the shop one of them singing loudly “ They way I love you… Darlin’..” The other not as drunk but both reeking heavily of alcohol, told him to calm down, “were just here for the alcohol and were leaving”. “The way I… Love you… Darlin’…” He sang, his voice swelling to screaming this time, then he shoved his buddy and stumbled back a few steps from the impact. The man chuckled in response, “There’s no need to get violent mate, we don’t want any trouble, why don’t you sing me another song?” “You…Darling…” the other words trailed off as we made our way out of the shop.

We caught our bus and were home in a few minutes, then we walked into the neighborhood Asma grabbed the mail flap and knocked the door a few times, their neighbor on the left remarked to her “I like your shoes, their all shiny and stuff”, she stomped her foot again, queuing then to light up, as if to affirm that they were worthy of admiration. Then Zakariyya stuck out his foot and said “shoes” the man said, “Yes yours are nice as well.”

Siraj Wahhaj – Jesus in Islam

VA Mosque Reaches Out, Joining Immigrant Fabric

By Pamela Constable
Washington Post Staff Writer
Friday, June 13, 2008; A01

 

For years, the Dar al Hijrah mosque was an isolated, slightly mysterious presence in Falls Church — a stark stone building hidden behind a row of trees, rarely visited by non-Muslims in the multi-ethnic Culmore neighborhood, and known mostly for traffic jams on Leesburg Pike as worshipers arrived for Friday prayers.

These days, the mosque bustles with visitors chattering in Spanish and Vietnamese as well as Persian and Urdu. Immigrants from a dozen countries gather there each Thursday, many with toddlers and baby strollers, to pick up donated chicken, bread, fruit and vegetables.

On weekends, the doors are thrown open for community blood drives or mental health fairs. At night, mosque officials often attend meetings at nearby churches, synagogues or social agencies, including a monthly brainstorming session called Culmore Partners.

“The average person here has had no interaction with Islam. They may even think we are the enemy, especially after September 11th,” said Abdulkareem Jama, a network engineer from Somalia who is president of the mosque’s board. “The more we open up and interact, the more we demystify things and seem normal to each other.”

Dar al Hijrah has evolved dramatically since 2001, when it came under official suspicion amid reports that a man linked to the terror attacks in New York and Washington had visited there. This year, its glossy 25th anniversary report includes congratulatory letters from a variety of private and public institutions.

The mosque’s coming out also reflects the growing cooperation between area Muslim institutions and the largely non-Muslim immigrant communities that surround them. In Culmore, the trend has brought many groups together to help immigrants who struggle with poverty, discrimination and legal problems.

Father Horace Grinnell is the pastor at St. Anthony of Padua Catholic Church, a longtime anchor of Culmore. Until six months ago, he had never met the leaders of Dar al Hijrah. Now, they are collaborating on a health clinic and other projects.

“There has been a quantum leap in synergy and coordination,” Grinnell said. “They were painted pretty harshly after 9/11, but now they are reaching out on all fronts. We can both be a resource for people, whether they are Catholic or not.”

Beyond places of worship, the evolving mosaic of shops, restaurants and offices in Culmore and several other Northern Virginia areas reflects an increasingly comfortable meld of Middle Eastern cultures with the Latin American and Asian cultures that once dominated them.

On Leesburg Pike, a Pakistani dentist’s waiting room has Spanish-language and Muslim-oriented newspapers; an Arab-owned travel company books trips to Central America; and an Iranian grocery owner often chats with the Salvadoran discount furniture seller next door.

“There is harmony here,” said Luis Lazo, 55, as he stopped by to greet Lida Sadahjiani in her shop stuffed with Iranian delicacies. “We don’t speak the same language, but we have known each other a long time.”

Just across Leesburg Pike, Ali Altaf, 35, a bank employee, was eating lunch at a Middle Eastern restaurant with his wife and children. In the window were signs in Arabic, Persian and Spanish. His waitress was a Peruvian immigrant named Emiliana Navarrete, 21.

“People here seem more knowledgeable about each other’s cultures now; they are getting to know each other better,” Altaf said. Navarrete showed the notepad where she had written the names of Persian dishes phonetically so she could understand telephone orders.

“Baba kanush, korma sapsi,” she practiced with a laugh.

Such public familiarity has not crossed the line into many personal friendships, let alone religious conversions, local leaders said. There are only a handful of Hispanic Muslims in the area, including Farhanaz Ellis, an outreach worker at the All Dulles Area Muslim Society in Sterling.

Ellis, born to a Catholic family in Panama, said her mosque had held a celebration of Hispanic Heritage Month and presentations for emergency workers. Yet she seemed to have few personal ties to area Latinos and said much of her work involved explaining Islam to outside groups.

“Many people here have the misperception that Islam oppresses women and that Muslims see non-Muslims as infidels,” she said. She does not try to change critics, she said, “just give them food for thought.”

One area Muslim who has plunged into Hispanic issues is Mukit Hossain, a Bangladeshi immigrant in Herndon who co-founded a day-laborer center there for Latino workers. The center provoked a public outcry and was shut down last year.

Hossain said area Muslims, most of whom came to the U.S. legally, traditionally had little interest in the problems of illegal or Latino immigrants. After the terror attacks of 2001, however, they began to face public hostility and find common cause with other immigrant groups.

“What happened on 9/11 was a wake-up call for all of us,” Hossain said. To those who question why he would help Hispanic laborers, he retorted, “Do they think I am a terrorist here to convert people?”

Immigration is a “human rights issue,” he said. “No one from any country should be treated like an animal.”

It was the threat of a crackdown on illegal immigrants that first brought Dar al Hijrah into close contact with advocacy groups. A meeting was called in Culmore to discuss how to help families in cases of raids or arrests, and mosque officials offered their premises.

“We were blown away by their hospitality. They even bought us all pizza,” said Cindy Brown of Hogar Hispano, a nonprofit aid agency for Latinos on Leesburg Pike.

Mosque officials say they have no desire to push their religion on other immigrants, only to inform them about it. At community events, they set up a booth with brochures in Spanish, including a booklet on the history of Islam, women’s rights and “common misinterpretations” about their faith.

“We are one community of many cultures and faiths, and we want to break down the barriers that divide us,” said Mohammed Abdelilah, a manager at Dar al Hijrah. “This is nothing magic. It’s not for political gain. It is for the sake of God.”

At a recent food distribution in the mosque, families from Morocco, Iran, El Salvador, Vietnam, Korea, Guatemala, Pakistan and Ethiopia waited their turn. Although clustered together by language groups, they greeted each other with smiles.

Carlos Moreno, 71, an immigrant from El Salvador, said that with food prices climbing, he and his wife were grateful for the assistance and felt comfortable visiting the mosque.

“The Bible says there should be no divisions between human beings, no racism and no prejudice,” Moreno said. “When we die, we all look the same. Rich or poor, black or white, we all go to the same place.”

MS Walk 07

By Muslim Link Staff

Muslims are getting more involved in civic activities to show their support for humanitarian causes. DC Area Muslim leaders, organizations, and youth believe their participation to improve the condition of their local community members is something that has been called upon them to do as Muslims.

Three dozen of the Washington-based Muslim American Society (MAS) Youth DC members recently took part in the Multiple Sclerosis (MS) Walk at the Reston Town Center in Reston, Virginia on April 14th, 2007.

The annual MS Walk was sponsored by Booz Allen Hamilton (BAH) located in Mclean, Virginia.  BAH is a global strategy and consulting firm who has been recognized for its support of the walk for the last decade.

According to Dua’s Elbarasse, the project coordinator of MAS Youth Give, this is the first time MAS sponsored the walk. After participating in this walk, MAS Youth DC has decided they will commit their involvement to other charitable events in order to help raise awareness of some problems such as multiple sclerosis, cancer, and homelessness.

“MAS Youth DC participated in this walk to raise awareness about this devastating disease, and raise some money which will hopefully help to find a cure,” said Elbarasse director of MAS Youth Give Project.

The goal of this walk for Muslim youth was to mobilize American Muslim children and young adults to help create a better society by instilling in them the need for public service and encourage giving to those in less fortunate circumstances.

MAS officials believe their participation in the walk coincides with their motto which is to “aim to serve the Creator by serving his creations.”

According to National Multiple Sclerosis Society (NMSS), there are an estimate of 400,000 Americans suffering from the malignant effects of the disease each year.

Although it is not certain what causes the disease, or at what age one can be diagnosed with it, NMSS encourages parents to get their children checked annually for symptoms.

Sources from NMSS said the MS Walk is not just a fundraising event, but a celebration for the entire American community.   The donations collected will fund countless national and local programs and services to treat individuals who are diagnosed with the disease and also for research purposes.

Although MAS Youth DC members have to be between the ages of 14-30, most participants brought their younger siblings, cousins, neighbors and friends with them to the walk.

On a cold, gloomy, rainy morning, these children got up out of their warm comfortable beds and carpooled to the Reston Town Center to take part in the half-day activities.

Sumayah Hassan, 20, was one of the brave, enthusiastic Muslims who took her three younger sisters to the walk.   As a biology student at George Mason University (GMU) in Fairfax, Virginia, Hassan finds interest in learning more about the consequences of infectious diseases and neurological disorders on the human body.   Her interest in the sciences of disease motivated her to influence her sisters to agree to tag along.

“The walk made me realize that we can make so much of a difference by just showing our support for someone who is suffering from an illness or have become victim of a social problem,” said Hassan.

The participants came with their umbrellas, with their toddlers, and elders on wheelchairs, and walked almost 4 miles in 1.5 hours.   The organizers collected the funds while the walkers received recognition for their good cause.  The event educated the public on the seriousness of the disease and distributed free educational brochures which provided key information regarding its effects.

The NMSS said MS is a disease that may appear one day and it could probably impair one for this rest of one’s life.   It is really one of those problems the public must be conscious of, said sources of NMSS.

Hassan wishes more Muslims would come out and support these types of causes.  Muslims were such low in numbers, but they were still noticeable and this is the best way to building human relations with people of other faiths.

She envisions Muslim families bringing their parents, and children to events like these.  “I believe this is our way of showing to the world when something affects our fellow human beings, we are feeling the pain as well and that we care,” said Hassan.

MAS Youth DC is the division of the Muslim American Society of Washington, DC that deals with young people.  MAS Youth Give program originated as a unique project of MAS Youth National and a crucial aspect of the Muhammad Awareness Campaign which started in the DC Area in October 2006.  MAS Youth Give is focused on encouraging the motivational efforts of Muslim youth to get involved in projects which help to improve the lives of the less fortunate in society.

Cleaners & Contexts

“You’re killing us with that smell.” She said as she walked in the door and the strong smell of the pine sol hit her like walking into a glass wall without warning.

Looking up while blinking nervously she almost screamed, “What are you trying to say?”

Defending the innocence of her remark, as merely her initial reaction to the smell, “I am just joking.”

“I don’t think this is a joking matter. What is that supposed to mean?” She said, now screaming and waving her hands in the air.

Now taking offense to the sudden change of tone she too raised her voice. “I didn’t mean anything by that.”

Shortly after the conversation fell out of earshot. A couple of seconds later…

“Go knock your head on one of the walls!” She said almost shaking with anger. Then she paused and headed for the door before turning around and yelling “Stupid.”

She followed her towards the door – closely behind her “Stupid? You’re the one who is stupid!”

Then headed back inside still yelling, “Damn you. Coming in here…”

Back out of earshot.

Had I not known any better I would assume they were both slightly uncivil with shorter tempers than I have ever been exposed to.

Any better: is defined as a woman who works as a janitor of sorts in a place where her own children attend. She does what it takes to see that they get what they need.

Previously someone had made a comment, one morning a couple of weeks back:

“Wow, what are you all dressed up for?”

“Nothing in particular. Why do you ask?”

“It just seems unnecessary thats all.”

She was so hurt.

As if a cleaning lady can’t look nice, because she does a dirty job.

Not that its the pinesol lady’s problem, or responsibility to know or even presume such a thing.

But sometimes we need to cut people some slack.

RULE: The worse they are, the more the slack that needs to be cut.

The Perfect Candidate

To eat…

“The best place to eat is Portelli’s”

Is it in walking distance?

“I will take you there.”

Thank you.

“Not a problem…Here are all the night clubs and bars…Chicago’s great nightlife”

“…I always take my kids through here, the less curiosity the better…”

Interesting strategy. How old are they?

“They’re done with college except for one.”

Mashallah.

“We lived in Chicago and moved to Skokie and now were back here.”

It is something to put kids through college.

“Ana wa zawjti Laila, me and Laila my wife, we worked very hard to …nrabbi awlaadna...raise our kids..”

There’s a lot more to this city than the last time I saw her. Like New York but cleaner and less crowded

“For several years now I’ve been driving this taxi.” he said with a sense of pride, raising the index finger on his right hand.

“I have a question I want to ask you.”

etfaddal – please do, she immediately replied.

“How is my English?” He asked, and glimpsed into the rear view mirror for a second and looked back at the road,

“Is it good, or so so…” he asked with a new energy, one of a person who asks for an opinion in complete confidence that they will get positive feedback.

His anticipation for the reply was amusing. It let the little boy in him shine right through.

“Its very good.” she replied almost immediately.

And it was.

He nodded in agreement with his head tilted to the right – so as to hide his smile, like a teacher who got the correct answer out of his best student.

There was a slight accent on his English that labeled it his second language at best but it was reduced to a Frenchy hint on the end of his words and the way he sang his phrases told that he had worked hard to improve it.

“Aside from English, wal 3arabi - and Arabic, I speak Turkish, French and Spanish fluently.”

Thats amazing.

“I used to be an aid worker when I was younger, I left Iraq and lived in many countries. Lil Hilal al Ahmar – for the Red Crescent”

She was thoroughly impressed.

“Nothing more rewarding than helping people in need. Wallahi il 3atheem – I swear to God.”

“Here, I drive this cab. Alhamdulilah, rizq Halal – All thanks to Allah, it is lawful money”

“Aham shay. Nrdi rabna- the most important thing is to please our Lord”

fe3lan - indeed.

“In Washington, I was offered 100 thousand dollars a year to work for the government.”

Thats a lot.

The River is breath taking.

” Istani 3laya – let me finish – bidhom inni ashta’3el mutarjim - they want me to work as a translator.”

It runs between highrise buildings, a natural entity for which man-made symbols of civilization and modernity part and make way, almost as though out of respect.

“Ana rafathta- I refused it.”

“Hatha maal Haraam – that is unlwaful money. Fahma 3laya- are you following what Im saying?“

She nodded. The man has principle, that is something not too many ppl have anymore.

“I cannot feed my kids with that money.”

Very true.

“Hathal Portelli’s, ” He said pointing out to his right.

Thank you she said opening the van door.

A light breeze reminded her of how amazing the weather was.

Okazaki – 2

An Okazaki fragment is a piece of DNA that is made in the opposite direction of the normal strand. It is a part of the new DNA, but has to be glued to other fragments to make a complete strand. An enzyme called ligase sticks them (fragments) together and when it is part of the bigger strand it can be translated into a functional protein. But on its own, it doesn’t code for anything and is a nonsense piece of genetic information.

Like I would be, If i didn’t have my other fragments

So I guess were all O-frags and MAS is our glue and when we work together we make functional proteins.

Wild analogy.

I know.

A. Eisa

“this camera is be3inek” – As valuable as your eyes.

“the dress is bardo be3inek” Also of the same value.

‘Taab calm down” she laughed.

“Da homma 3ineen...” -There are only two eyes.

Home: A Year and 52 minutes

He narrowed his eyes as he exhaled.
He did it out of habit now,
because the smoke didn’t bother him that much anymore.
Eyes searched aimlessly through the fog,
And settled for following the grey clouds as they lazily drifted by.
He missed being home.

Tapping the cigarette lightly, he paused before taking another drag
A car refused to start somewhere in the distance,
He missed the busy streets, the constantly honking horns…
The ashes fell to the ground and dissolved into the wet asphalt.
Others just zoomed by with indifference.
The lively music blaring from taxis.

He liked the fluctuating glow as he inhaled.
Humming one of his favorite tunes, he snapped along with his right hand
Originally right handed, but smoking while driving…
…had now trained him to use his left.
Bobbing his head to the beat, singing with a cracking voice.

This was the best part of the song
Where the singer paused, and the drums carried the rhythm
He missed the brightly colored hand written signs,
What was it about this place?
…their imperfect presence looming above small shop entrances.
Spiritually muted, so void of the livelihood he once knew.
Like the constant chatter of bystanders in the market
It crushed his pride, or what little of it he had left.

Here, the days shadow each other,
with no clear divisions.
Back home, time was a function of prayer.
Each melting into the other, without warning.
The athaan proved an artful means of dividing the day

He watched the glow creep towards the filter
Home was so far away.
Like the effect smoking had on him
Although the breeze carried the smoke away…
His lungs still paid the price.

He exhaled one last time…
The smoke danced off into the distance
Beautifully weightless
I do this for them,
Forming bizarre fluid shapes
And fading into the afternoon.
So they can have better lives…

He let it drop to the ground
Putting it out with his shoe, he noticed a stain on the cuff of his pants
And wondered what possessed him to wear white to work
He hoped he would live to see his home again.

His wife would kill him for it
He worked three jobs to stay afloat
She always reminded him,
“You don’t have to look like you do.”

He shook his head looking at his watch
It was getting cold…
Maybe I could try and wash it out in the morning
…Before she notices.

He retied his apron as he went back inside
Almost done with college.
The usual messy counter awaited him.
“Excuse me…you’re out of brown sugar.”

He nodded silently.
52 more minutes to go…

Ladies & Gentlemen

12:15 am

She went to bed, completely exhausted from dancing at the party, packing, ironing, and being plain old stoked about traveling. With Billie’s last words & a glance from G, she fell asleep. Smiling.

3:14 am

The silence was broken by Jay’s silhouette whispering,

“Yalla, we’re late.” A message now way too familiar to her.

She got ready quickly, and kissed everyone. Amara gave her a 1/2 hug in her sleep.

Jameelah asked her where she was going.

She whispered, ” Spain.”

Jameelah was unmoved by the answer, she gave her her salams, followed by her back, and was fast asleep in a matter of seconds.

Jay was already in the car. They were off to DCA.

5:30 am

“We are now boarding flight 4748 American airlines with service to Kennedy at gate #34“

The click of the intercom signalled her to get moving.

After nervously fumbling with her bag to find her Passport the woman at the gate smiled, while tearing off her boarding pass, and told her she didn’t need it.

Funny. Once you pass security check, anyone could board with your ticket and no one would care if two people swapped destinations.

Looking right and left reading seat & row numbers she found 25C.

A window seat, next to a friendly, relatively attractive, young man.

He was a gentleman about helping put her bags in the overhead compartment. She smiled sheepishly and thanked him. He returned her smile and assured her that it was no problem.

Something about being treated like a lady was so refreshing.

The “fasten your seatbelt” sign lit up with its familiar ding sound.

Probably since she was so used to being one of the guys.

The flight attendant began her well-practiced demonstration of the safety equipment in case of an emergency landing.

That meant they regarded her as a brute -like themselves – she signed off any special privileges other girls enjoyed in their company.

“Please locate the nearest emergency exits…”

The flight to JFK was short. Once the co-pilot announced landing in 15 minutes, the flight attendant was speaking to a passenger about the airport.

“It’s a 45 minute walk to the next terminal, a lot of people don’t make it.” she chirped with an amused tone that seemed slightly sadistic when coupled with her pasted smile and inflated face.

She waited for the people in the front rows to collect their belonging and move towards the door. The gentleman handed her her bags. She smiled and stood in line.

“Thank you for flying with us.” The stewardess repeated like a broken record as people filed out of the plane. when it was her turn She nodded and smiled “Thank you.“

“7:45 is the boarding time for flight AA142 with service to LHR at gate 9,” she read off the screen.

“huh?” She heard someone to her left ask.

The voice belonged to a clean shaved middle eastern man in his late twenties or early thirties. He had his eye brows raised so high they looked like they might come off his forehead. He wore a playful smile and had an energetic presence.

“Nothing, I was just reading out loud,” she replied.

Embarrassed that she had been so careless about her volume.

He repeated after her,

“Gate 9?“

in excellent English. He did have an accent that told that he grew up back home (where ever that might be) and that he was fluent in another language.

She said, “Yes, to London?”

Minutes later, they were walking briskly along reading signs, and talking about anything and everything.

He was confident in his manner, although he used his hands a lot, it was as if he used them to explain anything the listener might have missed; from just listening.

He talked about his new job, thanks to his B.S. in international business, he worked with the coalition forces in Iraq (his homeland). Part of the reconstruction efforts lead by the new government. He used to teach Arabic at a local university as an assistant professor. 32 years old. His eyes were brown, too dark to be hazel but light enough to be brown.

“…that’s a beautiful name. I’m Ali, tsharrafna.” (i.e. Pleasure to meet you).

They found their gate, to their great relief and resorted to a nearby Cafe where he offered to buy her a drink or pastry. She declined the offer and mentioned Starbucks from earlier that morning.

He ordered something to eat and they sat at a table on high bar stools. He was checking his watch when he began to sing. His voice wasn’t half bad, she had to admit.

He smiled and asked her once more if she was sure she didn’t want anything.

“I’m good. Seriously.” She smiled, shying away from his generous eye contact.

His cologne smelled sweet and very fresh. It had a well defined composure to it. Adding to his natural charm and evident class. He was almost done eating when he looked at her and asked what seat she was in.

“38H? Maybe someone will be willing to trade.” He said calmly.

He was a row ahead of her on the other side.

Two gentlemen in one day. She was on a roll.

All she could think of was how glad she was, that in Queens NY, in an airport at 7:39 in the morning

…she was not alone.

Balance…

Stomach in knots.

Cool as a cucumber.

There is what happened, and what didn’t.

That is all there is to worry about as far as I’m concerned.

What is going on inside their heads?

I really wonder, at this point I would want to read minds, for just 3 hours, then cut it off. Like the X-ray vision, to see which cookies had the most chocolate chips in them. A nervous person isn’t always wrong. They may have a gut feeling that makes them fear a given situation. Like confronting a phobia, its not the thing itself. It is how “the thing” makes you feel. I always thought it impressive to defy the rules of “gut feelings” to kind of handle things in the opposite manner they should be handled. Bend the physical rules that say I should be worried sick about at exam, for example. Taking an exam is nothing to be worried about. Now studying for that exam, is. So I think we sometimes mix things up.

It all falls back on choices. What choice did you make? I chose to stay up the night before studying something else. I chose to not review the old homework. I had coffee that morning. I didn’t even remember to bring a pencil. I was sleeping on it. I could have gotten an A+. Choices.

We don’t mourn the past. We can’t get it back. Maybe the dread will drive us, ambitiously, successfully into tomorrow. Things happen for reasons way above our head. Sometimes we get so caught up in our little assumptions and doubts and guesses and we loose track of the bigger picutre.

Allah SWT has the master plan. We are pawns in this life, and we should really accept our fate accordingly. I think submitting to fate (not just wasting away, I mean doing what you can, but the ultimate decision is up to Allah SWT) makes life all the more stable. Nothing can make you that mad, nothing can make you that happy. You really will reach a state of emotional equilibrium. A temporary one at least. That is the balance.

why is 6 afraid of 7?

I had never heard that joke before (if that’s what you want to call it) till a customer told me today. I snickered, the sales person laughed like it was the joke of the century.

Anything for a sale.

If it makes you happy…

The dark -ugly if I might add – brown curtains make it glum and dreary in the office. It feels like 9 PM in here. When we know full well its only 2:38 on a Tuesday afternoon. I desperately want to be somewhere else. Apparently so does he. So why pay so much, to go through this? To do this little dance of questions and answers… to pretend I am being helped.

This balding, tired, right-handed, white, probably a serial killer by night, old man needs to retire or something.

The shrink lowers his eye glasses, with that slow obnoxious manner that shrinks tend to display, then he inhales -rather loudly.

- Why is that? Doctors, dentists, and psychiatrists they all breathe too loud. Maybe its the close proximity associated with the trade. They tend to have long nose hairs that seem to suffer when the draft of incoming air threatens to uproot them. Or even worse, when they exhale … it would look like a barber shop in here.

Temporarily returning his gaze to the small notepad in his left hand, he read with that dry cynical voice of his, “You have everything she ever wanted. The only thing you ever wanted she had.” “Very artistic sentence. Would you like to explain it further?”

Never looking away from those nasty curtains, “No. Not to you.”