Iraqi-born artist Wafaa Bilal is almost finished with his instillation/residency, Domestic Tension, at FLATFILEgalleries in Chicago. He's been living in the gallery and at the mercy of web surfers who take aim at him online since May 4th. The virtual paintball game is intended to draw attention to the constant lack of stability and security that are the hallmarks of life in Iraq these days. He'll leave the studio Monday, June 4 at 5pm CST. Go take a look.
Salaam.
03 June, 2007
01 June, 2007
B-I-N-G-O
Debates will be held in New Hampshire over the next few days between the numerous presidential candidates from the two major political parties in this country. Try to contain your excitement. These practiced, polished, and packaged events are rarely surprising or truly enlightening. However, I'll be watching simply because the field of candidates is so huge and I am willing to listen to what each is selling at this point.
Maybe you'll be paying attention, but how do you engage others in the process?
One trick that's worked well for me is to make the process fun. Because let's face it, the candidates and their handlers certainly won't.
The idea for debate bingo came to me in college. It's a simple and fun way to get your friends to watch and listen to what the candidates are saying. Make a bingo sheet with as many rows and columns as you want. Instead of letters and numbers, fill in the spaces with catchphrases, topics you are interested in, anything you expect to hear during the debate. During the 1996 campaign each card had a space with "Bob Dole refers to self in 3rd person". In the 2000 race some cards had "Lockbox" in honor Al Gore or "gets squinty and patronizing when challenged" for George W. Bush. Filling your cards means you have to do your homework, too. Print them off, invite your friends over, and off you go. Please people, pay attention this time!
Salaam.
Maybe you'll be paying attention, but how do you engage others in the process?
One trick that's worked well for me is to make the process fun. Because let's face it, the candidates and their handlers certainly won't.
The idea for debate bingo came to me in college. It's a simple and fun way to get your friends to watch and listen to what the candidates are saying. Make a bingo sheet with as many rows and columns as you want. Instead of letters and numbers, fill in the spaces with catchphrases, topics you are interested in, anything you expect to hear during the debate. During the 1996 campaign each card had a space with "Bob Dole refers to self in 3rd person". In the 2000 race some cards had "Lockbox" in honor Al Gore or "gets squinty and patronizing when challenged" for George W. Bush. Filling your cards means you have to do your homework, too. Print them off, invite your friends over, and off you go. Please people, pay attention this time!
Salaam.
The 'Rare American Imam'
It's late and I have to get up early to help out at Om-Taromeet's elementary school on the last day of the school year, so I don't have anything rich to add for now. However, I did want to share this article from the New York Times about the need for and evolution of the "Rare American Imam", which makes them sound like they're found in game preserves and zoos.
HijabMan, are you listening? We need you! And your balloons!
Salaam.
HijabMan, are you listening? We need you! And your balloons!
Salaam.
29 May, 2007
ممنوع التدخين
No smoking means NO smoking.
Not even narghile/ناركيله , sheesha/شيشه, whatever you want to call it.
It's ALL bad for you. (cough, hack...) And me.
Salaam.
(Cough...)
Not even narghile/ناركيله , sheesha/شيشه, whatever you want to call it.
It's ALL bad for you. (cough, hack...) And me.
Salaam.
(Cough...)
Readings and updates and Dino
Desperate Iraqi Refugees Turn to Sex Trade in Syria
And, in case you missed it a few weeks ago....The Flight From Iraq.
(be sure to look through the multimedia elements, too)
Also, a WHO update on the situation inside Nahr al-Bared and humanitarian responses.
And roughly 4 years and 200,000-500,000 deaths later, President Bush announces new sanctions against the Sudanese government. Because the sanctions already in place had been working so well. And we all know how well sanctions worked in the past in other places. What about sanctions against the enablers?
By the way, the not-so-shocking results of the Syrian referendum were announced...No need to change those welcome signs. It's still Assad's Syria.
Oh, and can I just toss a comment out on this? Here's one response. In addition to everything else the museum is claiming there were dinosaurs on Noah's ark. I used to work on dive boats and we refused to let people bring bananas on board because of the inevitable mess and hazards. Can you imagine what kind of a mess a dinosaurs would cause, two by two? Maybe that's why there are no more unicorns. They say they are interpreting the Bible literally, yet there are no dinosaurs mentioned in the Bible. Om-Taromeet told me last night that when she toured the Mormon museum at Temple Square in Salt Lake City a few years ago she was told dinosaurs never existed. She politely raised her hand and asked the young woman leading the tour if she had visited the Utah Museum of Natural History, with extensive paleontology exhibits and just down the street, or DINOSAUR National Monument in Vernal, Utah. The young woman simply responded, "Well, they're wrong." The new museum also supposedly sports a "light-skinned" creationist and a "dark-skinned" evolutionist. I guess black hat/white hat was too simplistic. To me, this isn't about religion so much as politics in the US these days.
Salaam.
And, in case you missed it a few weeks ago....The Flight From Iraq.
(be sure to look through the multimedia elements, too)
Also, a WHO update on the situation inside Nahr al-Bared and humanitarian responses.
And roughly 4 years and 200,000-500,000 deaths later, President Bush announces new sanctions against the Sudanese government. Because the sanctions already in place had been working so well. And we all know how well sanctions worked in the past in other places. What about sanctions against the enablers?
By the way, the not-so-shocking results of the Syrian referendum were announced...No need to change those welcome signs. It's still Assad's Syria.
Oh, and can I just toss a comment out on this? Here's one response. In addition to everything else the museum is claiming there were dinosaurs on Noah's ark. I used to work on dive boats and we refused to let people bring bananas on board because of the inevitable mess and hazards. Can you imagine what kind of a mess a dinosaurs would cause, two by two? Maybe that's why there are no more unicorns. They say they are interpreting the Bible literally, yet there are no dinosaurs mentioned in the Bible. Om-Taromeet told me last night that when she toured the Mormon museum at Temple Square in Salt Lake City a few years ago she was told dinosaurs never existed. She politely raised her hand and asked the young woman leading the tour if she had visited the Utah Museum of Natural History, with extensive paleontology exhibits and just down the street, or DINOSAUR National Monument in Vernal, Utah. The young woman simply responded, "Well, they're wrong." The new museum also supposedly sports a "light-skinned" creationist and a "dark-skinned" evolutionist. I guess black hat/white hat was too simplistic. To me, this isn't about religion so much as politics in the US these days.
Salaam.
27 May, 2007
Referendum Day
Asma al-Assad, wife ofSyrian President Bashar al-Assad casts her vote.
(photo from Middle East Online)
Technically, it's probably over by now, but today was the day for the national referendum on President Bashar Al-Assad. Opposition has called for a boycott. I don't want to spoil the ending, but I suspect they'll not need to change the signs at the border and airport welcoming you to "Assad's Syria". Just a guess. The parliament is to announce the results on Monday. There are plenty who can speak to it better than I and I look forward to reading their responses over the next few days.
Meanwhile in Lebanon, all but forgotten in the US news cycle except for the mention of hastily proffered US military aid, the situation remains critical in Nahr al-Bared. The Lebanese Army is supposedly refusing to allow aid into the camp and there is an action being organized for tomorrow outside the camp by relief workers trying to get aid to residents remaining inside. Also, be sure to read the latest from Electronic Intifada and Palestine for Us. Remember, just because it doesn't make the news doesn't mean it's over.
Salaam.
Sadness
According to the BBC, one of Iraq's leading calligraphers, Khalil al-Zahawi, was shot dead outside his home in Baghdad on Saturday. I am not an expert on calligraphy and was not familiar with his work. What does the loss of an artist mean to a country which has lost so much already? Why was he targeted? I don't know....It just leaves me sad.
Salaam.
Salaam.
26 May, 2007
Go, Greyhound
I rode Greyhound Friday to visit Om-Taromeet down in bone-dry S. Florida. I've ridden 14 hours on a bus before, but never in this country. The price was right and I was curious. I think the buses are nicer overseas. Sure, I've ridden my share of souq buses and those have their own beauty. And, the ridership does not seem to be as broad based. Greyhound doesn't have to have a higher quality bus, just as your average city bus doesn't have to run on time, because important campaign donors aren't riding either of them. I know I'm not paying for any $5,000 a plate meals. I don't have a car and I don't want one and I spend a lot of time talking about the politics of mass transit with other riders while we wait for mysteriously delayed buses and trains.
My seat-mate, traveling back to our shared hometown with her two kids, agreed with me. She's a recent Florida refugee, fleeing low wages, ridiculous cost of living, a "teach to the test" school system, and few prospects for improvement. She was taking her pre-teens to their grandmother's before starting a new job. Fourteen hours gives you a chance to get to know somebody. How many times have you traded phone numbers with somebody at the end of a domestic flight?
Her son, who asked that I call him "Bubba", won my heart. He's in 4th grade and either wants to be a scientist or a football player. He's a bit heavy set and quick quick with a smile, with a wide moon face. I was reading a collection of essays on Sufism and he was watching me.
"Do you have another book?" he asked.
"Um, yeah," I replied, thinking there's no way a 4th grader would be into reading about "a Sufi path of transformation". "You might not like it. It's not light reading."
"That's ok, I'll read anything," he insisted.
So, I dug the book out of the bag under my seat and handed it over before returning to my reading. Twenty pages in, under the chapter subheading The Annihilation of the Ego, Bubba tapped me on the shoulder.
"This is a really cool book."
He eventually put the book down and challenged me to his own version of Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader. Granted he's only in 4th grade, but some of his answers were a little suspect.
"Where is the largest forest in the world?"
"Um, the Amazon, so Brazil," I guessed.
"Noooo," said Bubba, rolling his eyes.
"Uh, ok, where is it?"
"Alabama."
I love that kid.
I also made friends with an older man from Chihuahua who was returning to the horse farms of central Florida. He was incredibly patient as I tried to dislodge the gears of my Spanish brain, though he was a bit confused with the odd Arabic word that forced its way into our conversations. He showed me a tiny photo of he and his wife, who lives back in Mexico, dangling from his key chain in red plastic heart.
I had to sprint off the bus in Orlando to use the "facilities" and a gaunt woman was slowly opening the door. She spun around when she heard me coming up behind her and smiled sweetly. "Thank, God! I thought there were no other white people on our bus," she said, sounding truly relieved, as she let me pass her on my way through the door. What could I say to that?
Despite the friends I'd made, I was glad to see Om-Taromeet and her adorable, yet neurotic pound dog when they picked me up.
I'll be there for just over a week, so don't expect too much productivity while I try, try, try to get in a dive or two while I am here. I've been out of the water too long and my gills are about dried out!
Salaam.
My seat-mate, traveling back to our shared hometown with her two kids, agreed with me. She's a recent Florida refugee, fleeing low wages, ridiculous cost of living, a "teach to the test" school system, and few prospects for improvement. She was taking her pre-teens to their grandmother's before starting a new job. Fourteen hours gives you a chance to get to know somebody. How many times have you traded phone numbers with somebody at the end of a domestic flight?
Her son, who asked that I call him "Bubba", won my heart. He's in 4th grade and either wants to be a scientist or a football player. He's a bit heavy set and quick quick with a smile, with a wide moon face. I was reading a collection of essays on Sufism and he was watching me.
"Do you have another book?" he asked.
"Um, yeah," I replied, thinking there's no way a 4th grader would be into reading about "a Sufi path of transformation". "You might not like it. It's not light reading."
"That's ok, I'll read anything," he insisted.
So, I dug the book out of the bag under my seat and handed it over before returning to my reading. Twenty pages in, under the chapter subheading The Annihilation of the Ego, Bubba tapped me on the shoulder.
"This is a really cool book."
He eventually put the book down and challenged me to his own version of Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader. Granted he's only in 4th grade, but some of his answers were a little suspect.
"Where is the largest forest in the world?"
"Um, the Amazon, so Brazil," I guessed.
"Noooo," said Bubba, rolling his eyes.
"Uh, ok, where is it?"
"Alabama."
I love that kid.
I also made friends with an older man from Chihuahua who was returning to the horse farms of central Florida. He was incredibly patient as I tried to dislodge the gears of my Spanish brain, though he was a bit confused with the odd Arabic word that forced its way into our conversations. He showed me a tiny photo of he and his wife, who lives back in Mexico, dangling from his key chain in red plastic heart.
I had to sprint off the bus in Orlando to use the "facilities" and a gaunt woman was slowly opening the door. She spun around when she heard me coming up behind her and smiled sweetly. "Thank, God! I thought there were no other white people on our bus," she said, sounding truly relieved, as she let me pass her on my way through the door. What could I say to that?
Despite the friends I'd made, I was glad to see Om-Taromeet and her adorable, yet neurotic pound dog when they picked me up.
I'll be there for just over a week, so don't expect too much productivity while I try, try, try to get in a dive or two while I am here. I've been out of the water too long and my gills are about dried out!
Salaam.
24 May, 2007
Hope
I spent a blessed day with the amazing children at the International Community School, a chartered public school with a large number of immigrants and refugees in the student body. It was designed that way; to bring local students together with newcomers; to make the foreign less so; to create a better world. I helped out with Ms. Li's 1st grade class. Among the 18 children in her class today there is an Iraqi Kurd, a Liberian, a Bosnian, an Ivorian, some Somalis, and a few locals. This is a truly special place. There are children of every color, creed and, it seems, country. And they all live and learn together in ways we adults seem to have forgotten.
Tiny, but big mouthed Sabrina, the child of Somali refugees, tosses her head back and cackles, the sunlight sparkling along the row of red sequins at the brow of her shoulder length burgundy hijab, as she spins round and round with the other kids until dizziness overtakes her and she falls over giggling. I ask Nazdan, an Iraqi Kurd who has lived in the US for two of her seven years, in Arabic if she speaks Arabic in addition to Kurdish at home and she rolls her eyes at me and smirks before flopping into my arms for another hug. Late in the day it is these two who beg me to stay and play with them during aftercare.
At the start of the day Ms. Li's class sings a simple song, "Hello, Friend", and end the day with a similar song, "Goodbye, Friend." They sing it first in English, then French, then Spanish, then Chinese, and they are working on Kurdish lyrics.
There are children here who have lived through things most of us cannot imagine. And yet here they are, running, playing, arguing and resolving things together. My new friend Huda, originally from Somalia and a 3rd grade substitute teacher for the day summed it up:
"You want to take a picture of these kids as they are together and show it to all of the adults out there and say 'this is how it's supposed to be!'"
With everything going on in the world, these children really give me hope. It was a really lovely day.
Salaam.
Tiny, but big mouthed Sabrina, the child of Somali refugees, tosses her head back and cackles, the sunlight sparkling along the row of red sequins at the brow of her shoulder length burgundy hijab, as she spins round and round with the other kids until dizziness overtakes her and she falls over giggling. I ask Nazdan, an Iraqi Kurd who has lived in the US for two of her seven years, in Arabic if she speaks Arabic in addition to Kurdish at home and she rolls her eyes at me and smirks before flopping into my arms for another hug. Late in the day it is these two who beg me to stay and play with them during aftercare.
At the start of the day Ms. Li's class sings a simple song, "Hello, Friend", and end the day with a similar song, "Goodbye, Friend." They sing it first in English, then French, then Spanish, then Chinese, and they are working on Kurdish lyrics.
There are children here who have lived through things most of us cannot imagine. And yet here they are, running, playing, arguing and resolving things together. My new friend Huda, originally from Somalia and a 3rd grade substitute teacher for the day summed it up:
"You want to take a picture of these kids as they are together and show it to all of the adults out there and say 'this is how it's supposed to be!'"
With everything going on in the world, these children really give me hope. It was a really lovely day.
Salaam.
23 May, 2007
Little Mosque on the Prairie
Maybe you've heard about this show, maybe not. I have and simply assumed that because it is produced by CBC (as in Canada folks) I wouldn't be able to see it. Thanks to a post by HijabMan we can all enjoy it. At least until a U.S. network buys the rights, "tweaks" it for a U.S. audience, and creates an un-funny knock-off. Happy viewing. I love this show.
(wanders off ululating - 'cause she just likes doing that when something good comes along)
Episode 1,Pt.2, Pt.3
Episode 2, Pt.2, Pt.3
Episode 3, Pt. 2, Pt.3
Episode 4, Pt.2, Pt.3
Episode 5, Pt.2, Pt.3
Episode 6, Pt.2, Pt.3
Episode 7, Pt.2, Pt.3
Episode 8, Pt.2, Pt.3
Salaam.
(wanders off ululating - 'cause she just likes doing that when something good comes along)
Episode 1,Pt.2, Pt.3
Episode 2, Pt.2, Pt.3
Episode 3, Pt. 2, Pt.3
Episode 4, Pt.2, Pt.3
Episode 5, Pt.2, Pt.3
Episode 6, Pt.2, Pt.3
Episode 7, Pt.2, Pt.3
Episode 8, Pt.2, Pt.3
Salaam.
Cross-cultural communications
I slouched amongst the women and cushions lining the walls in the long narrow salon, my hair catching in the grit of the earthen walls of the house. I had been at the wedding for hours at first enjoying time with a few men and boys from the family and listening to music then gathering with the women in another room to drum and sing.
I wondered if my host family was worried I never returned for dinner. I had stopped by to congratulate the bride and groom, which I now knew was not the way thing were done, around 5:30 and I guessed it was now after 12am. I was cold, hungry and tired, but excited to be some sort of honored mystery guest at the festivities. I didn't know the young couple getting married, but their family was related to the family I was staying with. Of course most everybody in the village was related to my new family. In little Amazigh villages like Hadida, about an hour east of Ourzazate and well off the beaten path, a wedding can stretch for days. I was beginning to wonder which day we were going to be fed.
Everyone was chattering away, weddings being a great opportunity to network with relatives from far off, when a young girl kicked off her shoes and entered the room carrying a brass basin and kettle used for washing your hands before and after meals. Relief seeped down through my bones because food would surely follow.
The young girl wore the incongruous layers of clothing favored in the bled that some of the other women wore; a wild assortment of textures and patters starting with thermal leggings and topped with a spangled headscarf wrapped and tied around the head instead of the neck in what I termed "country style hijab". She took small steps across the many carpets, carrying the basin carefully, the kettle perched on top.
I wore my own post-modern Amazigh get-up: hiking socks and thermal leggings under a traditional tiered and embroidered Amazigh skirt that I never actually saw a single Amazigh women wearing (but Peace Corps staff insisted we purchase so as not to stand out) topped with my funky camouflage print fleece jacket and the black headscarf a few of the women tied on me when I tried to be excused to run home and fetch my winter hat.
I was ready to wash and eat. But then I noticed something odd. The girl stopped in front of each woman and bent slightly as if to ask permission. Everybody always washes before a meal. Everybody. Yet as I watched this time each woman waved the girl off towards the next woman seated beside them. And this was repeated by each woman until the young woman was about three women from my left.
Surely, I thought, I knew what was going on, so I pushed back the sleeves on my jacket to ready myself to wash my hands. The woman seated next to me looked at me, smiled and softly said, "O-ho," or "no" in Tamazight. I smiled back but insisted on reaching out to indicate to the girl I wanted to wash. She looked at me as though totally confused, but smiled and looked over her right shoulder at some of the other women in the room. I was met with a barrage of sweet but insistent "O-ho"s and some explaining in Tamazight that was far beyond my level. Everyone was smiling and the women closest to me laughed and slapped my shoulder a bit in jest.
Finally a large women with a serious face seated across the room from me signaled sternly for the girl that she would wash. As she washed her hands, quickly and roughly, two more girls entered the room, one lugging a portable gas burner and the other carying a huge tray with rows of tiny, jewel-like glasses and the ingredients for tea: a large tin of gunpowder green tea, another tin with chunks broken from a sugar cone, and stalks of fresh mint. The girls lay the items in front of the woman, who began the process of making tea for the 50 or so women in the room.
Finally I understood. By agreeing to wash you are agreeing to the task of making tea for a room full of connoisseurs. These women had already accepted me for me and shown me every day that they loved me, but there was no way they were letting the foreign girl (taromeet) make the tea yet.
It was delicious.
Salaam
I wondered if my host family was worried I never returned for dinner. I had stopped by to congratulate the bride and groom, which I now knew was not the way thing were done, around 5:30 and I guessed it was now after 12am. I was cold, hungry and tired, but excited to be some sort of honored mystery guest at the festivities. I didn't know the young couple getting married, but their family was related to the family I was staying with. Of course most everybody in the village was related to my new family. In little Amazigh villages like Hadida, about an hour east of Ourzazate and well off the beaten path, a wedding can stretch for days. I was beginning to wonder which day we were going to be fed.
Everyone was chattering away, weddings being a great opportunity to network with relatives from far off, when a young girl kicked off her shoes and entered the room carrying a brass basin and kettle used for washing your hands before and after meals. Relief seeped down through my bones because food would surely follow.
The young girl wore the incongruous layers of clothing favored in the bled that some of the other women wore; a wild assortment of textures and patters starting with thermal leggings and topped with a spangled headscarf wrapped and tied around the head instead of the neck in what I termed "country style hijab". She took small steps across the many carpets, carrying the basin carefully, the kettle perched on top.
I wore my own post-modern Amazigh get-up: hiking socks and thermal leggings under a traditional tiered and embroidered Amazigh skirt that I never actually saw a single Amazigh women wearing (but Peace Corps staff insisted we purchase so as not to stand out) topped with my funky camouflage print fleece jacket and the black headscarf a few of the women tied on me when I tried to be excused to run home and fetch my winter hat.
I was ready to wash and eat. But then I noticed something odd. The girl stopped in front of each woman and bent slightly as if to ask permission. Everybody always washes before a meal. Everybody. Yet as I watched this time each woman waved the girl off towards the next woman seated beside them. And this was repeated by each woman until the young woman was about three women from my left.
Surely, I thought, I knew what was going on, so I pushed back the sleeves on my jacket to ready myself to wash my hands. The woman seated next to me looked at me, smiled and softly said, "O-ho," or "no" in Tamazight. I smiled back but insisted on reaching out to indicate to the girl I wanted to wash. She looked at me as though totally confused, but smiled and looked over her right shoulder at some of the other women in the room. I was met with a barrage of sweet but insistent "O-ho"s and some explaining in Tamazight that was far beyond my level. Everyone was smiling and the women closest to me laughed and slapped my shoulder a bit in jest.
Finally a large women with a serious face seated across the room from me signaled sternly for the girl that she would wash. As she washed her hands, quickly and roughly, two more girls entered the room, one lugging a portable gas burner and the other carying a huge tray with rows of tiny, jewel-like glasses and the ingredients for tea: a large tin of gunpowder green tea, another tin with chunks broken from a sugar cone, and stalks of fresh mint. The girls lay the items in front of the woman, who began the process of making tea for the 50 or so women in the room.
Finally I understood. By agreeing to wash you are agreeing to the task of making tea for a room full of connoisseurs. These women had already accepted me for me and shown me every day that they loved me, but there was no way they were letting the foreign girl (taromeet) make the tea yet.
It was delicious.
Salaam
22 May, 2007
Lebanon/Nahr al-Bared Updates
Just a wrap-up of updates on developments in and around Nahr al-Bared in Lebanon:
Exclusive Al-Jazeera Images from Inside Nahr Al-Bared
UN Relief Convoy Attacked While Attempting to Deliver Aid to Camp
Thousands Flee Besieged Lebanese Camp
Residents Say Militants Armed, Reclusive
'Massacre' at Lebanon Refugee Camp
BBC In Pictures: Clashes in Lebanon
Rami Khouri Opinion Piece from The Daily Star
Arab Governments Promise Military Help for Beirut
Hezbollah backs Lebanon's Army in Standoff with Sunni Group
US mulls military funding plea from Lebanon
Responses from Lebanese bloggers (incl. Ashraf and Golaniya)
Some translated reactions from Arab Press
Be sure to read these articles from Robert Fisk from The Independent:
A Front Row Seat for this Lebanese Tragedy
The Road to Jerusalem (via Lebanon)
Be sure to look at updates from Ashraf on Palestine For Us.
Salaam.
Headlines and hate
Compare these headlines:
Some US Muslims Justify Suicide Attacks
or
Muslims 'well integrated' in US
or
Poll: 1 in 4 young U.S. Muslims support suicide bombings
or
Most U.S. Muslims reject suicide bombings
Each of these headlines refers to the same story, a recently-completed Pew Research Center survey of Muslim Americans, the first of its kind ever undertaken. Here is the result in a nutshell, according to Pew:
"The first-ever, nationwide, random sample survey of Muslim Americans finds them to be largely assimilated, happy with their lives, and moderate with respect to many of the issues that have divided Muslims and Westerners around the world."
You can download the complete report and view the results here.
People will report the Pew study they way they want to, as is the nature of statistics. You can chose to highlight that a strong majority of Muslim Americans do not see a conflict between being a devout Muslim and living in a modern society, believe newcomers should adapt and integrate into society, and reject extremism and terrorism, or you can highlight the 5% that expressed favorable views of Al-Qaeda. I am not saying ignore the 5% or any of the other parts of the survey, but please put them in context.
One result that everybody in the U.S. should pay attention to:
53% of those polled report it has gotten to be more difficult to be Muslim in the U.S. since September 11, 2001. With incidents like this, or this, or this, or this, or maybe if you ask Alia Ansari...it's not hard to see why those respondents feel this way.
Salaam.
Some US Muslims Justify Suicide Attacks
or
Muslims 'well integrated' in US
or
Poll: 1 in 4 young U.S. Muslims support suicide bombings
or
Most U.S. Muslims reject suicide bombings
Each of these headlines refers to the same story, a recently-completed Pew Research Center survey of Muslim Americans, the first of its kind ever undertaken. Here is the result in a nutshell, according to Pew:
"The first-ever, nationwide, random sample survey of Muslim Americans finds them to be largely assimilated, happy with their lives, and moderate with respect to many of the issues that have divided Muslims and Westerners around the world."
You can download the complete report and view the results here.
People will report the Pew study they way they want to, as is the nature of statistics. You can chose to highlight that a strong majority of Muslim Americans do not see a conflict between being a devout Muslim and living in a modern society, believe newcomers should adapt and integrate into society, and reject extremism and terrorism, or you can highlight the 5% that expressed favorable views of Al-Qaeda. I am not saying ignore the 5% or any of the other parts of the survey, but please put them in context.
One result that everybody in the U.S. should pay attention to:
53% of those polled report it has gotten to be more difficult to be Muslim in the U.S. since September 11, 2001. With incidents like this, or this, or this, or this, or maybe if you ask Alia Ansari...it's not hard to see why those respondents feel this way.
Salaam.
5 Confirmed Dead in Ankara Bombing
News reports are just coming in about a large explosion in Ankara's Ulus district. According to reports so far there are 5 dead and 80 wounded. I am waiting to hear from people I know there, who I was with just a few months ago, and am very worried. I deeply hope this is not a sign of things to come for Turkey. I don't have anything constructive to add, just venting about my worries.
Salaam.
Salaam.
21 May, 2007
Blogging About the Situation Inside Nahr al-Bared
Ashraf Shouly at Palestine For Us is posting reports he is receiving from friends inside Nahr al-Bared, the Palestinian refugee camp near Tripoli, Lebanon that is currently being shelled by the Lebanese military as they face off with members of Fatah al-Islam, an armed Palestinian group with alleged links to al-Qaeda and Syria, which Syria denies. Caught in the crossfire that began Sunday are the noncombatant residents of the camp. According to the ICRC, the general population of the camp numbers 40,000. Casualty figures vary, about 70 so far, including 27 Lebanese soldiers. ICRC and aid groups are struggling to evacuate the wounded and get food and water to residents of the camp.
While I understand that a 38 year-old agreement bars the Lebanese from entering the Palestinian camps and thus limits their options, I am concerned about shelling a camp of 40,000 from a distance, inevitable civilian casualties, and the effect of all this on Lebanon as a whole. Sunday brought a bombing in a Christian area of the city and Monday a bombing of a Sunni Muslim district.
In the mean time, head to Ashraf's blog and read for yourself.
Salaam.
While I understand that a 38 year-old agreement bars the Lebanese from entering the Palestinian camps and thus limits their options, I am concerned about shelling a camp of 40,000 from a distance, inevitable civilian casualties, and the effect of all this on Lebanon as a whole. Sunday brought a bombing in a Christian area of the city and Monday a bombing of a Sunni Muslim district.
In the mean time, head to Ashraf's blog and read for yourself.
Salaam.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)