Guest guest Posted December 19, 2005 Report Share Posted December 19, 2005 Islam's feminist roots & other such oddities By Vrndavan Parker Muslims have begun a strategic media assault in the US. Within the past week, articles, all designed to make Islam seem friendly, cuddly and warm, have flooded the Seattle press. Similar articles are being published throughout the West. Believe it or not, in just one single Seattle Times edition, there were four separate articles in praise of Islam and Muslims. Whether its an article entitled "Embracing a sister (Pakistani) village in need," or a quiz in the NEWS(?) section, not an advertisement, asking,"Which four countries, first gave women the right to vote?" (A photo was included showing Burqa-clad Muslims with a header mentioning percieved notions about Women and Islam.) Was it France, Switzerland, China or Turkey? turn to page 12 for the answer. At first, I thought,"Of course, its Switzerland." But my instincts warned me not to be fooled. I didnt need to turn the page to know it was going to be Turkey. And it was Turkey, of course. All the way back in the 1920s. (No mention, of course, of Mustafa Kemal Atatürk, and how he successfully transformed a religion-driven former Ottoman Empire into a modern nation-state with a very strong separation of state and religion. In other words, Turkey's support of women's rights was a direct result of Ataturk's attempt to challenge Islamic fundamentalists.) "Oh my God, Islam is so advanced and liberal." I could already see the thought processes of many liberal Americans being manipulated into support for those poor innocent, misunderstand and amazingly civilized Muslim societies. Yesterdays travel section featured an article on San francisco's waterfront. Now what could that ever have do to with Islam? Is there some way to use even that story to manipulate people into feeling sympathy for Islam? You bet there is!!! QUOTE: "SAN FRANCISCO — Ahmed Loukili biked cheerfully along the downtown waterfront, hauling a couple of tourists behind him in the mini- carriage of his pedicab.The Moroccan-born man makes his living by pedal power along the Embarcadero, a once rundown, freeway-choked area of downtown San Francisco's waterfront that's been reborn ... thanks to an earthquake." A full color photo was included of Ahmed. http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/ABPub/2005/12/12/2002679548.jpg The photo reveals that "Ahmed Loukili, of San Francisco, offers pedicab tours along the Embarcadero waterfront. He includes a stop at SBC Park, the city's baseball stadium." Now how American is that!? I didnt know Muslims loved baseball, too. "O those poor misunderstood Muslims. They are obviously just like us. Islam cant be guilty of all those horrible accusations, now could it? Of course, Ahmed is probably a decent fellow, as are most everyday Muslims. So this is not about them as individuals. Its about the abuse of American sentiment and sensitivities to twist opinion away from the reality of the terror being done in the name of Islam. The more people are brainwashed into seeing Islam as the misunderstood victim, the easier it will be for Islamic terror to operate. I look forward to the day that Hindus can be as active in the strategic use of media. Imagine the impact. If the Muslim leadership can effectively promote half-truths, innuendo and flat out falsities with such effectiveness, surely Hindu Truths will be much more impactive and effective. The UN supports Maoist terror against the last Hindu Rashtra on earth. None, even Hindus ask the basic questions such as,"How do dirt poor peasants, whose poverty allegedly forced them to 'revolution' get the funding to arm themselves? How do they organize, feed and shelter thousands of captives? Information like this tidbit below is lost and forgotten. WHY!? HOW!? "But although they(the Maoists) are suspected of raising money through extortion from several hundred thousand Nepalis living in India, the exact source of their funding and extent of their foreign support remains unclear. About three years ago a North Korean sealed diplomatic container containing weapons, telecommunications equipment, timing devices and gold was intercepted by Nepali customs on the Indian-Nepal border. In a subsequent incident about a year ago, Nepal customs opened a North Korean diplomatic pouch also containing gold bullion. Both incidents were swiftly hushed up and the motive and eventual destination of the shipments were never discovered." This from a 1998 article, two years after the Feb 13th 1996 start of the Maoist terror campaign. Unfortunately, modern Hindus have yet to show the strategic abilities, commitment, unity, organization and dedicated funding that is required and so expertly practiced by Anti-Hindu forces. The constant dependance on individual commitment, enthusiasm, skill and funding to make a significant impact, scatters our energies. Netaji explained that in order to confront an enemy, one must use the same tactics and develop the same strengths required to meet the enemy head on. I am not suggesting imitating the Terrorism of the Maoists. That tactic is used by those without ideas or anything real to offer. But the other tactics of committed funding, pro-active tactics, political pressure, media savvy and clear cut agendas are the need of the hour. Because Hinduism represents the best of the best that any civilization has to offer, all that is needed is to develop strategies to make Hindu ideas and civilizational ethos available to the world at large. We dont have to short change anyone or pull the wool over anyone's eyes. Actually all we have to do is the opposite: WE NEED TO PULL THE WOOL AWAY FROM THE PEOPLE'S EYES. Presented clearly, Hindu truth is obvious and speaks for itself. This TRULY is the need of the hour. Its an old story that we all know. One stick can be easily broken, many sticks combined can not. Hindu activists consists of thousands of single sticks. They hold meetings and pat each other on the back with all sincerity, then go their separate ways. The impact is there, but its long term and development slow and tedious. It lacks the needed dynamic equation to grab the attention of those outside the fold. Islamic, Christian, Marxists/Maoists are the thousands of rooten sticks that stick together as one. Thus they create effective campaigns that impact events on a day to day basis. They are dynamic and whether one agrees with them or not, there is no denying that they are in full control of the arenas in question. Key reason. They have leaders that create Agendas and Committed Action plans. The agendas and action plans are put into effect by their committed teams who are fully funded. Ambivelence is rejected and merciless precision is applied. In the Hindu activist field, good natured ambivalence is the rule and good wishes are the currency. Strategic ideas are just ideas and action plans are re-action plans to the latest anti-hindu outrage. So while Nepal burns, Hindu pilgrim's donations are legally looted and our heroes and Gods insulted, denied and mocked, Muslims are selling Americans on the Feminist roots of Islam. Maoists are raping Nepal, the UN supplies condoms, Genocidal thugs are glorified and Traditions and Traditionalists are savaged and mocked. Below is a sampling of the Islamic media campaign. Islam in America, the present and future By James Vesely Seattle Times staff columnist Related Tapping Islam's feminist roots Muslims next door: Brace for change Muslims: from unseen to highly visible For Muslims, traveling the American road Today, these editorial pages begin a series of comments and opinions on Islam in America, the rise of the religion, what is happening to its followers and why every American should understand the basic tenets of the three founding religions of the Middle East. The series begins with the remarkable attempt to give voice to women within the formal structure of Islam, in an account by Asra Q. Nomani. In traveling and speaking from Madrid to New York to Seattle, this is a woman whose voice will continue to be heard among Muslims in America. Nomani is called one of the bad girls of Islam. She responds by telling us who she thinks modern Islamic women really are. On the next page, Islam in America continues with editorial commentary, today and over the next two days, that deals with the role of faith among Americans of many faiths; the rise of Islam as a demographic and vocal force within America; and the future — school-age children who are both Muslim and American. For most Americans, hazy about geography and political history, the dilemma has been to ask: Which Islam is coming to this country? Is it the Islam of the war on terrorism or the Islam that basks in the holy attention of millions of good people around the globe? "... The powerful ideological model for the theoreticians of the modern movement called Islamic Fundamentalism... is the Muslim version of what is in fact the much broader phenomenon called fundamentalism, a term that was originally applied to the Evangelical Christian sects in the 1920s." So writes Professor F.E. Peters in "Islam, a Guide for Jews and Christians" (Princeton University Press). Frank Peters, who e-mailed me that he is steaming across the Indian Ocean and pleasantly out of touch this week, underscores my feeling that Islam and Muslims are not the devils portrayed in the West, nor are they the holy purists often self-portrayed in the East. For Americans, they are largely misunderstood. Peters notes that religious fundamentalism, whether Islamic or otherwise, shares things in common, and they are startling. Peters writes, religious fundamentalism is a belief system based on these themes: • Scripture is infallible. • Scripture is not subject to so-called critical analysis. • It envisions a return to origins. • It advocates revolution in the name of religion. • The movement is a "Church within a Church." Are we talking about fundamentalist Christians, Jews or Muslims? In Monday's editorial by staff writer Joni Balter, the reality of the rise of the Islamic population in our country is defined by growing numbers and visibility. On Tuesday, editorial writer Lynne Varner's comparison of school choices for Muslims and non-Muslims in Florida and Seattle shows the way the American experience with each generation changes every immigrant group. And the first editorial opinion today by Lance Dickie traces the future of Islam in the pluralistic, religious mosaic of America. Why now? Why talk about Islam in this prelude to both the religious and commercial Christmas? At this early week of December, we are past the holy days of Ramadan, not yet to Christmas and Hanukkah. There's a lively debate going on about the roots of the Christian religion in America at Christmas and whether we remain true to its fundamental lessons. The fundamentalist movements inside America — to boycott department stores or demand Scripture in Christmas cards — are the flash points but not the everyday celebrations of these coming holy days. In trying to understand Islam, we try to understand the challenges and the soul of America. James F. Vesely's column appears Sunday on editorial pages of The Times. His e-mail address is: jvesely@s... 2005 The Seattle Times Company http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/opinion/2002674914_vesely11.htm l Islam in America Tapping Islam's feminist roots By Asra Q. Nomani Special to The Washington Post PREV 1 of 2 NEXT PAUL SCHMID / THE SEATTLE TIMES Asra Q. Nomani Related Islam in America, the present and future Muslims next door: Brace for change Muslims: from unseen to highly visible For Muslims, traveling the American road BARCELONA, Spain — Several months ago, when a group of Spanish Muslims approached city officials here about sponsoring a conference on Islamic feminism, one responded, "Isn't that an oxymoron?" That's what many people believe. To conservative Muslims, the phrase is an insult to Islam. But to many moderate Muslims — and I count myself among them — an Islamic feminist movement fits with the religion's early teachings and offers one of our best hopes for countering extremism. Indeed, those of us who have joined the movement since it emerged in the 1990s have come to understand that Islam needs to go backwards to its progressive 7th-century roots if it is to move forward into the 21st century. How difficult that is — and how important — became clear to me when I joined the first International Congress on Islamic Feminism, which was held in this Spanish city in late October. When the floor was opened for questions during one session, a young Muslim man made the comment I've heard so often: "In Islam, there is no place for feminism. ... " Sitting on the dais, where I had just chronicled our successful struggle to integrate some U.S. mosques, I took it in stride. I've become accustomed to belittling comments, even death threats. (I received an e-mail death threat this past July that the FBI traced to Seattle. It came after The Seattle Times ran an article chronicling my campaign for women's rights, including a stop at the local Idriss Mosque where men harassed me and refused to pray when I attempted to stand behind them in the main hall instead of going to a secluded women's balcony.) In Barcelona, what happened next stunned me. From the middle of the audience of some 250 women and men, Amina Wadud, a Muslim scholar of Islamic studies who calls herself "a pro-faith feminist," stood up. "You are out of order," she said to the man. "What you are doing is exactly the kind of thing that we are here to be able to stop." The audience broke into cheers. Another Muslim man tried to protest. I interrupted him. "We're changing history today," I said. "We're not going to shut up." What stunned me was not only the confidence with which we spoke but the willingness of the group to back us — 12 Muslim women scholars and activists and one Muslim man activist who had been invited to attend the conference by a small but ambitious group of largely Spanish Muslim converts, the moderate Catalan Islamic Board. The force of our collective effort convinced me that we have the strength to challenge the men's club that defines most of the Muslim world. It was an affirmation of the commitment that had brought me and the 11 other participants here from as far away as Malaysia, Mali, Nigeria, France, Canada, the United Kingdom, the United States and refugee camps in the disputed territory of Western Sahara to share stories from the trenches in the "gender jihad." We Muslim feminists view it as a struggle that taps Islamic theology, thinking and history to reclaim rights granted to women by Islam at its birth but erased by manmade rules and tribal traditions masquerading as divine law. In the communities where we live, we have begun challenging customs that deny women rights from the mosque to the bedroom: gender segregation, mandatory veiling, forced early marriages, clitorectomies, polygamy, death for sex outside of marriage, domestic violence and strict domestic roles. We have many Muslim men on our side: The chief or-ganizer of the conference was a man, Abdennur Prado, who hustled nonstop behind the scenes. And we are taking a lead from Christian and Jewish women who are generations ahead of us today in their efforts to challenge traditions that block them from the workplace, the political arena and the pulpit. To many, we are the bad girls of Islam. But we are not anti-sharia (Islamic law) or anti-Islam. We use the fundamentals of Islamic thinking — the Koran, the Sunnah, or traditions and sayings of the prophet Muhammad, and ijtihad, or independent reasoning — to challenge the ways in which Islam has been distorted by sharia rulings issued mostly by ultraconservative men. What we are wrestling with are laws created in the name of Islam by men, specifically eight men. The Muslim world of the 21st century is largely defined by eight madhhabs, or Islamic schools of jurisprudence, with narrow rulings on everything from criminal law to family law: the Shafi, Hanafi, Maliki and Hanbali schools in the majority Sunni sect; the Jafari and Zaydi schools, for the minority Shiite sect; and the Ibadi and Thahiri schools among other Muslims. But the first centuries of Islam's 1,400-year history were quite different — characterized by scores of schools of jurisprudence, many progressive and women-friendly. It is not Islam that requires women to wear a headscarf, but rather the scholars in the contemporary schools. To many of the women I spoke with, their struggle to move Islam forward by reaching back to its past represents nothing short of a revolution. "This is a global struggle," says Valentine Moghadam, a native of Iran and the chief of the gender equality and development section of UNESCO in Paris. She sees the movement as an important response to "frustration with Islamic fundamentalism." And there is no doubt in my mind, either: The kind of ideology that willingly subjugates women can also foster hatred. >From the dais, activists dressed in everything from Parisian fashion to traditional African batik offered powerful stories of regional reform. From Malaysia, Zainah Anwar, executive director of the Sisters in Islam (dubbed "Satan in Islam" by conservatives), laid out a strategy for reforming Islamic family law in her country by, for example, educating women about their right to refuse forced marriages. And like others, she is looking beyond her country's borders for support. The group's newsletter is being funded by the successful multinational cosmetics company, the Body Shop. And the group is calling Moroccan legal experts to Malaysia next February to educate local leaders about the progressive family reforms that Morocco passed last year. Last month, Anwar and other Sisters in Islam leaders went to England to swap strategies with 10 Muslim women's groups. And in some local areas, groups like Anwar's have begun to see success. Peeking over her laptop and occasionally adjusting the flowing white head scarf she chooses to wear, Djingarey Maiga, the chief of a Mali-based group called Women and Human Rights, explained how she started a rural radio program in her country to promote women's rights. And BAOBAB, a Nigerian group founded in 1996, made headlines in 2003 when it helped win a victory for Amina Lawal, the mother sentenced to be stoned to death for having a baby outside of marriage. Mufuliat Fijabi, a senior program officer at BAOBAB, told us how a conservative sharia judge broke with tradition not long ago to oppose marital rape after going through training provided by his organization. One Nigerian imam, after hearing BAOBAB's message encouraging ijtihad, surprised BAOBAB organizers by following up and encouraging Muslims to consider alternative schools of thought. The challenge isn't just in poor villages in Nigeria or Mali. It's in the wealthy and supposedly well-educated West. In 2003, I set off a debate over the rights of Muslim women when I wrote in The Washington Post about walking through the front door of my hometown mosque in Morgantown, W.Va., and praying in the main hall, thus defying an order that women enter through a back door and pray in a secluded balcony. Since then, I've been harassed in mosques from New York City to Seattle for refusing to accept separate women's quarters. But after almost two years of public campaigning with other women, the country's major Muslim organizations, including the Islamic Society of North America, issued a 28-page report in July titled, "Women- Friendly Mosques and Community Centers: Working Together to Reclaim Our Heritage," recommending reform, including an affirmative-action program to get women on mosque boards. Our movement also caused a stir earlier this year when Wadud led a congregation of about 125 women and men in a New York prayer service. Many clerics around the world attacked us for undermining our religion, and Libyan leader Moammar Gadhafi claimed that our prayer "creates millions of bin Ladens" by challenging male authority. We're up against a formidable machinery of opposition, but we're convinced that now is the moment to coordinate the legal and policy reforms that Islamic feminism is promoting. We see our struggle as part of a wider peace jihad. It was a national Islamic leader who oversees the Catalan Islamic Board, Mansur Escudero, who issued the first fatwa against Osama bin Laden, months before U.S. Muslim organizations issued their own. At the Barcelona conference, I proposed a plan called "The Islamic Dream" — an effort to connect our disparate efforts and develop a new approach for Islam in the 21st century. I would like to see us organize a summit of Islam's progressive thinkers to establish the terms of reform and define a 20-year plan to transform our world. That is where we are headed. During Wadud's presentation on one of the last days of the conference, a Spanish-American woman stood up and asked: "Would you lead us in prayer today?" Wadud assented. A group of about 30 Muslims gathered in a hotel conference room to pray behind her, men and women standing shoulder to shoulder — grounds for banishment in mosques around the world. A Pakistani-Canadian activist, Raheel Raza, ran to join the line, not far from a Pakistani-American scholar, Asma Barlas, dubbed one of "the mothers of Islamic feminism." Together, we opened our hands as Wadud prayed, "We ask for Your protection." Our prayer complete, we declared with one voice, "Ameen.Please accept." Asra Nomani is a former reporter for The Wall Street Journal and the author of "Standing Alone in Mecca" (HarperSanFrancisco). E-mail: asranomani@t... Muslims next door: Brace for change PREV of NEXT GALIE JEAN-LOUIS / KRT Related Islam in America, the present and future Tapping Islam's feminist roots Muslims: from unseen to highly visible For Muslims, traveling the American road First of three parts After being ignored, excluded or blissfully anonymous, American Muslims and Islam can expect a cultural embrace both liberating and alarming. Following the shocks of 9/11 and the Iraq war, the larger, myopic Christian culture in the United States is discovering its Muslim neighbors. A nation is introduced to the talents, achievement and economic presence it overlooked. For Islam, the opportunity for its faithful to examine and explore their beliefs will be unsettling. It has been for others. Every group that comes to the United States has to deal with two realities, explains Patricia O'Connell Killen, professor of religion at Pacific Lutheran University: Religion is voluntary and there is a pluralism of religious options. Back home, the call to prayer from the minaret spoke to communities of like-minded believers without challenge or distraction, Killen said. Here, they have to figure out how to be religious in a voluntary, pluralistic context colored by a Christian ethos. Periodically, the U.S. is challenged to re-examine cherished myths about itself. For all the talk about freedom of conscience, there is a fear about the amount of diversity the country can handle and still have shared values. Religious tension is as old as the republic. German immigrants in the 1850s sued to stop schools from forcing their children to read from the King James version of the Bible. They wanted their Catholic Douai Bible text. Waves of immigration brought newcomers who did not fit the homogeneous profile of the nation's Founders. How to balance liberty of conscience with fear of social chaos? After World War II, Jews and Catholics were brought inside the circle. By the mid-1960s, the doors were opened wider to the Middle East, Asia and South Asia. For scholars, one benchmark of a faith's emergence in the broader culture is the diversity of faiths represented by military chaplains, whose ranks now include Muslims and Buddhists. Other increments of inclusion reflect a growing awareness of values and practices. The first airport chapel in America was Catholic. Now, 14 of 40 airport chapels serve all faiths. Two New Jersey sports arenas are setting aside prayer space for Muslim fans. A Northwest-based mutual fund describes itself as grounded in Islamic values. Lending institutions work to open home-buying to Muslims, who, as an article of faith, cannot pay interest. Mosques and Islamic centers are sponsoring Boy Scout and Girl Scout troops that have an exclusively Muslim membership. A quote from The Pluralism Project at Harvard University is especially revealing: "Enabling Muslims to explore the roots of their faith more freely is, in my mind, America's gift to Muslims." A fresh start for America's estimated 3 million Muslims means an opportunity to explore Islam unadorned by the culture of a homeland. This can be upsetting for parents and grandparents whose faith blends traditional teachings and nostalgia for how it was practiced back in Pakistan or Indonesia. If there is a theological tension between Islam and modernity, it is not evident in the embrace of technology from Bridges TV, the American Muslim Network on cable TV, to IslamiCity.com on the Internet. Islamic advocacy groups led by students and professionals have been around for decades. Religious councils denounced terrorism. Latino Muslims are part of the faith's diversity. A Muslim sorority is organizing at the University of Kentucky. Hardly a surprise. Generations of anxious students cluster around the familiar at Catholic Newman Centers and Baptist Student Unions — download evening prayers on your iPod — — to ease the move away from home. Religious expression changes where freedom inspires the faithful to explore. Muslim parents who want their children prepared to compete for admission to medical school will duel with parents who want a more-conservative curriculum at the local Islamic school. America will make room for Islam. Religious freedom will shape its practice and expression. The pattern is as old as the nation. 2005 The Seattle Times Company Islam in America Muslims: from unseen to highly visible PREV of NEXT GALIE JEAN-LOUIS / KRT Related Islam in America, the present and future Tapping Islam's feminist roots Muslims next door: Brace for change For Muslims, traveling the American road Second of three parts For decades , the small number of Muslims in our country moved quietly through the daily routines of American life — the women grocery shopping, shuttling kids, many hidden behind their veils; the men working, studying, reaching like other immigrants for better lives. Then came the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks and the words Islamic and terrorist began to run together as if there were no difference at all. Certainly, the hideous fact that 19 hijackers of Muslim faith would brutalize American civilians would reverberate many years. It has. It will. But we can't go on like this, misunderstanding, fearing, knowing so little about one another. The U.S. Census Bureau does not directly ask about religious affiliation, but the best estimate from a large national survey says there are roughly 3 million American Muslims. Other studies say the number is twice that. The first marks on a painted portrait of this important cultural group reveal a population that is young, preponderantly male and well-educated: • The median age of Americans is 43; American Muslims' median age is 28, according to "Religion in a Free Market," by Barry Kosmin and Ariela Keysar, a book to be published in 2006. • Forty-eight percent of the U.S. population is male, compared with 62 percent of Muslim Americans, the book says. • One-third of Americans are college graduates; 46 percent of Muslim Americans have a college degree. To understand Muslim America is to distinguish carefully between Middle Easterners and Muslims. Many Middle Easterners are not Muslim; many Muslims are not Middle Easterners. "Immigration from South Asian and Arab countries began in larger numbers in the 1960s and grew through the 1990s," says Ihsan Bagby, author of several studies on Muslim mosques in America. "Among the immigrants was a large percentage of Christians, especially from Lebanon, Iraq, Egypt and Palestine." Today, roughly 33 percent of U.S. Muslims are from South Asia — Pakistan, India and Bangladesh. Perhaps 30 percent are African Americans; a considerable number are converts to the religion along with their children. One-fourth are Arabs. Muslims tend to be urbanites, flocking to New York City, Chicago, Los Angeles, Detroit and surrounding suburbs. No one knows an exact number, but one estimate says as many as 15,553 Muslims live in Washington state, setting down roots largely from Snohomish County to Pierce and Thurston counties. America's disconnect with Islam ties directly to its relative newness here. Eighty-five percent of U.S. mosques were founded after 1970, which makes its adherents unknown and, therefore, a little scary. Our ignorance of a religion and culture is nothing to brag about. Shortly after 9/11, immigrants who looked different but had nothing to do with Muslims paid a steep price. One Sikh gas-station owner in Arizona was killed merely because he wore a turban. The biggest single misunderstanding Muslims face is the unfair notion they are all terrorists. The worst place for a Muslim or Arab, therefore, is the airport. Travelers and security officials cannot move past horrific images of that fateful September day. Some Muslims try to avoid flying, or as they call it, Flying While Brown or Flying While Muslim. Muslims range from newer arrivals who sometimes feel less connected to America, to highly educated academics who see themselves in historical context of other immigrant groups. Americans were not as hard on Muslims after 9/11 as they were on Japanese Americans after Pearl Harbor, one expert noted, because of modern civil-rights laws. New thinking among American Muslims is they must speak out and educate Americans about their culture and religion. The silver lining of the terrorist attacks, if there can be such a thing, is Americans finally are eager to learn more about Muslims. They realize they have to do a better job of understanding and including them in their broader, complicated sense of America. 2005 The Seattle Times Company Islam in America For Muslims, traveling the American road PREV of NEXT GALIE JEAN-LOUISE / KRT Related Islam in America, the present and future Tapping Islam's feminist roots Muslims next door: Brace for change Muslims: from unseen to highly visible Last of three parts A growing desire among young Muslims for strong cultural ties was on display among the hundreds who gathered in Chicago last month to discuss ways to maintain their Muslim identity and keep pace with American trends. Muslims are members of the world's fastest-growing faith, a religion largely made up of moderates yet one that has been exploited by dangerous extremists. As a result, synergy between being Muslim and being American can be difficult. But Muslims "are Americans because we believe in the Constitution and the Bill of Rights just as we are Muslims because we believe in God and the Quran as the word of God to man," said Maher Hathout, a senior adviser to the Muslim Public Affairs Council, to the Chicago attendees. "The synergy between our Muslim identity and American identity can revive our dynamic understanding of Islam and, at the same time, contribute positively to America's pluralism," Maher said. This duality is vividly illustrated by young Muslims. They stand at the crossroads between old and new and navigate a generational chasm as timeless as the hills. Every immigrant group has experienced the tug of war between assimilation and identity, home and the outside world. For Islam, factor in the religious dictates of dress and behavior and the universal suddenly becomes the specific. There is also the matter of post-9/11 tensions. Young Muslims are growing up hearing a different conversation around the dinner table than their forebears heard. The talk is often about disparate treatment. Muslims pulled over by law enforcement, humiliated at the airport or stared at with suspicion. To believe these things don't happen is to ignore the history of minorities in America. Schools offer a microcosm of these tensions. They contain the Sturm und Drang of youthful angst coupled with racial, ethnic and religious tensions. The clash of civilizations that pits religious East against secular West plays out among the young through a tension between popular culture and religious piety. Many public school districts are grappling with how to accommodate the Muslim students in their midst. Few schools are willing to broaden their Judeo-Christian holiday schedules but they are taking notice of the Muslim students they serve. The Hillsborough, Fla., County School Board got embroiled in a flap when it decided to jettison all religious holidays rather than comply with one family's demand for an observed Muslim holiday. The new secular calendar created a community backlash from Christians and Muslims and made national news. The board backed off and reinstated the old calendar. In Seattle, 30 parents of Muslim students recently sat down on a Saturday with a public-school official and ticked off the many ways their children feel excluded from school. The parents spoke of the need for private places for their children to pray. They asked for a school calendar that includes Islam's holy days — not for observance purposes but so teachers will understand what is going on in the lives of Muslim students. The parents pointed out that some Muslims interpret their religion as forbidding music and they wanted assurances they would not be penalized for removing their children from music classes. Language interpretation was another request. Roughly 97 languages are spoken within the School District. While it cannot provide translation services for each one, the district did agree to link parents with translation services and find alternative ways of communicating school information. These are positive signs that young Muslims will make their way into American society much like their parents before them. We are not in danger of exploding like France. Economic opportunity, or a lack of it, contributed mightily to the antipathy felt by the young French Muslims who set fires and clashed with police last month in nearly 300 French cities and towns. America is not perfect but we've been down this road before. The challenge for young Muslims is to traverse a road well-traveled by many groups before them. 2005 The Seattle Times Company Embracing a sister village in need By Janet I. Tu Seattle Times staff reporter THOMAS JAMES HURST / THE SEATTLE TIMES Photo gallery: A Journey to Pakistan A shattered family of survivors In Puthian, Hafeeza Zaheen, 25, at center front, keeps a cooking fire burning in her livestock stable, where family members gather throughout the day for warmth and community. Her 9-year-old son, Basit, second from left in green, has tuberculosis. Related Dramatic photo, emotional tale Photo gallery: A Journey to Pakistan First of three parts PUTHIAN, Pakistan — They meet atop a hill of rubble, this Seattle- area printing company owner who grew up privileged in Pakistan, and the Pakistani villager who lost her daughter and her house in the October earthquake. Kamran Salahuddin has traveled more than 9,000 miles from his home in Redmond to this remote village in the foothills of the Himalayas, and to the doorstep of Hafeeza Zaheen. Only there is no doorstep. Hafeeza's front door now rests atop the rubble that once was her family's small house. Like most of the other buildings in this village of 1,000, it was destroyed. And among the estimated 80,000 killed in the quake were Hafeeza's 5-year-old daughter, Sultana, and six other village children who couldn't run fast enough from their schoolhouse before it collapsed. "She's gone," Hafeeza says. Now "I only have two." How to help the Bugna Village Complex The Pakistan Association of Greater Seattle hopes to raise $1 million by next September for its Sister Village Project, with all donations to its Earthquake Relief Fund to go toward the project. Founded in the early 1990s, the association is primarily a social and cultural organization for the Puget Sound area's Pakistani Americans. Estimates vary on the community's size, from 1,400 according to the 2000 census, to 4,000 according to the association. Donations to the fund are accepted at any local U.S. Bank branch. The association is applying for 501©(3) nonprofit status. More information: www.pakistanseattle.com Kamran, himself a parent of two young children, has heard many such stories since he arrived here. Of the human losses he can do nothing. But of the losses of shelter, clothing and a normal way of life, he intends to do a great deal. Kamran is director of the Pakistan Association of Greater Seattle, which has taken the first steps to adopt the entire village complex of Bugna, of which Puthian is a part. The goal is to get residents of greater Seattle involved as well, embracing the Bugna Village Complex as Seattle's sister village. The association hopes its effort will spread nationwide, with Pakistani associations in other U.S. cities also adopting one of the thousands of mountain villages damaged by the quake. So here Kamran was last month in the village of Puthian, with two other association members and a group of workers from a Northwest company that's donating sturdy fabric buildings shaped like Quonset huts to serve as temporary houses, schools and a hospital. Their challenges, and those facing villagers, are immense. The remote villages are scattered along steep terrain, some houses accessible by narrow, unpaved roads with hairpin curves; others only by foot. Even before the earthquake, villagers made do with only sporadic power and a water system that only sometimes worked. Extended families typically lived together in two- or three-room houses made of stone, mud and wood. Now many are sleeping in small canvas or nylon tents that are inadequate for the snowy winter, when temperatures can drop as low as 10 degrees. With their clothes, shoes and food supplies buried in rubble along with whatever money, jewelry or other valuables they possessed, many are unsure what they will eat this winter, let alone how they can afford to rebuild. Hafeeza worries whether her 9-year-old son, Basit, who has tuberculosis, will survive the bitter cold. In seizing upon its "sister-village" idea, Seattle's Pakistan Association was looking for an area where it could make a tangible difference. It wanted to select a village or two, determine the needs, and get to know people like Hafeeza. At 25, Hafeeza is thin, her face weathered by a harsh environment and a rugged life that have made her look far older than her years. Yet she is striking, with big, dark eyes that shine warmly when she smiles, which is often when visitors come. You would not know her sorrows unless you asked. She offers tea to guests and insists they have bowls of noodles sweetened with sugar, though she's just finished telling you — because you asked — that she has only five days of food left. Her husband is often gone for weeks at a time, working as a hotel cook hundreds of miles away. Reaching Hafeeza's home from Seattle requires a 30-hour plane trip to Islamabad, Pakistan's capital city. From Islamabad, it's a four- hour drive on a paved highway that leads to Muzaffarabad, the capital of the portion of Kashmir that's controlled by Pakistan and close to the epicenter of the quake. About 21 miles before Muzaffarabad, a narrow, unpaved road to the right curls steeply up the mountainside for about seven miles to Bugna. It's the largest of about eight villages that make up the Bugna Village Complex, which lost more than 100 of its 8,000 residents. While the numbers were far higher in cities closer to the epicenter — some 33,000 died in and around Muzaffarabad — most surviving villagers lost their homes and belongings. The toll of the Pakistan earthquake Number dead in the Oct. 8 quake: Official toll is about 73,000; other estimates range up to 86,000 Number injured: About 128,000 Number displaced: About 3.5 million International aid: About $6 billion pledged, most in loans U.S. aid: $510 million pledged. How it compares: Other recent quakes in the region: Afghanistan 2002 — 1,000 people killed; India 2001 — 30,000 killed; Taiwan 1999 — 2,500 killed. Sources: Pakistan government's Federal Relief Commission, U.S. State Department, The Associated Press A base camp has been established in Bugna by a nonprofit organization called Human Development Foundation (HDF). Founded by Pakistani Americans, HDF is working with the Pakistan Association of Greater Seattle on the sister-village project. Farther up the mountain is Puthian, a village of about 1,000, where 13 died. Like the other villages, it has no center, its far-flung houses connected by footpaths shared by villagers and goats. From any point you can see surrounding mountaintops already dusted with snow. Hafeeza's house was right next to the school where her daughter died. The villagers all remember the morning the earthquake struck: "I see everything moving left and right, houses falling, people crying." "I felt the house sink downward. My grandmother was running." "I feel it is the last day of life. I pray to God." Hafeeza was cutting grass to feed her two buffaloes. "I ran to my children," she said. "I saw my son running toward me, crying: 'Mommy, mommy!' " The schoolhouse, for children up to grade 5, had collapsed. Older students in one room made it out, but seven little ones in another room did not. The mothers began wailing. Other villagers heard them and ran to help. They clawed through rocks, collapsed wooden beams, books and shoes, trying to find the children. Hafeeza ignored the pain in her injured leg. "I was digging for my daughter. I didn't even know I was hurt." It took two hours to find Sultana's body. After the earthquake, it rained. The ground trembled with aftershocks. A few Pakistanis from other areas hiked in with water and biscuits, and the government cleared the roads several days later. A week after the quake, HDF arrived to set up medical care and distribute food. Hafeeza passed the first days in a daze. One night, distracted by sorrow, she accidentally splashed herself with scalding tea, leaving a hand-sized scar on her chest. Sultana and her brother, Basit, often walked to the store together and played house, serving family members "rice" and "tea" made of twigs and water on broken dishes. Now Basit, wispy thin, with huge eyes and a matchstick neck, sometimes asks: "Where is my sister?" Hafeeza tells him: "She went to God." It was his own faith that brought Kamran from his Redmond home to what's left of Hafeeza's doorstep. A founding member of Seattle's Downtown Muslim Association, Kamran believes in giving to those less fortunate, something he teaches his sons, ages 7 and 9. Kamran, at 45, has black hair touched with silver and wears elegant suits that add to his distinguished air. His is a typical suburban life, he says. He owns DigiCopy 'n' Print across from Seattle Center, and his wife, Sania, is an assistant teacher in the Lake Washington School District. On weekends they attend their sons' basketball and soccer games. He grew up the only son of a high-ranking government-official father and a mother whose family owns hundreds of acres of farmland in Punjab province, about 500 miles south of Islamabad. They had drivers, guards, cooks and personal attendants. He was sent to English-speaking schools in Islamabad, where his friends were upper-class Pakistanis and the children of foreign diplomats. When his family became the first in the neighborhood to get a TV, he watched "Leave It to Beaver" and later became a fan of the Bee Gees and "Saturday Night Fever." It wasn't until he arrived in the United States for graduate studies at Oregon State University in Corvallis and then City University in Seattle — and got involved in Pakistani student groups — that he began to learn more about his culture and faith. In the early 1990s, Kamran and other local Pakistani-American professionals founded the Pakistan Association of Greater Seattle, which now has more than 1,000 families on its mailing list. After the earthquake, association members were concerned that relatively little relief money was coming in for quake victims. In the two weeks following the earthquake, for instance, Portland-based Mercy Corps raised $2.3 million for quake relief compared with more than $8 million in two weeks after the Indian Ocean tsunami. Given Pakistan's overwhelming needs, local association members felt compelled to help. But "we didn't want to just collect money" for other relief agencies, Kamran said. They wanted to be able to go back "time after time, in three months, six months and report: This is what we've done, this is how we've helped the village." And they wanted to involve the broader Seattle community. Thus the "sister-village" idea was born, for which the association has so far raised $90,000. It will use the money to provide heaters, school clothes, medical care and to meet other needs. Members also contacted HDF, which reported that no other aid agencies were working in the Bugna Village Complex, an area small enough for HDF and the Pakistan Association's limited funds to make a difference. Another piece fell into place when Anchorage-based Alaska Structures offered to donate more than 100 fabric buildings. The structures, used as military buildings and disaster-relief facilities, are designed to withstand extreme climates. The company asked Kamran to accompany its workers to Puthian and Bugna. A few days later, Kamran, two other Pakistan Association members and about 25 Alaska Structures employees arrived in the Himalayan foothills and began putting up the fabric shelters. At first, villagers stood at a distance, but soon they pitched in to help. Schoolchildren crowded around wherever they went. "I saw how little they had," Kamran said. "But every single home we went to, they offered us tea." When pressed, some spoke of their losses. Kamran would translate, having to pause at times because he was overcome by their stories. "They don't know what the future holds or how to plan for it. So they are going day by day." When someone dies in these villages, neighbors and friends usually help the bereaved family dig the grave and bury the dead. But after the earthquake, "everybody had their own dead," said Yousaf Kiani of Bugna, a 50-year-old laborer who lost his mother and two children. Among the few possessions he salvaged was his mother's gold velveteen dress. He shows it to visitors, holding it to his cheek. There is no central village graveyard. Rather, the dead are buried in small patches of land — three graves here, six there. Yousaf buried his mother and children up the hill from his home. Hafeeza's family buried Sultana next to a cousin in the field across from her house. Hafeeza wants to put a marker on the grave but cannot afford it. She visits the grave twice a day, remembering how Sultana would sleep beside her in bed. Now and again, she finds items in the rubble that belonged to her daughter — a sandal that now sits on a high ledge in the family's makeshift stable; a barrette with an orange flower that she spots in the mud while talking with visitors. "Sultana's," she says, wiping mud from the flower before tucking it away. But she cannot spend the day grieving. Like many village women, she wakes around 5 a.m. to start a fire. She make tea and roti — a flat bread made of flour and water — for her family's breakfast and prepares her 7-year-old daughter, Muqatas, for school. Though educating their children is important to villagers, Hafeeza's son, Basit, has not gone to school since the earthquake because the nearest one is now more than a mile away, and he's too frail to walk that far each day. She will also cut grass to feed the family's two buffaloes and two goats, gather firewood, cook and wash the dishes. And, sometimes several times a day, she and other women walk to a village well or a stream far down the mountain, returning with water carried atop their heads in silver urns. Two years ago, each household contributed about $4 for a system to pipe water closer to their homes. But that, too, was damaged. Some of the village men work in cities such as Rawalpindi, Muzaffarabad and Lahore. As a hotel cook in Lahore, Hafeeza's husband makes about 2,500 rupees a month (about $42). Because round- trip bus fare between Puthian and these cities can cost close to a day's wage, they usually stay in the cities for weeks or months at a time. Other men stay in the village and do construction work. A few are retired government servants. Some are unemployed. These days, though, most are staying at home to clear the rubble and prepare for winter. "God help me," said Yousaf Kiani, the villager who lost his mother and two children. "Snow is coming. I have no money." Few villagers complain, said Dr. Aneeta Afzal, a Pakistani-American psychiatrist from Louisiana who was volunteering at the base-camp hospital in Bugna. "There's not a single word for depression in our culture," she said. "But there's definitely depression here." The villagers usually come for physical ailments or bring their children, saying the young ones have a burden on their heart. Only after Dr. Aneeta questions them about their losses does their grief come out. Some talk of the earthquake as being a test from God. Others say it was God's punishment — for thieves in neighboring villages, or not praying devoutly enough. "Something is wrong with me and the people here," Yousaf says. "God knows better what is wrong." Most villagers are sleeping in the shelters provided by Alaska Structures or in small tents they got from HDF, the Pakistan Army or elsewhere. The few stone-and-mud structures that have been built since the quake are mostly for sheltering precious livestock — buffaloes and goats that provide milk, and chickens that give eggs and meat. Humans can stay in tents, the villagers say, but where would animals find shelter in winter if they didn't build them one? Hafeeza's family members hastily built such a stable. They gather there by day to cook and eat over a fire, letting the animals in at night while they retreat to their tents. The government had encouraged survivors to stay in tent cities that have gone up at lower elevations. But even at relief camps, there are problems: flimsy tents, crowded conditions and disease. Few have gone from Puthian or Bugna. "All my life, I lived here," Hafeeza says. "I will not leave alone my mother and other relatives. Everybody here will stay here in winter." The challenge is making sure that everyone who stays survives. As of earlier this month, some 50 families in Puthian had yet to receive any kind of shelter. And those who had still had to contend with the cold. The fabric shelters erected by Alaska Structures keep out the wind, rain and snow but they are still cold, and villagers cannot build fires inside for warmth, for cooking or to gather around as they did in their houses before the quake. Richard Hotes, president and CEO of Alaska Structures, says the structures are designed to keep heat in — as long as there is a heat source. The company didn't bring along bulky heaters because "we were moving so fast," trying to get the shelters up before the snow hit and hoping to find the right heaters in Pakistan. Hotes and the Pakistan Association plan to get heaters to the villagers by the end of the month — gas heaters if they're safe to use inside, or perhaps wood stoves with exhaust systems. One Bugna village leader hopes the village can soon build metal-roof structures with stone walls in which people can build fires. The problem — and it's a huge one — is that no one has the money. The Pakistani government has announced it is compensating quake victims the equivalent of about $400 for a damaged house, and about $2,000 to build a one-room shelter. Each family is also supposed to get about $1,600 per death. Government representatives have visited, but no one in Puthian or Bugna has received compensation yet. And building traditional houses here is laborious. Village men must cut chunks of stone from the mountains and haul them on their backs, carry mud up steep trails and cut down trees for beams and doors. Hotes plans to send 300 more fabric shelters by the end of next month, along with heaters, shoes and warm school uniforms, and to return to the villages himself in January. He wants other corporate leaders in the United States to "adopt a mountain" as well — to travel to Pakistan, assess the needs and get their people involved. Other supplies are also needed. Although HDF is distributing cooking oil, flour and sugar about every 15 days, some families are missed, and there is never enough. And the hospital it set up at the base camp can use more drip stands, oxygen tanks and drugs for everything from scabies to pneumonia and — in Basit's case — tuberculosis. After rising earlier than usual one recent morning to complete her chores, Hafeeza focused on getting her son to a hospital in Muzaffarabad for a blood test. Basit was diagnosed last spring when she took him in for a fever and a cough. "Sick, febrile, emaciated," the doctor wrote on his medical chart. Instead of playing cricket with the other village boys, Basit remains at her side, straying only short distances to explore or toss a Frisbee. Because the bus ride to Muzaffarabad costs about 60 cents, Hafeeza and Basit hoped to catch a ride in an HDF ambulance that was to transport a 90-year-old woman with a broken leg to Muzaffarabad. Others from Puthian were hoping to do the same, including a man accompanying his wife, whose arm was broken, and his son who, since the earthquake, couldn't remember his way home from the store. They all squeezed into the ambulance that day. Beyond that, though, the future is less certain. Basit's TB has progressed, and the drugs he likely will need cost more per day than his father earns. A base-camp doctor said he would look at what medics in Muzaffarabad recommend, and try to take care of Basit. But he can't make any promises. Now, two months after the quake, camp doctors are seeing more routine cases than traumatic ones — sinus infections instead of broken legs. Village schools have resumed, and the men are talking about returning to jobs in the cities. Still, it's hard for villagers to make long-term plans when they must first survive the winter. Back in Seattle now, Kamran is on the phone constantly, trying to get hundreds more extreme-weather shelters to the area within the next few weeks. He has identified villagers he talks with regularly. They tell him how families are faring and what they need most. He's worried that hundreds still don't have sturdy shelters. And he's concerned that quake-relief aid is still lagging — the U.S. government, for example, has promised about $510 million, half what it has pledged for tsunami relief. The association has a goal of raising $1 million for the sister- village project by next September. It is advising another Pakistani- American association in California that wants to establish its own sister village. Kamran is humbler now, he says, grateful for everything he once took for granted. Seeing how rural Pakistanis live "was quite an eye- opener." Kamran plans to return to the villages this spring, driven by images that linger in his mind: collapsed roofs everywhere, school books buried in rubble, and Hafeeza's smile as she offered him tea. Janet I. Tu: 206-464-2272 or jtu@s... Thomas James Hurst: 206-464-3894 or thurst@s... Staff researchers David Turim and Miyoko Wolf contributed to this report. --- End forwarded message --- Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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