I need a laptop. I mean, it’s such a hassle to have to wait for one of the computers at school, or to have to wait until I get home to use the desktop, or not be able to go on whenever I want. Laptops are so much more convenient. Which is why I need a laptop so I can do my homework and assignments, and do my readings online, and besides, everyone has a laptop. There are so many reasons as to why I need a laptop…

But is it really a need? Do I really need it or do I just want it? How many of us out there say that we just absolutely have to a certain electronic device, or a specific hair care product, or perfume, or video game without really taking into account that we don’t really have a need for it? Our wants always overpower our needs and we tend to find a way or a reason to make it seem like a necessity.

Recently having returned from a two month visit to India, I’ve realized now how much we take for granted here. So many of the things we have are not necessary in our lives, yet we buy it anyways. For example, in India, tissue boxes were not available in every house. Many people did not buy them because they felt they were a waste of money. They often carried around handkerchiefs or used old cloths to wipe up spills. That is just one of the many examples we see in less developed countries. Those things we take for granted are considered a luxury in some parts of LEDC’s (Less Economically-Developed Countries). (Note that some parts of India are extremely well-developed, and many in Mumbai live better than most Canadians).

What I noticed while I was living with my grandmother is that many people don’t really have those wants that we constantly feel. It’s not necessarily that they can’t afford it, but that they know how to control their desires and, with exceptions of course, live a more humble life. They buy the essentials, their needs, and move on. I felt so much more grateful for the way I live my life here. But what am I really getting at? That we cannot control ourselves? That I’m a changed woman after returning from my visit? That we ought to boycott Kleenex and carry a handkerchief for the rest of our lives?

Well, let me first draw your attention to a dreadful situation that occurred recently in Pakistan, another LEDC.

“On Tuesday, September 15, 2009, in Karachi, Pakistan, approximately 18 women died in a stampede while they were waiting for handouts of flour. Police did not monitor or organize the event properly because they were not informed beforehand. Mohammad Amin khan of Karachi Civil Hospital said some of the women had suffocated and that there were at least 20 bodies. This unfortunate event occurred in the Holy month of Ramadan. (The Associated Press)

You hear it all the time: “be grateful for what you have, or be thankful for what God has given you.” It’s become so repetitive that we’re immune to it. We’ve become desensitized to the harsh realities that LECD countries face. Newspapers, magazines and television sources are constantly bombarding us with stories of the pain and suffering that many in less developed countries are facing. It didn’t really shock me that there were people out there fighting and dying just to get some flour to cook a meal at home. But what did shock me was that, although my heart did go out to those poor souls, it was just another story to me. It was just another situation that occurred somewhere else that didn’t really concern me. With few exceptions, many people are the same as well. They read the story, feel sorry for the victim(s) in question, and move on with their lives. And what’s worse is that we’ll never change. No matter how horrific the incident, we cannot help but move on with our lives. Nor do we even appreciate the bounties that have been provided to us by the Almighty any more so than normal. Just think, the lives of the deceased in Pakistan and those who were affected is just another news article to us. Just another sad day in their already sad lives.

Maybe we should stop and think. And maybe, we should donate that money to those who can’t even afford a meal? Maybe we should sit down and take a longer time during our salaat to lift our hands and make dua (prayer).Only He can provide for us, but He can take it away from us in a matter of seconds as well.

My point was not to tell you to stop buying toilet paper because we can use leaves, or to stop buying ink because we can write out our 45 page essays. Limit yourself and truly figure out the difference between your wants and needs. Understand that sometimes you don’t need to have it all and realize that there are others out there who have nothing. We are a more advanced country, so we do have more use for the things we may buy because they make our everyday lives more efficient. My point was for you to understand this—what we may take for granted are considered luxuries to others.

I still want that laptop though.

 

One of the biggest things I missed during Ramadan was eating out. Which I do a lot. So, in appreciation of eating out, I am writing a review of my favorite little hangout in Downtown Toronto: Hamdi!

I used to ride past this little unassuming Somalian joint on Carlton Street almost every day in my first year of university. Finally, I decided I would go in. And the rest, as they say, is history. Since then, it's become my top spot when I'm hungry, exhausted, in a rush and in need of soul food.

The place may look small from the front, but walk in and you have about two levels of semi-decadence. Warm lighting, lots of seating, cute decorations and BBC playing from the giant flat-screen on the wall. When I walked in and heard the broadcast from UK, I knew this was the place for me.

It seems like everything you order is ten bucks: no more and no less. No matter what I order, I never seem to pay more than ten bucks. Maybe it's just me, but this same experience is corroborated by a lot of other Hamdi regulars.

Sure, the food is not Yorkville refined and the menu is not super diverse. It's short, sweet and to the point. It's true "home food" perfect for a cold winter's day. The servings are huge and, for ten bucks, worth every penny. So what if the bathrooms are a little sketch? And yes, the waiters are not at your beck and call at every minute. But it's a lot of fun to just hang out and chill. Whenever I go with friends, I pull up some extra chairs, put my feet up and stay even after the meal is done. As a student, I'd much rather go some place a little less formal - but with lots of charm and personality.

The last time I was there I ordered the signature dish " Rice & Roasted Goat meat."  And with every meal comes the Somalian signature accessories: a banana and mango juice!

And if they forget your banana, tell the waiter he owes you two.

Trust me, it works every time.

ASSALAAMOALAIKUM fellow readers.

Now, did you reply “WALIKUMASSALAAM” after reading that first line?

How many of say you actually say Salaam and don’t get a reply back? Or worse, how many of you are the ones who don’t reply?

Saying Salaam to a fellow Muslim is Sunnah, and replying to it is Wajib (compulsory). Nowadays, we are so caught up with western culture, we say “Hey, what’s up? How are you?” upon meeting someone. And when we depart, we say, “Alright, take care! Bye!”

Have we forgotten our own culture? Have we forgotten our distinct identity as Muslims? Even when you enter someone’s house (or your own) you should enter by saying Salaam. Even if no one is in there, it increases barakah (blessing). Don’t hesitate to be the first to Salaam whenever you see a fellow Muslim; whether you know them or not.

This post is inspired by a lecture given by Shaikh Rafiq Sufi on this topic.  He mentioned that some people wait for someone else to say. Even if someone is a “Chaudhry” or a “Khan” (or other common Muslim last names) they won’t say Salaam unless someone else has offered it to them. It perhaps make them feel subconsciously superior. Or they are ashamed to highlight their own religiosity by being the first to say it; for fear of being seen as un-Canadian and fresh-off-the-boat.

Apart from the issue of actually saying Salaam, there are some who mess it up when they do say it. Instead of “ASSALAAMOALAIKUM” they rush it and say, “slaamalaikum”. Or, they say “Allahfiz”, or “Khudafiz” instead of “Allah Hafiz” and “Khuda Hafiz” ALLAH/KHUDA means “God”, and HAFIZ means “the protector.”  Therefore the complete phrase means, “Allah the Protector”. This is a very strong sentiment which should not be mispronounced.

Are we really that caught up with our lives that we can’t even spare a few extra seconds to say the name of GOD properly? We have the time to walk down the street or the halls of school between classes and say, “Yo what’s up, how’s it going”, but not say a proper Salaam? Or maybe it’s not a time issue at all. Are you embarrassed? And if so: of what? Think long and hard about what stops you from saying InshaAllah, or Salaam or MashaAllah in front of non-Muslims or other Muslims.

Yes, we reside, study and work in the west. Yes, our lives are here. But our culture and our faith is not something we should modernize completely. Or else there are no roots left to hold on to.

Please note that there are also some restrictions on saying Salaam. You need not say it when you are in the mosque, or when someone is eating. This is because we say Salaam to remember Allah. When in the masjid, you are already communicating with the Lord. Thus, by saying Salaam, we are interrupting that mental state of being. Secondly, we don’t want someone to choke and die; so there are practical reasons to avoid opening your mouth to say Salaam while eating. 

It’s hard to get rid of habits we’ve developed for so long. But we have to be strong to re-build what’s been lost over the years. If you say it with your head held high, it becomes cool, not F.O.B-by. For example: due to the Algerian immigrant wave in France, barakah has become a French synonym for luck, used in non-Muslim vocabulary. In this way, the words we are sometimes embarrassed to say can become unique and special if only we dare to use them. Your language becomes your tag; and it stands as a method of communication with the rest of the Ummah; like a special tongue for an extraordinary club. Remember, we get only sawab for saying Salaam; so we have nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

Allah Hafiz.

Toronto has become home to an international controversy since a group of 1500 signatories signed an open letter to boycott the Toronto International Film Festival (not to be confused with the Toronto Palestine Film Festival which debuted on Saturday September, 26, 2009).

The 34th annual TIFF took place from September 9 - September 18th this year and boasts over 300 films.  So what could the festival have possibly done to piss of this group of Palestine supporters? 

Here's a copy of their open letter, published on September 2nd, by the group called "No Celebration to Occupation."  Read the issue straight from the horse's mouth:

An Open Letter to the Toronto International Film Festival:

September 2, 2009


As members of the Canadian and international film, culture and media arts communities, we are deeply disturbed by the Toronto International Film Festival’s decision to host a celebratory spotlight on Tel Aviv.We protest that TIFF, whether intentionally or not, has become complicit in the Israeli propaganda machine.

In 2008, the Israeli government and Canadian partners Sidney Greenberg of Astral Media, David Asper of Canwest Global Communications and Joel Reitman of MIJO Corporation launched “Brand Israel,” a million dollar media and advertising campaign aimed at changing Canadian perceptions of Israel. Brand Israel would take the focus off Israel’s treatment of Palestinians and its aggressive wars, and refocus it on achievements in medicine, science and culture. An article in Canadian Jewish News quotes Israeli consul general Amir Gissin as saying that Toronto would be the test city for a promotion that could then be deployed around the world. According to Gissin, the culmination of the campaign would be a major Israeli presence at the 2009 Toronto International Film Festival. (Andy Levy-Alzenkopf, “Brand Israel set to launch in GTA,” Canadian Jewish News, August 28, 2008.)

In 2009, TIFF announced that it would inaugurate its new City to City program with a focus on Tel Aviv. According to program notes by Festival co-director and City to City programmer Cameron Bailey, “The ten films in this year’s City to City programme will showcase the complex currents running through today’s Tel Aviv. Celebrating its 100th birthday in 2009, Tel Aviv is a young, dynamic city that, like Toronto, celebrates its diversity.”

The emphasis on 'diversity' in City to City is empty given the absence of Palestinian filmmakers in the program. Furthermore, what this description does not say is that Tel Aviv is built on destroyed Palestinian villages, and that the city of Jaffa, Palestine’s main cultural hub until 1948, was annexed to Tel Aviv after the mass exiling of the Palestinian population. This program ignores the suffering of thousands of former residents and descendants of the Tel Aviv/Jaffa area who currently live in refugee camps in the Occupied Territories or who have been dispersed to other countries, including Canada. Looking at modern, sophisticated Tel Aviv without also considering the city’s past and the realities of Israeli occupation of the West Bank and the Gaza strip, would be like rhapsodizing about the beauty and elegant lifestyles in white-only Cape Town or Johannesburg during apartheid without acknowledging the corresponding black townships of Khayelitsha and Soweto.

We do not protest the individual Israeli filmmakers included in City to City, nor do we in any way suggest that Israeli films should be unwelcome at TIFF. However, especially in the wake of this year’s brutal assault on Gaza, we object to the use of such an important international festival in staging a propaganda campaign on behalf of what South African Archbishop Desmond Tutu, former U.S. President Jimmy Carter, and UN General Assembly President Miguel d’Escoto Brockmann have all characterized as an apartheid regime.

This letter has some very high-profile signatories and supporters, including:

Udi Aloni, filmmaker, Israel; Elle Flanders, filmmaker, Canada; Richard Fung, video artist, Canada; John Greyson, filmmaker, Canada; Naomi Klein, writer and filmmaker, Canada; Kathy Wazana, filmmaker, Canada; Cynthia Wright, writer and academic, Canada; b h Yael, film and video artist, Canada.

 (Naomi Klein is probably the most well-known to Toronto youth: she wrote Shock Doctrine and - the extremely famous - No Logo. A leftist bible; it is one of the most influential books of the anti-globalization movement.)

"No Celebration to Occupation" has a blog site they are using to update readers on their issue. We will definitely be following along. 

There are many ways to read into this. Is it fair for TIFF to showcase Israel, and not Palestine? Is TIFF taking sides? And, is this really Israeli propaganda?

I fear that many will perceive this entire situation as another instance of self-righteous Arab whining. However, the group's long list of supporters might suggest otherwise.

  This past July, the Uyghur Muslims (pronounced Wee-ghurs) made the news when a series of violent clashes between the Uyghur, Chinese state police, and non-Uyghur Chinese residents in the city of Ürümqi lead to the deaths of 197 people.

Which begged the question: who are the Uyghurs, and why should we care about them?

The Uyghurs are a group of ethnically Turkish people who live in the Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region in China. The region became automomous in 1955 and has long been pressing for complete autonomy, by means of a sovereign state called Uyghurstan, or East Turkistan.

Round faced, pale-skinned and dark-haired; as I look at pictures taken in and around Uyghur, the people share a slight resemblance to the ethnic Hazara minority of Afghanistan, who are descended from the ancient Mongolians. (An interesting note: the movie The Kite Runner, set in Afghanistan, was actually filmed in Kashgar!)

And as I read more about Xinjiang, I realize that it’s a fairly large place for something so off our mental radars. Xinjiang is about similar in size to Iran, and it is one sixth the size of China’s total territory. It houses about 19.6 million people, which is about eight times more than Toronto’s population. The capital (an industrial city) is Ürümqi, and the region borders India to the South, Mongolia to the east, Russia to the north, and Kazakhstan, Afghanistan and Pakistan to the west.

Xinjiang is home to Kashgar, an important and ancient oasis city that was once a hub on the famous ancient Silk Road; the vast network of trade routes connecting East, South & Western Asia to the Mediterranean, Africa & Europe. This road was extremely crucial to the rise of many military empires, including the Islamic one.

The Uyghur people were once rulers of a vast empire that stretched from the Caspian to Manchuria, from 745 to 840 CE. The Empire was eventually overrun by the Kirghiz, another Turkic people, and the majority of the tribal groups under the Empire migrated to what is now Xinjiang. Conversions to Islam began about a century later.

We should care then, beause Xinjiang is inextricably linked to Islamic history. Currently, it has commercial and economic ties with South Asia too (Kashgar’s sister city is Gilgit, Pakistan; near the Afghan border in the Northern Area). Historian George Michell writes in Kashgar: Oasis City on China’s Old Silk Road that Kashgar is the “best preserved example of a traditional Islamic city to be found anywhere in Central Asia.” This makes it a tourist hotspot; attracting more than a million backpackers and Islamophiles per year.

Not yet affected by the most modern trappings of life, the Uighurs still live in small one or two story houses, in varying states of disrepair. The Sunday market in Kashgar has not yet begun to sell TVs and DVDs. Instead artisans and blacksmiths sell wood carvings, pots, fresh baked bread and hand-made Islamic accessories. Michael Wines for The New York Times reports that the azaan is still called from the rooftops of the mosques, and the voices carry through narrow lanes. There are no loudspeakers or microphones in Kashgar. According to travel guides, you have not seen Xinjiang until you have seen the Kashgar Sunday Market. The Observer, at Guardian.co.uk calls it the "the best market town" in the world.

The Old City is also home to the Id Kah Mosque, the largest mosque in China. Jum’aa prayers attract about 10,000 Muslims every week, and the mosque itself is able to house about ten thousand more than that still.

But the fate of the Uyghurs is uncertain, and has been for quite some time.