Whitewashing the Fence

This started as a comment on Chris's post about the editing of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. For more information, check out this CNN piece. I read yet another article on it, and had this thought: One of the main reasons the book should remain unedited is because the use of such language opens an invaluable dialogue about race, about prejudice and hatred, and I think that was one of Twain's main aims in the writing. History can not be whitewashed. (Nobody's talking me into painting THAT fence!) Though it is a work of fiction, I believe that the book really is a key part of Americana and the way people understand an era in US history.

Removing the word is tantamount to acting as though it were never used, and erasing the debasement that an entire race of people suffered. The N word was often used offhandedly and without thought, but that casual insult is perhaps more grievous than an intended strike against another human being, because Black people were not thought of as human beings but an inferior race! The travesty of the past cannot be undone, but to frame it differently, to edit the story of Huck Finn and in doing so edit the perception of human history at the time, to do that is to disrespect those people who lived through it. Though I don't believe the current generation holds responsibility for "the sins of the fathers", we certainly don't have the right to ease the tinge of guilt that remains by acting like it never happened.

1.1.11 (Make a wish!)

Goodbye 2010, Hello 2011!

(shamelessly stolen from Robyn, of course)

The New Year Meme: 2010

1. What did you do in 2010 that you’d never done before?

• Lived with my grandparents
• Lived in a house with a dog and a cat at the same time!
• Photographed headshots (a favour for a friend of a friend).

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I didn't make any last year, and while I have goals for 2011, somehow I don't quite like framing them in terms of "resolutions".

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

A couple of friends, but no one with whom I'm very close.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

Yes, my grandmother.

5. What countries did you visit?

Just the US.

6. What would you like to have in 2011 that you lacked in 2010?

I would like to have vision, which I struggled to find in the previous year.

7. What dates from 2010 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

October 15th, the day that Granny died, and December 25th, the Christmas celebration with my family.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

This is a tough one for me. I have things from the last few years, like my album, and things that will be coming very soon, like my degree. This year specifically, though? Nothing comes to mind!

9. What was your biggest failure?

Not finishing my degree in 2010, I suppose.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

Nothing severe, thankfully. Um, last month I fell down the stairs and I was pretty colourful in the days to follow.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

A new zoom lens, I think, to replace one that broke. (From a 28-135 to 75-300mm). Also, the other day I picked up some more fuzzy socks. I love fuzzy socks.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?

Though I can think of one that would qualify that would have to be a private celebration.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?

No one in my personal life. On a global scale there have been several instances, of course, and watching the news can be both appalling and depressing. (I never turn it on myself, but Grampy often has it on, and I end up "absorbing" more of it than I'd mean to).

14. Where did most of your money go?

Tuition and rent, debt repayment.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Going to see Tirzah in Washington, my post-grad road trip (which has been postponed, so I'm still excited about it!)

16. What song will always remind you of 2010?

I can never tell this until the time has passed. The songs that will remind me of this year...well, I suppose September Song, by Frank Sinatra.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:a) happier or sadder? b) thinner or fatter? c) richer or poorer?

a) both. b) "thinner" seems a funny word for me, but I do weigh a little less than this time last year. c) richer.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Taken better care of myself financially and physically.

(This answer could be [and therefore is] copied directly from Robyn's version).

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?

Feeling sorry for myself.

20. How will you be spending Christmas?

Christmas was spent with my Mum, Grampy and sisters. (Oh, and my brother-in-law, but he sort of gets included in the 'sisters' grouping as an extension of big sis).

21. Did you fall in love in 2010?

Not in a romantic way, no. I'm learning to love the Island, here, appreciating the verdancy that the heavy rains allow, and learning to cherish the sunny days when they happen. Also, it's not as cold!

22. How many one-night stands?

Ew. No.

23. What was your favorite TV program?

I have a few favourites but haven't watched in a while. The top of the list includes Glee, House and Chuck.

24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?

I try to avoid poison whenever possible.

25. What was the best book you read?

Oh man, I read so much fluff that this is actually a hard one to answer! I think that I may have listened to the audio book of 'The Kite Runner' this calendar year, so I'll go with that.

26. What was your greatest musical discovery?

For a musician, I'm entirely awful about getting to know new bands! One of the things I've really enjoyed musically is spending a little more time on my guitar, as well as having a Christian radio station that I can tune into in the car. While the talk is frankly cheesy and even a little obtuse, the music and the message there is good for me.

27. What did you want and get?

I wanted and got to spend time with my Granny in her last few weeks; I wanted to focus and to breathe.

28. What did you want and not get?

My BA.

29. What was your favorite film of this year?

I might just have to say Harry Potter 7. I had a great deal of fun at that one.

30. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I turned 27, and I a) went to the doctor, b) worked a few hours at my child care job, and c) had a yummy roast beef dinner made for me by my Mama.

31. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?

If I appreciated it more!

32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010?

'Fashion concept' sounds pretty far above my pay grade! I like simple, solid colours, and comfort.

33. What kept you sane?

Who said I was?

34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?

Gerry Butler, still, and have for a few years. (Beth at sothefishsaid coined the phrase "Pretend Celebrity Boyfriend" - he's mine). I think a big part of it is the accent. I love Scottish accents.

35. What political issue stirred you the most?

I think one of the issues I have found really interesting and for which my position has actually changed is that of same-sex marriage.

36. Who did you miss?

These last few months, I've been missing Granny, of course, as well as my best friend Emily up in the Loops.

37. Who was the best new person you met?

I would have to say that is probably the kids whom I care for. Nothing makes your day quite like a proclamation of "I wuv you, Hedder" or even just silly dancing around to Veggie Tales songs!

38. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2010.

That life should be lived passionately, and that death is also a part of life.

39. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

"You are more than the choices that you've made

You are more than the sum of your past mistakes

You are more than the problems you create

You've been remade"

- 10th Avenue North

Day 14: A Hero Who Has Let Me Down

Today's is yet another writing prompt that's tricky for me. Any question involving heroes has always been a tough one for me, because I'm not sure I've ever had one! Certainly there have been people who I've admired, but I'm not entirely sure I ever put someone on that kind of pedestal. I think that most likely I learned early on in life that everyone is fallible. This doesn't mean cynicism, understand - just reality. I honestly can not remember a childhood hero or heroine, though at age 4, in DisneyWorld, I apparently asked (the young woman playing) Cinderella if I could come to the castle for a sleepover. All my pre-schooler dreams were crushed, of course, when she kindly told me that at least that night, it wasn't possible.

I've had people I admire let me down, but upon reflection any real failing was on the part of my expectation, not their action.

When I have seen something in a "hero" that to me seems incongruous, I've asked about it. While this has been perceived as a lack of trust, I see it differently. I ask because I trust that person to give me an answer; I trust them enough that I don't believe a challenge will immediately destroy the relationship; I trust that there IS a reason behind what they've done, and I want to give them the opportunity to share that.

As far as heroes, though? I don't see the point of blind trust in a fallible human being, and I believe that's ultimately what leads to disappointment. I can admire someone while still realizing their fallibility, and hopefully that allows me to better understand and respect them. Or maybe this is all far too complicated, and I should just go back to Cinderella. A sleepover at the castle sounds good right about now. Then again, sleep *anywhere* sounds pretty amazing, so on that note - goodnight!

Day 13: A Band or Artist That Has Got Me Through Some Tough Days

I could choose any number of songs and bands here, I know.

Paul Brandt is always a highlight - and I really admire the man in the way he seems to conduct his public and private life. I like that he works with Operation Christmas Child (Mum and I went shopping for a shoebox tonight - good times!) and he's now working on a hand-up program in Calgary to combat homelessness. Basically I just think he's good people. The first song of his, that some may interpret in a more male-female romantic sort of way, but I've always seen as a "God song", is this one:

That's often made me cry and warmed my heart at the same time!

He also covered this fabulous song, by the very talented Nichole Nordeman. Not only does she have a gorgeous voice, she writes the sort of lyrics I'd hope to someday!

Finally, the one that's been closest to my heart lately, as I've been listening to cheesy Christian radio, is a new release by MercyMe. The first time I heard it, it "got" me. There's a lot more to 'beautiful' than people think, and it's not about the outside stuff, not really. This song helped me to feel that - to know that - I have a beautiful soul.

Day 12: Compliments II

Something on which people never compliment me. Well, I can't say I have any brilliant responses to this one, perhaps because I don't hear that which no one says ;-)

Hm, let's see...I have never been complimented on...

...my lovely green eyes (because they're blue)

...my talented accordion playing (somehow never picked that one up)

...my sweet Aston Martin (oh, how I wish!)

...my ability to do a triple lutz or a camel spin or death spiral (that last one looked pretty awesome/freaky at BodyWorlds!)

...my nose ... it's just a regular nose, I suppose! (Ooh, rhyming!)

I know, I have a weird sense of humour. Tough, it's my blog :P What about you? Any brilliant non-compliments in your life?

Day 11: Compliments part I

The thing on which people compliment me most often is my voice. It used to fluster me terribly, but after years and years of playing in front of a couple hundred people a couple times a month, I got used to it! One of the many things being a church musician taught me was how to graciously accept a compliment - at least the first few times. One can only say 'thank you' so many times!

I would always respond with, "Thank you, I really enjoy singing" or "Thank you, I'm so glad you enjoyed it" or something else along those lines. Only once in a little teeny tiny while did I feel like saying, "Shhhh stop paying attention to me!" (Only when on the worship team, if I'm singing a solo, then no, I don't mind if I'm the "star" haha! Just when serving expressly for the purpose of aiding the congregation to worship does it seem peculiar to garner attention.) The fact of the matter is, I do really enjoy singing, and even after years of compliments and 99% confidence that I'm good at it, it's still nice to get that little ego boost once in a while, the confirmation that I am gifted in this way and I'm using it the best I can.

Day 10: Someone I Need to Let Go...

...or wish I didn't know.

I need to let go of Hurt. I could say that I wish I didn't know Grief, but of course if that were the case I'd never fully know the beauty of Joy. In the same way there's no one I wish out of my life; everyone comes with their own ups and downs, periods of trial and blessing. It all balances out, though hopefully the glass a little more than half-full at the end of it all.

This will seem silly, I'm sure, but something semi-related happened today on my drive to the ferry. As I was heading to the terminal, I was driving through one of the most incredible views BC has to offer, and the sun was about to set. It gave life to the phrase "the golden hour", but my enjoyment of it was a bit tainted because I so badly wanted to take a photograph, and at the most incredible point of elevation, it went by in an instant. The very best part is on a freeway, with no stopping allowed due to an avalanche zone. Mum always tells me that I need to just take pictures in my mind when the camera isn't available, but I whined to myself that I wanted to share with friends and family and the wide world of the internet. And then I heard that "still, small voice" one hears about so much: "It's just for you, Beloved."

Rationally, I know that thousands of other people saw that particular gorgeous sunset, hundreds from that view, but emotionally and spiritually? I let go of the idea of the photo and making things the way I wanted, to enjoy a beautiful gift prepared for me by a loving God.

Day 9: Letting Go

Today's 30 Days of Truth topic is "Someone you didn't want to let go, but just drifted apart...". The trouble is, I don't feel particularly comfortable talking about any in specific - because it's less of a drift than a case of being cut loose from the raft unwillingly - and there have just been so many, jettisoned or otherwise . I have a hard time accepting the adage that some friends are "for a season", and at this point in my life, when I've just moved and haven't had the time or emotional energy and motivation to find new friends, I don't really want to think about those I've lost.

I'd rather say that I'm thankful for those I had for whatever season was meant, and look forward to meeting new ones in the future. Sure, it's a blogging cop-out, but it's where I'm at, and that's what Truth is all about. Also, I'm exhausted. Goodnight.

Day 8: Someone Who Made My Life Hell

As much as I could speak of some of the trials of high school, and yes, some of the comments still come easily to mind, the fact is that I would much rather not dwell on that sort of unpleasantness. I refuse to give power - particularly to ONE person - to have such a detrimental effect on my mental health and well-being! I will not allow my life to be made into any kind of "hell", and if anyone treats me in such an abhorrent way, I will end the relationship if possible, or simply distance or remove myself from the toxic behaviour.

This is, of course, not to sound self-righteous or as if I never have any unpleasantness in my life! But the truth is, besides high school bullies, I've never had an awful boss, or a terrible, malicious gossip, or a cruel "friend" in my immediate vicinity. I've been pretty blessed this way, and I am thankful for it.

I hope if you have such a person in your life, that you can make it right, find a way to get out of the situation, because I believe that things can and will be better. Oh, and if I've ever inadvertently been that person to you? Please, feel free to set me straight!

Today, I'm spending time with someone who makes life better:

(Click through to see on flickr.)

Day 7: Life Worth Living

Those who make my life worth living aren't about the grand gestures. People who make my life better just by being in it range from family and dear close friends, to the man at the supermarket who returned someone else's cart - and didn't get a quarter out of the deal, either. It's the pretty little things, like the pretty hydrangeas I took photos of the other day.

It's the little kids I'm babysitting saying, "I wuv you, Hedder". It's looking forward to a short visit in Vancouver to spend time with my lovely cousin, and hopefully some with my sisters as well (schedule dependent, of course!) It's a bedspread I like, a cheapo from IKEA with blue and white sand dollars. It's a million little things, and all the wonderful people in my life, and a million little moments that I get to spend with them. As Brad Paisley would say, "I live for little moments like that".

Day 6: Something I Hope Never To Do

Like everyone else, I imagine, I hope to never, ever have to bury a child (should I have one!). A dear friend of the family lost her son to suicide a little over three years ago, and it very nearly destroyed her. I can not even imagine the pain. While there is really nothing good in that kind of grief, I must admit that in some way, it has been helpful to me - allowing me to understand the effect a suicide on the family.

When I was suicidal, when it was very, very bad - years ago, now - I truly thought my family would be better off without me. I think it's important for people to understand that most suicidal individuals are not thinking rationally. I understood that had I succeeded in my suicide attempt, my family would grieve, but I believed they would "get over it" before too long, and the grief from my death would be less damaging than the grief I caused them by living and by being...well, by being me. I understand better now, having seen some small fragment of the effects. Even though I survived, I know that my actions have left many scars on my family and others who love me. I know now, no matter how tumultuous things seem or are in my mind, that I do have something to offer, and that I can make people's lives better by being here, even as so many wonderful people enrich mine. I hope that I never have to feel that depth of despair again, I hope that I never, never, never give up, and more than anything I hope that, should the demons chase me down again and I can't escape that pain, I hope that I continue to resist. I hope that I can stay strong, and that I can ask for the strength of God and loved ones when I need to. Most of all, I hope to never, ever cause my loved ones that kind of pain again.

(Note: I promise I do not feel suicidal now. I am quite happy, considering the recent loss of my grandmother. This is me, being reassuring - I am okay. And if you're not? If you know what feeling I'm talking about and you need someone to talk to? Please don't hesitate to email me, or to call someone you love or one of the many suicide hotlines available.)

Day 5: Something I Hope to Do

In a broad sense, what I hope to do is to make a difference, even if a small one, in the lives of as many people as I can, while not sacrificing quality for quantity. I hope (and plan!) to ease the hurts of children and young people in this world, the best I can, to help them work through their pasts and embrace their futures. I hope to someday be able to help with something like a Red Cross trauma team, probably on a short-term, emergency basis, dealing with PTSD and other mental health concerns after major disasters like Hurricane Katrina, the flooding in Pakistan, the earthquake in Haiti - to work with other like-minded people to heal body and spirit. I hope to do something, in at least some small way, to help a child out of sexual slavery, because I can not imagine anything more heartbreakingly wrong than what happens to some of these children in places like Cambodia. When I hear their stories I don't know whether to bawl my eyes out or punch a hole in the wall, but I do know that neither of those actions help them, and so other more applied action must be taken. Nothing should be allowed to destroy the amazing exuberance of a small child; they have so much to teach us about finding joy in the everyday.

Photo by yours truly, click through to see on flickr.

I hope that I can live so that the spirit of empathy God has given me is a blessing instead of a curse. I do deeply, truly hope to have children of my own, and more than anything, to fulfill the purpose He has for my life, and to live it to the absolute fullest.

Day 4: Forgiving Someone Else

If mercy is new for me with every sunrise, then it does for everyone else, too. And if someone has hurt me? I'm able to get past it...eventually. Sure, things sneak back in and I have to do an attitude check, remind myself that we're all human.

But if you hurt someone I love? It's a whole other story, a hard story, and one that I can't fix. And I don't know how to let that go.

Day 3: Something I Have To Forgive Myself For

(or, Something for Which I Have to Forgive Myself. *cough*grammar nerd *cough*)

I need to forgive myself for so many things, whether from yesterday or from 10 years ago. There is no grand event that stands out as something for which I'm still angry with myself, but instead small things creep up, and I wish I hadn't carried one situation too far, hadn't spoken harsh words out of anger, perhaps hadn't made certain pivotal decisions quite as carelessly. I think that what it all comes down to, whether it's a big fight with a loved one or an unkind thought about the person who just cut me off in traffic, is forgiving myself for being human. This of course does not mean giving up and never striving to be better, but to allow myself to start every day with a clean slate, and all the potential in the world.

Day 2: Something I Love

It's harder than I thought it would be to choose just one thing! The simple exercise of sitting here and thinking of it, however, is making me smile.

I love my ability to see and appreciate beauty. I was walking around the property earlier today, and I could see beauty in so many places. Even where things are falling apart, becoming dormant for the winter, or just plain dying, I can see something beautiful. The bright red maple pictured here encourages

me on some of my grayest days - it remains vibrant amidst the rain and fog, doesn't allow its colour to be leached out by its surroundings.

Even when humanity is disappointing, or others around me are decrying the loss of decency, most days - and I wish it were every day - but most days, I can find something worth keeping. There is always a bright spot, a redeeming factor. That woman - she has a smile that lights up her whole face, if you can only coax it out of her. That child, mid-tantrum, is secure enough in his parents' love that he knows, even after his meltdown, and during and after the necessary discipline, that love will not reject him. That man rushing about, budging in front of you in line at the grocery store, he's doing his very best to care for his family, even if he doesn't always know how to express that in words.

I love how entrenched I can be in a symphony, or the bluegrass (the lovely Alison Krauss) to which I'm listening now. I love that through music, through photography, and through learning to give grace in some small manner in accordance with what I've received, I am getting better and better at seeing the beautiful. In this, I have many great teachers, many photographers and writers and beautiful souls, but I'd like to thank one in particular today, and that is Karen Walrond, who is all three. She's just come out with a book called The Beauty of Different (The book is available from Bright Sky Press and Amazon) and if you'd like (and of course, I think you would!) you can read about it on her blog by the same name. (Don't ask me how many times I had to check that spelling!) I encourage you to enter the contest - I did, and gained an additional entry by linking to it here.

More importantly, though, I want to thank Karen for helping `me to learn better how to see the beauty in everyone and everything around us. That learning, and looking, has helped me to learn that the vision in me is something that I love.

On Being Brave, and Day 1

I commented on my dear Robyn's blog yesterday that if I were to attempt NaBloPoMo this year, I might try the '30 Days of Truth'. And then I realized that would probably be terrifying, so I chickened out and said I may write it in a paper journal instead. However, over the last day or so I've come to realize that without the accountability factor, I don't think I'd be brave enough to delve into some of these tough questions, and so, with some judicious editing, of course, I have decided that I will indeed post each day in November, with 30 truths.

Day 1: Something I hate about myself.

I hate that this starts with hate. While it would be more challenging, I'd prefer to start with something I love about myself, because then I might have less trouble choosing just one. So, deep breath...

I hate that I so rarely follow through. Whether it's cleaning house, taking better care of myself physically (or mentally, or emotionally!), academics, you name it - I can start off with the greatest intentions, but as time wears on, I wear out.

I know that it is partly the discouragement and low spirits that come with clinical depression, the lack of motivation is not purely my own, but I also know it is something that I can work at, chip away, little by little. Maybe that's why I'm doing this - to remind myself that I am capable of finishing things, albeit simple and perhaps unimportant ones. I'm taking this chance to remind myself that every day is a new day, and today, I can start working on one of those hated characteristics, to come a little bit closer to wholly loving myself.

(gag, saccharine, I know, I know. Bear with me, this could end up actually being fun.)

Controversial Topics

Last night in small group, we were talking about a controversial topic. I love talking about things, though, because it helps me to distill and articulate what, exactly, I believe. When Kim shared an article about the Pro-Choice movement, I started writing what I meant to be a fairly brief comment. Instead, it turned into the following post:

I have really mixed feelings on a lot of levels about abortion, but a law preventing state funding in cases of maternal jeopardy, rape and incest?? I am one of those who finds it morally wrong - but not everything morally wrong is illegal, or should be. Because, of course, though their are a lot of similarities in the American justice system to Judeo-Christian beliefs, they are not in fact the same. I have always been pro-life for moral reasons, and because I do also believe that abortion can cause women a lot of harm as well, physically from complications - though I know these are fairly rare and that it's a basic medical procedure - but also potentially psychologically. I'd like to see a lot more support for women facing that choice, from counselors who are not biased one way or another.
I'd also like to see more intelligent sex education - that yes, does include abstinence, because it really is the only 100% effective way of preventing pregnancies and STDs - but not abstinence-only, because people need to be fully educated to make whatever decision they settle upon, and I want to see better access to and insurance coverage of birth control for women. I truly hate when abortion is used as a backup plan for people who were careless with birth control. I know, as I just mentioned, that no form of birth control is 100% effective, but when people have unprotected sex and use abortion to "clean up their mess" I feel that is taking advantage of a serious medical procedure best reserved for emergencies. This particular thought, I know, is shaped by an acquaintance I had in high school, who, at 15, came to me one week and said, "I'm pregnant" and the next week said, "I got rid of it." I was only 16 myself, and I cried a lot of tears for that lost life. Over the years, she went on to have another abortion and an unplanned pregnancy that she carried to term, and kept the baby. I found myself incredibly frustrated by what to me seemed to be a failure to learn from the past and a total abuse of a system taken for granted.
For those considering abortion, I would encourage them to never, ever take the decision lightly. I know that many or most people don't, but I feel the need to stress that. There are options, and yes pregnancy could be very difficult and challenging at the wrong time in your life, but I do wish more people would strongly consider adoption. It's so sad that when there are families who are infertile and longing for a child of their own and wanting and waiting to adopt (or families who already have children who possess that extra grace and love to take in another child), when there are millions of healthy pregnancies being terminated in North America (this discussion opened around American law, but I'm Canadian, so I now broaden the topic slightly.)
All of that said, abortion is legal, and I believe it will stay that way. My moral opposition does not translate to a legal argument, and a person does have a right to control their own body, under the law. And so, as much as I could never do it myself, as much as every lost child grieves my heart, and as much as I believe it to be a morally wrong choice - that is my choice. I believe that freedom of choice involves being able to make fully educated decisions for yourself. I advocate full and unbiased education. Whenever possible, even when difficult, I would urge women to choose life. But ultimately, that is what it is, and what it must be: a choice.
So I find myself in a complicated position, aligning fairly closely with Hilary Clinton's view that "abortion should be safe, legal, and rare." I am right in the middle of two diametrically and sometimes violently opposed viewpoints. I am pro-life. I pray that everyone would choose life, but I recognize that right of choice. I am pro-life, and I am pro-choice. I don't know if that would make me any friends in either camp.

Adventures in Islam, Part VI

In which I finally get to talk to a Muslim woman :)

Faisal had given me the number of a sister who was willing to talk to me, and so one evening I telephoned her, and we arranged to meet Sunday afternoon at her family's store. This was how I found out that she and her husband run one of the halal markets in town. She is a lovely woman, kind and friendly, and welcoming as she wrangles her children while we await their father. Her name is Asifa, her husband is Amir, and they opened the market in February. Before that, they ran a gas station, here in [town], and previously in Revelstoke. They also lived in Windsor, Ontario, and Calgary. Asifa immigrated to Canada from Pakistan at fourteen years of age in 1992 with her father and siblings; her mother died when she was 7 or 8. Amir came to Canada in 1997, his immigration sponsored by Asifa's family, and they married three days after his arrival, their wedding day the first day they met. They speak Urdu in their home, the native language of Pakistan, and encourage it so their children can communicate easily with grandparents. Asifa is happy in her marriage; she says her husband is a good companion. The marriage was arranged between their families, and Asifa said that arranged marriages are largely based upon family reputations. She said that she trusted her family's judgment, as they knew her well, and “God is planning everything”. Even with arranged marriage, she said, the bride and bridegroom have the right to refuse. The couple has a fairly traditional division of household labour, at least from the Western view: she does the inside jobs and he takes care of outside chores such as garbage, lawn mowing and the like. He runs the store, and she is focused on child care. However, they will fill in for one another as needed, and Asifa stressed the nature of the relationship as companions and partners in raising children. For example, Asifa will mind the store on Fridays when Amir goes to prayer, and Amir was in charge of minding the children while Asifa and I spoke; he also served us some delicious samosas to snack on.

Asifa and Amir have four children, all boys and all under the age of 10. Though they do not practice any birth control beyond what Asifa called “natural measures”, she does not plan to have any more. Birth control is not strictly forbidden, she said, but definitely frowned upon, and abortion is only allowed if medically necessary to the mother's health. When I asked her if she felt she'd been well prepared for the intimacies of marriage, especially with her mother dying at a young age, she smile and said she had married older sisters and a very open relationship. This openness made Asifa very easy to talk to, and very informative about details of being female and Muslim. For example, I was surprised to learn that women are not supposed to pray during menstruation. They may go to the mosque – Asifa has, and the other women wondered why she didn't join in prayer, because her whole family was going – but not pray. Also, Islamic law says that a child must be weaned after two years, pregnant or nursing women are exempted from fasting during Ramadan – the days may be “made up” later if they are able – and the details of cleanup after accidents by young children is determined by whether or not they are nursing. Asifa covers her hair when in public, but said her sister follows very strictly, showing only her eyes, and wearing gloves. Makeup is permitted, Asifa said, but only when it will be seen exclusively by other women or her husband. When I asked Asifa about her views on polygamy, she said she would be alright with a second wife, and when I asked about the possibility of jealousy, she said that both wives would live together like sisters. But, she said, though everything must be equal, the husband would always love his first wife most.

I also asked about her knowledge of halal foods, as she and Amir run a specifically halal market. Halal meat, she told me, must be slaughtered in a specific way: the animals may not be shot, but slaughtered with a knife, and the takbir (“Allahu Akbar”) must be said as they are killed. Upon the birth of a child, an animal sacrifice is to be made by the parents of a goat or a lamb, two animals fora boy and one for a girl. Pork is definitely haram, and in fact they may not even say the word “pig”: when we spoke, Asifa spelled it out one letter at a time. If she were to say it, she explained, she would have to wash her tongue three times. Other very specific ablutions must also be performed by the devout Muslim. Before prayer, one must wash the hands to the elbow, the mouth, feet and face. The face may be washed a maximum of three times, and this must all be done with the right hand, right side first, except for the nose which must be cleaned with the left hand. This is called wadhu, and the purified state can last between prayers, unless one comes into contact with the genitals (one's own, or when aiding a young child with the washroom or diapers) or the bodily fluids of a child who is no longer nursing. The mosque in [town] is currently working on building new wadhu facilities for their members to use.

When the female members come together for “female circle”, Asifa said, there are usually 6 or 7 ladies, often with small children. Larger mosques, she noted, will provide childcare. They spend time memorizing scriptures, translating, or praying. They recite the second daily prayer at around 1:15pm at this time of year, then eat. When I asked her about Dr. S___'s theory that women were more comfortable praying at home, she thought perhaps it was more likely due to responsibilities of child care, including nap and school schedules and potty training. The “female circle” though, is a fairly important part of a [town] Muslim woman's social life, if she can make it. Asifa met one friend at the mosque who has children of a similar age, so they meet for the children to play and the mothers to talk, and that friend introduced her to another, and so on. Also, she mentioned that she has come upon new friends by seeing a woman with her head covered shopping in the large supermarket, approaching her and starting a conversation.

Still, for both the men and the women, the mosque seems to play a highly significant social role, and most interactions appear to be with others of the Muslim faith. This may be easier partially because many people are immigrants and relatively new in town, and also it would help to avoid somewhat awkward social situations. For example, I did not learn it was inappropriate for a Muslim man to look a woman in the eye until saying goodbye to Asifa and Amir after conducting my final interview. Finally this explained why none of the men arriving at prayer at the mosque for my first contact would make eye contact!

------------------------------------------------------------------

Want to start at the beginning? Part I is here.

Adventures in Islam, Part V

Speaking to two young men on campus one afternoon.

My next interviewees were two young men, MBA students from [my local] University, Talib and Ibrahim. Both are here temporarily as a function of their studies. Ibrahim is from Saudi Arabia, the birthplace of Islam and the location of Mecca. Talib was born in India, but moved to Dubai, where he was raised, as an infant. I asked him what it meant for him to be a Muslim, here and now. He explained that he saw it as an attitude of accountability to God, that living as a true Muslim meant to be “constantly reminded about your creator”. While he finds support from the community, he stressed that it is individual background and one's own devotion to the faith that mattered most. He asserted that one did not simply “inherit the title” by being raised in a Muslim family, and that being “Muslim” simply meant being submitted to God – and he and Ibrahim agreed that all creatures on earth are and must be submitted to God – but the ideal towards which they strive is to be mo'men, or “faithful”. Like Dr. S___, Talib emphasized the importance of following the Qu'ran, but he had a slightly different metaphor than the physician. Instead of calling it a prescription, he compared it to an owner's manual, such as one for a telephone or a car. The Qu'ran is a manual for life, he and Ibrahim said, and God, as the creator, knows best how to run our lives. Talib elaborated, “If in a petrol car, I put diesel, it will not operate!” Though some rules have now been proven to have scientific basis, such as using a toothbrush – or more traditionally, a miswak, something of a cross between a brush and a toothpick, which both men said they used back home – Talib and Ibrahim said that most people do not look for the reasons behind the rules.

I asked them how being Muslim affected their social lives, particularly at [our university]. Ibrahim said that he found it did, especially when other students are immersed in the drinking and partying lifestyle common to many, as alcohol is forbidden to Muslims. Talib emphasized that he did not feel like he was missing out, and felt he could interact easily and have open conversations about religion with other students. “I couldn't imagine anything better happening to me” he said, “than being a Muslim”. I then asked about restrictions, what sort of things from which the Qu'ran or Hadith directed them away. “Everything is halal, except that which is haram”, or everything is lawful except that which is forbidden. They mentioned alcohol, or anything that could be an intoxicant such as other drugs. Also considered haram were premarital sex and birth control, though they qualified the latter could be acceptable if necessary for the woman's health. Additionally, like Jewish persons, Muslims are forbidden from eating pork or any pork products. Ibrahim mentioned that he'd been meaning to go to the halal market – there are two in town, now – to find some special Jello that didn't use ground pig bone. The observance of halal and how strictly it is followed can depend on the beliefs of the individual and how strictly they feel they must follow the rules as laid out.

I also spoke to Talib and Ibrahim about the role of women in Islam. Talib said, “How Islam treats women is like a jewel”. Ibrahim cited a story in which the Prophet was asked whom he should favour, between his mother and his father. Three times the Prophet was asked, and three times he answered, “Your mother.” The fourth time he was asked, he responded with “your father”, and Ibrahim said that this demonstrated that the mother should be favoured three times more than the father. Mohammed, they said, set an example of treating women well, and even that the first time in history women were allowed to vote was when Mohammed was voted in as a religious leader. “You need to separate between culture and religion”, Ibrahim told me. In some Muslim countries, the federal law may been different or even entirely opposite of Islamic law. Islamic law provides for women, through their dowry, which stays in their name upon their marriage, and though a parent's assets upon their death are divided with two-thirds going to the male heir and only one-third to the female, the law dictates that the male is entirely responsible for the financial care of the female, paying all her expenses.

According to Talib and Ibrahim, a wife has a lot of power. She may seek divorce if she is unhappy for any reason – though the husband does not have to appear before a (almost certainly male) judge in petition, and can simply divorce a woman by saying “I divorce you” three times – and “she can make his life like hell”. An unmarried woman has the right to refuse her suitor, they said, and the qualities a suitor seeks in a wife value her character and her role as a mother-educator for their children and companion over her physical beauty. The main responsibility of the woman is as a mother, and she works outside the home only if she chooses to, and any income is solely hers to retain. A man may not take a second or third or fourth wife – up to four wives for one husband are allowed per Islamic law – without the permission of his first wife, and he must provide equally for all of them, including separate households if they so desire. Still, if this is the literal Islamic law, there have also been damaging interpretations and as mentioned, a country's law may be completely different, enforced in the name of God. The conversation between the two gentlemen and I was filled with questions on my part, and admittedly some bias, but they were gracious in answering my questions with good humour. Still, I thought it would be more informative in this particular arena if I were able to speak to a woman.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Want to start at the beginning? Part I is here.

Adventures in Islam, Part IV

After my great horror at reading about events in Bosnia that through much of my sheltered life I had no idea had ever happened, the chance to speak to Ibishi meant a lot to me. I probably shouldn't say it, it's not terribly professional...but he was my favourite ;)

Though Ibishi, an Albanian man born in Kosovo, immigrated to Canada more than ten years ago, his English is not his strongest language (he also speaks Albanian, Serbo-Croat, Macedonian, Montenegrin and Bosnian) – though not nearly as weak as my Albanian – we had some trouble communicating, but Faisal endeavoured to help us the best he could. (Please note that because of that language barrier, this record may contain more paraphrase, or when I do use a direct quote, it may not follow conventional rules of English grammar.) I asked Ibishi, if it was not too rude or impertinent, could he please tell me how old he was. He laughed and said that certainly he had nothing to be ashamed of in his age, and told me that he was sixty-four. When I reflected on the fact that my own father is 61, it seemed Ibishi looked much older. His face is heavily lined, and his smile, though infectious, is far from toothpaste-commercial perfection. He has not had an easy life. When I thanked him for speaking to me about his time in Bosnia, and said that I knew it must be difficult, he shrugged and lightheartedly said, “Is life.” He spoke of Slobodan Milošević, that the things he was inciting and doing were “slowly slowly going worse and worse and worse”. There were soldiers in his province, he said, because of the gold and silver mines, and the land and climate were ideal for agriculture; it was a rich province. He told me how a Serbian soldier was pressuring him to leave, that he would “maybe be killed”. He had a job, he said – as though to prove his worth – “Lost job, papers...burn!” – the emotion is evident in his eyes. The documents, his accreditation for the 28 years he had spent working construction, working with rebar, were destroyed. “He stole everything”, speaking of the solider, “burned me house!” He paused, looked away. “Bosnia was very hard, very difficult”.

He spoke of the previous relationships with Serb and Croat neighbours, how there had been peace, that people would intermarry. He shook his head at the senselessness of it all. “He take a gun”, Ibishi said, motioning and making rat-a-tat machine gun sounds, “and kill everybody for no reason!” He told me how his second son, only in high school at the time, was stopped by the Serbian military, and along with the eleven friends with whom he was walking, was lined up against and wall and threatened, that the soldier had held the point of a bayonet to his throat. His son survived, but Ibishi explained that even now, he has “bad dream[s]...just start[s] to cry”. He likely suffers from post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD, which is unsurprising given such experiences and memories.

When Ibishi and his family were leaving his home province, trying to escape, they were once again accosted by the military. What little they had managed to escape with was stolen or destroyed. “He had power”, Ibishi said, “I had empty hands”. In spite of losing so much, his job, his home, everything he had worked for, being forced from his birthplace and herded through refugee camps, Ibishi remains remarkably positive. He keeps his perspective on those things which matter most. “Somebody losed all family”, he said, and Ibishi, his wife and his five children all escaped with their lives. They immigrated among the 5000 refugees the government of Canada would allow, and landed in Nova Scotia. When asked by the immigration officials where he wanted to settle, he said, “I want to go to some warm place”. He was sponsored by a family in [town], and now lives here with his wife, one son and his daughter. The other three boys now live in Calgary. Ibishi expresses happiness that they all have jobs; employment – and likely the feeling of contribution and feeling of usefulness it can impart – seems very important to him. Even with struggles and trials that could easily destroy the human spirit, Ibishi remains thankful. I wonder if his belief in God and his sovereignty has helped to bring him the peace he now seems to have.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Want to start at the beginning? Part I is here.