This week I went to two different vegan restaurants. One was a Chinese restaurant near Yorkdale that was almost entirely ‘fake meat’ dishes, while the other was a trendy restaurant on Queen’s Street. We headed over to Fressen for brunch, not knowing quite what to expect. I’ll be honest, even though I’ve had enough experience at this point to know better, I still wonder how vegan cuisine can still have flavour minus dairy and meat. Maybe that says more about omni and vegetarian food, that because we’re so dependent on tossing some cheese or meat into a dish to give it a good taste, we’re missing out on good cooking. Hmmm.

Last but not least, our food:

Mixed green salad with sesame soy carrot dressing and sprouted quinoa

Scrambled seasoned marinated tofu with a black bean tortilla

Sweet corn fritters with corn, zucchini and sweet potato with spinach and herbs

I ended up getting the corn fritters, which were awesome. We each got plenty of food for our $9 tab, I could barely finish my entire plate since they gave us so much. After that we tried to go see The Dark Knight which was sold out even though we were there about an hour early, so I ended up seeing Hancock instead. So it was at the movies that I had another one of those ‘ugly’ moments from my Day 11 post, once again trying to figure out what to eat at the movie theatre. Most snacks I’d typically get have some sort of dairy in it, no point in popcorn without butter, and nachos come with cheese. Thank God for Burger King being too cheap to use real eggs in their batter, so it turns out their onion rings and fries are vegan.

Next up, farmer’s market at Dufferin Grove.

So that makes me over 1/3 of the way through this 30 day vegan thing.

It’s been surprisingly easy so far. I’ve come to the conclusion that lacto-ovo vegetarians are pansies, especially the ones concerned with animal rights enough to boycott the meat industry. I remember watching a documentary called the Corporation once where they discussed American agribusiness, and it seems as though the dairy industry is just as bad as the meat industry in many respects. Not to mention that cows are injected with all sorts of steroids and antibiotics that are illegal for human use. All I know is that when I go back to dairy, it’s going to be from free range and organic farms.

Something else I’ve realized is how expensive it is to be vegan. I’ve been eating a lot less processed food, and with that there’s been a bit of a jump on my grocery bill. But at the same time I’m able to be full with eating a bit less, partially because I’m not eating processed foods, and I’m also more conscious about my health to avoid dying from malnutrition this month. Not to mention that I’ve been cooking nonstop since I’ve started, which saves me the money that would have otherwise went to pizza or various overpriced dishes at our local sushi restaurant.

So over the last ten days like a loser, I’ve taken a few shots of some of what I’ve been eating. I’ll definitely have some more interesting things to share in the near future, since I’ve been meaning to go to a Farmer’s Market or two, and I have reservations booked to a vegan restaurant on Queen Street. 

Orange ginger stir fry:

Bean salad:

Brown rice with chana masala:

Soymilk chai:

Teriyaki, with brown rice and tofu:

Wild rice and veggies:

A whole lot of rice, as you can see. And a quick summary of the last eleven days:

The Good:

• Chocolate Almond Milk - Quite possibly the best stuff EVER.
• Chana Masala - I’ve experimented with some Indian foods and spices over the week, and this is by far my favourite out of the bunch. At least until I can figure out how they prepare those chickpeas at Imdadul during Ramadan.
• Soy milk lattes and chai! Good stuff.

I was locked out of my house long enough the other day to take the time to reflect upon my surroundings. We had a pretty heavy storm about two weeks ago that literally had most of our block underwater. But it seems as though the earth was able to suck up any traces of flooding (or Katrina North, as my brother calls it) within minutes of the sun coming out, and there I was only days later standing in the so-hot-you-can’t-breathe Toronto sunshine and wondering how I had managed to forget my keys AND my cellphone as I banged on the door.

I sat on the front step trying to figure out what I’d do next, as I noticed a cat carefully weaving its way through my driveway, dashing under a neighbour’s car after a toddler shrieked in delight after having caught a glimpse of the furry creature. I was a little glad for it, the cat didn’t seem to hear me when I tried to explain that I’m allergic to its species, along with virtually everything else in nature.

It was then that it occurred to me to get a spare key from the rental office down the street.  Brilliant.

An excerpt from an 1852 speech by Frederick Douglass, titled ‘What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?‘:

Would you have me argue that man is entitled to liberty? That he is the rightful owner of his own body? You have already declared it. Must I argue the wrongfulness of slavery? Is that a question for republicans? Is it to be settled by the rules of logic and argumentation, as a matter beset with great difficulty, involving a doubtful application of the principle of justice, hard to understand? How should I look today in the presence of Americans, dividing and subdividing a discourse, to show that men have a natural right to freedom, speaking of it relatively and positively, negatively and affirmatively? To do so would be to make myself ridiculous, and to offer an insult to your understanding. There is not a man beneath the canopy of heaven who does not know that slavery is wrong for him.

What! Am I to argue that it is wrong to make men brutes, to rob them of their liberty, to work them without wages, to keep them ignorant of their relations to their fellow men, to beat them with sticks, to flay their flesh with the lash, to load their limbs with irons, to hunt them with dogs, to sell them at auction, to sunder their families, to knock out their teeth, to burn their flesh, to starve them into obedience and submission to their masters? Must I argue that a system thus marked with blood and stained with pollution is wrong? No - I will not. I have better employment for my time and strength than such arguments would imply.

What, then, remains to be argued? Is it that slavery is not divine; that God did not establish it; that our doctors of divinity are mistaken? There is blasphemy in the thought. That which is inhuman cannot be divine. Who can reason on such a proposition? They that can, may - I cannot. The time for such argument is past.

At a time like this, scorching irony, not convincing argument, is needed. Oh! had I the ability, and could I reach the nation’s ear, I would today pour out a fiery stream of biting ridicule, blasting reproach, withering sarcasm, and stern rebuke. For it is not light that is needed, but fire; it is not the gentle shower, but thunder. We need the storm, the whirlwind, and the earthquake. The feeling of the nation must be quickened; the conscience of the nation must be roused; the propriety of the nation must be startled; the hypocrisy of the nation must be exposed; and its crimes against God and man must be denounced.

What to the American slave is your Fourth of July? I answer, a day that reveals to him more than all other days of the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim. To him your celebration is a sham; your boasted liberty an unholy license; your national greatness, swelling vanity; your sounds of rejoicing are empty and heartless; your shouts of liberty and equality, hollow mock; your prayers and hymns, your sermons and thanksgivings, with all your religious parade and solemnity, are to him mere bombast, fraud, deception, impiety, and hypocrisy - a thin veil to cover up crimes which would disgrace a nation of savages. There is not a nation of the earth guilty of practices more shocking and bloody than are the people of these United States at this very hour.

Go search where you will, roam through all the monarchies and despotisms of the Old World, travel through South America, search out every abuse and when you have found the last, lay your facts by the side of the everyday practices of this nation, and you will say with me that, for revolting barbarity and shameless hypocrisy, America reigns without a rival.

I gave up trying to fight my insomnia and opted to enter the depths of my basement and on the computer at 3 am. It’s only around this time that I’ve had unfortunate run-ins with basement creatures, from your average house spider to a handful of centipedes the size of my fist. It would make sense knowing that most happen to be nocturnal much like myself, but at the moment I prefer not to think of what may or may not be watching me type.

About a month ago I was enlightened to the fact that we also have mice in our midst. My sister who had opened up a closet upstairs only to come face to face with a tiny mouse perched up on the clothing rack, proceeded to call me eleven times in between her screams. Of course no one believed her until she ran into what she believes is that same exact mouse two weeks later on the front steps, and me seeing its lifeless body in front of the garage, an apparent victim of one of the neighbour’s cats.

It was definitely an idea I had to adjust to, living with mice, but I’ve decided that mice are a lot cuter than the centipedes and spiders in these parts. I went through a slightly obsessive phase where I looked through hundreds of photographs and researched everything I’ve seen in this basement of mine, and unfortunately learned that centipedes among other insects inflict painful poisonous bites. Mice on the other hand are too frightened to even go near people, let alone bite my foot unsuspectingly while I’m typing away at the computer.

Speaking of Arundhati Roy…

Well, ok I wasn’t, but the connection did make some sense in my head. Her novel that I had finished recently happens to be called ‘The God of Small Things‘… small things… mice… insects. The logical flow is there, at least.

I finished this book earlier this month, after watching it collect dust on my bookshelf for well over a year. And I do regret not having read it earlier, though I’m still conflicted as to whether or not I actually enjoyed it. But to quickly recap, the book itself is about one Indian family told through the narrative of the twin children, whose lives basically fall apart due to a variety of sociocultural factors present in their traditional society. What makes it more interesting is that all of this ‘ancient’ Indian cultural norms and taboos exist in contrast to the political atmosphere in the region at the time, with Kerala to this day the only democratically elected communist government. On one hand you have cultural traditions which date back millenia that place individuals in often segregated classes with no room for social mobility, while on the other you have communist ideals advocated the abolishment of that same classicism imbedded in their society.

So maybe I did enjoy the novel more than I thought. It definitely gives you a lot to think about, though I’m not entirely convinced of her writing, at least when it comes to literature.

Veganism?

Ah, yes. Basically I’ve decided to test veganism out for a little bit, over the course of July to be exact. I’ve been asked by several people already what my motives for doing this could be, and I still don’t quite have the answer for it. I’m well aware of the fact that I hate meat, but vegetarianism is something completely different from going vegan. Veganism would involve giving up the love of my life, cheese, for 30 days. So I can also see why those same people have questioned my willpower or ability to actually stick it out, but now my primary motivation is to prove my haters wrong. And of course, like any good blogger, I’ll be posting about this new insignificant aspect of my life.

And to force myself to come back to this thing and write something else this week… I’ve had a few thoughts on the recent TDSB Urban Diversity Report and its recommendations to curb the extremely high black dropout rate, so I’ll try and find the time to write about it at some point.

These days I’ve been insanely busy, and though I’ve been meaning to get back into my writing, it doesn’t look like I’ll be able to do too much in terms of a proper post for a while. So instead I’ll share some interesting political art I came across the other day, dealing with the Iraq war and US occupation.

I woke up to the devastating news this morning that Bashir Makhtal, the Canadian citizen who has been held for over a year in an Ethiopian prison, has been formally charged with terrorism-related offenses for his alleged connection to the Ogaden National Liberation Front, a rebel group in the ethnically Somali region. The ONLF is considered a terrorist organization in Ethiopia, but is not listed as one in Canada. If found guilty, he faces the death penalty.

A bit of background on the situation: Bashir Makhtal, like myself, originates in the disputed and volatile Ogaden region of Ethiopia. With the exit of the colonial powers in East Africa, the region was given to Ethiopia by the British in 1954, and from then on has been the scene of internal unrest and instability. Makhtal’s grandfather was one of the founders of a separatist group which later developed into the ONLF. To this date, ethnic Somalis in the region are subject to regular military crackdowns and other abuses that result in civilian death and destruction for its impoverished population. Human rights organizations worldwide, including Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch, have criticized the Ethiopian government for what they consider to be war crimes, torturing and killing the nomads and civilians in the region. My own grandmother was thrown in an Ethiopian prison twice because of my aunt’s involvement with the ONLF, after her husband was killed and she was forced to flee with her young daughter.

In 2006, Ethiopia invaded neighbouring Somalia in support of the unpopular Transitional Federal Government, in an apparent US proxy war to rid the region of the growing Islamist influence under the Islamic Courts Union which had stabilized southern Somalia. Makhtal had been in Somalia for several years after leaving Canada to start a clothing business on the Kenyan border, which required extensive travel between the two countries. In December of that year, he was detained at the border while attempting to re-enter Kenya, where he was detained with a large group of Somalis who fled the country. After being taken to Nairobi, he was illegally transferred to Ethiopia. He remained in an Ethiopian prison for over a year and was refused contact with family except for a letter he managed to sneak out through a prison guard, refused access to a lawyer, and refused access to the Canadian consulate. He was not charged for those 18 months, until now.

Besides the fact that I’m completely ashamed of our government for showing us repeatedly that the welfare of Canadian citizens abroad is not a priority, there’s another element that becomes more apparent with each of these stories. Harper and his government have molded their foreign policy so closely to that of the United States that they will not even question the actions of their friends and allies, even if a Canadian citizen’s life is at stake. It’s why Canada is the only Western country to have a citizen remaining in Guantanamo Bay. That urgency and pressure needed in these situations is missing when the violator is the United States, Israel or the friendly Christian ally in East Africa, Ethiopia. It’s a shame.

I’m just so overwhelmed at the moment, because I was naive enough to believe that they might actually do something. All the letters I wrote, the petitions I’ve signed, the protests I’ve gone to. I looked right in the eye of that member of parliament who stepped out of the parliament building and over to our crowd and lied about doing what he can to help Bashir. For a while I was hopeful that the media coverage would signal a change in attitude and that Ottawa would be forced to act as a result of the public pressure. But each press conference was filled with rhetoric and empty promises, every response letter a generic statement that they’ve done everything possible and will continue to pursue his case.

An innocent man will lose his life if found guilty, which will undoubtedly happen without a Canadian intervention. And all I can do is watch.

I don’t have the words to describe it, but for the first time in history there is a black man on route to becoming the president of the United States of America. After centuries of blacks being enslaved, discriminated against, and not being able to vote, one might be president. And like a sucker I was bawling yesterday just thinking about it and watching Barack Obama give his victory speech to the 17,000 people inside the stadium, the 15,000 who stood outside and the millions who watched around the world.

Unless there is recognition that women are most vulnerable… and you do something about social and cultural equality for women, you’re never going to defeat this pandemic.

- Stephen Lewis

Debra Black highlighted an important issue in the Toronto Star a few days ago in her two part piece on the grandmothers of Africa, and it was the issue of women’s rights as it relates to the HIV/AIDS pandemic. Though the article took a focus on the huge numbers of grandmothers caring for AIDS orphaned grandchildren, it also brought up the disproportionate number of women who are infected, as well as the social implications and status of women in Swaziland. Gender inequality is only fueling the disaster.

The article had me thinking about individuals who highlight the plight of women worldwide only to be labeled as “feminists,” as though it’s some sort of derogatory term which means anything more than a person who believes in the equality and rights of women. It’s an ignorant attitude to deal with, especially when you look at leading international development organizations and reports which unanimously agree that women’s rights are a crucial factor in determining global wellbeing. Women are at the centre of social change and development, and their health and wellbeing is central to child and family health and wellbeing, strengthening society in the larger context. Tackling women’s rights and gender related issues is key to tackling poverty and the issues which stem from it, including the rise of HIV/AIDS and its genocidal effect on Africa.

It’s easy to look at Swaziland for examples of gender inequality and the apparently link to poverty and health, but much like Swaziland, single mothers are statistically the poorest demographic in Canada as well. Women here still face disproportionate rates of HIV/AIDS to men as they do in Africa. Domestic abuse and other forms of violence against women are a reality. But the reality is lost and ignored as long as the concept of women’s rights is ridiculed instead of understood and implemented.

It’s a frustrating thing to see.

QMajd does it again…

1) I met the most wonderful Israeli woman this week, who happened to be selling ‘Zatoun’ olive oil and other products made by Palestinian farmers. The idea is that the olive oil is the essence of Palestine’s culture and its people, allowing people in this part of the world to experience a history we’re detached from. And the farmers receive fair trade prices for their products, while some of the funds go back to planting olive trees and other grassroots work in the occupied territories. We spoke for a while about the neighbourhood and how difficult it can be for people who sympathize with the Palestinian struggle. It’s amazing how isolated she’s made to feel as a Jewish person, from Israel, simply because her views on the conflict differ from many in her community. But it makes people like her all the more important.

I ended up getting a bottle of olive oil and some soap, but I did see some of their products at the Toronto Women’s Bookstore, so I’ll be sure to stock up next time inshaAllah. It smells and tastes much better than our regular brand, not to mention cheaper, while still supporting an important cause.

2) Bad news: One of the better bookstores in the city, ‘This Ain’t the Rosedale Library’ on Church street is closing at the end of May. Another blow to the independents.

Good news: They’re opening a NEW location in Kensington Market. Woot.

BETTER NEWS: They’re having a massive sale to get rid of some books and help lighten the load, the email I got said 30% off hardcovers and an extra 50% off already discounted books. As if I don’t have enough books already, I’ll probably check it out Friday before I head over to AlMaghrib.

3) Speaking of AlMaghrib… that’s this Friday. I can’t even put my excitement to words, so I won’t. THIS FRIDAY!!

Safia vs. YouTube watching, hip hop loving, 53 year old father

*ring ring*

Me: Hello?

Dad: HA HALLO? Assalamu alaikum!

Me: Wa alaikum assalam abo, why so loud?

Dad: Oh, how is everyone?

Me: I’m home alone right now.

Dad: Safia, what was the name of the Dangerous poet on YouTube? The one we saw that day?

Me: Amir Sulaiman?

Dad: Ok ciao!

Me: Why?

Dad: I want to show the odheyasha.

Me: Something tells me they won’t appreciate it.

Dad: We’ll see.

Safia vs. bizzare younger brother

*ring ring*

Me: Hello?

Abdi: Hello?

Me: Yes?

Abdi: You called?

Me: No, you called.

Abdi: Safia, for the last time, why did you call?

Me: I’m hanging up Abdi.

Safia vs. 13 year old sister - Part I

*ring ring*

Me: Hello?

Zeinab: Hey ya it’s me, I’m coming home now.

Me: It’s past 5 and you were supposed to be home at 3:30.

Zeinab: I know, but I had drumming practice and I called you so it’s ok…

Me: What’s the use in telling me now that you’re coming home? You should have called before you missed your bus.

Zeinab: Because… OMG SAFIA!

Me: I just want to know what the point is in telling me this bit of information. I don’t even have the car today to pick you up so it’s even more useless.

Zeinab: I HATE YOU!

Safia vs. 13 year old sister - Part II (over two hours later)

*ring ring*

Me: Hello?

Zeinab: I made a stop at Viera’s house…

Me: I still don’t understand why you tell me this stuff after the fact. The point is to call ahead and tell me you’re going to be late or you aren’t coming home in an hour.

Zeinab: OMG SAFIA I HATE YOU!

I am not a hippie.

But I did find myself becoming increasingly upset while listening to someone’s presentation this morning. The topic which was supposed to be discussed, government promotion of business, quite possibly one of the most boringly objective and seemingly straightforward topics available, somehow managed to turn into an environment bashing session. My talent for tuning out of presentations while somehow managing to hear every word was at work for the first bit, so I was able to take note of when the discussion took a drastic turn from the expected, and on to what she described as “global warming propaganda.”

The basic argument was this: tree-huggers worldwide march to their envirofascist drum in an attempt to control the world’s resources by inventing the fantastic claim that we are, in fact, destroying the planet; corporations have caught on to their eco-whining by creating ‘green’ products in an elaborate scheme to destroy consumers and their hard-earned paycheques; and finally, our government further screws over its citizens by making these green products easier and more accessible for companies to produce and place on the market, while still costing more than your regular product. Lovely.

There were other minor points that come to mind, like how the United Nations is a guise for world domination and only aids the envirofascists in their quest to globalize our resources. Of course, it’s clear from the UN’s attempt to have water listed as a basic human right. We all know how that turned out.

Why people continue to deny something that’s been long agreed upon by the scientific community is beyond me. It defies logic to look at just about anything we’re doing on this planet and assume that it can’t be harmful to our surroundings. I mean come on, we chug poisonous toxins out of massive factories and into the air, clearcut forests and destroy natural habitats, create smog alert worthy conditions in the summer, even genetically manipulate our food and still eat it. You don’t have to be Sherlock to know where this story ends.

The irony of today being on Earth Day was not lost on me.

How do I know? My teary red eyes and itchy skin tend to be the best indication, followed by several empty boxes of tissues and an irritated runny nose. I, like many other people this time of the year, suffer from the worst allergies imaginable, allergies that are no match for the Claritins and Reactines of the world. So I spent most of this weekend bottled up in my house with hot tea and kleenex, while listening to the sounds of people young and old enjoying the wonderful weather outdoors.

One other event that confirms our successful Winter exit and ushers in the new warmer season is the annual reappearance of the Ice Cream Truck. Growing up in Ottawa we used to have what we called the ‘dickadee’, which was basically an ice cream cart that the guy, usually a teenager, would ride around the neighbourhood. During the glory days we used to swap Pogs and marbles for our favourite popsicles, even going as far as trading in Pokemon cards if the ice cream seemed worth it. The actual ice cream truck in those days was an entirely different matter, shadily painted black and shooing off any children that came in its path. I’m absolutely positive that the men driving around this truck were selling drugs, since I can’t think of any rational explanation for the behaviour. Today was the first day this year I heard the familiar tune of the ice cream truck coming around the corner, and the even more familiar sound of children begging their parents for a few dollars and eagerly chasing down the truck before it passed by their house. For some reason we also have a knife sharpening truck that comes around the same time, with the old man who runs it tapping a bell to announce his arrival, and attracting a drastically different and aged demographic than our local ice cream man.

I was in the kitchen cooking up a little something when I realized the open window that had been the source of my sneezing for the few minutes I had been in there. The sound of the pane and the window shutting attracted the attention of old Leo across the street, which enlightened me to the third confirmation of spring. Our neighbours across the street, Leo and Edith, were back in their usual warm weather positions, relaxing in lawn chairs out of their open garage. Watching people. One of the few things I find myself enjoying about winter is being liberated from their ever watchful and judgmental gaze. In the past this gaze would be limited to the outdoors, perhaps while out checking the mail or pulling up into the driveway, but I learned in the kitchen that being indoors wasn’t a guarantee of safety either, so long as it’s within their line of vision. My next door neighbour swears that he looked out his bedroom window to find Leo watching him with binoculars.

Though there’s more about spring that would suggest it being my least favourite and most uncomfortable season, I’ll take it over Toronto’s crippling, soul sucking winters any day.

Rabble has an interesting advice column where you can direct your ‘most perplexingly personal political question’ to the columnist, Ms.Communicate. I’d consider my question to be a pseudo-problem at best, because I’m not unbearably broke, and I’d rather lose a limb than work for Chapters, Starbucks or any of those big name corporations for a variety of reasons. But I had been entertaining the idea, so I went ahead and asked the self described leftist feminist to hear what she had to say.

–

Dear Ms. Communicate,

I’m a broke student in need of a job. I also consider myself somewhat socially and politically conscious, so there are stores and companies I try my best to boycott. My issue is this: I don’t support Chapters-Indigo, and I never step foot in a Starbucks, simply because I don’t agree with their big box “clustering” mentality that puts the independents out of business, as well as their known ties to Israel. They also happen to be the only places nearby that are hiring at the moment.

Would I be a hypocrite for getting a job at these places I would never give my money to? It’s my last resort at the moment, since I’m trying my best to avoid being in this crappy situation.

- Sellout

Dear Sellout,

You are not a sellout!

Many of us have been in similar situations. I will share with you that when I was an undergrad – in the last millennium – I had a part-time job working in a market research call center. You know, those annoying places that call you and ask you questions about your photocopiers (during the day) and about your grocery shopping habits (in the evening). It was not unlike telemarketing, selling subscriptions to newspapers and such, which I also tried to do, made no sales and was deemed not assertive enough and was fired after my first four-hour shift!

Your lefty principles are very important to keep, but at this point in your life your employment options are limited. Take the job. I agree with all your reasons to boycott those chains, but you still have to pay the rent.

I actually know a few progressive folks who have worked and continue to work in bookstore chains, and they tell me the ironic reality is that the people they work with are all quite bookish and interesting. Perhaps unlike other chains, bookstores still attract book lovers to their staff teams. It beats flipping burgers.

- Ms. C.

And OT - I’m going to try out a different layout for a while. The brown was starting to get a little old :/ And I’ll get around to a long overdue update of my ‘C’est Moi’ section.