Green

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.

Springtime, Springtime

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.

Perplexed

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.

Memories

I was looking for a certain book and some of my paints around the house the other day when I stumbled upon this picture. My family doesn’t tend to take a lot of pictures, though my dad tries to store the important ones, but the vast majority are scattered around the house, usually stuffed inside pages of old books. A quick glance at the photo was enough to feel a rush of memories from the experience; the sights, the sounds, the smells. That’s the thing about old photographs - they have the power to suddenly transport you back in an instant, completely oblivious to whether or not you want to go there or not. I was suddenly a four year old again, surrounded by friends and family in our tiny cramped up apartment, celebrating my fourth birthday.

It was our first place since we moved to Canada, where my brother was born. I don’t remember much about the apartment itself, besides the fact that it was small, and there were two doors in the kitchen that were great for running laps around and chasing my brother when things got boring. The day of the party I went with my aunt and uncle to help pick a cake for the party, and we ended up settling on a vanilla one covered with strawberries and grated chocolate. I’ll never forget that cake, because I happened to drop a strawberry covered in syrup on my brand new white sneakers, the ones I was excited to be wearing. It was the only thing I was happy about wearing, since my mom forced me to wear the same ugly dress I had to wear to my uncle’s wedding a few months before. Looking back, I’m amazed I had such a fantastic sense of style as a four year old, because I still think that dress is hideous.

There are a few other pictures I’ve seen from the same day, all of which look the same - chaos, whether it be my crying brother or cousins, a mischievous act by one of the kids, a frustrated and pregnant looking hoyo or aunts - with me silently observing. I think it’s interesting how someone’s personality is already shaped that early on in their lives, because I was always more withdrawn and quiet than other kids my age. And I haven’t changed a bit. My brother and my cousins are exactly the same and it’s unbelievable how much each of their actions in the photos can tell about how they are today. My brother Abdi squirming out of my arms, my cousin Fatima pushing me out of the way to flaunt her giant ring, Amal looking insanely hyper after having a piece of cake, Amina about to beat someone up, Khalid trying to get out of the picture, my dad not being in any, even though he was there.

My mom calling me to make her some tea forced me to snap back into the present, and I didn’t realize that I had been staring at this photo as long as I had. I didn’t even find the book that I was looking for. Or the right paint.

(I’m the ghost, btw)

Rise Of The Muslim Ghetto

The Toronto Star has a regular feature called the ‘War on Poverty’, where they discuss various issues dealing with poverty in our city. Today they began the first part of a series called ‘Rise of the Muslim Ghetto’, with this article. I was aware that certain groups within the Muslim community, like Somalis, tend to live under the poverty line, but I’m embarrassed to admit that I had no clue that the problem is as serious as it is.

On the corner of Dundas and Chestnut Sts., Ahmed dumps a handful of pennies and quarters on the sidewalk, and begins counting his day’s earnings.

“Asalamu alakum, can you spare some change?” he shyly asks two men as they rush past him and into Masjid Toronto, a downtown mosque.

A former teacher, Ahmed left war-torn Iraq five years ago for Canada. “I came here but couldn’t find a job, couldn’t make money,” he said. “Now I am homeless. I live in a shelter.”

The exact number of Muslims in Toronto who live below Statistics Canada’s low-income cut-off, the country’s unofficial poverty line, is difficult to determine, as socio-economic data is rarely gathered through the lens of religion.

But among those on the front lines in the Muslim community, those who work in mosques, community centres and the few charitable organizations, there is growing concern about the magnitude of poverty in the community, the lack of resources available to deal with the problem, and the reluctance – among all social classes – to admit the problem even exists.

For the Muslim poor, an admission of poverty is shameful. To the rich, the problem is invisible, or at least not so obvious when compared to the stark conditions of poverty they have seen back home.

“It is a cause for concern,” said Uzma Shakir, former executive director of the South Asian Legal Clinic of Ontario, and member of the Colour of Poverty campaign. “The repercussions of poverty and systemic poverty are not just economic but have serious social impacts as well,” she said.

“Already we can see the formation of ghettos in some parts of the city,” said Shakir, referring to neighbourhoods where overt race-based poverty is glaringly obvious, and where halal meat stores are in abundance.

The scant data available paints a troubling picture of a growing community of nearly 300,000 Muslims, which includes a mix of refugees, recent immigrants, and those who settled in Canada decades ago.

The four poorest of all ethno-racial groups, with more than 50 per cent of their members living below Statistics Canada’s low-income cut-off, were Somalis, Afghans, Ethiopians and Bangladeshi populations – all from predominately Muslim countries. At least 30 per cent of Pakistanis and West Asians also qualified as poor, according to a study done by the Institute for Social Research at York University in 2006, which looked at the demographic and social profiles of ethno-racial groups in the city… (Article)

I was also glad to see that many masjids and community groups are involved and actively doing work that benefits these families, but they’re only a small fraction of the Muslim community in Toronto that’s working to tackle this issue. So the question is what can the rest of us do to help, now that we realize the full extent of the problem?

What more can I say?

The thing I love about this new layout is the custom banner at the top. I knew that I wanted to put a piece of art up there, since the standard stack of books that came along with the layout seemed overdone and boring. My first instinct was to try Van Gogh, but something about that seemed overly pretentious. The same went for the black and white Toronto skyline I had found on google. I’m still on the lookout for something more permanent and fitting, though for a little while I’d temporarily settled on a skyline that looked much better than that of Toronto, which happened to be a painting by Matte Stephens, a pretty neat artist out of Portland. I like the idea of having a blend of 1950s vintage with a modern twist.

It was the sort of thing I envisioned painting for my sister, who was complaining about her newly barren walls after growing out of her Spongebob and Scooby-Doo posters. I told her I’d paint her something abstract enough that she’d be drawn in by the endless lines and curves, mesmerized by the colours and texture as she searched the image for my carefully drawn out meaning. Not that I’m in any way that great of an artist, because I’m not, but my little sister has always taken a liking for just about everything I’ve ever made, seemingly the only one who cares enough to keep them safe and stashed away somewhere, long after I’ve forgotten about it.

So I’m sure anything I manage to throw together will be invariably met with her approval, especially when she feels as though she was a part of the process, usually handing over a brush or getting me some clean water. The other day as I was working on a mural assignment as she painted her nails with the same black paint I had been using, the work somehow changed from being ‘my’ painting to ‘our’ painting. I’ll take it, especially since she’ll probably be going through her ‘I hate my family/the world’ teenage angst phase anytime soon :)

Think Pink

I took the plunge and signed up for the CIBC Run for the Cure in October. I figured there can’t be a better run to be my first than one with such a great cause. I can definitely relate to all the people who come out whose lives have been changed by breast cancer, with my family having its fair share of health problems and illness, as well as the people in my life who have been directly affected by this disease. When I used to volunteer for the Canadian Cancer Society, most of the people I was working with lost loved ones and decided to do what they can to help the cause, and many of the people who would drop by the office were battling cancer or survived it themselves. Besides wanting to be a part of such a huge event that thousands of people come out to every year, I guess this is my way of wanting to be a part of this battle and give my support to cancer awareness, prevention and research.

The Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation CIBC Run for the Cure is an extraordinary single-day experience that unites more than 170,000 Canadians in 55 communities across the country. Together, we’re raising millions of dollars to fund innovative and relevant breast cancer research, education, and awareness programs in the communities where you live.

The run is 5k, with the option of walking as well. InshaAllah this year it takes place on October 5th at Nathan Phillips Square, so I encourage you all to come out! I’ll need a cheering section as well ;)

On Good And Evil

As requested, here’s the essay I wrote for a philosophy class, discussing human nature and whether humans are born good or evil. I don’t have the assignment outline, but I believe the statement we had to discuss was, “Evil cannot live in the hearts of men,” and I had to mention four distinct philosophers or philosophical positions over the course of the paper. I chose to make reference to Eastern philosophers since the position I took was that of a Western religion, Islam.

The question of good and evil, as it pertains to human nature, has been a widely discussed topic in philosophy, with a wide range of viewpoints and theories to match the scope of the debate. There have been those who argued that man is a clean slate, whose heart is at the mercy of the world and context he is brought into, while some slightly differed by arguing that man is born good, though susceptible to that same corruption. Others had a more bleak vision of humanity, claiming that the individual is innately evil, her malicious desires inevitably creating chaos and strife in her short and brutish existence, while others still saw evil as an entity in itself, entirely independent of the human being, though consciously provoking and steering mankind towards evil. The reality is that the issue in itself is not as complex as the various attempts to deconstruct it have been, while the answer is simpler still. Because the soul is in essence the breath of God, it can be said without question that humans are innately good, though human faults as well as the influences of external forces make it difficult to remain in this natural state.

The Quran describes the creation of Adam, the first of mankind, in great detail. In one chapter, God describes His new creation to the angels and says “so when I have fashioned him (Adam) completely and breathed into him the soul which I have created for him, then fall down prostrating yourselves unto him” (38:72). This statement is not unlike views coming from the other Western religions, who equally believe that the soul is the breath of God. In Islam, this is the starting point for what is called the fitrah, or the original state of the human being, untainted and free from any outside influences. It is an innate consciousness of good and evil, giving the individual an inclination to do good acts, including a belief in God. Though the fitrah is the natural state of humans, it’s also described in the Quran as being easily corrupted, “Then He inspired to it (the ability to understand) what is good for it and what is evil for it. Successful is he who purifies it, and failure is he who corrupts it” (91:10). Though all human beings are born into this state, one which is naturally obedient to the laws and rules which God created for it, with adulthood and maturity it becomes a conscious decision to act accordingly. A person who chooses to continue in this path is known as a Muslim, meaning one who submits to God’s will, which is what this verse describes as the one who ‘purifies’ and essentially maintains their fitrah, as opposed to the one who corrupts their God given nature.

Perhaps closest in philosophy to the Islamic concept of the fitrah would be that of Confucius. He too had a positive view of human nature, as one that is born into goodness, and when raised properly and wisely, will continue to live virtuous lives where the individual loves the good and shuns what is bad. The question becomes whether or not each person will choose to follow the evils of society, in disharmony with nature, or chose to act in harmony and accordance with nature that man is essentially a part of. Mencius, whose philosophy was deeply influenced by Confucius’ ideas, held a nearly identical view in saying that human nature was good, though he suggested that this innate goodness was a gift from the heavens to humankind. Xunzi, on the other hand, criticized Mencius’ views with his argument that humans were born evil, and that only with the guidance of what he deemed a ‘proper teacher’ could one become moral. The flaws in his argument become apparent once he begins to describe the teachings of the Sage kings as being the rituals and regulations needed to straighten people in accordance with ‘the Way’. The obvious question is this: if human nature is innately evil, how is it that these human teachers have devised what is good and moral?

Philosophical arguments and perspectives aside, the issue of whether humans are born good or evil can be seen quite clearly in observing a baby or a young child. When a child does something ‘wrong’, he knows enough to feel bad about it, or even to lie or hide what he has done. It’s evident from a young age that humans have a strong inclination to do good, and possess an innate sense of right and wrong. When there is a disaster in the world, you can see the sympathy and support worldwide as people who may have anything personally invested in the tragedy still rush to help. Experience shows people to be naturally good – we can all agree that murder is wrong and that people should be treated with respect, among other things. These are some examples where the fitrah remains intact, while a baby is the definition of purity of this state. Like Confucius’ view that the goodness of human nature can be damaged by the evils of society, the fitrah too can corrupted by society, as well as one other factor – the influences of the devil, the epitome of evil itself. His essential function is to sway people from this natural state, one that would allow for correct guidance and obedience to God. Human beings alone cannot be evil; it is only the devil and those who have been led astray as a result who can change and corrupt the fitrah.

The soul, in Western religious tradition, is said to be the breath of God, His creation inevitably partaking in His goodness, His laws inscribed in their being. Islam takes the position of the existence of a fitrah, the original state man is born into as created by God, one which is conscious of His Creator and has an innate sense of right and wrong. The difficulty in preserving this state is created by outside forces, namely those of the devil, whose entire purpose is to turn people away from this correct path and on to a life of evil. While human nature can be easily corrupted, when the question is whether or not one is born into a state of goodness rather than evil, the answer is an unequivocal yes.

And Thou Seest Mankind Entering The Religion Of Allah In Crowds

…. Celebrate the praises of thy Lord, and pray for His Forgiveness: For He is Oft-Returning (in Grace and Mercy) {110:2-3)

VATICAN CITY — Islam has surpassed Roman Catholicism as the world’s largest religion, the Vatican newspaper said Sunday.

“For the first time in history, we are no longer at the top: Muslims have overtaken us,” Monsignor Vittorio Formenti said in an interview with the Vatican newspaper L’Osservatore Romano. Formenti compiles the Vatican’s yearbook.

He said that Catholics accounted for 17.4 percent of the world population _ a stable percentage _ while Muslims were at 19.2 percent.

“It is true that while Muslim families, as is well known, continue to make a lot of children, Christian ones on the contrary tend to have fewer and fewer,” the monsignor said.

Formenti said that the data refer to 2006. The figures on Muslims were put together by Muslim countries and then provided to the United Nations, he said, adding that the Vatican could only vouch for its own data.

When considering all Christians and not just Catholics, Christians make up 33 percent of the world population, Formenti said.

Spokesmen for the Vatican and the United Nations did not immediately return phone calls seeking comment Sunday.

(article)

The Incoherence

Sometimes I wonder if I should keep my posts in point form, simply because I can’t seem to stay on topic long enough to string together a somewhat coherent, somewhat lengthy post. I boil over with envy when I look at all the wonderful blogs with lovely long posts and wonderfully articulated paragraphs sitting nicely on their blog page, which just happens to have six, seven, eight other posts of similar length. I, on the other hand, can once in a while muster the strength to rant and rave for about a half a page, sometimes a little more if I’m feeling up to it.

But most days I have way too much to say on a wide variety of things, only to log on to my blog and become completely overwhelmed by the blank page in front of me. I suppose everything is so jumbled up in my head, I don’t quite know where to start. So more often than not, whatever I end up writing only captures a fraction of the many ideas and thoughts running through my mind. The difficulty, for me at least, is having clarity in my thoughts - somehow figuring out how to take this huge mess of an imagination and neatly organize it in a way that makes sense to everyone else. Not that I mind where my writing is now, but I can see myself going much further if I had somehow managed to tap in to that part of me that doesn’t seem to get out, if that makes sense.

I’ve noticed something else during my relatively short blogging career. People tend to have a general theme in their blog, one that carries through their posts, though they may have the occasional off-topic article here and there. I don’t. I’d have to say, to anyone who bothers reading this thing, it would really come off as more of a collection of randomness than everything. Even a quick glance through this page would illustrate my point: Oprah, lobotomized zombies, sugar addiction, chaotic Somalis in large gatherings, the suburbs, religion. But I think I like it better that way, because it gives me some breathing room to write about whatever I feel like. And that is more reflective of myself and my life, more than any one dimensional blog could. I’m also wary of coming off as pretentious, since blogging, as I see it, seems to have pretension ingrained in its very existence. Because people tend to use their space as a soapbox for sharing their most trivial problems and inconsequential matters with the world. And while I’m writing mainly for me, about things that tend to be more relevant to me that anyone else, it’s important that things stay relevant enough to others that anyone reading it can give their much appreciated two cents.

Three paragraphs down, and right around the time where I forget the initial point I was trying to make, along with the many ideas I had in mind to write about. I think I’ll just call it a day.

Three Things

1) I actually fell for CBC’s April Fool’s joke. I had the news on the radio that morning, and they were discussing the CN Tower and how it’s now the second largest freestanding structure, behind some tower in Dubai. They said that city counselors had recently approved an extension to the CN Tower so that it could be first again. Then they went out into the streets to get people to comment on the issue and share their thoughts. I was thinking the entire time about how this extension would look and how exactly they’d be able to pull something like that off. Silly me.

2) Something about this time of the year is so frustrating. I’ve been feeling stressed and unmotivated lately, not to mention I’m going insane with the workload I have to get through. I have another philosophy essay to write for Monday, the one last week I ended up starting at 1 am since I was working on a seminar at the same time. By the time it was fajr, there was no point in trying to catch some sleep when I had class first thing in the morning. So on top of the essay, I have another assignment for a different course, and I have to get a novel and a Shakespeare play finished within a week or so. *cries*

3) And finally, the marinara sauce worked! It was a little too chunky for my taste, but everyone else loved it. I have a few tweaks to make, which I’ll try if I find the time. I’m thinking of baking as my distraction of choice this weekend. Brownies, anyone?

Punchman

I found out one of my old teachers died yesterday on the news. I remember how everyone used to tease him about his smoking habit and telling him it would end up killing him one day, which was all in fun then, but who would have thought? SubhanAllah, it’s amazing how the person you remember so clearly walking down the halls and talking and laughing can be gone forever in an instant. It really makes you think.