Censorship in Lebanon

Assalamu Alaikum:

Something's been bugging me lately, and I wanted to get your opinion on it. The topic is a bit less pretty than the question of marriage, but nonetheless, I'm really wanting some opinion.

I wrote about it in my other blog:

http://canada2beirut.blogspot.com/

Let's hear what you think! And the picture you see is of Anne Frank.

You'll see the point when you read the other blog.

I Want to Dance with You

Assalamu Alaikum!

Howz it going folks, howz the other end of the world doing? As requested, here's a reminder of my Beirut Blog address:

www.canada2beirut.blogspot.com

And now, let the Quest continue! ;)
________________


A few days ago I attended a family wedding near Jounieh outside Beirut. Yes, I’m sitting at our table, holding my little camcorder filming all the luxury around me – food, band, mc, dancers, art show, candles in bohemian crystals, ten layered cake, silk dresses, diamond rings, silk flowers and all the rest of it. The “too much-ness” of it all must have put a bizarre look on my face, in any case a man somehow approaches me and says: “ I want to dance with you”.

As if his words triggered something in me, I found myself pausing then retreating into my memories-- not all of them, just the ones about suitors and weddings.

One of the things we discuss with a suitor especially as we approach the nikkah is the question of the wedding and how we want it to happen.

Let me admit: Even though I’ve attended weddings most of my life, and had sort of pointless talks with suitors about the wedding, simply because I didn’t know what I wanted, only now I know what I want in mine – or “don’t want”. O boy. Be better than this. Don’t wait this long.

Sisters, I’m afraid this is addressed mostly to you. To brothers as well, but she is the princess of the night and he’ll try to make her happy. So, again, ladies, know what you want. The earlier the better.

Here are a few tips that come to mind:


Mixed or Separate

For those who know that the question of mixed or separate wedding is not an issue, and that they’ll have a separate-gender one all the way (or vice versa) then go thank Allah (swt) because you’ve been spared a huge headache.

For the rest, ask yourself: Do you imagine that in your wedding you’ll have to find a happy medium between having it mixed or separate? Do you imagine that your parents or his will request a mixed one, while you both want a separate one? Find out if you fit this category. That’s a huge step.

Mixing it Up

Do you imagine that you’ll “halalify” your mixed wedding? If yes, grab a piece of paper and pen, and write down your definition or description of what makes a mixed wedding acceptable for your (and his) Islamic values.

When you’re done, put that paper away in your drawer, then go downstairs and in a conversation over cookies and some warm tea, ask your family how they imagine your wedding to be like. Take notes in your head, and see if that halalified wedding can in reality be contained within the boundaries you’ve given it. In other words, can you manage to keep it halal and satisfy your family’s expectations at the same time?

External Family Obligations

Define “family”. Write down every name. Yes, each and every name of the family member who you want to attend your wedding/walimah. Now, on a piece of paper, divide the page in two columns – name one “differences” and the other “similarities”. Write down what you imagine are the similarities in Islamic values shared by the list of family members. Then, write down the differences. When you’re done, ask yourself how these similarities and differences may complicate things when all the family gets together to “help” prepare your wedding.

Cha-Ching!

Was it Bob Marley who said: “ No woman no cry”. Maybe he said that after his wedding. Single ladies, the big question – how much poorer will the groom get after the wedding? And his daddy, and uncles and your daddy and uncles and the rest of the income-making souls in both families.

If your family and/or his can afford it, good news. You’ll get the big night with shine and glory and everyone goes home happy. But if you’re less fortunate and it’s the groom who’ll single handedly pay for the big day, now is a good time my sister to get rid of the fairy tale wedding you’ve imagined for yourself.

Not because it’s wrong to think of a fairy tale wedding or to have one. You are the best. You deserve the best my sister. But think with me: define a ‘perfect wedding’. Is it crystals, gold, lights, luxury, limos and jaguars parked outside?

Are “things” the tools for your happiness that night, or is it your heart and what makes it happy? Remember all the weddings you’ve attended, and write down the things that made your heart dance in joy when you saw them at the wedding.

A sincere Dua given, a tear from a mother, a speech delivered by a best friend, a Qur’an recitation segment, an azan heard before you walk in with him—the best thing I’ve seen was at a sisters-only wedding ceremony and an extremely shy girl who never never never never never never dances at any sisters wedding, not even at that of her own biological sister, got up and said, “you all know I don’t dance, but I’m going to try tonight just for you Ayesha”. There were some serious tears of joy in Ayesha’s eyes for sure. In mine too  And I know Ayesha will never forget that special moment in her wedding.

Therefore, write your descriptions down and see for yourself what makes for a “perfect wedding”. Don’t hold back anything and don’t be afraid of being wrong. It’s better to be wrong on paper than in real life when the big day comes.

Step Up

Last but not least, you can have the best plan for your wedding day, and know exactly what you want together in agreement with your groom, but if you don’t have what it takes to make it happen – it’s all useless.

In other words, you’ll probably make a few people in your family not so happy when you announce your own wedding plans that may be different from what they want for you. It’s a very sensitive line to walk and I’ve seen many unhappy brides who had to give in to what their families wanted. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not asking you to rebel and revolt and hurt your family. In the end, they care.

But the point is you might have to be prepared for some tough negotiations, a few tears and some heated discussions. Don’t be afraid of this. And remember that Allah (swt) will ease the difficult. You might be surprised how their hearts change quickly as if magically, all with the blessing of Allah (swt).

Alright folks. That’s all she wrote, don’t forget your istikharah of course, and I’ll write you more as I attend more weddings!

And of course I said a big whopper “NO” to the guy who asked to dance with me. But I’m happy he asked. All these reflections wouldn’t have happened if he didn’t :)

Beauty is ...

Many people say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I never really thought of this line until I came to Beirut. From the moment I stepped foot in the airport until this very day of my life here - I had a feeling that I'm prettier.

All narcissism aside, and all modesty in focus, many people here seem to think i'm beautiful. Women have said this to me in my face, ranging from faculty to friends to acquaintances to the woman down the street. And men, well, let's say they have their ways of expressing admiration. And that's more than bizarre for me. Let me tell you why.

I come from a family of five, three boys and two girls. My sister is two years older than me. Throughout our life, my sister has always been the pretty one - and I've been the ordinary, 'nothing special just a girl' one. She has beautiful dark green eyes, mine are brown. She has a gorgeous little chiselled nose, I have a ... nose.

Or so people have categorized us throughout our lives until our adulthood. Therefore, I've always believed and internalized the fact that i'm okay looking, and my sister is the gorgeous one. The secret is my sister is beautiful both on the inside and the outside -- but not alot of people know that. shhhh, that's our little secret.

Anyway, now I've come to see that beauty changes from country to country. My life in Canada where I used to live has always supported my theory that I'm "okay looking". For example, when I'd walk in a room I'd never turn heads. Those who know me say hi, and those who don't know me don't look my way. Here, in contrast --- if I walk down the street people look, if I walk in a store people look, if I walk on campus students look, if I'm at a sit-in restaurant people look, if I'm on the bus people in and out of the bus look, if I'm in a car the other drivers look. No joke, it's insane like something out of a movie.

At first I thought it was my hijab and that people aren't used to it. Then I realized there are tons of hijabis all around which makes it a common sight to see.

The most troubling part of it is to handle the opposite gender and their 'expressions of admiration'. It's really annoying to be frank about it. What I'm more disturbed of, I guess, is the venomous combination of getting attention and feeling 'valued' which is a positive feeling -- mixed with the state of mind I'm in which is looking for Mr. Right and wanting to find marriage in a halal way.

It's very disturbing to balance out the two as one tries to sift out a decent brother from the masses who are simply annoying and indecent. What if in my frustration I tell off a brother who has good intentions?

The second challenging thing is the test that I feel Allah (swt) is putting me through. I've lived it most my life not feeling like Angelina Jolie walked in when I walk in, you know, and now I'm getting the royal treatment like I'm some model which I totally don't believe I am -- but I get treated that way nonetheless.

I think Allah (swt) is testing my modesty, something I've always liked about myself. By modesty I mean having the ability to stay grounded even when acquiring lots of skills in life that distinguish us from others. By modesty I mean still being able to connect with all sorts of people from all walks of life, no matter how experienced one becomes. I don't want money or profession or skills or whatever to take me away from bonding with people.

I value this quality not only in me but in people around me as well, so it would truly hurt in deep wounding ways to jeopardize this jewel of a quality. What a hard test, may Allah (swt) help me succeed inshAllah. Make du'a for me please. I really need it.

It's not easy rejecting better treatment, for whatever reason. I find myself gazing downwards when I walk down the street. Funny, I used to poke fun at the brothers in Canada who when they see a sister they look downwards almost hitting the pole ahead of them. SubhanAllah.

I also find myself being more "smile-less" especially when having to talk to men. I love smiling, I've always loved it, and now, I fear it because I don't want the guy who's already smiling with shine and glory two sentences into talking to me, to think that I'm reciprocating. In some ways, it's very bizarre to find survival mechanisms for this new challenge I'm facing.

Any tips? .... by the way, the picture with this post is of Tripoli's beaches, about two hours away from Beirut. Now that, my friends, is beauty. Unchallenged. Undisputed. SubhanAllah.

My New Blog from Beirut

I'm lucky enough to get a decent amount of interent connection to be able to blog. I started a beirut-canada blog just a few days into my stay here. I promise to try my hardest to maintain it, and I hope you enjoy it all as much as I enjoy recording it to you. Yeah, I'm Youtubing!

What you'll get in this blog is everything that comes to mind -- I'm not selecting my entries, I'm not choosing things and leaving out others. I want to put a human face to it all, through the lens of my mind, eyes and imagination, with all its limitations and curiousity. Do forgive my shortcomings but don't forget to enjoy it all! :)

The blog address is:

www.canada2beirut.blogspot.com

Much salams,
Quest

I'm Going to Beirut!

Assalamu alaikum Quest readers and awesome blog friends!

A while back, about a year ago, I applied to teach English literature in Beirut. A few months back, I got the job!

I've lived all my life out of Lebanon or any Arab country -- never visited too. This will be my first visit, and stay, for a year, inshAllah. Come with me on this new adventure!

The child raised in the West grows up and goes back 'home' to explore her roots and culture and the country of her forefathers, with all its turbulent politics. The question of Gaza, for example, continues to shape the pulse of the streets in Lebanon.

I plan on doing many things there, but if marriage prospects comes my way, you will be the first to know, I promise. I wonder if I still have to come down the stairs rehearsed over there, or if they accept improv.

Finally, and this is more of a thought, I wonder if I should start a beirut-blog ...

Stay Tuned!

Dancing on Coals

Didn’t know what to think when I read that Israel stopped the attacks on Gaza, and is pulling out, despite Hamas’s continued rocket firing. Thousands dead. In between it all.

I've been following it all from the start. Senseless like child-play. I swear.

But sometimes, for a change of rhythm, we got to turn it off, for a while, walk away and breathe. Smile. Be.

… So I pick myself up and go to liza’s house. She’s my Indian-Afghan friend and she shows me a new bollywood flick – Slumdog Millionaire. Her eyes lit up like two diamonds when she said: “it won a golden globe this year!” Or when she said, “A R Rahman did the tunes for the movie. I grew up listening to this guy sing, it’s like I’m up there taking the globe with him. One for India. Bam!”

The stars of the movie are about to be interviewed on Ellen Degeneres. Aha! What? They’ll do a live bollywood dance, too? This is spoiling me. I run to the kitchen, grab some minute maid, a bowl of bhel puri, I sit on the couch, grab the remote control cuz ya know that’s mine, and I’m ready for the show!

Phone Rings.

Liza picks up. She talks.

....

Uff! Those commercials. They take forever man I’m almost finished my snacks …

I hear Liza on the phone: “… no way. Oh no…”

Liza Liza Liza! Come on it’s starting hang up hang up just come! Woooooooh! I get up and dance.

“hey narges was on the phone and she said Hizbollah might get involved more from Lebanon. Then, it’s Iran”.

Jai Ho! Aaja Aaja Jind Shamiyane ke Tale … WOOOOOOOOH AHA AHA that’s how we do! Come dance with me Liza! Jai Ho!

“look I’m serious. You need to be more serious. Don’t you have family in Lebanon. Even at the refugee camps?”

I somehow turn around, and catch a glimpse of her face. It’s serious. The diamond in her eyes, it's gone. I stop. Dancing.

“I know you don’t know them, because you’ve lived here so long, but …”

Look. I don’t want to think about it all the time okay. I just want to dance!

She looks at me. I look at her. We both look back – at the T.V. We both listen, silently, to the Indian music …

[translation to lyrics]

I’ve passed this night dancing on coals
I blew away the sleep that was in my eyes
I counted the stars until my fingers burned

Palestine. If You Were a Bride

Marching in a protest against the occupation of Palestine always, always keeps me wordless. And I am a wordy woman. On normal days. When I forget where I come from.

I think I just found my words. I went to Suheir Hammad. I mixed her voice with my wordless scream. Like a mute thunder. Her words give me voice. Always.
__________

Palestine.

… Because I come from somewhere
I come from some people
Us who put our lives on the line

I don’t want to hurt nobody
God knows
How do I tell American Youth that popular culture means nothing to Justice
And everything to keeping them numb to the world

How do I scream
When I have no voice left
Who will answer me

Even I -- it seems -- have developed a callousness to the deaths of Palestinians
There are people who say I am not supposed to go there
To Palestine. I am North American. Stay here.
No passport. No citizenship. No money. No power will keep you alive.

This is not a poem. This is not a treat. This is a promise
I will chant the names of the innocent
I will stand with those who have kept their hands clean of blood
And their hearts clear of hate
It is hard not to hate right now

But I have been loved. I have loved.

She is dead now. Our bride in white. And the ocean will miss her gaze.
Her family will miss her breath.

Palestine.