Bring Adam Jones Home/A Foreign Mother's Fight for Her Half British Half Qatari Son

 http://gulf-daily-news.com/NewsDetails.aspx?storyid=362138

Adam Jones was tricked out of the custody of his British mother 4 years ago after her ex husband, a Qatari national, died in a motorcycle accident. Her husband's family invited her to bring Adam over under the pretense of a family get together, something she had willingly done before, so suspected nothing was different this time. They asked her to sign a document pertaining to his inheritance from his father's estate but in fact it was her signing over her custody of her son to the family. She has been fighting four long years in the Qatar courts to get Adam back with only two visits per week with him. So far not much has been done for her and I find this whole drama heart breaking and quite personal as it is something foreign mother's to Arab nationals must live under the threat of constantly. Our children and rights and access to them is what binds us to these marriages or to the countries long after we might other wise be gone. This is the letter I wrote today in regards to Adam and his mother's plight. 


In response to the plight of Adam Jones whose mother was tricked into giving up custody of him to his Qatari family, it boggles my mind that the word "allegedly" was used when describing what her ex husband's family did in order to gain custody of her son. Despite the fact that nobody should ever sign a document that they do not understand, especially when it is in a foreign language (a practice that is forced on many non Arabic readers here in the  gulf), I must wonder at the Sharia Court in Qatar that still considers that document as valid and legal. Once she stated in court that she was under duress to sign it and that she was misinformed as to its contents then the court was obliged to throw it out or at the very least to investigate the reasons behind the accusations and whether they were true or not. To uphold that document for four long years and keep Adam from his mother, who clearly did not want to release custody of him, is a telling indication of just how Sharia Courts in the Middle East view foreign mother's rights as being nonexistent and not worth the trouble to implement them. Personal experience and hearing the stories of so many other foreign mother's of Bahraini, Saudi, Qatari and other G.C.C. country's children is proof positive that Adam's mother will most likely not find the justice she is so desperately looking for. If it were going to come one would have to assume that the concerned authorities (if they really are concerned) would not let 4 years pass by without finding a resolution. Four years that neither Adam nor his mother will ever get back. I am wondering if anyone in Qatar has bothered to ask young Adam whether he prefers his father's money and family who have connived and tricked his mother into separating him from her or to relinquish his right to that money (since that is most likely what they are really after) in order to sleep once again in his own bed with his own family around him? Chances are they will never ask him nor care for his response if they do and yet they must also be blind to the fact that he will not be a minor forever and eventually when he comes of age he will be free to go where and with whom he pleases. Time will tell whether his father's Qatari family really do have his best interest at heart or whether they will let him leave when he is of age and not bother to keep in touch after that. It is my experience and those of other women that once the native father (or his family) loses (either custody, children come of age, want nothing to do with him etc.) then neither he nor his family are interested in what becomes of those children they once so ardently fought for. As much as I hope that Adam's mother does get her hearts desire and Adam is returned to her sooner rather than later, I am convinced that only time and Adam's age will be the telling clue as to that family's true intentions with him and I truly hope that all the lies and disinformation that Adam is most assuredly being fed do not take their toll on his young mind and convince him that his mother willingly surrendered him to those people for the young are so easily mislead from the truth with false smiles, fake hugs, and confidently spoken words with god interspersed throughout.

Stay strong, young Adam. From one mother who nearly lost her children to the unjust actions of the Sharia Court here in Bahrain to another suffering the same fate in Qatar, I can honestly tell you that your mother is fighting for your life with every muscle and breath in her body. That is what mothers do.

Lee Ann Fleetwood

Way back when...blinkers and all.

http://coolred38.blogspot.com/2007/07/rant-revisited.html

My second post on this blog...way back when I still called myself Muslim and still believed there was hope to be found in Islam. Funny what a little time, a lot of reading, and soul searching will do to a person. I don't hate that I use to believe and how deeply I believed it (at the time it felt rights and true) but I do hate that I was so easily impressed and completely blinded to the deep seated issues Islam has.

btw I have no issues with others who still profess being Muslim...we all choose our own paths...but I do take issue with falsehoods that are spread concerning Islam. Just because I am no longer one of the ummah...doesn't mean I don't know what I'm talking about and that I don't have a valid point. One thing Muslims seem to believe to be true...if your not Muslim, or no longer call yourself one, than any knowledge you might have...is irrelevant to any discussion concerning it. Whatever.

pride goeth before a fall...and all that shit.

You Bring Your Book...and I'll Bring Mine.

A PROPOSAL FOR AN INTERNATIONAL HOLY BOOK BURNING DAY
Come one...Come all


The net is alive with talks about this church in Gainesville, Florida that wish to hold an, International Burn A Quran Day, to "commemorate" the Sept. 11, 2001 tragedy that struck America specifically, and the world community as a whole.

Apparently the Dove World Outreach Center, headed by Pastor Terry Jones, believes it is the duty of Christians to educate the people about Islam...and show that it is a "religion of the devil"...it "leads people to hell" so the "fire is where it belongs"...hence the desire to publicly burn it on live T.V. etc.

Now let me get this straight...this is a Pastor...a religious figure (of sorts)...with a flock of sheep I'm assuming? Supporters hanging on his every word, if his Facebook page highlighting his "day" is anything to go by.

This is a man who claims he is upholding the word of God...by openly and willfully orchestrating an event that will surely cause, at the very least, discord and unrest, hurt feelings and continued "othering"...and at the very worst, injury and or possibly even death? I hate to admit that the Muslim world is not known for taking criticism lightly. Ahem!

Now, here is my personal opinion about book burning...whether the book is "holy" or just on a list of "oh no our kids can't read that" genre.

A book from God...or a book from Man, is a thing, an object....ink and paper with words on it. You want to burn that book...by all means, go ahead. Here, let me hold that gas can for you while you light up. Be careful you don't set yourself on fire...wouldn't want that to happen now would we. *dripping sarcasm inserted here*

I could care less if a group of hateful people want to burn a book that is held by another group of people to be valuable or worthy of some sort of sanctity and worshipful status. Just because YOU hold that book in high esteem does not mean I must as well. Freedom of " the choice is mine" far as I'm concerned.

All this little charade will do is highlight how intolerant one Pastor and all his followers are towards others...and how so very far they are from the teachings of their own Holy Book.

So...burn away Pastor...I prefer your hate be directed towards a benign object rather than a human being...after all...it is the MESSAGE in the book that should be more important to Muslims...than an actual ink and paper object. Right?

This misguided Pastor can burn a million Quran's...hell he can burn every single Quran on this planet...and what will that do to Islam...what will it do to the Message? Will it instantly cease to exist because now it is a "pile of ashes"?

Don't think so.

Now, here is what I propose. Two things.

1. Now I know it will be hard....really REALLY hard...for Muslims around the world to NOT turn this incident into a full scale riot SOMEWHERE on this planet. I'm fairly sure that the Muslim media will swarm the T.V. channels and net with this hateful display of intolerance...just as Fox News does when it concerns Muslims or Arabs (Fox seems unable to tell the difference)...and thus causing the "faithful" Muslims of the world to riot...burn...destroy..and possibly kill other human beings in their quest to show their extreme displeasure at having the Holy Word Of God desecrated in some fashion. I know it will happen. I do....but.....

Wouldn't it be so great if not a single Muslim anywhere so much as raised an eyebrow...not so much as sniff in protest (highly unlikely I know but bear with me). So when all was said and done and Quran ashes are blowing in the breeze and one hate filled Pastor is looking around with his smug smile and expecting hoards of Muslims to descend and give credence to his "Islam is from the devil" propaganda crap...and all he sees is...wait for it...Tolerance.

Then HE will be shown as the intolerant ass that he is...and the Muslims he wishes to shame and antagonize will be shown as the tolerant followers of their faith THEY strive to be seen as. (well most of them anyways).

2. A little more physical activity involved in this one (I know it's pretty damn hard to do NOTHING when emotions are involved as indicated in the first point)...I would like all the Muslims in that particular area to gather up all the Bibles they can find...and go join this Pastor Terry Jones on his "book burning day" and hold their own little bonfire. Hey, Freedom of Speech or what ever the hell Freedom is being expressed by one Pastor Terry Jones and his little debacle, goes both ways.

You burn MY book...I burn YOUR book...lets call it an Interfaith Book Burning Day. (insert koom-bye-yah music here)

Everyone bring what ever holy book concerning whatever religious affiliation it expounds upon, down to the book burning party. One great big bonfire will be arranged...along with marshmallows and hot chocolate... and we will set the world on fire...so to speak. ALL religions will be treated exactly the same...that is what Freedom is all about...right?

So...Pastor Terry Jones...are you prepared to see a bunch of "hell seekers"...oops I mean Muslims....pile up some Bibles and set them on fire...and not so much as raise an eyebrow in protest?

Or does Freedom to burn Holy Books only extend to those not associated with Christianity?

Waiting.....

p.s.

Dear God...please forgive the idiots You have created for they know not what they do while "defending" your Word...a word that has apparently been written several times in several Books...end result...not ONE God but Your God and My God and let's all hate each other in the name of Some God...

Please feel free to send your Wrath to straighten these haters up.

Sincerely

Coolred

The Injustice of Telling the Truth

Some of you may remember my post about my friend, Maryam alSherooqi, who is facing up to 7 years in jail for an article she wrote in one of our local papers, Al Wasat, concerning discrimination in Bahrains Civil Department. That post is here http://coolred38.blogspot.com/2009/02/does-telling-truth-require-apology.html

She has been to court several times and so far nothing has been decided...good news or bad Im not sure.

Anyhow, I couldnt help but feel even more pissed off about her whole case while I was perusing yesterdays other local paper, the Gulf Daily News. I came across a little snippet of news that is not shown on the website so I cant link to it...but anyone can check yesterdays paper if they want to read it.

It appears that while lecturing a college class on history etc last year, an American teacher "blasphemied" the Prophet by attempting to draw his likeness on the chalkboard. Apparently one of her Bahraini female students took exception to this and reported her to the proper authorities. I remember hearing about this teacher sometime last year but didnt really look into it. A lot of the time they just peter out and nothing ever comes of it.

The little snippet of news in the paper happened to mention that this teacher was found guilty and was fined and jailed for 6 months...and then will be deported.

So let me get this straight...."blasphemy" the Prophet you get 6 months in jail and a fine plus deportation. "Blasphemy" Bahrains Civil Department you get harassed by govt officials...threatened with loss of job...your salary is with held with no explanation given...your reputation is shredded by under the table sabotage and innuendo...and your faced with 7 years of jail in a case in which you have not broken any laws, called anyone a liar. or lied in general?

Now I dont believe the teacher who supposedly disrespected the Prophet deserved any punishment merely for drawing a sketch of him on a chalkboard for whatever reason...a simple word of caution by that female student...or any other student should have sufficed....but NOOOO Muslims have to be extreme when it comes to religion...but I also dont get the chasm of injustice being clearly shown here. Are we to assume the Civil Department and those who head it are on a higher footing and deserve more respect etc than the Prophet? Are we to assume that the punishment meted out to individuals who "cause trouble" to the Civil Department and those who head it should be enforced to the fullest extent of the law...but those that blasphemy the Prophet are dealt with leniently?

Should we assume that Bahrain authorities are quite happy to sit by and let a Bahraini Muslim woman, who had a solid reputation, deep respect from her community, and clearly has not broken any law what so ever.. be sent to jail merely for pointing out discrimination at the Civil Department...thus destroying her family life, her career, and her future prospects all because the head of the Civil Department didnt like something he read...but knows to be true?

One question. The MP's of Bahrain have made a mockery of Bahrains reputation as a tolerant and welcoming country. People are talking about leaving Bahrain because it no longer is the quiet oasis in the gulf it was known as before. How many more people will leave, Bahrainis included, once its made clear that jail is awaiting anyone that dares say a word against Ministry heads or anyone else that has a position of power?

I realize jail has always awaited those people who dared speak out...but at least it was hidden just a little bit better before...now theres not even a semblance of attempt at keeping this injustice a secret.

How nice for Bahrain and all its inhabitants.

I hope justice will be served for Maryam al Sherooqi...telling the truth is incumbent upon all of us...even if its against ourselves and our families...last I heard Bahrain considered itself a Muslim country....I guess that only applies in regards to the fact that we have mosques and women wear abayas and hijab. Sweet!!

Story so far...

Hey everyone that happens to stop by and read this...I have a book of sorts...a story so to speak...to tell that's been bouncing around in my head for quite a few years now. I decided I needed to start writing it down before it sent me round the bend in more ways then one. This is my first chapter of my first attempt...just want a little feed back. Its not autobiographical...but some things in it are very real to me...so maybe its considered semi autobiographical.

Anyhow, for those who care, this is not a book to teach anyone about Islam or Muslims etc...its just a story that needs releasing from my head...plain and simple.

Also I apologize for the language...but its a story about real life...and real life has colorful language...whether we like it or not. Waiting to hear from you....

*edited and new content written


BUTTERFLIES IN MOTION


It seems she had been alone most of her life. She couldn't remember a time when she had anything other than her own mind to occupy her with. Don’t get me wrong here…she spent time with other people…called them friends and all, but she didn’t feel comfortable in their presence as much as she did within the confines of her own mind. The one place she was free from all of life’s restrictions. In her mind she could be anything, go anywhere, say whatever she wanted too, and best of all BELIEVE whatever belief felt right within her. She was 37 years old when much of what she believed about herself to be true…was proven to be wrong. It was the worst and best year of her life.

The morning of the day that she met the one person that was to become the “love of her life” started out much like the hundreds or thousands that had gone before it. She woke for fajr prayer with anticipation of facing her Lord. Her first thoughts upon waking were the same as every day...wishing she had miraculously lost some weight while sleeping...and wondering if THIS day held any promise of something different then yesterday. She tried to rouse her husband but he was far too interested in whatever dreams passed within his mind to care much for prayer. He turned over while muttering he would be up in a minute…and was snoring again within seconds. She resigned herself to the fact that he would never care as much for prayer as she did. To each his own. If she had cared, at this point in her marriage, for the soul of her husband she might have been more persistent. As it was she could only quietly revel in the thought that he would burn some day for all these prayers missed. She wondered if it was a sin to take quiet delight in the thought of her husband burning in the Hell Fire. She asked God to forgive her for such thoughts…just in case.

She performed her ablutions and waited patiently for the adhan to sound, passing the time reading the Quran. She had always loved the early morning hours while she waited for prayer…the quiet and solitude sat easy with her. She felt nearest to God at this time and the Quran seemed more welcoming and easy to grasp without distractions and life getting in the way. She generally read a few pages and reflected on what they meant to her. It always surprised her how whatever ayat she was currently reading corresponded with some thought she may have had recently…or some problem she needed advice for. It was like The Book spoke to her on some level…anticipating her spiritual needs…and responding to them. Thank You God for listening to me, she thought.

Once the prayers were finished she might consider going back to bed, but the possibility that her husband might awaken and demand sex from her generally kept her from crawling back into the warmth of the covers; the days had long since passed when she felt even a glimmer of attraction to the once charming handsome man she had met years ago. So rather then risk his waking she settled on the couch and turned on the TV. Most of the time she didn’t really focus on the images on the TV. but instead dwelt on scenes that rewound themselves constantly within her own mind. Playing the “What If” game kept her constantly busy no matter what else she might be doing. It agonized her to play this game as the result was never satisfying. No amount of playing and “re-ordering” her life actually changed anything. It just caused more frustration and agony to know she could’a, would’a, should’a done things differently to avoid the life she was now in. She had no one to blame but herself…

With a quick look at the clock and a sighful resignation of her lot in life, she heaved herself up from the couch (as usual promising herself to start that diet tomorrow) and set about starting breakfast and getting the children up for school. Her children were the bright moments in her life. All her “failures” could not even come close to measuring up to her accomplishments…her children. They were her pride and the one thing that made this life she was living possible. Without them to love and care for she believes she would have given up and given in long ago. Each new step she took in her daily struggles she took for them. Each verbal abuse hurled from the bitter lips of her husband was heard and swallowed and dropped down into the pit of never ending sorrow. The depression that threatened to swallow her whole…was only kept at bay by one thought…"my children need me"....followed quickly by another..."I need them". And so, each new step was taken, each new abuse swallowed, and each tear that fell was quickly wiped away…what was the use of tears anyhow, they didn’t change a thing. She sent up a solemn prayer to God to grant her more patience…and to help with the self pity…who needed it anyway?

When the children were nearly ready to go she would go and wake her husband. Sometimes he drove them to school, other times he just wanted to make sure they were what he considered “properly equipped” for the day. Boys with their backs straight with pride, the girls with heads covered with the hijab. Pride for boys and hijab for girls were apparently the only two things to measure a Muslim with by his standards. It always quietly amused her and made her proud when her younger daughter rebelled against the hijab (she herself had often thought of just flinging it into the wind and defiantly walking in the street without it...but fear of judgment kept it firmly on her head)…and many times got out the door without it, conveniently forgetting it at the last moment. Other times she would remove it out in the street as soon as she was around the corner. She had many fashion statements to make when it came to her clothes…but the hijab was not one of them. Go girl! She wished she was as strong minded and independent as her teenage daughter. What can you do?…life was for the young. (37 was not old but in her mind...life was all but over regardless of how "young" she was)

She hated closing the door as her last child left for school. It meant that she was now alone with her husband and her dread at what this most assuredly meant was like a rock in her stomach. She could no longer stomach the idea of lying on her back and spreading her legs for his idea of sex. His touch alone sent shivers of repulsion up and down her spine. When she seen that glimmer of lust in his eyes…it was all she could do not to scream and lock herself in the bathroom…or better yet…run into the streets like a crazy woman. Instead she would once again quietly resign herself to life and come when he called. Removing her clothes and positioning her body in whatever sexual manner he demanded of her. She was like a mindless object for his dark desires. He never asked her what she wanted, what she liked or didn’t like, whether what he was doing hurt or not. Usually it did hurt, if not her body then definitely her pride, her soul. She could only lay there and pray that he finished quickly and was thankful when he did. Other times he seemed intent on a marathon of sex...and the never ceasing pounding and grunting nearly sent her off the deep end. She wondered what he hoped to achieve with the hour long sex...its not like someone was standing by keeping score or giving marks for enthusiasm and creativity. If credit was to be given for whatever reason...for sure she deserved the accolades just for her ability to endure such bodily assault again and again....and not even a tender kiss or caress to make the enduring bearable. Only bruises on her body and on her soul as a testament to the "love making" that had transpired.

Eventually he would roll off and strut to the bathroom to shower as if his ability and agility at sex was a thing to boast of. His concerns for his wife only extending to whether his breakfast was on the way or not and to maybe throw a comment back at her that she needed to lose some weight. Oh God! Where is that patience she was asking for earlier? It occurred to her many times that she could happily poison his morning coffee…if poison were at hand. The fact that she contemplated murder on an almost daily basis, if not hourly, no longer shocked her as it once did. God was forgiving for her errant thoughts. It’s not like she would ever actually kill him. (a thought best left unexplored)

As soon as he was out the door she shrugged off her resentment, her anger, her anxieties, like she might shrug off her clothing…leaving them all piled messily by the door…to be picked up and hastily donned once again as the hour drew near for his return all though at times he would sneak back home without warning, as if to catch her up to something. Catch her doing what she never knew…as he knew better than her that she had no life. Cleaning, watching TV. reading and dreaming of murder were about all that kept her busy. (that and her prayers...she could do without the rest and would give them up in a heartbeat if needed but not her prayers) If he expected to find her wrapped up in the lusty arms of a sweaty lover in their marriage bed…then he would surely have to wait a very long time. She had one male in her life that was causing her enough misery…only a fool would go looking for double the trouble. The most he might catch her doing was scrubbing the bathroom floors or hanging laundry. No whoreish behavior here…just move along.

Often times these surprise visits meant only one thing…more sex. Surely there could be no other man on the planet that spent as much time thinking about, anticipating, and participating in the act of sex as her husband. It scarcely allowed him time for other things…such as a job or getting things done that needed doing…in her opinion. (she had long since lost count of the number of jobs he had "quit" or "lost" because management didnt see eye to eye with him...or some such excuse. He hated being told what to do ...plain and simple). How could someone so consumed about sex, so engrossed with the perfection of his own dick, so demanding of her body…wanting to stick his manhood into any hole that would accommodate him regardless of the pain it caused…how could he lead a normal life…when a normal life seemed so far outside his thought process. Sex sex sex…and then food, shelter, paying bills etc. She loathed him each time he grabbed his bulge and indicated with a quick nod of his head that she was to assume the position once again. God! God! God! she realized the humans were made in Gods image…did this mean God had a penis as well since generally God was referred to as “Him”, “He” in all religious discourse? Did God walk around grabbing His bulge while contemplating in what new position He would fuck humanity? She quietly asked God to forgive her for assuming God had human qualities.

Of course these midday visits meant that she could never really relax when he was gone…since the likelihood of his showing up at anytime was possible. It seemed his only desire in life, other than to fuck her as often as the thought crossed his mind, was to catch her doing something he considered “haram”. His ideas of what was and wasn’t haram didn’t even come close to what many Muslims followed, but her life revolved around avoiding his haram as much as possible. The arguments and punishments that followed when she was caught “transgressing” just wasn’t worth it. He made her feel like such a criminal with his accusations and abuse. A quick trip to the corner store for sugar was, according to him, an opportunity to flirt and make future appointments with potential lovers. If only he knew how ridiculous he sounded. She didn’t even like the act of sex, hated to even submit herself to it, would be quite happy to go the remainder of her life without ever once again spreading her legs…or the cheeks of her ass (no amount of arguing and pointing out that anal sex was haram to him had any affect...he always claimed later that he "didnt mean to")…or opening her reluctant mouth, for another man…she laughed quietly inside when he ranted on about such things. Men are so stupid when it comes to women. God! Please make him shut up!

Often times when she realized she needed to make a trip outside for something she would first call him on the phone just to see where he was, what he was doing, to gauge how long she had before he could realistically reach home. If he indicated he was far enough away, she would quickly don her much hated hijab and duffa and quickly dash to the store and back again…looking over her shoulder the whole way. Her heart beating fast and silent prayers to God to not let him come home and catch her in the street somewhere. Of course, he sometimes played the game too…indicating he was far away but really just down the road. This little two step they did, her trying to “commit her crime” of leaving the house and his trying to catch her at it, was a daily tango they did. Sometimes she won, sometimes he did…usually he did.

For the most part she stayed inside the house. It just wasn’t worth the hour long lecture and tuition on Islam and how to be a good wife and mother when she was caught out. She had better things to do with her time then listen to his sanctimonious drivel about what entailed a “good” Muslim. She would sit there patiently waiting him out, waiting for him to tire of hearing his own voice, quietly thinking her own thoughts. (in the past she would cry, apologize and "try harder" to please him...now days she couldnt muster up the emotion necessary to cry and to try harder hadnt crossed her mind in a very long time) She often wondered if he actually believed any of the things he “taught” her…since he hardly practiced any of them himself. God…why did You create hypocrisy in humans?…why did you give us the ability to sound so pompous in the face of facts? Fact one…her husband was a horrible Muslim and a not much better man. Fact two…he apparently was completely unaware of this fact and felt it was within his rights to “teach” her in areas that he himself could use some tuition in. Yadda yadda yadda…blah blah blah…if he was going to fuck her she wished he would just do it and go…without the never ending lecture thrown in just to add insult to injury. She would sit there nodding her head…looking contrite…”learning” her lessons…all the while sending sneaky peeks at the clock wishing the time for the kids to arrive would hurry up and get here. God? Why does the time move so slow when we are caught in other peoples headlights?

On the days that he actually stayed away at work, or wherever it was he spent his time, she enjoyed the peace and quiet and spent time reading. Her passion was reading anything and everything and every opportunity to read was never passed up. It was with a quiet inner pride that she remembered her school days...graduating on the honor roll...teachers writing wonderful things in her year book...lauding her potential as a writer...praising her abilities and looking forward to her "first book".

She sighed while thinking of the promise of her youth. Where did all that fire and passion for writing disappear too? Her thirst for the written word had not diminished...but her desire to write things down had over the years. She thought about the journal she use to keep...had kept it for over 10 years. Just day to day thoughts...anecdotes about the children...and the occasional rant and lament about HIM and his tirades and unjust treatment of her. She never told anyone of his abuse of her...but it helped immensely to express her anger and anguish on to the page...the cathartic release was probably the only thing that kept her from killing herself (or him)during all those years of insufferable abuse. God forgive her for thinking thoughts of suicide (and murder). Its not like she would actually do it.

She remembered exactly why she suddenly stopped writing...in an instant the choice was made and 10 years worth of journals was angrily and hastily dumped into the dustbins outside. Years later of course she regretted that rash decision...missing her written memories almost more then friends and family she rarely saw anymore. Of course HE was the reason for her decision to stop writing. She never hid her journals...they were right there in the open for anyone to read...the only one who read them was her husband. She might wake in the night in need of the bathroom and notice her latest journal was not beside the bed on the table. When she returned it would be there. She often wondered what he did in his "office" all night...well she knew at least one thing he did...read her journals. What he hoped to find in them (for she knew without question he was hoping to "catch" her in her writing just as he caught her in the street sometimes) puzzled her as what little life she had held no mystery. She wondered if he actually thought she was stupid enough to write down the fact that she had a lover...had a hot and steamy liaison with him that day...might describe all the incredible sex they had...and then have the nerve to keep the journal beside the bed and not under lock and key (if she actually had a lock and key...nothing was locked against him in this house...all though he sure kept his office locked up tight) He pretended he didnt read it but she might sometimes play a little trick on him and insert some dubious sentence here and there...something that might sound as if she had did something but what that something was was unclear. For instance she had been out to the shops once and while returning she had noticed the neighborhood mentally retarded man sitting on the bench in front of the mosque. A second look confirmed what the first look had indicated...he was masturbating...and in full view of all the people passing by. Apparently nobody noticed...or cared enough to stop him as he continued on without disturbance. She blushed and quickly passed by...but that night she wrote in her journal..."I saw "carrot" while outside today." That was it...that was all she wrote on that subject...but a few days later her husband asked her (quite out of the blue) who Carrot was. She feigned ignorance but inside she was giggling...knowing full well why he had asked. God forgive her for making such a fool of him...but he certainly made it easy.

Eventually his determination to find fault with her writing...demanding to know what each sentence meant...what were the "hidden meanings" to this and that...did she actually plan on writing a book someday and making him look bad to his friends and family...was that her intention? Didnt she realize as a Muslim she shouldnt be wasting her time on such useless things? He never let up...and so she just quit. Without much thought or fanfare. All the journals into the garbage...and the only writing she did was now all in her head. At least he couldnt snoop in there.

Right here and right now!! pt. 3

The journey ends with us arriving in Mecca. While everyone else was straining at the windows trying to get a look...I was barely aware that we had arrived. I seriously needed to lie down fully stretched out and could think of nothing else I wanted or needed in life but a space large enough to do so. I dont really have any memories of our arrival in Mecca...I was in the middle seat and couldnt really see anything anyhow and it held no interest for me at that moment...I just couldnt bring myself to care that I had arrived in the holiest Muslim spot on the planet...a spot I had dreamed about for years...I just wanted a soft pillow and some quiet.

When we arrived at the hotel the lobby was a madhouse of people and luggage. It turns out our rooms werent ready yet and so all the luggage was piled up in a corner and my fellow bus travelers went off to perform Umrah...I collapsed on a couch in the lobby and Im unable to tell you what went on around me for the next 2 hours. I slept the sleep of the dead...dont ask me about my modesty...its possible something showed that shouldnt have etc...I didnt have the strength to care about such formalities. I discovered later that my son had stayed behind and "kept guard" over me. I also discovered that the cousin (brother to my friend) had also stayed behind to watch over me (as he would do for the remainder of the trip...and still does to this day)...my unofficial brother. He is one of the best men I have ever had the honour of knowing.

As soon as the first room was made available...Kaleefa (unofficial brother) made sure that I was escorted to it...and I crawled into a bed fit for a queen and slept a further 4 hours. My son stayed outside the door. Eventually Kaleefa had my son wake me up and said I needed to perform Umrah before the day was over since that is what I had come for...was in a state of ihram (I believe thats the word) as well as himself and my son. So I prepared myself and Kaleefa led us from the hotel. I anticipated a long walk to the Kabaa but it turns out our hotel was practically in the shadow of the mosque...we stepped out from the hotel and the mosque was right there on the doorstep pretty much. I was pretty shocked to say the least...but had to keep moving as Kaleefa was striding ahead...barely looking back...sigh. My son was helping me along but boy was I exhausted. I was already out of breath and we hadnt even got to the actual mosque yet.

Once we entered the doors (after passing security that made sure we didnt have cameras etc) (which was funny considering so many people were taking pics with their phones) I was amazed at just how long it took to get from the door area to the actual prayer areas and the Kabaa itself. The place was packed with people and Kaleefa was holding himself back Im sure to keep an eye on us...but he was still keeping up a good pace. I barely had time to register the beauty of the mosque and the cosmopolitan atmosphere...I was concentrating on not losing sight of him and not falling down as my abaya was too long and I was too tired to lift my feet properly.

When we finally reached the main area of the mosque that had the Kabaa...I just stood there in awe. To actually be face to face with something I had only ever seen on tv was surreal. People were bumping into me...voices all over the place...birds over head...sun shining...kids crying...you name it...but none of it registered...I was in a state of awe...and wanting to enjoy it to the full. However, Kaleefa had other plans. He handed over a mobile phone to my son...gave us some instructions about how to deal with the crowd...how to perform the Umrah itself...and what to do if we lost sight of him (which was a given of course). He instructed my son not to let go of me under any circumstances...and while I know my son would try his best...I had little hope in all that throng that he would manage it. (I was amazed later that he really did keep hold of me throughout...the multitudes of people seemed to have only one intent..pull us apart)

And off we went...we flowed into the crowd of people and immediately I felt like I had been there before...I felt a sense of deja vu so strong...I stopped in my steps to take it in...but of course you cant stop while circumventing the Kabaa lest you get run over...so on we went.

I cant really tell you much about going round the Kabaa...I was concentrating too hard on not getting trampled by the crowd...I was much slower then most of them as I was plain exhausted. I sort of went into a robotic like mode...one step...one step...one step...while chanting the same words that Muslims through hundreds of years had gathered and chanted as well. I was also trying not to lose track of how many times we had went round the Kabaa...its kind of hard to keep a mental note of that...as every side of the mosque looks pretty much the same...so in a small corner of my mind I also chanted...3...3...3...or whatever circle we were on...and watched for the corner of the Kabaa that had the black stone as a marking spot. It took my son and I nearly 2 hours to do our circumventing...I found out later it took others just under and hour or so. I was tired...did I mention that?

When we finally finished Kaleefa was long gone so we made our way to Marwa and Safwa to begin our 7 trips back and forth. I spent a further hour and some shuffling back and forth between these two spots...trying to keep track and wondering when it would all be over. My son stayed with me for awhile but felt he should be jogging it like so many other men were...so he left me with promises to find me when he was done....sure...ok...whatever (2...2...2...2). The hardest part of that particular trek was that at each end, the spot where you did a Uturn of sorts and headed back the other way...the ground was cemented with little bumpy protrusions. Im assuming so that people could get a grip with the toes and climb up the incline without slipping. What it meant for me and my very swollen sore feet was agony each time I reached one end and had to traverse this spot in order to begin the journey back. (3....ouch.....3....ouch....3.....oh my feet). (later many of the women asked me why I didnt allow my son to push me in a wheelchair like many others...but I felt that as long as I could actually still walk...I would...no matter how long it took)

Finally....I was done...after what seemed to be years of shuffling, counting, agonizing and chanting...I was finished with my first Umrah. My son was nowhere to be seen so I weakly made my way to the side out of the way and waited for him to find me. Oh to get off my feet at last was heaven!!! even if it did take me 5 minutes to actually make my way down to the floor. I felt like I was 100 years old and couldnt imagine a time when I didnt feel like this. (I want my bed and I want it NOW!!!)

My son finally found me and he had Kaleefa with him. They needed to go shave their heads now as a final ritual....which meant I had to get up off the floor. With nothing to lean on to aid me...it was an ordeal all by itself. My knees were grouchy...my ankles were hollering...and my feet had gone off on vacation apparently as Im sure I couldnt feel them. I realize that men are reluctant to touch females that are not related to them in the Muslim world...so I was greatfully surprised when Kaleefa offered me a hand up, which I readily accepted. It still took me some time to gain my feet...and even then I wasnt sure I would stay upright...I was down to my last ounce of strength...and we still needed to get back to the room....OMG!!! OMG!!!! OMG!!!

I did manage to finally make it back to the room...to find my room mates on the way out. Now that Umrah was out of the way...many were excited to start on the second most popular reason for coming to Mecca...Shopping!!! I was happy that the room would be quiet so I could sleep without the constant babble of chatter in the back ground. I crawled back into my lovely sweet smelling soft bed and slept without regaining conciousness until fajr prayer. The ladies were waking me to go down to the mosque for prayers...but my legs just wouldnt hold me properly. I was wiped out. They all left and I struggled to wash and perform my prayers and crawled back into bed once again. Where I would remain for much of the next 5 days.

*to be continued

Right here and right now!! pt. 2

(Taking up where I left off)...

Sitting down finally on the bus. I was exhausted by then and just wanted to lie down...but bus seats are not made for lying down thats for sure. It was about 10 minutes down the road when I realized there was no bathroom on that bus...it was about 10 seconds after that when I realized I was going to either embarrass myself in front of all these strangers (except for the 3 people I knew) or manage in some small way to control myself until the next stop. Thankfully my stomach had settled down...all though it was still hurting me...it had nothing further to offer up to the "gods". My nether regions were a different story...they had plenty to complain about and werent shy to vocalize....(ahem...sorry).

As if not having a bathroom was not bad enough...the a.c. on the bus was not working properly. The darn thing was dripping in numerous places up and down the bus onto passengers. Before long there were a myriad of contraptions designed to send the dripping water somewhere else...usually on your neighbor. And to top it off...for some reason the floor of the bus was almost too hot to bear. Many of us removed our shoes for the long journey but ended up either putting them back on or placing a bag or something for our feet to rest on...otherwise they were toasted.

Since I was the last person on the bus...I got the "crap" seat. The very back of the bus has an entire row of seats that go all the way across. Two window seats and two center seats. I was in one of the center seats. So there I was...exhausted...in serious pain from vomiting...continuously cramping which meant I seriously needed a bathroom again (ASAP), my feet were being scorched, my head dripped on...and to make matters worse...because I was in the middle I couldnt lie against the window or even down in the seat...so I made most of that journey unable to even really relax because to do so would have probably meant falling asleep and falling over onto one of my seat partners. I also had a sneaky suspicion to fall asleep would have resulted in me losing control of my shaky bowels...ouch! No thank you.

Our first stop was for fajr prayers in a small town with a medium sized mosque. I was barely able to walk well enough to get off the bus. I found it strange that all though many of the women seemed sympathetic to my plight, enquiring as to my well being numerous times...none of them volunteered to switch seats with me to allow me maybe rest against the window...and none of them offered to help me from the bus or asked me if I needed anything from the cold store that everyone rushed too. As soon as everyone got off...my son came back and helped me off then ran to bring me water etc.

As I hobbled my way towards the back of the mosque where I heard the bathrooms were I was finding it more difficult to "maintain control" at the thought that soon I wouldnt have too. However, once I came around the corner it was as if I had hit a wall...a powerfully putrid smelling wall. Many of the ladies were hanging around outside unwilling to enter...others were plugging their noses and going for it. I had no choice, so to speak, and stepped hesitantly in. Oh the horrors of what I faced. I have never seen such a filthy and disgusting bathroom in my life. The floor was unspeakable...the sinks and walls were likewise...and the toilets were just holes in the floor that were either overflowing...or looked almost too dangerous to even approach as you felt it might break away and you would end up somewhere under the dark recesses of the mosque. Under any other circumstances I would not even had thought twice about turning around and getting back on the bus and waiting for the next stop...it was that bad...but I was absolutely positive I would not make it to the next stop without dire consequences...so I swallowed my disgust...lifted my abaya (way high) and found the least horrible cess pit of the lot.(it didnt win by much but it did have a workable lock). It was then I realized it had no water...no kleenex...nothing to facilitate proper cleaning.(thankfully I had a bottle of water and some kleenex in my bag...all though the way I was feeling I would have had to have "gone" anyhow and cleaned up best I could) Sorry for the graphics people but it was that bad.

Navigating my way through the bathroom ordeal was exhausting and extremely frustrating. Several times I nearly fell into the muck...and when I reached out to grab something to save myself...I would end up grabbing something equally horrible...(shoot me now ...please). Ugh!! Eventually I noticed it had gotten very quiet and than realized I was the last one in the bathroom. When I exited the bathroom my son was anxiously waiting outside wondering if he should risk it and come inside and see if I was ok...everyone else had finished prayers and were headed back for the bus...and I was barely able to shuffle towards the mosque. Thankfully my friends brother was in charge of the crowd and made sure a headcount was done each time we got on and off...or I feel I might have been left behind..along with my son while he stood outside one bathroom or another waiting nervously for me.

Basically the rest of the trip to Mecca was just a repeat of that first bathroom experience...exhaustion...filth...no water or very little...even the mosques themselves were generally unkempt and in need of a good cleaning. We even found a group of ladies smoking hubbly bubbly in one mosque...the smoke and stink was horrible. I find it very strange that Gods Houses are allowed to go unmaintained like that...what a horrible thing to greet Muslims at nearly every stop.

A side note here...I am allergic to some insects...ants being one of them. In one mosque there were very large, chunky black ants roaming all over the place...inside and out. I even seen them crawling over some of the ladies that were praying. My first instinct was to not pray as I was horrified at the thought of one of those goliaths biting me and me dying in the middle of nowhere in a dirty little mosque (not much better than in a bathroom on the bridge is it) but I was worried I wouldnt get the chance to perform this prayer before the next one was due..so decided to take my chances. So I prayed as best I could (being exhausted and all) among the largest blackest ants Ive ever seen in my life. Im happy to say they did not bother me...thank you God.

I dont remember what town we stopped in in order for the men to don the white cloths and for the ladies to do their thing (I was basically a walking zombie by then) as most of that trip was just an exhaustive haze in which I was barely registering anything other than the need for a bathroom and desire to just sleep for a year or two...but we finally arrived among much excitement and flurry of activity. The bus was parked in a large parking lot sort of at the bottom of a hill...and the showers and mosque were on an upward slope...waaay up there. While everyone else hurried off...I leaned against my son and hobbled up this Mt Olympus that took me nearly 20 min to summit.

I found all the ladies cheerfully engaged in the pre Umrah ritual of showering and donning plain dresses...no makeup...perfume or jewlery of any kind....then heading further up the hill to the mosque for the next prayer. I entered one of the shower stalls and was greeted with very very cold water and no hooks to hang my clothes from...not to mention I had forgotten my towel way back down the hill in the bus...try getting dressed again when your only tshirt dried and chattering so much from the cold your almost biting your tongue off (not to mention almost too tired to chatter). I was soooo dog tired that when a wasp flew into the shower stall I just blinked at it and wished it away rather than go into a "dont sting me Im allergic" panic and jump out of the shower naked as I might have done under other circumstances...he didnt like the cold water anymore than I did apparently as he flew back out the window just as quick.

It took me nearly 40 min to shower, change and trudge up the hill to the mosque and perform my prayers. Once in the mosque I needed the bathroom again and had to trudge back down...do my thing...and trudge back up again. That added another 20 min and everyone else was back at the bus by then. My son was patiently waiting...and escorted me back aboard. I dont recall hearing anyone complain that I was "holding up" the rest of them...but then again I have to really pay attention to Arabic to understand it...and in my zombie like state I wasnt understanding any of it...so who knows.

Next stop Mecca.

*to be continued

Right here and right now!!

Ive had a very stressful and hectic past few years...not many opportunities to claim that I was feeling "good"...feeling "right"...feeling "content and at peace" with myself and my life in general. Anyone that knows a little about my life from this blog will understand what Im talking about...but I dont want anyone to assume I havent had "some moments" too...some moments to just sit back and say "wow" or "cool"...or even "Im glad Im here... right here and right now"...doesnt happen often but it does happen...even to me...so heres my "right here and right now" story. (beware...I do not know how to get to the point without wandering far afield now and then...you've been warned)

Im going to write this in the present tense...all though it happened over two years ago...bear with me...Im like that.

Ive lived in Bahrain for 19 years now and Ive never been to Mecca...never been to Saudi for that matter. I have dreamed of going to Haj or Umrah for years but my husband has never even considered the possibility...there is always an excuse why we cant go. Its on my list of Things To Do...but also on my list of Things Im Not Likely To Ever Do As Long As Im Married To HIM!! That list is far longer than the first one...sigh!

My best friend came to me today and asked me something that I thought would never be spoken to me..."would you like to go to Umrah?" Excuse me...is that a trick question? She explained that her cousin was organizing a group to travel together...and she also knew another lady that was willing to pay all expenses for someone to perform Umrah that had never gone before and couldnt afford it. That lady wondered if my best friend knew anyone that "fit the bill"...that bill fits me so well...it was made for me!! She warned me though that nothing was for sure just yet...the bus was pretty full...they were not sure if there were two available seats left just then...my son having to travel with me for mahrem purposes (never even considered asking my husband...I knew he would refuse...and I didnt want him raining on my spiritual parade). So I have been waiting for two days...not really holding my breath...but feeling breathless all the same.

Both my best friend and her cousin came to see me today...with huge grins on their faces...it would seem that I am Umrah bound...Im left quite speechless...to be so close to something and not be able to actually see it or touch it...or experience, it is so much harder than to be on the other side of the world with an ocean or two between you...being close and yet so far...is so much harder. For several moments Im not able to say anything...but they understand completely and just quietly celebrate with me.

OMG! Now I have just 2 days to prepare myself for my Spiritual Journey of a Lifetime...how does one prepare for such a momentous moment? I have been dreaming about this every since I had reverted to a Muslim...but to be faced with the actuality of it was overwhelming...if you've ever felt like your floating...and about to throw up at the same time...its a little like that!

Well, Ive spent the last two days on a whirlwind of shopping for a suitcase, abaya and mentally preparing myself for what lays ahead....I keep thinking that Im in no way ready or even deserving to make such a trip...I mean really! is there like a Belief Meter or something at the border to indicate whether your actually spiritually deserving of entering Mecca? Im sure I would fail...positive...sigh! of course I have the sneaky feeling that there is some sort of divine intervention for such failings...like a bolt of lightening zapping me out of existence the moment I step foot on "hollowed" ground...(wondering what that feels like). Im definitely taking a chance here...my kids need a mother...but the risk is well worth it...no doubt.

It turns out that I am the only non-Bahraini travelling on this particular bus...and so apparently it would be easier for all concerned if I wasnt actually on the bus when it goes over the bridge and border...dont ask me why...Im just along for the ride. The plan is for my best friend and her husband to drive me and my son over the bridge...and then wait in the middle for the bus to come through. Everyone is thinking that the bus will be waiting for us...but it turns out that we will be waiting for the bus for nearly 3 hours (memo to bridge authority...there has got to be faster methods for getting people checked and through without waiting hours for the pleasure of entering or exiting Saudi...damn!).

I might mention that Im damn uncomfortable wearing this heavy abaya...I havent actually worn one in quite awhile...I usually wear long shirts etc...and this one is way too big for me...its dragging on the ground and falling over my shoulders even though its a snap on the shoulder type. Makes me want to pull some hair out the way I keep having to lift it up to keep from stepping on it...or pull it into place. Reminds me why I dont like wearing them in the first place....arrrgh! Oh how I wish an abaya wasnt a pre-requisite to entering Mecca...the things women have to wear to please men...uhm...I mean God.

Anyhow...while we are patiently waiting for the bus to get through...we decide to pass the time by eating a late lunch. We went to some place called Kudos, which Ive never been to before...and will likely never go to again. Bear with me...the next few paragraphs will not be pleasant for the faint of heart.

Half way through lunch I start feeling decidedly odd. Cant quite place it but I know something is "off" within me. At first I believed that my anemia was acting up and so my friends husband and my son raced on ahead to bring me back some folic acid. It generally perks me right up...if that was the problem...turns out it wasnt. My friend and I went to the nearby mosque and I laid down in the ladies section on the floor...with my head on her lap while she read Quran on me. My head was hurting and spinning...my insides were churning and cramping...and before long I would be fairly sure I seen Death waving cheerily from the window of the mosque...ugh!

It took husband and son quite along time to return and in the meantime I was busy alternating between sitting on the toilet bowl or facing it...depending on what needed exiting at that particular moment. I felt like death warmed over and was sure I was going to die in a dirty bathroom on the bridge to Saudi...and never even getting to see the Kabaa after all my suffering...poor me! In the meantime my friend was panicking believing pretty much the same things...and calling her husband to come back ASAP and running back and forth to help me and to see if the bus had come through yet. I forgot to mention that her cousin (brother to the cousin that arranged this trip for me) (also might mention he is the Muslim man I admired in a previous post about Sunni and Shias marrying and he behaving as a true Muslim throughout...sorry...still having problems with linking). She was wanting her cousin to go on without me...I was that bad...but when he and the bus eventually did show up...his words were this..."if she is going to die...what better place to do it in for a Muslim then in Mecca?" Cant fight that logic...all though she did...but eventually I was on the bus...husband and son came back finally and son got on with me...his concern for me was so apparent...but he was forced to sit in the front with the men while the ladies sat in the back...but I could see his anxious face searching for me every now and then...and each time we made a stop...he was right there ready to do anything for me...I love my son!

Now, for anyone that has ever had food poisoning (Im assuming that is what it is)...you will know exactly what I was going through...but what you dont know is that our original bus was supposed to have a bathroom on it...turns out that one broke down and the one we now had did not have a bathroom...I did not know that when I got on there and we set off...not sure if the cousin considered this when he hustled me up the stairs...I will give him the benefit of the doubt and assume he was unaware just how sick I was...and exactly what problem I had...but the next day and a half riding the bus all the way to Mecca was pure agony....and thats putting it lightly.

to be continued...

To Dream a Little Dream...2

Continuing on from the first dream...I come to the second one that made such and impact on me. This one was several months after the first one and once again was very religious in nature but had a more positive feel to it...and it left me quite breathless and amazed when I woke up from
it.

In this dream I am at the beginning of a very long hallway type thing. This hallway is not meters long but centuries long...its long. I know this without knowing how I know...you know. Dreams are like that. I also know that at the end of this very long hallway something spectacular is happening...but Im not aware yet of what exactly it is. As I start floating down this hallway (yes Im flying of sorts and yes...its cool) I can see along the sides of the hallway different periods of human evolution and cultures etc are presented. I mean actual people are there...like little communities...each acting out a period of time in history....(did I mention the hallway was huge...and long) and as I pass each community I can hear babbling...at first it seems like babbling but then somewhere along the way I realize they are speaking languages...I just didnt realize it of course...but heres an amazing thing...I could understand what they were saying. Dont ask me how I know that but I do...and most of the languages I heard in my dream I have no idea what they were but I coud understand them non the less...the further down the hall I got the more familiar some of the languages became...such as eventually I realized I was hearing French or German etc...but the earlier languages remind me of the language that was in the movie about Jesus that Mel Gibson made...Aramaic I believe...how I know that I dont know...it just felt right in the dream the way things often do.

It was at this point that I realized every now and then I would hear a tremendous crashing sound...so loud and emmense that everything seem to shudder ready to fall apart. I had no idea what was making the sound at first but eventually I realized that the hallway was partitioned off into large sections...centuries large remember...and as I passed a certain point massive doors would close behind me (not directly behind me...but centuries past that I had passed all ready...understand). I also realized that I was speeding up...where as before I was rather coasting along...now I was almost whizzing by...barely able to take in what was going on along the sides of the hallway...but I could still see clearly and still hear the different languages...without really looking or listening (dont ask me...its a dream).

Suddenly my vision speeded up so that I could see way way down the hallway...but I was still centuries back (sorry for the confusion) and what I saw was a light shining down on a pedestal...and on the pedestal was a golden Quran...and pages were slowly turning on the Quran and I could hear massive amounts of languages all jumbled up together...but all saying the same the thing...recitation of the Quran. Each time a page was read...and as it turned...I could see that the lettering was disappearing off the page....so that empty pages were being left behind. It was at this point that I realized there were angels in the room. Mind you this was an enormous room....without deminisions...infinite so to speak...so there were an amazing number of angels...all doing the same thing....writing furiously in books...writing so fast that it seemed impossible that they could be writing anything legible. I also noticed that they each had two pens...one pen had ink...the other had blood (dont ask me how I know...just dont).

So now I return to my body and Im zooming at top speed down this huge hallway...it was then that I know (the way you know things in dreams) that when I reach the end of the hall way...Judgement Day has arrived. I can hear the massive doors crashing closed behind me...closer and closer...I can hear the cacophony of languages but each one an individual as well...and I can hear the Quran being recited and each page being turned...and the light shining down on it getting brighter and brighter.

It was here that I finally reached the end of the hallway...the angels all put down their pens and turned to look at me. Its impossible to believe that millions of beings could be that quiet...but you could hear the proverbial pin drop...the last page of the Quran was turned, recited, and emptied of lettering...and then the empty book that was the Quran no more...rose up off the pedestal up into the light...the angels all looked at it go...and they all had fearful looks on their faces...then all of them...all together...closed their books....even though they closed the books fairly reverently...and Im sure silently...the noise was non the less defeaning...and it was this noise that woke me from my sleep. The amazement I awoke with...still lives with me today...

So what do you think dear Readers...Im interested to hear what you think. The colors and sounds and the images I seen in this dream are like nothing Ive ever seen in Hollywoods best production. Everything was crystal clear and absolutely beautiful...the colors beyond technicolor and the sound effect....damn...dont get me started on the sound effects...it was surreal. Sometimes you just dont wanna wake up...sigh!

Lets Kill the Ones That Stay....Not the Ones That Go!!!

Islam as a religion and Islam as a culture(sometimes hard to tell the difference) are two very different concepts. In Islam, or rather the Quran...we for the most part...read of a Merciful Loving God that is quick to forgive and overlook our weaknesses...yet Islam via culture apparently wants to harm us or put us to death for every percieved "unIslamic" action. I realize that there are specific punishments for crimes laid out clearly in the Quran...and that we as Muslims should follow them and avoid those crimes to protect ourselves from the punishment...but why is the Quran so often ignored in favour of culture...or even hadith when it comes to doling out the punishments?

Im specifically referring to apostacy here...or murtad. We all know there is no ayat in the Quran that even comes close to specifying death for apostacy...claims that death for apostacy are an Islamic requirement are "proved" by using outside sources...such as hadith. Muslims will be very firm in their belief that our Prophet was within his power to mandate death for someone that failed to view Islam as their path in life....despite the many many instances when God mentions that believers who come near to unbelief then again believe and again return to unbelief etc...will be the losers in the Hereafter. Putting someone to death for leaving Islam sounds like closing the barn door after the horse ran away...what is the purpose of it...their punishment is all ready ordained...why do Muslims feel the need to hurry them along towards that punishment?

Personally I do not care in the least if someone feels Islam is not for them for whatever reason...they are taking nothing from me...only from themselves. I dont understand why Muslims get so upset and paranoic about Muslims that no longer find Islam palatable and wish to find something else to take its place. There are many paths to God yes...or is a rigid "we will kill you if you dont believe what we believe" the only recommended path to God for some? Has any Muslim who faced a murtad...or apostate ever bothered to ask them why they decided to leave...have they sat down with them and tried to dialogue with them and discover the reason for the change of heart...I find it rather unlikely when all we generally see when it comes to Muslim reaction to apostates is rioting...and screams for death...yes...that will definitely bring that straying Muslim back into the "safe" folds of Islam. If the person had any doubts before taking the step to leave...Im sure Muslims foaming at the mouth and hell bent on getting the chance to throw some stones will not convince them that maybe they made a mistake...and decide to stick around and take another stab at it.

As I said, personally I am not bothered in the least by those that decide to leave...let them leave and find their own way without the guiding light of Islam...maybe they will come back..maybe they wont...but the choice is given to them by God...so leave them to it. I am more fearful of the Muslims that stay...stay and corrupt this beautiful deen into something worth fearing and running from. Why dont we cry for the death of Muslims that corrupt the very words of God and make it a fearful and oppressive religion for women...rather than a joyful spirtitual experience? Why dont we cry for the death of Muslims that prohibit other religions from being practiced even though God specifically allows that? Why dont we cry for the death of Muslims that believe forced marriages are Islamic...that do not allow women to divorce and keep then in bondage similar to prisoners...why dont we cry for the death of Muslims that consider beating wives and daughters Islamically mandated and that killing females for perceived shame is a deed worth feeling proud over...without fear of reprisal from either the community or from the authorities for the most part? Why dont we cry for the death of Muslims that make a complete mockery of this perfect and beautiful religion given to us by God...and yet turn it into something that gets displayed on the evening news like tabloid fodder that makes us all look like brainwashed backward women hating and oppressive sheep that will kill you if you choose to believe all this "do it our way or die" religious lifestlye is perfect and shouldnt be abondoned for something inferior like Christianity...which incidently hasnt stoned anyone to death in recent history far as Im aware.

In other words...lets kill the ones that stay and cause corruption, oppression, misinformation, and make this a religion solely for mans ego and pride...and let the ones that wish escape Go!

*violence doesnt solve anything...doesnt convince anyone...and definitely is not Islamically mandated by either God or the Prophet. My desire to "kill" is a play on words...in case anyone didnt catch that.

The Pedophile Prophets Latest Conquests

I've never been one to suffer the ignorance of people whose soul objective in life is to spew hateful words and create conflict and division where ever and when ever possible...I especially hate it when it concerns religion and prophets. Any religion and any prophet....

Now, as a Muslim, I must admit that the prophet of Islam holds a special spot in my heart but that doesnt mean I hold other prophets any lower in my eyes...they are all highly esteemed men who dedicated themselves to accomplishing a near impossible job....getting people to change what they believe...if you have ever tried to change someones mind about something they have spent a lifetime believing then you might understand, at least in a small way, what these men were up against. Throw religion into the mix and the "nearly impossible" part comes into play.

When it comes to the age old game of "my religion(prophet) is better than yours" ...history proves time and again it can be a dangerous game for the losers. However...men, those lovers of all things concerning bloodshed and death, have lost the lust for actual physical battles in the war on religion...they mostly stick to using words(which can be just as powerful and devasting)...and only battle and kill now...not in the name of God...but for more important idols, such as oil and "sacred land."

So it truly shames me for my fellow man(and I use the term lightly) that the war over religions has not only fallen to the written word but that slander, false accusations...and just down right evil is the best the "other side" can come up with. I say if you feel your right for whatever reasons...use your religion/prophet to prove yours is right...if all you've got as an "argument" are wild accusations and slander against the "enemy's prophet" then why even enter the fray to begin with? You just sound like a petulant child that has resorted to name calling when you realize the battle for strength or reason is lost.

Recently, once again while persuing a post about hijab(sigh), what started out as a fairly sound discourse quickly fell into the usual slanging match that basically boiled down to the "argument of last defense"....your prophet was a "bloodthirsty pedophile that rampaged and pillaged and created Islam just for his own sexual perversions."...or something along those lines. When I see this phrase...or something like it...pop up into the debate...I know hope for open dialogue is gone...along with reason...and there is no need to go on. You cannot debate with such closed minded individuals...so better to concede your "loss" and leave the scene of the accident...the accident being the complete inability of some to understand the completely basic assumption that while your religion and prophet maybe the "only right one" for YOU...it may not be for someone else. You know...that whole live and let live thing.

I'm currently in a little war of words with one such close minded individual...it was going along pretty good until he made the his last desperate claim for superiority....first he claimed that the Quran was ...."pornographically evil ...and then...., "Who knows how many other six years old girls Muhammad ogled and then, three years later, f*cked, as the old, dirty arsehole he was." ....when I read this(and a few other comments) I knew the battle of reason was lost...no need to continue....but I left one last post...hoping he had time to reconsider his stance and come up with something a little more intellectual and worthy of debate....here is what I posted.

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"pornographically evil quran"

Wow! I have to admit...havent heard it described quite like that. Thank you for a new addition to my growing list of colorful adjectives thought up to describe an otherwise colorless book(the book itself...not the contents). I know Islam haters hate the tit for tat kind of thing when it comes to arguing but correct me if Im wrong...doesnt the bible have quite a few explicit sexual scenes played out quite vividly for all and children to read...I admit its been awhile since I read the Bible...but I do remember the giggles we use to get as children reading certain passages. I do believe the passages describing Mary's eventual pregnancy could be read as rape considering the words used and the "overshadowing" that was happening to her. Oh my tender young ears could barely handle such pornographic scenery played out in the Sunday classrooms of my youth.

At any rate, you said, "Who knows how many other six years old girls Muhammad ogled and then, three years later, f*cked, as the old, dirty arsehole he was." Well considering you just claimed there was enough material written on him to condemn him to 100 death sentences...I dare say if he made it a habit of taking young girls for marriage and or into his bed...wouldnt there be lots more written on just that subject. I would venture to guess there would be whole books written about the "dirty ole arsehole"...and his harem of 6 year olds...yes? I can only surmise scribes everywhere would have kept the breathless public waiting impatiently for the next installment of The Pedophile Prophets latest conquest...best sellers one and all.

I'm curious as to why when Christians fought and killed(massacred) any old non Christian(whats that number again...millions...billions..hmmm) of any religion or country etc...they are doing the "Lords Work"...when a Muslim does battle in order to defend himself against his enemies and then ultimately wins that struggle...he is a horrific murderer? The Jews are wiping out Palestinians from existence...but thats ok....Mohammed allows a tribe of Jews that reneged on a treaty to be judged by one of their own...who sentences them to death(much to their obvious surprise Im sure)...and he is considered a horrific murderer? "A sadist"? hmmmm care to clarify that point. A rapist...who did he rape?

"holds perfectly good people under his demonic spell."

I see...so a billion people currently on the planet...not to mention the uncountable numbers that have passed since his time have all been duped into believing one mad mans ranting and all so he could get his leg over...now I realize men since Adam have been consumed with the idea that all women are there for the sole purpose of providing sexual entertainment and relief for their self inflated sexual egos...but to foster the belief that a entire religion that has lasted well over 1400 years is based solely on the sexual deviances of just one man...now thats something only another man could think up. Kudos to you for imagining that many men...and women for that matter...would consider one mans fantasy life worthy of their worship and practice. If it were that easy to dupe the population into believing such a thing...I dare say we would have a hell of a lot more "religions" based only on the sexual perversions of just one man. Your a man(Im assuming)...you know very well its a lingering fantasy every man has...complete sexual compliance by a harem of willing women...and all cause "God says so"...how completely sublime.

I find it interesting that Mohammed never ordered his people to worship him...seems only reasonable if the man had such an inflated ego that he "still holds perfectly good people under his demonic spell"...but then again...Jesus never said that either...but he's got billions of people worshipping him...so one man had such complete power over his followers that to utter the words "worship me" would have been seen as the next "logical" step(yet he never dared utter such a thing)...and the other man who continually preached to his followers about One God and only woship Him...ends up being burdened with the very thing he spent his life trying to change..."the best laid plans...." and all that.

Ok...then...what else you got. ;)

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So...what do you imagine he will come back with...or will he? I find most of these sort of "debaters" throw out slander like this like handgrenades...throw and run...and dont look back to see what damage you might have caused...if any. The more advances we make in technology...the further back we fall in intellect and reason...but thats just my opinion.

Protesters...thy name is hypocrite!

Yesterday in the GDN yet one more reason to scream my frustration at the Muslim thought process...or lack there of.

HUNDREDS of people took to the streets yesterday in protest against the reprinting of blasphemous cartoons depicting Prophet Mohammed in the Danish media.

Once again the "evil" Danes have blasphemied our religion and must be sent to hell through the dedicated works of the "hundreds' that seemingly had nothing better to do that afternoon. Now dont get me wrong...its not the fact that they protested that has me heated up...people who feel a wrong has been done should protest to get the point across that some actions will not be tolerated..... so no, Im not mad cause they protested....Im totally pissed off because these protesters...and I use that term to cover any and all protesters that raise a banner...scream Allhu Akhbar....or in anyway show disapproval for some "anti-Islamic' action taken by a non-Muslim anywhere in the world...are so damn selective about what they protest.

1. A non-Muslim draws a cartoon of our Prophet Mohammed....protest and destroy property...hurt people if at all possible....completely forgetting that our prophet...who they are supposedly defending, had more patience and endured more harmful actions taken against him then some silly drawings...and forgave his enemies when all was said and done.

2. A non-Muslim destroys or in anyway disrespects the Quran....protest and destroy property....hurt people if at all possible...and issue a fatwa condemning that person to death....completely forgetting that the Quran itself is just a book...the words of which mean absolutely nothing if its followers dont follow the message contained there in...the message of peace...duh!

3. A non-Muslim makes some kind of film, documentary or commercial even that depicts Islam in less than a favourable light...protest and destroy property....hurt people it at all possible...issue a fatwa condemning that person to death...and then sit silently by while a lone Muslim murders that individual.....muttering that he "isnt really a Muslim".

4. A non-Muslim country bans hijab or some such thing....protest and destroy property...hurt people if at all possible and demand freedom to practice your religion as you choose....all the while forbidding Muslim women...heck even Muslim men...from practicing their religion the way they choose in so called Islamic countries....no protesting by these Muslims allowed.

5. A non-Muslim country detains Muslims and tortures them...protest and riot...destroy property if possible...and declare that country evil doers that are not following Human Rights Laws etc...and yet sit quietly by while your own "Islamic" country detains your Muslim brother or sister, torures them and sometimes they are never seen again....hmmmm?

Ok ok...not all protests lead to violence...but a fair share of them do...but here's the thing...we are Muslims are we not? Shouldnt we hold ourselves to a higher standard then" kafirs and mushikroons"...shouldnt we rise above it and show them through peaceful demonstrations and protests that we disapprove of their actions and uphold the idea that Islam is a peaceful religion....shouldnt we?

It was organised by the Islamic Scholars Council and spearheaded by organising committee head Sayed Mohammed.
"The citizens of Bahrain expressed their anger and disapproval of the westerner's uncivilised behaviour towards the continuous insult of Prophet Mohammed," he said.


The "uncivilized" remark just made me laugh...what exactly do you call it when "defenders of Islam"....riot and burn...destroy property...and sometimes even kill over some perceived blasphemy? Islam is a peaceful religion dammit...and we'll kill you if you say otherwise...what a laugh...and those laughing the hardest are non-Muslims no doubt...they see Islam as a joke...and I would have to guess some Muslims do too if their actions are anything to judge them by.

"We are also expressing our disapproval to the careless Islamic governments, who allow such atrocities and do not defend their prophet."

So let me see if I get this right....drawing a cartoon of our prophet by a non-Muslim is considered an "atrocity'...destroying the Quran...a book of pen and ink is an "atrocity"....but honor killings, beheadings, suicide bombers and stoning assumed adulterers to death etc are not? Why are there no protests and riots over those actions above....cartoons of the prophet need severe action and reprisals are forthcoming...but murder keeps us all quiet and in our seats watching the Friday afternoon movie?

"We are shocked to see that these Islamic countries are ignoring these continuous oppressions and that is why today we are calling upon all Islamic countries to stand up and defend their religion."

I think what he meant to say was...."we as Muslims should be shocked at the oppression that these Islamic countries are submitting their own Muslim populations too and we are calling for all Muslims to stand up and defend their religion against these oppressors"....yeah, that sound better?

In the end they did both, pledging to do all they could to fight those who mock Islam.

You got to be kidding me right? Like I said....Protesters...thy name is hypocrite!

Might I remind these protesters of an ayat in the Quran taught to us by our prophet...both of which they defend so staunchily....

"Oh you who believe! Stand out firmly for Allah and be just witnesses and let not the enmity of others make you avoid justice. Be just, that is nearer to piety, and fear Allah. Verily Allah is well aquanited with what you do. 5:8

I would rather befriend a "kafir" that destroys my Quran or draws a cartoon of my prophet then a Muslim that raises his or her hand or voice in violence against the one that did those two deeds....deeds of which have no bearing on my belief nor harm it or change it in anyway. All I have to say to end this with is....what would our prophet think of all this "holy righteous defense of Islam" crap...he would probably utter something similar to what Jesus cried out to God at a particularly wretched moment in his life...."Oh Muslims....why have thou forsaken me?"