Moving House

I have decided to come out of my shell and move over to wordpress. I even made a blogroll! From now on, kindly visit me here:

http://luckyfatima.wordpress.com/

Why I am not "Just Muslim"

Are you a Sunni or a Shi’a? That question comes up among Muslims. Sometimes the intentions behind the question are innocent. Other times they are not. You must know what I mean. If you ask me that question, I won’t say, “I am just a Muslim, sect doesn’t matter.” I will say that I am a Sunni. I’ll tell you why. Sect does matter. It is too easy for Sunnis to say that sect doesn’t matter. Under most circumstances, Sunnis are not discriminated against because of their status as Sunnis. It has become trendy to say that we are "just Muslims" in the interest of communal cohesion. But that is too simple, and brushes over long standing problems of suspicion and intolerance of each other. This suspicion and intolerance is the real problem. On the ground, this has led to communal tension, and even violence. Most commonly, it has been Sunnis oppressing Shi'as and doling out the violence to them. Sunnis are the majority sect. Because of that, Sunnis dominate global discourse on Islam. In terms of number, very few question Sunni legitimacy. There is no commonly circulated Islamic literature that condemns Sunnis, calls them “not real Muslims,” belittles their practices, or patronizingly looks down upon them, as there often is against the Shi’a. I realize that there is anti-Sunni dogma among Shi’as, but Sunnis are the powerful majority, so they are not under threat because of that anti-Sunni rhetoric. For a Sunni to say that sect doesn’t matter is to obliterate the Shi’a minority's perfectly legitimate right to adhere to their distinct beliefs, the beliefs that define Shi'as and Shi'ism in the real world context of their being a minority. It is easy for Sunnis to say “I am just a Muslim.” When this is said by a Sunnis, they are trying to express that they are open to Shi’ism. Everyone wants to be friends and get along. When Sunnis say this, they are attempting to be tolerant. But this isn’t true tolerance. This is actually another form of Sunni domination. Sunnism is still left as the default Islam because real difference is swept under the rug. True tolerance is to say, “I know we are different, but I respect our differences.” Saying “I am not a Sunni, I am not a Shi’a, I am just a Muslim,” is such a Sunni thing to say. It does not allow for respect of difference. But we ARE different. That is obvious, though it may make some people uncomfortable at times. If there were true tolerance, no one would be uncomfortable with the differences. The differences aren't going to go away. We must maintain at the core of our beings that it is okay to be different from each other. We must defend the right to be different. Shi'as must be able to say, "I am a Shi'a," and not be pressured into this using this pseudo-tolerant "just Muslim" slogan that annihilates what makes them who they are. That is more important than trying to use an imaginary tolerance paint brush to color us all “just Muslim.”

Happy Birthday Sweetie Chooza Choo

So on December 22, my precious pyaari widdle daughter turned 1 year old, Mashallah. She wasn't too excited about it. Because of the Oman trip, her sleep schedule was off, so she took her daily nap earlier than usual and then was very tired later in the afternoon when we dressed her up and sang her Happy Birthday. She was very perplexed by everything. We didn't have a big party for her. Only my husband and I attended. The nanny was off, but she came by later to wish Baby D, or should I say Big Girl D, a Happy Birthday. So it was just mama and baba and baby. Last weekend, the neighbors, whose daughter was born 5 days before ours, threw a big birthday bash at the nearby pizza parlour (actually it is a pizza cum North Indian cum Chinese food place...very Khaleeji-Indian!) and all of their relatives came. Their relatives actually live in Dubai. We don't have anyone here. So we didn't have a big fiesta. At the neighbor's fiesta, my daughter was the star guest since she is the neighbor baby's best friend. I would have invited them over on Baby D's birthday, but they went to India to shop for a family wedding. So we had to make do with a family party. Baby D was just fine with that, but my in-laws were kind of surprised that we weren't doing anything more. I seriously did not feel like inviting a few friends over (none of whom have kids or kids my daughter's age) and forcing them to buy gifts and all just for the sake of having a big bash. Inshallah when Baby D is older and actually knows about birthdays, we'll have plenty of big parties with her pre-school friends and all. So I was satisfied with the party, and Baby D seemed to be, too.



My mother sent Baby D a singing stuffed frog named Tad. The lovely nanny bought her a baby doll that sucks a pacifier, cries, and says mama and papa. My husband and I bought her a new party dress, shoes, and a bubble making machine. While we were in Oman visiting an old friend, they went out and got her a 21 karat gold letter "D" necklace charm (mashallah, that was really touching!). So we had plenty of gifts. We also had loads of balloons, a Baskin Robbins ice-cream cake, and even party hats. So it was a small, private, yet fun little affair. Baby D loved her gifts. I thought she would be afraid of them because she gets afraid of animated toys sometimes. But she warmed to them both. She also LOVED the bubble machine.



I had made a post some weeks back that my daughter was not yet speaking. Well, shortly after writing that post, subhanallah, Baby D said her first word. It was LIGHT. She loves to look at lights. Since then, she has said several other words. On her birthday she said BUBBLE, too! It is sooo amazing to watch her language develop. She only says one thing in Urdu, which is de de. For her that means "give it to me." But she understands Urdu. I ask her "Murghi kaisi bolti hai?" (what does the chicken say?) and she says "Kok!" and then I ask, "Bakri kaisi bolti hai?" (what does the goat say?) and she says "Eheheh." She has a problem with the kitty cat, billee. I ask her what the cat says and she says "kok koo!" instead of mao mao. She'll learn, inshallah. Oh wait, she said gaaRee once, too (car). But she hasn't repeated that. So she said two Urdu words.



She is also toddling about a bit, Mashallah. She is just so sweet and funny. My little funny monkey. It seems like yesterday I was peering at her covered in afterbirth. Subhanallah.

Eidukum Mubarak

Asalaam Aleikum wa eidukum mubarak. I wish everyone a blessed Eid.

Inshallah the nanny, Baby D, and I are driving to Muscat tomorrow. We wanted to go for Eid Al Fitr, but couldn't make it because the holiday wasn't announced in time to make plans. This time, we could kind of guess when to go. It is going to be a 4-5 hour drive with a one year old. I can't say that I am looking forward to that. Lots of stops and loads of Cheerios will keep us sane, Inshallah. I haven't been back to Muscat since before Cyclone Gonu. Several close friends' homes were badly damaged. I feel really bad about that. One dear friend, Abla S, has invited us for lunch on the first day of Eid. She is also hosting guests from the UK and Bahrain. You know something about her? Her whole downstairs was destroyed in the cyclone, and so were all of the family cars. But this isn't the first time in her life that she lost almost everything. When she was a teenager, her family home was destroyed in riots in Zanzibar when all of the Afro-Arabs had to leave. She fled on a boat. Subhanallah. She is now in her early 60s. She is a grandmother and a mother of 5 mashallah successful children. She is a really kind soul and is heavily involved with dawah work. We have been in touch a lot and whenever I go to Muscat I make it a point to meet up with her. We also met up in Jordan when I travelled there a couple summers ago. Anyhow, I just feel so terrible about her family home. I am not sure what to expect.

On Eid day 2, I am invited to lunch with another good friend, A. The lunch is at her in-law's house. Hmmm, I actually wrote about her MIL before years ago on my old blog. We had gone to an iftaar at her MIL's house, and her MIL kept asking "where are you from?" and I kept saying Texas. "But why is your face like that, are you and Arab, is your dad an Arab?" She kept pressing it, "but your face, but your color, blah blah" (I guess I have a really funny face?!?) and then after dinner I was like "my dad is Jewish." and she was like "I KNEW IT! I felt as if a jinn had whispered it into my ear!" Hah hah I told this story to Abla S, and she said "A jinn? Maybe an angel whispered it into her ear!" Anyway, A's MIL makes me uncomfortable. But she has hosted me on several different occasions, and I realize that she means well, but saying things bluntly is just part of her personality.

I need to meet up with a couple of other people. Another friend got married last Friday and I wasn't able to attend her wedding. I am gonna stop by her mom's house and give her a wedding gift. She won't be intown cuz she is on honeymoon. But it will be nice to see her mom. Then I have to meet up with F. Al H. She was kind of upset at me for not stopping by the last time I was in town, so I am making it a point to get over to her.

My best friend G. won't be in Muscat at the time. She is travelling to her family village. But we might meet up when she is driving through. She actually lives near to me in a town on the UAE/Oman border. She moved at the same time I moved. So she'll be travelling towards Muscat on the way to her hometown.

One thing I am really really looking foward to in addition to catching up with friends is the Muscati Eid Al Adha specialty...the showa. It is this goat that is seasoned, wrapped in banana leaves (well, there are actually variations of it, some ppl use palm leaves, but the people I know are mostly Zanzibaris and they use banana leaves) and they bury it in the ground in an underground oven and cook it until it is just soooo tender and delicious. It is eaten with plain boiled rice, and Zanzibaris serve it with kachumbari, which is a relish of sliced onions, carrots, cucumbers, and tomatoes, in lemon juice with salt and black pepper. People usually give me some showa to take home. Last year I made NYC deli style sandwiches out of it. Omani Yiddish food? LOL. My best friend G. is also saving me some mathbee, which is the Eid Al Adha food in her home region. It is cow meat cooked on hot rocks. It is like delicious steak! I am sure I am gonna gain at least 2 kgs after this weekend!

I am bringing everyone sweets from Damascus Sweets here in Dubai. I dare say that this is the best shaami sweet shop in Dubai, well at least by my taste. There are no really good authentic Shaami sweet shops in Muscat, and actually not that many in Dubai. Omani and Gulf sweets in general are totally different than sweets in the rest of the Arab world. There is konafa and baqlawa and all at the regular grocery store, but it just isn't that good. They often make a cheapy cheater's version with *gasp* peanuts blended in with the other more expensive nuts. So the real thing is extra special. People like foreign stuff, especially authentic shaami sweets, as a novelty, so I know they are gonna like those sweets. People used to request them from me when I would go to Dubai and meet my husband on weekends after we were first married.

So that's the plan. In addition to catching up with people, I'll be showing Muscat to the nanny. She has friends who lived there before and everyone always praises the place so she is excited about the trip.


Well, those are my plans. Inshallah all will be khair. Happy Eid!

I'm Scofield's #1 Pankha

For a few months now I have been watching Prison Break. I know the show is in its third season in the US, but over here we are often a few seasons behind, or there are several seasons of a given show airing on various English language channels---as is the case with Prison Break. After Ramadan I happened to catch an episode of Prison Break from season one and I was hooked. The channel on which I watched the show aired each episode daily on weeknights, rather than weekly, which suits my hectic baby/mama life better. So I watched season one. And then it finished. And I was devastated. They started airing the first season of Lost in Prison Break's time slot, but I just couldn't get into Lost and couldn't get over handsome, mysterious grey-blue eyed Michael. The break-up was painful. I had to have more. I did something I have never done before. I bought a box set of the episodes of season II. I actually bought the authentic set rather than risk a poor quality bahari daakoo set. (that means pirate, dunno why I just feel like playing around with Urdu right now) So nowadays, every evening at 9 pm on weeknights, you can find my husband and I perched in front of the TV. Luckily my husband likes the show, too. I know the show has some silly and fantastic elements. And the fact that one of the best characters is a vicious serial killer pedophile is pretty outrageous. Also, from an anti-racism stand point, the show has many irritating and offensive quirks. But somehow I just overlook the bad points, roll my eyes sometimes at the ridiculous twists in events, and enjoy. I haven't been excited about TV in a long time. I just really really like this show.

Ungenerous: is that a real word anyway?

The housekeeper noticed that our Thanksgiving guest took back the salad that she had brought. She asked, "Is that the American custom?" I told her that it doesn't mean anything bad for Americans. I told her that I offered to make the guest a to-go plate but she insisted on taking what she wanted. I said that was fine because if I made her a plate she might throw away the stuff she didn't want to eat, so this way she got everything that would be useful for her and nothing gets wasted. I said I know this looks weird to desi people, but to me it doesn't matter. We don't have the same rules for formalities, not that we don't have formalities, it's just that our rules are different. She said "yep, well in India the guest should leave her dish and be offered a plate to take home and you should make the plate." "Yep, I know." I said. "If you did what your guest did for Indians you would seem like a cheapo," she said. The housekeeper was weirded out by my American guest and my behavior.

So later I told my husband. I said, the housekeeper was weirded out that our guest took her salad back. And also that she made her own to-go plate. "Yes, American thinking." He said it in kind of a pejorative way. "Think about yourself and only take what you want." I said, "That's good, what's wrong with that? I know my friend diets all the time and she probably would have thrown away everything else. So what she took was what was useful for her." "Yes, they only do what is useful for them." he says.

I just remained silent. That was an indirect barb. Why does he have to pick on my culture? I have some negative impressions of some desi stuff, but I see it in the big picture as being part of a cultural context and fitting in there. I don't whine about it to my husband. I never mention it actually. (although I do blog about it sometimes, I guess) But I never criticize him for it. I mean, it is HIS culture. Why should I pick on him? So why does he have to pick on me? I am kind of irritated by that. I know Americans look kind of ungenerous, or you could say stingy, compared to people from cultures which highly value displays of generosity to guests. It is just a different concept of what "making someone feel at home" means when they are a guest in your home. Some stuff desis do looks pretty weird or inappropriate to me, too through American eyes. I mean, it is all culturally relative. One way is not better than the other. There are just different ways of doing things which are appropriate in their specific contexts.

I think he is very "Westernized," but some stuff about him is very desi. I am very very American in my thinking and manners. I think I have picked up some of the Pakistani hospitality stuff, but to tell you the truth, it isn't the real me. It is mostly forced and fake. I just do it to seem like less of a space alien to any desis who come over. I mean, I AM a foreigner. I think my manners have gotten more generous over the years. But I am still an American at the core (I am not saying that Americans aren't generous, but the way we treat guests would be considered to be lacking outside of our cultural boundaries). Why should I give someone a plate full of food that she won't eat? I'll just let her take what she wants. And I seriously did not think twice that she took her salad back until the housekeeper mentioned it to me. And I just hate that my husband uses stuff like that to sort of indirectly put me down cuz I know he wishes I could behave more "desi" in that respect. Sigh.

Darzee tales

I’m kind of bummed cuz my stuff STILL isn’t ready at the tailors. What tailor? What stuff? A few weeks back I got two new shalwar qameez materials and I gave them to the tailor after searching for some kind of trendy and up to date ways to stitch them. I ended up subscribing to the Pakistani She Magazine. It is a Karachi based women’s interest magazine. It has some fun stuff like film reviews and fashion layouts (which help me because I am clueless about shalwar qameez fashions and I always feel so frumpy and out of it) and also some good articles dealing with women’s issues in the Pakistani context. So, anyway, I took my updated trendy self-made illustrations to my good old tailor, Magan Master. To get to him, I have to drive for 30 minutes and then park somewhere and walk 15 minutes into a bazaar. I have tried other, closer places, but over the years he has proven to be the best. Anything expensive I give only to him. He works at a collective of master tailors owned by an Indian business man. The Master Tailors do the cutting, and the stitching is done in a workshop. They have embroidery, too, which is hard to find in Dubai. The whole set up makes their work very efficient and also very high quality. As everything else in Dubai has gotten to be more expensive, their stitching charges have risen as well, though their rates have always been slightly higher than average. But going to Master Magan is well worth the higher charge. So, I schlep my stuff over to Magan Master. When I arrived that day, his cutting table was a complete mess and there are some ladies standing there arguing with him. I wait patiently for my turn. When I plop my materials down on his table, he says “Can you bring these after Divali?” It’s really tight right now and you’ll have to wait.” I tell him that it is a lot of trouble for me to get here and can he just take my clothes, I don’t mind waiting a few weeks for them I knew he would be super busy because of Divali. He took my materials, noted down my instructions, and gave a date to pick up the finished suits. He was in a really grumpy mood and became exasperated with me because I don’t know all the tailoring lingo and special terms. He is usually patient about that, but this time he let out his annoyance by teasing me a bit. No problem. Later, I tell him he is in a sour mood. I ask him if he likes sweets. I was thinking of going to the chaat and sweet shop across the street to bring him a snack or a plate of rasmalai or something. “Ah! I am diabetic,” he snaps. “Oh, I think you just need to sweeten your mood,” I say. He confesses, “Most people don’t talk to me the way you do. You are very polite. You must be employed somewhere, right?” “Yes I am a teacher,” I say. “Well, most of these ladies come in here and are very rude to me. They think they are all princesses. I have been here since 6 am. I am just really tired.” “Do you get overtime pay?” I ask. “We get nothing of the sort!” he replies. Anyhow, I finished up with him and decided that I wanted to give him a gift. I thought about it and I ended up having a mug made for him that says, “#1 Tailor: Magan Master” with a picture of a sunflower on a sunny day in the background. I have no idea if he reads English, and I suspect he is a tea drinker and never uses coffee mugs. But I just thought the mug would be kind of utilitarian and funny at the same time. Like he could keep pens and scissors in it on his table or something. Anyway, I went to him to pick up my stuff yesterday and guess what! It wasn’t ready. The place he works is usually so efficient that the single time in 3 years that my clothes weren’t ready on the collection date, I received a call informing me. This time I came in after the pick up date. The suits should have been ready. I didn’t say anything. There wouldn’t have been a point. I gave him the mug anyway and just laughed. Anyway, now I have to go back again! The long drive and the long walk, ugh! Usually I go with a friend who is interested in getting chaat or Gujarati thali with me for dinner, or I take the nanny and Baby D. So I am gonna have to arrange to go out there AGAIN! Aagh! Anyways, I have been spending too much money this month cuz guess what else I did in the bazaar? I got another two joras to have stitched. I really don’t wear shalwar qameez very often anyway. I am just wasting money. Anyhow, one is an expensive Pakistani made dark blue cotton with chikan kaari on it. The other is an inexpensive daily wear Indian suit. I chose it because even though the suit was just a weave with a block print design, it has a really pretty dupatta. I got a suit for the nanny, too. She picked a cotton one with a chiffon dupatta. The expensive blue suit I am gonna bring to Magan Master after I shrink it. My other suit and the nanny’s suit, I am gonna give to this new tailor I discovered near to my house. I am just trying him out. I already made some night gowns with him. He is Pakistani. He keeps asking where I am from (he thinks somewhere in Pakistan) but I never reveal the truth because he will then proceed to overcharge me. Hah hah I am such a trickster, he was like, hmmm, your style of speaking is from such and such place, so you must be from there! Am I right, am I right? Well, let’s say he is about a few hundred thousand miles wrong! I can tell by his accent that he is from Gujranwala. Heh heh heh.
Anyways, so now I have to make a big plan to go back to Magan Master. Maybe on Thursday---oh wait, scratch that, it’s Thanksgiving ain’t it? I just dunno. It is so hard to find free time and it’s hectic taking the baby. *Sigh* I’ll post pics if the suits come out nice.
I have some weird and crazy stories about tailors. In Oman, one was harassing me over the phone and I had to threaten to call the police because of it. That is common over here. The tailors sometimes get lonely and try to harass you for fun. That has happened to friends of mine, too. I know that sounds so crazy, but it is true. No one ever gives their real names to the tailor. Everyone always gives a man’s name, i.e. husband or brother. I didn’t realize about this when I first arrived in the region and the guy must have thought I was being a little too friendly or something. I dunno. I use my real info with Magan Master though cuz I trust him. Anywayz, another time, also in Oman, I went to this one tailor who was from this particular place in Pakistan. Then I discovered this tailor near to my apartment and I noticed that he was from the same place as the other guy. I mentioned to him that I had another tailor who was from the same place and his shop is in neighborhood X. I thought, well, Muscat is such a small place and communities are tight here. He must know the guy. Well, out of nowhere his face turned red and he puffed up in anger. He started screaming and told me this long long story in a shouting voice. Something like “I HATE that bastard! He stole that shop from me! You know that shop??? It is MYYY shop! He is sitting in MYYY shop, that thief! He is my cousin and do you treat your family that way? I am gonna kill that sister-f…” I mean he went totally crazy, he was cussing and yelling and I thought he might hurt me. I just shook my head and said “really, aha, really,” the whole time somehow escaped with my life. That was scary!
Anyways, the world of buying and stitching materials is a big part of life over here. I make pajamas, work clothes, shalwar qameezes, jalabiyyas, and also get ready made stuff altered fairly regularly. I had a high learning curve when I arrived. Despite the big headache it can be on occasion, that is one aspect of being here that I will miss when I leave the region. Though it is an *adventure* sometimes it sure is great to have clothes stitched to fit your exact shape and size and be able to play fashion designer and create your own clothes.