Manhattan Mosque Musings

I have watched my home country from afar with dismay and alarm as the arguments for the Park 51 center have unfolded in Manhattan. I have waited through the days for the arguments to abate or come to reason but instead I have gradually sunk into dread and disappointment when reading the articles discussing the reactions and perceptions of Americans. I have heard irrational ridiculous arguments ranging from the lack of religious freedoms in Saudi Arabia to Nazis. Since when did my country draw comparisons and find relevance in the actions of another country that does not even afford women the legal right to drive? Saudi Arabia is a theocracy. No, nonmuslims cannot go to Mecca nor can a church be built there. But is our government a theocracy? Does our government have the right to endorse only one religion or exclude another?

I have heard repeatedly that the proposed mosque might receive funding from extremists or serve as a beacon of victory. “Muslims for Peace” sounds pretty extremist to me. A bunch of New Yorker moms is also rather intimidating. Furthermore, Imam Rauf, is a proponent of Sufi Islam, a neoplatonic (also a major influence for christian theologians like St. Augustine) influenced branch of Islam that many Muslims find so different that it is often considered outside the boundary of traditional Islam. Al Qaeda and other extremist organizations surely consider this proposed mosque an abomination. In fact, it is really a misnomer to call this project a mosque. It is a cultural center that happens to include a mosque. What if it also included a church, temple, and a yoga studio with free copies of “Eat, Pray, Love?” Would that solve it America?

There are a great deal of hysterics these days about Obama’s religion. As his approval rating goes down his potential “muslimness” goes up. “Muslim” must be quite the dirty word in the US these days. I do not remember being taught even in my West Texas government class that it was a Presidential requirement to be nonmuslim. Congratulations America on joining the countless Egyptians here in Cairo who also believe he is Muslim based primarily on his name, his skin color, and his attempts, albeit somewhat unsuccessful, to simmer down the tension in the Middle East. These are the same people who learn that the Holocaust is a Jewish conspiracy and never happened. These are the people who tell me that 9-11 was actually a Zionist conspiracy to get America to go to war with Muslim nations. In other words, one fifth of Americans are joining intellectual ranks with the typical Egyptian educated in very little outside of government propaganda. I’m sure all the members of the conspiracy theory club would agree that Obama is the author of this Ramadan quote: "Over the past month, Muslims have fasted, taking no food or water during daylight hours, in order to refocus their minds on faith and redirect their hearts to charity. Muslims worldwide have stretched out a hand of mercy to those in need. Charity tables at which the poor can break their fast line the streets of cities and towns. And gifts of food and clothing and money are distributed to ensure that all share in God's abundance. Muslims often invite members of other families to their evening iftar meals, demonstrating a spirit of tolerance." Nope. That was good ol’ George W in 2002, one year after September 11th. He must be a Muslim too. 

There are much more significant things to get excited about in the arena of US national security that have more relevance than a far fetched, paranoia of creeping extremist Islam. Maybe we should focus on issues of more pressing importance to our security, like how to address the national debt. Or maybe the concern voiced by General Petreaus in March about how the continuing Israeli-Palestinian conflict is jeopardizing American progress in the Arab region. It was announced yesterday that talks would resume September second for the first time in nearly 20 months. Perhaps we should use all our brainpower and energy to channel helpful reflection and analysis on how we might be successful in this endeavor rather than spinning up all our engines in an embarrassing display of Islamaphobia. Or maybe the issue of a nuclear Iran? Or dare I whisper it: China.  

Back at Ramadan

I know that it has been quite some time since I have written. While I may chastise myself for it, I know it was because I found myself busy with travel... even better, travel with another person. I was away from the busy streets of Cairo for so long that I actually began to long for it. It does hold a fascination and even romantic sway over my heart. It is at times hard to understand why, especially in consideration of the fact that not many people share my sentiments. I actually reminisce on the calls of the minarets across the hot, humid, and dust laden air. There is something mischievous in the smiles of the residents here, developed from years of living in one of the most frustrating, crowded, and oldest cities of the world. For being the “mother of the world,” Masr is rather cantankerous, spiteful at times, and most certainly aged in her appearance. She is not an aging great dame, but the ancient, doubled over, crone with so many wrinkles upon her face that her age seems unimaginable. Yet somewhere in those eyes you see strength and will that have been forged through time and experiences you will never understand. The great pyramids were over two thousand years old in Cleopatra’s day. The amount of time separating her from their construction is the amount of time that now separates us from the supposed Trojan War. That’s how I try to calculate the age of the pyramids in my head.

We returned the first day of Ramadan, a completely different face for Cairo to put on. The streets are empty in the day and packed in anticipation at dusk. Ramadan in August is excruciating. For the majority there is no A/C in this hot month, making the abstinence from water or any liquids all the more torturous. Perhaps even worse is the demanding daylight hours without a single cigarette or puff of sheesha. Those Egyptians you do find out in the heat of the day are more than on edge.

We were with Sabah a few nights ago for iftar, or the literal breaking of the fast. As always when we are guests in her house, she is the epitome of hospitality. I watched with great respect as she cooked for hours in the hot kitchen, preparing the night’s iftar without tasting a single bit of food or having a drink of water. She only occasionally wiped her forehead with cool water for some relief. We waited out the heat on the couch watching “B” movies from the US I had never heard of, let alone seen. These are the favorites in Egypt, a place that still highly values the macho, cigarette smoking, karate chopping, infinite bullet shooting hero. And there is nothing like the dialogue of a bad martial arts movie to knock the rust off your arabic.

The anticipation for the call to prayer was restrained but still very much felt as we sat around a feast that was enough to feed us all four times over. The TV gave a canon shot when the appointed time had arrived but it was unnecessary as the entire city was filled with the call from the mosques. For the first time I witnessed Sabah without her usual restraint. The liquids were most important. They were as various as the feast: tamarind, mango, and many more. As usual, the majority of the food was left for us. And also as usual, the event turned into something similar to a college frat event with cheering to continue eating past the point of comfort or reason. But alas, that is the hospitality here. After a year I have gradually managed to learn new tricks to keep myself from having to eat to the point of pain, especially in the category of meat. But it is impossible to not eat a lot without giving offense. These days I starve myself all day and maybe the previous day in preparation. The food is excellent as always. The best food in Egypt is found in homes and not in restaurants.

It is true that Egypt feels like home to me these days. It will be the longest I have lived in one house for nearly decade. I am greeted by friends here after being gone for six weeks like I have been gone for years. Cairo has its moments that make me want to hide away in my home of books, movies, and painting. But most of the time it still feels like I’m on an adventure, even after a year.