(Photo By Sherif Sonbol, From Al-Ahram Weekly, July 1998
An evening stroll weaving in and out of crazy Cairo traffic. That’s what I needed. The sweet smell of second-hand sheesha smoke and some daredevil car-weaving had turned into an almost nightly ritual for me back in those days. I wasn’t expecting a change, but that’s when it always happens right? I walked out of my 5th floor apartment into the eerie, not-so-well-lit hallway, the same hallway where Mina and Maryam’s parents had slaughtered a sheep on Eid-ul-Adha. Do you remember that day? I made them balloon animals while they took turns jumping over the pool of blood. That’s one day I’ll always remember, I had just come back from Eid prayer at Masjid Mustafa Mahmoud to find a sizable pool of sheep’s blood in front of my apartment door. Not wanting to track any inside the apartment, I jumped over the puddle. I left the door open though, not because I enjoyed the scent of sheep’s blood, but because I found it rather amusing that a vast amount of blood was in front of my doorway and slowly spreading to the rest of the hallway.
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A few years back I found a complete English translation of “Muhammad ‘Abduh” by Osman Amin originally published by Da’ir al-Ma’arif al-Islamiya, Cairo, 1944. This translation was published by the American Council of Learned Societies, as a part of their Near Eastern Translation Program, Washington, DC 1953. Amazing what you find in the Islam section of used bookstores for $4.00. Unfortunately, I’ve lost it since then— and all the other copies I see for sale are around $50 bucks.
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photo courtesy of yasmine
When HijabMan posted his entry on the murder of Aasiya Hassan yesterday, “On Giving Men a Free Pass,” I was thankful. It was, I thought, another sign that the Muslim community is taking the issue of domestic violence seriously. In some cases the talk is coming from corners where the discussion is long overdue – there’s no use pretending otherwise – but if there is any small good that can come out of this woman’s brutal murder I hope that it will be in the form of more attention to violence against women, and the need for Muslim leaders, in particular, to address it.
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I spent about four months in Syria, living in a neighborhood called rukn al-din, in the northeast of Damascus.
While there, I lived in a house with several other Muslim men (and one Christian) from around the world. Eventually, everyone in the house except the Syrians and the German did not speak with me, refused to let me eat with them, and branded me a Sign of The Day Of Judgment. Suffice it to say, I make an impression wherever I go. More on that in a follow-up post, though.
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So, tomorrow we’re leaving for Islamabad, God willin’. My husband’s stomach is all Pakistanified—he’s having the true experience, poor guy. I’m wondering if we should cancel our delayed Northern travels altogether, but he’s really keen to go.
Yesterday, after much repeated insistence, we were given enough liberty to go out around town with Dinu Bhai. Everyone’s terribly protective and feels responsible for us, so sweet as it is, it’s a bit difficult to act like an adult. Also, this idea of going out wandering without a particular purpose has limited currency here. The idea is that you (women or mixed gender groups) go out with a particular purpose. Only men seem to just hang around in public space in Hyderabad. It’s pre-feminist revolution: men own the public sphere. Even fairly overt and dramatic affection between men is tolerated in public, while even minimal affection between sexes, even spouses, is just not seen and, I’m told, not tolerated in public. This is generally accepted as an appropriate exercise of modesty. I suppose affection between women is generally alright here, but because women are generally only in public with some business, you just don’t see it.
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We’ve spent three or four days in Hyderabad now and (I’m not being facetious) it’s lovely here. It’s true that people are sick of Musharraf, but I’ve gotta say: things have improved dramatically in Hyderabad in the last ten years. The streets are cleaner, the middle class appears to be growing, we’re enjoying a freedom of movement that wasn’t at all possible during the nineties. I’m not sure that’s owing to anything Musharraf has done (aside from the general enforcement of law and order that was missing in the Nawaz Sharif-Benazir period), but whatever it is, it’s been working in noticeable ways.
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This post is an ongoing series posts by Zosha & Her husband Angrez. They are currently traveling through Pakistan.
Day three of “mourning.” We have such cabin fever! But my Sindhi and Urdu both improve by leaps and bounds with each day. I’m now speaking to Auntie in Sindhi and am working on reading a book by Zulfikar Ali Bhutto’s prison superintendent in Urdu with Angrez at night. We’re making the best of not getting out much. Auntie refers to my Sindhi “coming out” as “khush khabri”—she’s clearly pleased with my progress…I have to admit I’m a little surprised myself to be recovering so much so quickly.
There are so few women on the streets—I really think women get the worst of all of this. They’re not responsible for the drama, they aren’t burning cars or beating on thier heads for the cameras, and yet they end up stuck at home for days as a result… I’m pretty sure I could adjust to just about everything except that about Pakistan. Angrez and I talk frequently about a brain-drain reversing move, maybe to Islamabad, as we both grow increasingly frustrated with the U.S.‘s hyperpower insanity. I’m reading a fantastic book about the role of multiculturalism and tolerance in empire and fall of empire by Amy Chau. I think it’s true that the U.S. had an unprecedented opportunity to redefine the role of world leadership after the Cold War and has instead chosen the tried and true path of empire expansion.
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