convergence

A week ago I heard my phone ring. I chose to fall asleep rather than answer. In my sleep I did answer, it was my friend telling me to take him to the hospital. He was having a heart attack. I ignored him. The next day, I decide to call him. His brother had taken him to the hospital in the middle of the night. It wasn't a heart attack but he felt he had one. I didn't tell him about my dream.

A couple of days ago I woke up from a dream violently due to its last action. I dreamt chronologically, a rare occurrence. Playing out like an opening sequence of a surreal film, it was quite and erie. I was driving. At an intersection by my house I heard a loud revving of an engine, I was stopped in the left lane. A motorcycle swerved around the corner hit my driver side and crashed, the rider landed in the intersection in the path of oncoming traffic. His head was crushed by an oncoming car.
After I woke up, I thought nothing of it. I got dressed and headed for work. I stopped at an intersection by my house. As I was stopping in the left lane, I heard a voice say "Right" so I took the right lane. Then I heard the loud revving of an engine, the motorcycle swerved a bit less then in my dream and didn't have my car there to hit, he missed the oncoming traffic and rode off.

This morning as I was gardening, I gave my son a simple task of bagging some yard waste, I thought I was making a mistake leaving him alone in the back yard alone while I was in the front. Then a vision popped into my head of him running to me screaming with his head bleeding. I ignored it and went back to work. ten minutes later, I heard a scream. My son came running with his hand on his ear crying. His little brother hit him with the rake. Luckily it was a minor flesh wound.

After a long day of gardening I decided to sit in the back yard quietly with my coffee and smokes. I was shocked by an instance of violence and what appeared to be a bullet coming straight for me, there was no bullet...
as of this writing, I'm still alive.

well my friend is back home, surviving a small scare and a couple of days in the hospital. Thanks to those who prayed for him.

I can't believe it has been a year.
I never thought that I'd be able to live a year without my brother or be able to function or get back into the routine.
I never thought I'd be able to let life take over again. I always thought life or time or I would just stop when the person I loved most in life died, but it didn't , the world didn't stop. It kept going and even faster, unrecognizably.
I can't believe it's been a year.
I often catch myself in a normal everyday situation and wonder how it is possible to be normal, how is it possible for me to do alone the things we used to do together, how is it possible to laugh with his children without him, how is it possible for me to live after the realization of the fear that haunted me since his birth.
How is it possible that it has been a year.
My son says he feels like his uncle is not dead, but more like on a long vacation and he expects him to come through the door any minute, all he can remember is his smile. I remember more, more of the pain and know more about death than I care to.
My friend lost his son as he came to mourn my brother, my brother-in-law lost his father before my brother, then his mother shortly after. I lost a friend in the war and then a couple of relatives, then more friends. A family friend lost in the hospital where my brother's blood had not yet dried, then another. My grandfather lived longer than most, then he too joined them, I lost another loved one.
I can't believe its been a year, I can't believe this year.

Now my best friend is in the hospital. All I can hope is that the trend is over.

all too familiar...the distance

“what information should I transmit and how?”

"Though this be madness, yet there is a method in't"

The strangest part of the latest violent events in Lebanon is the military assistance Lebanon has been "offered" by the Arab League and by the U.S.

Most Arab countries turned their back on Lebanon last year when Izrael attacked and cowardly backed the Izraelis. The U.S. offered the limited, half-hearted humanitarian aid, while suppling the Izraelis the bulk of their weapons and political support. Now, they are offering ammunition to Lebanon?

What sort of sick game is this? I know it has been going on for decades, but really, who is buying all this as sincere?

The elements that are plaguing Lebanon are external. There is no doubt that there is a sinister plot developing. The militia in the North appear to be invited guests of some unnamed Western governments via a cocaine addicted Lebanese politician.

Sounds simple enough, introduce an untamable element, hostile to your biggest rival, then use the situation to bulk up in the region in order to eleminate your challengers. In the media, this seems like an extension of the war on terror, but this is a war on every sovergn country not in the Western line. If Lebanon was truely a friend, then you would not have helped distroy it last year. This is far worse than appears. If Lebanon continues on its path of gullability, then we are all in danger.

Lebanon's military has always been weak, leaving room for others to control Lebanon with claims of aiding the nation against its enemies, but this has never been successful, and there has never been support when Lebanon has been attacked or invaded. Lebanon continues to be a pawn and the power hungry politicians of Lebanon don't seem to care since they are easily divided.

I used to think that Lebanon can take care of itself if left alone, but it is becoming more clear that some politicians do not want to be left alone and allow the people to control their own fate since it would certainly mean the loss of power.
Some would rather be president of a dependant, chaotic war-torn mess of a country, than be an average citizen in a vibrant, progressive one.

Sure there are elements inside of Lebanon that need to be weeded out, but just be cautious of who helps you do the weeding. It would be like poisoning your drinking water to kill those weeds, sooner or later even those on golden thrones need a drink.

For the record: at this point the losers are the Palestinian refugees, who now must flee again and are the majority of those killed. I hope that noone confuses the militia with the Palestinian or Lebanese people. Fatah-Al-Islam seems like everyone's enemy, but the curiosity is where they came from and who is offering to rid Lebanon of them. People should question everything now more than ever.

Surviving an Arab writer's conference

It was only two days, yet my legs are left angry, complaining of walking for what seemed like a week and a few hours. It must have been my nervous cyclical circling of tables and groups chatting seeking a way in. I paced unevenly between the various discussions and paneled my interest with smiles and smirk filled nods as that odd incoherent question to a hero who I couldn’t release unquestioned.

Few knew who I was or am or who I may be or become, a fact truer than my knowledge of that fact or current fiction, And who I was seemed to come forth and drown who I thought I was becoming because of what I lacked. I left too wide a slit in the door for that not to occur. I was a timid awkward geek who feared too much.

A poet read and I paced the distance she had traveled here. When would my legs carry me close enough to…to…I wasn’t quite certain of why I was hoping to get close? I knew I would babble and I walked on as the woman with the blue Marcel-style scarf looked at my passing with pity, not pity that I couldn’t approach but pity to a man who seemed relieved in failure and she took my spot and shook hands with the poet. I didn’t need an autograph or expected her to know my name the next year we meet, I needed to meet.

As Wadsworth and Keats wrestled over my use of I, I prepared for my presentation. It was a last minute drool with no time for revision as was my style. I was looking at the few who sacrificed sleep to attend and do their best to present an interested face, giving them loosely linked words. The interest didn’t seem that contrived the more I went on. Perhaps I was making some sense. If only I could listen to my own words instead of those voices of imprisoned grappling writers who mocked me and undermined any coherent proclamation. The poet came to me as destiny rehearsing her game. Surely she couldn’t have meant that my presentation was as fantastic as she announced. Was it just the product of the customary congratulatory comment native to conference camaraderie? She smiled again to confirm her delight and promised to visit my blog. My blog? This triviality?

The conference broke for lunch. Feeling a bit more confident that I would not suffer any bites, I gave my legs some rest and struck limited conversation with the woman sharing my table. Although I felt it her table by the way in which she snuck a wondering peak of “why is this awkward unpublished man here?”
She did her best to politely end the conversation and I worried. As I saw her the next day, I sent a passing greeting as casually as I could to avert any awkwardness and misrepresentation. Her uneasy smile damned me back to 9th grade.

Marching into a peaceful exercise unarmed rendered me battle worn.

And I was an outsider again. The second day felt like a sentence of no performable tasks giving demons exercise. What venture undertook me?
My desire to become what each of them has become, a published Arab writer, kept me confined comfortless.

The two-day self-inflicted anguish ended, but I had questions left unasked and heroes unapproached. I survived…regretfully.

Allahyirhamak ya Sayed

(Jiddi with my uncle during a dinner in his honor in March)

My grandfather has passed after a long and difficult battle in the hospital. He came to the U.S. when few Arabs lived here, and raised his children without compromising traditions or faith. He survived two world wars as a child and a soldier. After gaining in years he returned home to Tibnine. He missed his children and their children and wanted to see their children's children and play and tell them stories. So he returned to the U.S. in early spring this year. My grandmother was stuck behind and never had the chance to say good-bye. He was 99 years-old. Alhamdullilah he lived a long, productive, clean life. He was a good, religious man who raised nine families. He leaves behind wonderful memories and enough great-grand children to tell his stories for generations to come. I just wish I could have been with him a bit longer to hear one more story.

May Allah grant you his mercy

RAWI this weekend

RAWI 2nd National Conference at the Arab American National Museum May 17 - 20-- Please join us! Check out our schedule at www.rawi.org REGISTRATION AND TICKETS Full registration $120-includes one year membershipStudent registration $75-includes one year membership1 Day Pass $35-includes panels and lunch Thursday Night Reading $10Friday Night Reading $10Friday Night Party $10Saturday Azouma & Awards Night $35

I'll be part of a panel Fri 9am

May the chips lay where they fall.

So, if it wasn't enough to be teased by co-workers endlessly about what we Muslims can and can not eat, now we discover that that list is growing. Say Kosher and everyone understands and is supportive, but say Halal and you get confused looks and ignorant statements. I don't mind the ignorance as much as the deck being stacked against us. It becomes more and more apparent that this world is oblivious to our concerns.

Perhaps that is the way Allah created it, we are constantly tested. Certainly the concern of a few food products not being Halal is trivial compared to the wars being waged and the daily oppression millions face, but it is a concern none-the-less, especially when you have children.

The reason for this topic is because I keep getting emails about a new popular food that is now found to be Haram. I've heard of McDonald's fries (beef flavoring), then Wrigley's gum (animal based gelatin) , then Altoids (pork based flavor crystals), then Doritos and other chips (pork based seasoning) and even recently about Burger King and their practise of frying Fish in the same fryer as pork and other meats. The list goes on and on. The crazy part is that you won't find this information from reading the ingredients and that is the part the gets me mad the most. Burger King says they fry in vegetable oil, but said nothing about using the same fryer as pork and other meats. McDonald's says they fry in vegetable oil but didn't say the fries are seasoned with beef. I'm slightly concerned about not being able to eat most of the chips made by Frito-Lay anymore, but I'll live.

The products that I'm most concern with are products like Advil, Tylenol and Motrin, they use a pork based coating of all things. Now that's the three most popular pain killers. (only Advil relieves my headache) Where will Muslims turn in that department? Anyone have alternatives?

I won't list every product I've found, there are sites that do this. I'm just frustrated. I expect companies to use whatever product makes their food taste addictive and cost less. I can't blame them for doing so, but can blame them if they hide these products as McDonald's did for years. Right now I'm not sure if this is worth an uproar, I'll just have to be more careful and less trusting (with corporations).

Anyone want to recommend sites that track this issue?

What about alternative products?

Am I wrong about any of these?

Spread the word

First Boston Palestine Film Festival coming this fall.

Make plans to attend and pass along to filmakers.

Call for Entries 2007
http://www.bostonpalestinefilmfest.org
The Boston Palestine Film Festival (BPFF) is now accepting entries for its first annual festival to be held in September-October 2007.