Malacca and Penang, Malaysia Oct. 14 - 27, 2008

Malacca: Museums, Muslims and the Night Market

Malacca is a town with a rich and colorful history. It's been ruled by Malaysian sultans, and Portuguese, Dutch and British monarchs. Arab and Chinese traders started coming here a couple of thousand years ago. Everyone was after spices (from the nearby Spice Islands), silks (from Thailand), china (from China and Japan), and precious stones (from Burma). For hundreds of years, it was the biggest and busiest trading centre of the eastern world. The Dutch managed to kill trade by imposing ridiculously high taxes and duties on imports, and during their rule Malacca slid into oblivion, never really to recover. It's still a pretty sleepy place, doing its best to lure tourists into town by building dozens of museums. There must be well over 20 of them in the small city centre. We went to at least six in one day, and a couple more the next. One of the museums we decided was a 'must see' was the museum of Islam.

Malaysia is an Islamic state, and the majority of the population here is Muslim, although there are large Chinese, Hindu and Christian communities. The ruling (Muslim) party of government has recently confirmed its commitment to respect the rights of Malaysia's non-Muslim communities, while at the same time publishing long diatribes in the newspaper explaining why the constitution, which enshrines the Islamic state, is sacrosanct and cannot be changed – or even discussed. Opposing views are denounced as dangerous to the security of the state, and receive little if any press coverage.

Given the tremendous surge of interest in Islam across the globe, and in particular in the western world, where large numbers of people are converting to Islam, we've been keen to find out more about it. We visit mosques and talk to Muslims about their beliefs. Mr. Tony told us about his two trips to Mecca and Medina, and how he and his wife prepared for the Haj. He was also very happy to talk to us about Islam and what it means to be a good Muslim. In a mosque in Malacca we came across a series of pamphlets intended to help non-Muslims understand Islam. There were five in all, including 'Belief in One God,' 'Prayer in Islam,' 'Jihad,' 'How Muslims Dress,' and 'Eating in Islam.' (For those who are interested, there are quotes from each of them at the end of this note.) What stands out for me is rigidity and the exclusivity of Islamic belief: it's fundamentalist nature. The Qur'an is THE word of Allah. It is Allah who has proscribed what clothes Muslim women and men should wear (to cover all 'shameful' parts of the body), what foods Muslims should and should not eat (no alcohol), and how Muslims should pray (in Arabic, on the floor). On Judgment Day, which is coming, devout believers and followers of what He says will go to Paradise. The rest of us Infidels will go to Hell. It takes no imagination to see how this religion can be (and is) used to control and oppress its followers, especially when so many of them are uneducated and uninformed. It is a perfect tool for manipulating the masses.

As is the case with all religions, what's preached and what's practiced may be quite different things. For me one of the aspects of Islam that I find difficult to accept is the status and treatment of women. According to Muslim men I have talked to, the main reason for their women having to cover up is so that men will not be tempted – and therefore women will be protected. When I ask about men taking responsibility for their thoughts and actions, these men invariably revert back to the fact that Allah commands women to cover up. What it seems to come down to is that Muslims are so socially and sexually repressed that allowing boys and girls or men and women to be together without very strict rules governing their behaviour would lead to outrageous acts by boys and men towards women. We frequently catch glimpses of this problem. For example, we were riding on a bus in Malacca. Four young Muslim girls – perhaps 14 to 16 years old – were sitting right behind us, on the very back seat of the bus. They were in school uniforms, and all wearing headscarves that covered their shoulders as well as their heads. They were seated in two pairs, with one empty seat between them. A young Muslim boy – around their age – got on the bus, walked directly to the back, and demanded to sit in the seat between them. As Muslim women, they cannot argue with a demand by a Muslim man. They are taught from a very young age to obey. The girls did in fact try to dissuade him by pointing to their bags on the seat, but he ordered them to move them so he could sit down.

As soon as he had sat down, the boy started talking to the girls. One girl, clearly the feistiest one among them, got up and moved to another seat on the bus. The one who had been sitting next to her moved over and sat with the remaining two, the three of them all squished together onto two seats. They all had their heads and faces turned away from the boy, and were holding handkerchiefs up to their mouths to try to hide their faces more completely. He continued to try to talk to them and then, in complete contravention of Muslim rules of behaviour, he touched the closest girl on the knee. Muslim men are not permitted to touch women. Once little girls reach the age of puberty, they are completely off limits. It was at this point that I turned around in my seat and asked the girls if the young man was bothering them. They said yes, and giggled nervously. I looked directly at him and reminded him that he knew he should not be bothering the girls, and suggested that he move to a seat further away from them. He did not respond (I am an infidel – what I think, say or do is of no consequence).

The girls were clearly uncomfortable, yet they didn't move. Why? Because they are trained to be passive, and entirely submissive to males. As it was clear the young lad was not going to move, I asked the girls if they would like to sit in our seats – we would move forward to other empty seats in the bus – there were lots of empty seats. They said yes, and got up in unison and moved, not into our seats, but well forward in the bus. They had been waiting for someone to intervene, waiting for an opportunity to get away from a situation that was uncomfortable to them. This to me is a pathetic comment on the status of women within the Islamic religion. These girls have not the confidence or the resources to protect themselves against even the most common of male behaviours: unwanted attention. The girls seemed genuinely happy to have been 'rescued,' and one of them tapped me on the shoulder, and held out a bottle of perfumed hand sanitizer, and indicated by simple hand signals that she wanted to give me a little squirt as a token of thanks. They were all beaming as I held my hands out. It was like sealing a pact among women, and we all knew that we knew what it was about, without being able to speak a word of the other's language. All of them waved and smiled again as they got off the bus. It was at once both sweet and scary: what is to become of these girls?

Although I am trying to be non-judgmental, I find it difficult to respect a religion that considers women as lesser than men. Indeed married Muslim women are perceived as chattles by many Muslim men. They are completely at the mercy of their husbands who may, according to Muslim beliefs, have several wives. It is also concerning that the governments of so many Islamic states, such as Malaysia, consider it necessary to promote Islamic traditions and 'laws.' Fundamentalist Islamic factions, both within the government and outside of it, exercise disproportionate power over more moderate Muslims, pushing the agenda towards stricter and stricter adherence to Sharia laws, such as enforced wearing of headscarves by Muslim women, whipping of those caught drinking alcohol, and stoning those accused of adultery. Governments try to appease these factions, who are often feared because of their militancy, by introducing modified versions of stricter laws. It's a slippery slope.

The Night Market: Chinatown, Malacca

Interestingly, despite the fact that the government of Malaysia is ruled by the Muslims, the economy is 'ruled' by the Chinese. They're the business people, and they're the people with the money. In Malacca, as in other Malaysian cities, the most vibrant area of town is Chinatown. In addition to the numerous temples and shops which are fun to visit during the day, Chinatown has the best night life in Malacca. And the best of the best is the week-end night market. Several streets are blocked off to traffic, and vendors' stalls line both sides of the main road, spilling over into smaller lanes and alleyways. Everything goes, from cheap Chinese games and toys to hand-crafted items to t-shirts to pet gerbils. And of course food everywhere. Chocolate covered fruit on skewers, pineapple tarts (Malacca's trademark sweet), do-it-yourself noodle soup, pork dumplings, burgers, sweet corn and coconut milk pudding. And about a million people, mostly locals, strolling, gawking, shopping, drinking and eating. It is THE place to be, especially on a Saturday night.

One of the most fun things about the night market was the karaoke stage. A raised platform was set up on a corner, with rows of plastic chairs for the audience. It looked like the performers brought their own CDs so they could sing the song they wanted to sing. One after another they marched on up to the stage and belted out a heartfelt tune – mostly in Chinese. Most of them had pretty good voices, although a few had to warm up to their performance. Perhaps even more entertaining than the singers were the dancers – a couple of guys in the most outrageous outfits who got up on the stage and started pirouetting around, disco-dancing, and just plain jumping and hopping about. One guy looked like some sort of ghoulish doll. He was very tall and thin, almost elegant, except that his face was like a mask, and he was wearing a very bad black wig. He danced very formally, twirling about quite gracefully, and he never once smiled or showed any expression at all on his face – perhaps it would have cracked. Anyway, we enjoyed the show so much that we came back the next night for a repeat performance, but unfortunately the stage had to be hastily dismantled due to a flash thunder storm and bucketing rain. We left the next day for Kuala Lumpur and Butterworth.

Staying on track – the train from Kuala Lumpur to Butterworth, Malaysia

We frequently take trains instead of buses, not because they're faster (they're often not), but because they're funner. And you can get up and walk around. And you don't have to worry about accidents (bus accidents are frequent, and deadly, here in Asia as in most developing countries). But yesterday was an exception. We had just finished eating a rather nasty 'dinner' of barely warm curried chicken and rice, served up in a two-chambered clear plastic container. We'd gone to the cafeteria car to get it. It was either that or a 'sandwich' – a couple of pieces of white bread with a slab of something brown between them. (We both agreed that, as far as food goes, Indian railways have got it all over Malaysian railways.) We'd gone back to our car to rest and recover, and also to pray that we wouldn't regret having eaten it within a few hours.

We were coming into another station, and traveling slowly, very slowly, when we felt a bumping, like the train had, well, derailed. And then we stopped. After a several minutes a few of the passengers got out to see what was going on. The guy behind us, a retired English teacher from Butterworth, came back to report to us that the cafeteria car had derailed. He could hardly contain his laughter, but at the same time he was highly critical of the railway staff, who didn't seem to know what to do, and who had communicated nothing to the passengers. He was even more disdainful a few minutes later when, having gone out again to take a photo of the derailed car, was told he was 'not allowed' to take photos of it. When he asked them what they were going to do about it, they said they didn't know and that they were on the phone to head office. What ensued was a rather lengthy stop, fortunately at a station, so not in the middle of nowhere, where everyone got out to look at the derailed car (one of its wheels was around a foot away from the track) and offer their advice as to how to 'fix' it. One particularly vociferous Indian fellow was determined that the car could be gotten back on track 'in only one hour' by simply hooking it up to the engine, which would somehow (he didn't say how) lift the car, and then pulling it forward. As the cafeteria car was in the middle of the train, it wasn't immediately clear how the engine was going to get to the car, even if it could 'lift' it up and put it back on the track.

Predictably the situation continued unresolved for some time. The foreign tourists, of whom there were probably 30 or so, milled about and took photos of the derailed car despite being told not to. A few took matters into their own hands and hired taxis to take them the rest of the way to Kuala Lumpur, which at this point was only about an hour away. The rest of us continued to wait. At no point did the railway officials address us in any way or tell us what was going on. It was a Malaysian passenger who could speak English who told us that a bus had arrived to take us all to Kuala Lumpur. So we all grabbed our bags and boarded the bus. By this time it was raining fairly hard (we're at the beginning of monsoon season here), so once we were in the bus, none of us were too keen to get out. But even after we were all in, the bus just sat there. Still no one told us what was going on. I made a guess that we were waiting for railway staff, who like us had no way to get home. And I must have been right, because about a half-hour after we were all aboard, four or five railway staff members climbed on the bus, and we were finally off. There was still no formal word about what was going on, but we all assumed the bus would take us to Butterworth train station, which it did. I guess we can hope that that's the 'worst' train derailment we'll encounter. No harm done, and an amusing experience to boot.

From Butterworth it's a short ferry-ride to Pulau Penang, or Penang Island. We were there 27 years ago, and had to go back just to see how it had changed – or not – over the years. We hopped on an old bus that stopped right in front of our hotel in Butterworth and dropped us right at the jetty for the ferry. The ferry was an old rust-bucket – Doug figured it was the same as the one we were on 27 years ago. Fortunately the ride was short, and the view of the harbour and Penang Island was interesting, if not exactly 'scenic.'

Pulau Penang and the Burger King

We were sitting having a couple of iced tea susus ('susu' means milk – iced and sweetened milk tea is a popular drink here, and very refreshing) at one of two tables on the sidewalk outside what might be loosely termed a 'cafe.' Every second place is a cafe or 'restaurant,' some of which actually serve food, others drinks only, and others offering nothing more than a place to sit and watch the world go by. This place was on a pretty main drag here in Georgetown, the main city of Pulau Penang. Penang has quite a history. It was originally known as Betel Nut Island, and there wasn't much going on here until the British came and commandeered it in 1786, using it as a military base, in an attempt to break the Dutch monopoly on the spice trade. From there it rapidly developed into a major port. Chinese Malaysians came over in droves and developed all sorts of industries, and Georgetown is now a going concern, although the British, save a few moldy ex-pats, are pretty much gone.

At any rate, we were sitting at this little table watching the comings and goings, and in particular the odd-bod tourist types who are increasingly hanging about this part of the world, giving all of us a bad name. I don't know which is worse: the slouching, grungy and generally scarily-weird-looking young ones with multiple tattoos and piercings or the slouching, fat, ugly, camera-toting, loud-talking and generally insensitive and uninformed old ones. If we really are all 'ambassadors for our own countries' (and to a large extent we are, like it or not), I shudder to think what the locals must think of our countries. But I'm getting side-tracked again! We were watching the passing parade when a guy with a big metal push-cart came along the road and parked it right in front of us. To do this, he had to move a couple of motorbikes out of the way. He wheeled them nonchalantly to other spots. Then he maneuvered his big cart into the space he'd made, backing and forthing it a bit so it was right square in front of us. He didn't acknowledge us or look at us, or the owner of the cafe.

Once his cart was in place, the guy, a chubby young Indian Malaysian, unlocked the metal panel that protected the top half of the back of his cart. He opened it just enough to rummage around inside, and pulled out a pail and a couple of rags. He took these and disappeared down the street for around five minutes, returning with the pail full of water. That will be his 'wash-up' sink. Once back, he removed the whole of the back panel to reveal the inside of his cart. This was truly a wonder to behold. On the right side was a dirty-looking grilling surface. He took a 20 pound tank of propane off of this and set it on the road behind the cart. He hooked that up to a burner that he slid onto a shelf right below the grill. Then he took eight bricks out of a cupboard in the lower half of the cart and set them out in two columns just in front of his cart, and expertly eased his cart forward until two of its corners were resting on the bricks. Solid, Jackson.

But the real piece de resistance was yet to come. On the left side of the cart Doug counted 32 empty bottles of Lee and Perrins worcestershire sauce, and several more full or half-full ones. There were also a dozen or more bottles of other kinds of sauces (ketchup, chili), a large tub of 'butter' (dreadful-tasting and worse-for-you palm oil margarine), another tub of 'mayonnaise' (likely also palm oil based, but who knows), several cardboard trays of eggs and several bags of hamburger buns on an overhead metal rack. Once his cart was solidly anchored, our man removed the metal panel from the front half of his cart. Now his cart was open on all sides, and we could more or less see through it – except for the L&P bottles. He collected these up, in batches of six or so, and taking them from behind the cart, walked around to the front of it and placed them in a row along the front edge of his cart, carefully turning the labels out, and making sure the bottles were touching one another, forming a kind of L&P wall, if you will. He made this little journey several times – from the back of his cart around to the front – even though he could just have reached across the surface. Perhaps it was some sort of ritual, or dance – the L&P shuffle (it was a painstakingly slow dance). Once that was done, he adjusted the one neon light that was fixed by a couple of twist-ties to the roof of his cart, and he was open for business.

Just for fun I took a photo of the completed cart from the back, or 'business side.' But I also had to go round to the front of the cart to appreciate the full effect from the customer's side. It was so good that I risked my life standing in the street (cars stop for no one here) to get a quality photo. His cart was truly a masterpiece. His sign, right below L&P bottles, said: “Manchester United: The Legend F.C.” His menu was titled “Old Trafford Burger” and included both chicken and beef burgers, with cheese and/or eggs. You could order plain, super mix or 'my special.' I don't know where the meat and cheese were stashed – maybe in one of the cupboards under the grill – but you can bet it's not refrigerated, and you'd better hope it's been well-cooked before you eat it.

The Georgetown Night Market

If we thought the night market in Malacca was good, we hadn't seen nothin' until we went to the night market in Georgetown. This one is in a permanent location, and happens every night of the week. It's arranged in a square, with shops and food-stalls around the outer edges, and tables and chairs inside. Most of the area is covered with a roof of corrugated metal, with plastic tarps filling in the gaps. Given the suddenness and the severity of rainstorms here (we're in the inter-monsoon period, whatever that means), serious waterproofing is an absolute necessity. There's also a small stage with it's own canvas roof. On the first night we went to the market, a Chinese Malaysian was playing a keyboard and singing Western songs like 'Autumn Leaves' and 'I Love You Because You're You.' But the real entertainment was provided by a middle-aged Chinese Malaysian who walked onto the dance floor, singing along with the music as he did various hand and arm motions that went with the words. He was incredibly expressive – almost emotional – in his delivery and was clearly enjoying himself so much that he captivated the audience of diners and drinkers – much more so than the keyboard player, who was anyway hidden behind his instrument. Additional visual entertainment was provided by two dancing couples. Both couples were middle-aged, and both doing basically ballroom dancing, but with unusual moves and embellishments of their own. The men in particular were quite flamboyant, pirouetting, lunging and spinning their partners around with considerable panache, all the while maintaining the most deadpan faces. None of the four dancers smiled or showed any facial expression at all as they danced: this was serious business. And it was seriously entertaining too!

The next night we went to the market the keyboardist was playing somewhat jazzier tunes, and the dance floor was filled with tables. He did renditions of songs like 'Blue Suede Shoes,' 'Old Cotton Fields Back Home' (which sounded like 'Rolled Cod On Feels Back Home.' and 'On the Bayou.' Then a very slender, long-haired young gal got up and belted out some 1960's rock and roll tunes. At one point an Australian (or possibly American) tourist – an older guy – got up on the stage with this gal and started dancing away, twisting, jiving, even doing the Charleston knee thing, much to the delight of the entire audience. When the next song started, his wife joined him on stage, and the two of them were dancing 60's style dances until he wore himself out, at which point the singer started dancing with the guy's wife. It was hilarious. After the slim gal finished her set another gal came on stage and sang a few songs in Chinese. Although she had a lovely voice, she couldn't even begin to compete with the energy of the previous act, and her audience turned its attention to eating and talking.

Food Glorious Food!

Speaking of eating... we've been enjoying Chinese, Malaysian, Indonesian and Indian food, and various mixtures thereof, since we've been here. Lots of noodle soups, satays and fried rice dishes. The locals know not to make it 'too hot,' so they skip the chilies if you ask them (which I do!). Even without the chilies most dishes have some spice to them. We prefer the Chinese dishes to the Malaysian ones, which tend to be gukky with too much (black bean?) sauce. BUT... we've been seriously put off by the recent concerns about melamine in Chinese dairy products, biscuits, chocolates and candy (none of which we've eaten) – and dog food, which we don't think we've eaten, but who knows!? China, like the rest of Asia, is a difficult, if not impossible, place to regulate. How do you go about 'regulating' the behaviour of a billion people? So it's no surprise that unscrupulous business people use toxic and dangerous substances in their products – whether it's toys or plastic bottles or cooking ware or food. If they can make an extra buck, it's worth it to them, even if whatever it is kills a few babies or old people, or makes people sick. There is an amazing degree of detachment here in people's attitudes towards one another. It goes beyond not caring – it's callous disregard.

It's more than just a little bit frightening that countries like Canada (and the U.S. and Europe) import Chinese made goods and foods without doing the testing themselves – that they rely on China to do it. This is foolish, first because China is not able to do it, and second because it is not motivated to do it. Even if China were to agree – to assuage the fears of western nations – to test its exports, there is absolutely no guarantee that the testing would actually be done, that it would be done correctly or according to standards that we would consider appropriate, or that it would be reported honestly, either to Chinese officials or to western governments. Western nations need to understand the Asian, and in particular the Chinese, psyche to understand why this is so. It's partly about saving face; it's partly about not caring; it's partly about the acceptability and ingrained nature of corruption, graft and deceit in the Asian business world; and it's partly about how terribly cheap life is here. With all things Asian, and especially with all things Chinese, you pays your money and you takes your chance.

One thing that's really common here that we have been avoiding are the lunch and dinner 'buffets.' Many of the restaurants cook up all sorts of dishes throughout the day, and then set them out on a table in stainless-steel warming dishes. But they don't keep them warm, and they don't keep them covered. So the saucy chicken, pork, fish and seafood dishes just sit there in the 80-90 degree heat, growing bacteria and collecting flies and other winged insects. For us this stuff is an invitation to illness, so no matter how hungry we are, we keep walking until we find a place that's actually cooking what they're serving. There are some great street stalls here where you can choose from a selection of meats, fishes, tofu products and vegetables and then either get the seller to boil them up in a noodle soup, or cook them yourself, on bamboo skewers, in various pots of bubbling sauce. Either way they're great. My favourite are the lady fingers (okra) and the fish balls.

Bits and Pieces

I can't not write about what it's like to be a pedestrian here in Malaysia. I don't think I've ever been in such a dangerous place. First, there are very few sidewalks, and where there are sidewalks, they're used for parking motorcycles, or putting out stuff to sell, or for coffee-shop tables, or for potted plants, or for garbage. It's impossible to walk more than 100 feet on a sidewalk before you have to go out onto the street to get around one obstacle or another. So most Malaysians simply walk in the street. That means walking between the double-parked cars (and motorcycles and rickshaws and buses) and the fast-moving traffic. Furthermore, there are no traffic rules here, and people drive like maniacs. It's not at all unusual for them to drive through red lights, or drive on the wrong side of the street (because they want to avoid a red light, or want to make a turn). Not only do they not stop for pedestrians, they don't even slow down. So it's pedestrian beware. Yikes!

On a more positive note, we have been impressed by some of the energy-saving devices in Asia. For example, all electrical outlets have a switch on them. You turn them on when you're using them and off when you're not. Saves electricity and is safer to boot. The other real energy saver is the on-demand hot water heaters: these are wall-mounted or under-the-counter, electric or gas. As with the electrical outlets, there's a master switch on the wall, so you turn the unit on when you want hot water. Then you just turn on the tap, adjust the unit to whatever heat you want, and enjoy. Most of the on-demand water heaters we've been using here in Malaysia are made in England, and a number of British travelers have told us they're common there. Funny they've not caught on at all in North America. I wonder why...? On the other hand...the proliferation of energy-gobbling air-conditioners in Southeast Asia is alarming, especially when the old-style ceiling fans work so well. Even worse is the number of places – shops, restaurants, businesses, buses, etc. that have the air-con on so high that it's more like refrigeration. Very uncomfortable – especially when you're going in and out, from hot to cold and back to hot in the space of a few minutes. We've also noticed that pretty much everyone who has a car here has air-con. It's not unusual to see people taking a little nap in their running air-conned vehicle – we even saw a couple of police women doing it in Malacca!
A few words on Islam...

These are direct – I might even say 'faithful' – quotes from pamphlets prepared by the Islamic Outreach-ABIM, Kuala Lumpur, www.abim.org.my/outreach.

Belief in One God (Pamphlet #7)

“The only correct description of God is found in the Noble Qur'an which contains the exact Words of God. In the Noble Qur'an, God uses the personal name of Allah. ...Those who depict God as human, semi-human or animal in statues and drawings are committing a major sin. On Judgment Day they will be asked to give life to the false gods they created. They will fail. They will be severely punished for their disobedience to the One True God. ...On The Day of Judgment, we will be resurrected and will have to account for all our deeds. ... God alone will be the Judge on that Day, sending those Who lived by His Commands to Paradise and others to Hell.”

The reference to 'Those who depict God as human, semi-human or animal' is directed primarily towards the Hindus, although Buddhists and Christians are also guilty, to a greater or lesser extent. All of them will go to Hell – unless of course they see the light and convert. JA

Jihad (#5)

“Jihad is conveying the message of The One True God.”

“Muslims are permitted to take up arms against those who wage war against them. Armed jihad is therefore permitted only in self-defense. The retaliation against the armed attacks must be measured and proportionate. Armed jihad is temporary in that it ends when the enemy ceases its aggression. Muslims must move quickly to establish peace once the enemy seeks peace. In Islam, showing compassion to the enemy that has been defeated or is seeking peace is considered superior to achieving victory. ...Muslims are prohibited from engaging in armed acts of aggression even toward their sworn enemies.”

“Muslims have a duty to explain the truth. Jihad is conveying the true meaning of jihad to Muslims and non-Muslims. Today the enemies of Truth can destroy others without entering their territories. They can destroy a country's economy by speculating on the country's currency. Jihad is taking proactive measures against these 'unarmed' combatants in a manner that is tactically savvy and multi-faceted, and seek to restoryeconomic and political justice and peace. Jihad is acquiring knowledge and developing skills that will make it difficult for others to easily oppress and kill Muslims.”

“The jihad against the pull of the lower forces within us is a permanent jihad. Greed, lust, vengeance and jealousy are amongst numerous types of evil within us that leads to misery in our lives. Observance of the five daily prayers will shield us from shameful deeds. Performing these well spaced out prayers at the appointed times will leave no time for mischievous deeds. ...Success in this greater jihad against the enemy within is the foundation for achieving victory in the jihad against the hypocrites and the disbelievers. Welcome to The Straight Path of Islam.”

I was actually glad to read the definition and description of jihad. There's little doubt in my mind that what many think of as jihad is not jihad at all, but a purposeful misuse of the word to gull uneducated, uninformed and often desperate young people into the 'holy war against the West, and all its Evil Ways.' It's unfortunate that George Bush has, through his equally misinformed words and actions, made it so easy for so many to hate the U.S., and with it the entire Western World and everything associated with it. JA

Prayer in Islam (Pamphlet #1)

“Prayer in Islam is a simple activity that consists of a series of body posture and recitation of verses from the Noble Qur'an. It is an environment-friendly prayer in that it does not require the burning of paper or other substances. The practice of making “offerings” to God is unacceptable in Islam. God is self-sufficient and has no needs.”

The reference to 'burning paper or other substances' is again clearly criticizing religions like Buddhism, Catholicism and Hinduism, all of which involve burning one thing or another as part of religious ceremonies. I love it that Islam can claim to be 'environmentally friendly!' That's so cool. JA


How Muslims Dress (Pamphlet #25)

“Dress conceals the private parts of the body that are called 'aurah in Islam. Muslims do not expose what Allah commands to be kept private. Allah forbids nudity. ...A man's 'aurah extends from his navel to his knees. Most men choose to cover more than this minimum requirement. A woman's 'aurah outside her home and/or in the presence of non-mahram (not close relatives) men is her whole body except her face, hands and feet. Some scholars also include her feet. The head covering or hijab is a command of Allah. The face-veil or niqab is not a requirement, but some Muslim women choose to wear it. ...In her home, Muslim women may uncover their heads, arms, feet and legs below the knees. And in privacy with her husband, no part of her needs to be covered!”

“Islamic dress does not degrade or oppress women. Rather, it gives them dignity because it protects them from exploitation as sexual objects, and enslavement by the fashion, cosmetics, film and advertising industries. Dignity and protection, together with many rights that Islam grants women (which the modern world has recognized only in the last 60 years) guarantees the high status of women in Islam.”

They can say what they want. Anyone who is required, by mostly (if not entirely) male religious leaders, to wear a tent on top of their everyday clothes in temperatures that generally hover around 90 degrees Fahrenheit is, in my humble opinion, being oppressed. Recently an Islamic religious group declared a 'fatwa' (prohibition) on girls dressing like 'tomboys' (presumably wearing jeans and t-shirts). We see young Muslim schoolgirls who must wear different uniforms from their Chinese and Indian chums, who wear knee-length blue pinafores with short-sleeved white shirts. The Muslim girls' pinnies must go down to their ankles, their blouses must cover their forearms and wrists, and they must wear headscarves. We frequently see the Chinese girls chatting and joking with one another while the Muslim girls sit apart from the crowd. Discriminating or discriminated against? Similarly at the shopping malls, when we see young girls looking at all the latest fashions, many of which are pretty flimsy and daring – there are the Chinese and Indian girls wearing their jeans, short skirts and little tops, and there beside them are the Muslim girls, maybe also in jeans, but in tops that cover their shoulders and arms, and always in a headscarf. It's hard to know how, as young girls and women, they reconcile the dress code required by their religion with the fashions worn by their friends and sold in all the stores. Surely they must sometimes feel like they'd like to break out of their 'old habits!'

I wish the pamphlet had been specific about the 'many rights that Islam grants women' as I have seen little evidence of Muslim women having any rights at all. Muslim women do not have the same legal rights as men. In some places they cannot testify in court. If a Muslim woman accuses a man of rape, she must have 3 male witnesses who are prepared to testify to the rape. Furthermore, Muslim men can have more than one wife, as long as they treat all of their wives 'fairly.' JA

Eating in Islam (#17)

“In Islam, one does not eat to meet a physical need or for pleasure. ...In Islam, the aim of eating is to support the body to worship Allah The Most Sufficient, “Who feeds and is never fed.” ...When we eat with the consciousness that it is an act of worship, we are more likely to be less wasteful in our eating, eat less and think of others who are in need of food. When consumed with consciousness of Allah The Most Exalted, food becomes a source of divine grace and blessing.”

The sentiments are good, but regardless, they seem to like their food as much as the rest of us. Or maybe the ones I've seen eating are not 'good' Muslims...? JA