Jessore: Liberal Rural Life

We were both excited and dreading to make the trip out to Jessore. The Lonely Planet wrote that there's nothing interesting about the town except hotels and restaurants. From other people, an image was painted about this border town of being, quite frankly, a shithole. But, being a border town, Jessore has an array of anti-trafficking NGOs so Diya and I made a trip.

But did we eat our words! Jessore was a wonderful little town: quiet, clean, driving with battery operated scooters. People were endlessly polite and not intrusive towards us two foreigners. Friends of friends took us to their village where we spent a day with a beautiful, warm family: a father who coaches the girl's cricket team, a mother who loves her straight-talkin' daughter-in-law, and a son who worships his girl child. And the town was filled with interesting, progressive and thorough NGOs.

We were both surprised at the progressiveness of a place that is dyed at rural, ignorant, traditional--and unswayed. However, after interviewing a few NGOs, looking at their groups and services, and attending a probing round-table discussion, we felt that this little town was doing substantial work, even more progressive than many of the programs we've seen in Dhaka.

For example, we met with an organization that is supporting over one-hundred women's empowerment groups in the state of Khulna. The org gives training, information and confidence building to men and women to go into their communities and establish groups that fight for community rights including women's rights. Through these trainings, they learn how to seek justice for domestic abuse. We met one beautiful, humble woman, Iti, who quoted a member of her community saying, "If you hit me again, I'm going to set Iti on you!" She has almost singlehandedly supported the women in her community from the training she received.

I've been thinking a lot about the important of rights trainings, confidence/empowerment groups and space. What I view as a huge problem of Bangladesh is it's limited space, not in the sense of it's crowded population, but it's expression. For surviving through a hectic day, whether a poor rickshaw-wallah, a troubled student, or a homesick ex-pat, there isn't much space to release all the pent up energy and anger. Part of has to do with the inability to pay to use space, but there aren't many free or cheap public or private spaces to let go: no bars, arcades, parks.. safe spaces to express yourself. That negative energy stays inside, builds up and is released in destructive ways, like domestic or child abuse. Man have more options with street-side tea stands to shoot the wind and relax, but women don't have those options.

Women's groups seem a vital way to permeate human rights into culture and society. It's not that women don't seek empowerment, it's that they don't have a space to even discuss it let alone take action on it. Groups as these give a space that is 1) safe, and supportive to share their frustrations and experiences of living as the second gender, 2) creative resource to fight for their rights and develop ways to create change and 3) encourage confidence that they are not wrong or alone and to stand with conviction.

One interesting note from the trip was the presence of technology. Mobile phones are as common as ever. Hotlines for human rights and legal justice are ever present and many groups mentioned how they can communicate to find information (ie. safe migration for example instead of trafficking). But with mobile phones, traffickers can also communicate to each other in forcibly sending people across the border. Now, as in the West, information is easily accessible--what skill in now needed is how to critically judge what is good information and what is bad.

Also, it was mentioned that there are a lot of extreme religious schools established in the area than ever before. Wahhabi Islamic money is flowing into the country from Saudi Arabia funding extremist schools. Slowly, this subversive ideology is penetrating Bangladesh's religious morals and I'm afraid of how it will rear it's ugly head in days to come.

View pictures of Jessore here.

Note of thanks to my Fulbright colleague, Diya Bose, and her endless patience, understanding, energy and intelligence, of whom I view more as a fabulous mentor than research partner.

Boksheesh: The Case of "Forward Asking"

“Apu, ar rong ashe?” Do you have another color?

I spent a decent amount of money buying small gifts from America to give the women at the training center. Each little gift consisted of a tube of flavoured lip gloss and sparkly post earrings, for 27 women. I bought several flavours and colors, each wrapped and distributed randomly. I decided to do this at the end of the day, knowing what would come..

“Apu, my sari is pink, do you have more pink ones?"

“Didi, I want the red lipstick! She got red, why didn’t I?”

"Can I have more for my sisters?"

The same thing happened when I gave out pictures: one is upset because she only received four when another girl received five, or another doesn’t like the dress she is wearing in a photo and wants a new one. Now, it’s not lie that I have more money, but printing out over a one hundred photos each time (five photos for 20 women), it adds up. How could they, when receiving a generous and spontaneous gift, ask for something more or different?

This also comes up from security guards, rickshaw-wallahs, door men, and other service people. For normal service, nothing out of the ordinary, people ask for boksheesh, a tip. At a bakery, the door man twice asked me for boksheesh. I thought, I've opened the door myself, and are able to continuing do so, you don't need a tip. Even my Bangladeshi roommate find it frustrating to see our security guard ask us for an additional tip for doing his normal job. Why are they so forward? Isn’t a tip something you voluntarily give based on someone’s satisfactory service?

There is no real custom of tipping here. It’s not really common, to give an average waiter an approximate tip of 15%. It is common, however, in Islamic morals, for rich people to share their income with less fortunate people. Remember the five pillars of Islam—one being to give alms? Possibly out of this, a culture of forward asking arose; forward enough to border begging. Of the people on a street at a given time, it feels like 1 out of 15 is a ‘professional’ beggar, especially lining mosques after prayer. They live on the street with their jobs to approach your car or pull on your leg for sympathetic pocket change.

With it being so common, and with so many people and so little money—you have to be unashamed and put yourself out there. Without this bold attitude, surviving, let along crawling out of poverty, might be impossible. When it comes to giving, how often and how much, I supposed Allah will judge you for that.

A Vegetarian View of Qurbani Eid

The city is humming. My stomach keeps me from moving out of bed, but inshallah, I live on the 7th floor and can't see our garage. Today, of the 55 families in my building, 35 cows are being slaughtered under my building. Probably a few goats, too.

Eid Mubarak.

Qurbani Eid (Eid al-Adha) celebrates some of the sacrifices Abraham made for God. God asked Abraham to devote his son Ismael to Allah in oblation. Out of love for God, Abraham was ready to do so. As he hacked his son's neck, he discovered a sheep died is Ismael's place. God was only testing Abraham and his sacrifice was fulfilled without the loss of his son. (There are discrepancies as to which son was sacrificed: Ismael or Issac.) All across the world, Muslims are to raise a sheep (or in some cultures, like

Bangladesh, goats, cows or camels) to offer in the name of God; mirroring the sacrifice and love of Abraham. It is tradition to donate some of the meat to the poor who cannot afford an animal.

I can respect that. The love of Allah is eternal and animals are killed every day for various reasons. But the unnecessary public display seems contradictory. Not only because I can't stomach it and the streets will smell of rotting blood for several day, but because it turns into a contest: who bought the biggest cow, or who could afford to import a camel? There is even news coverage discussing which of the upper class families spent the most this year. The sacrifice was extremely personal to Abraham, not a public display to the world but to God alone. At least here in the city, the animal is not raised to be loved over a year as if it was part of the family--as if it was a son. It is no loss, no oblation, if the cow is bought the day before in a market down the road, whipped down the street to sit in front of the house and await her death. I asked my friend, "Are the cows considered good Muslims if they are sacrificed? If so, do they get 70 virgins when they reach heaven?" He just laughed.

It's obvious by the title that I can't really be a huge fan of day, and they holiday shouldn't end because it's symbolism is beautiful. But if it must be practiced, then I wish it was kept to be a private and personal family affair out of love for God and the animal, not to keep up an image of wealth. Same with Christmas--I see more Santa effigies than Jesus and I forget who's birthday it really it.

But today in Dhaka, most of the sounds coming from the streets are indistinguishable. Mostly it's men cheering with additional strange thudding sounds. It's 20C but I turn on my fan, the motor is so loud that I only hear children scream every once in a while. A fellow Fulbrighter called to tell me, "Don't worry, the streets aren't running with blood. But it is a good day to be a crow: they are tearing through two carcasses outside my window..."

For me, it's a good day to just meditate.

a cow awaiting her death--at least she's dressed nicely

Women and Islam

As a woman living in an Islamic country as a researcher of women’s issues, the matter of religion frequently rears its unresolved head. After reading several articles by Muslims, feminists and Muslim feminists (ie: Anouar Majid, Iman Hashim, Margot Badran) as well as a recent biography of Muhammed’s life written by a woman (Eminent Lives: Muhammad by Karen Armstrong), I will try to share a little of what I’ve learned of women in Islam.

The first important point is interpretation. Even with a book like a Qur’an, which is to be followed verbatim, there still remains historical context and diverging interpretations among the community. Muslim friends explained that many people who consider themselves Muslims have never read the Qur’an, but only hear other people’s interpretations. With the intent of the speaker differing across the world, many messages of the Qur’an are distorted. A friend said, “we should read the Qur’an as individuals, and what we get out of it is how we should practice. And not read just once – but many times. I have read the Qur’an when I was 18 and one message stood out to me. Read again at 25, other messages stood out. When I was 40, I learned something entirely new.”

This notion of interpretation leads into how there were particular intentions of Islam that were lost in dominating cultural pulls. “The gender question should be reexamined, as the gender revolution was intended in Islam but never took off. It was aborted arguably for two reasons…[one being] the door of ijtihad [intellectual effort] closed and the gender revolution was thereby aborted. (Mazrui, 1993)" The end of the intellectual effort (ijtihad) referred to what my friend mentioned above: individual interpretation. But because many followers cannot speak or read Arabic for themselves, the message and intellectual interpretation was lost.

Also, Muhammad faced intense adversity when trying to spread his message. One message was the equality of men and women: “Whoever performs good deeds, whether male or female and is a believer, We shall surely make him live a good life and We will certainly reward them for the best of what they did” (Qur’an, 16:97). However, some of Muhammad’s followers began to turn on him when he began to profess equality of women – equality extending as far as allowing women to take arms to fight for Islam.* In chauvinist Arabia, enemies against Islam became to use this ‘weakness for women’ against Muhammad while even his closest followers were aggressively disappointed in his equality stance (Armstrong). Muhammad’s message of equality, even with his charismatic ways, could not beat the ties to local culture (Armstrong gives an excellent review of how local culture affective the development of Islam). Overall, full gender equality was destined for Islam, however, like the development of the whole religion, was trapped by pre-existing Arabic culture. This entrapment is why the Qur’an permits men to beat their wives, which Muhammad feared and abhorred.

Then if these interpretations are accurate, then why do we hear so much anti-women and anti-equality professions of Islam?

First, sexism, chauvinism and misogyny still exists – everywhere. Those who preach male superiority quoted in Islam are widely considered to not be Muslims by Muslims. Second, Western media bombards us with the worst of the worst. Replaying images of women dashing out of their houses after the liberation from under the Taliban seeps into our mind, molding us to view all Muslims as the Taliban. We receive little public and personal exposure to Islamic ideals outside of the media because of the small population living in the west. It’s important to make judgments about a group of people that many of us have barely had a conversation with. One comedian, Russell Peters, put it so eloquently: “The only Muslims we see on Western TV is like people of the Middle East seeing Rednecks as the only Westerners.”

It’s important to remember that there are deeper layers of colonialism and exoticism at work. The West, past and present, perpetuates negative images of Islam in order to maintain it’s own superiority (as if we are perfect.) Attempting to make us sympathize with ‘subjugated veiled women’ gives the support they need to sanction their ulterior motives of wars.

“Muslim women’s entrapment in a false debate may well have started…with the publication of Qasim Amin’s book Tahir Al-Mar’a (The liberation of women) in 1899. [He] used the pretext of the veil…to launch an assault on Islam, despite Victorians England’s own patriarchal attitude towards British women… ‘Amin’s book then marks the entry of the colonial narrative of women and Islam—in which the veil and the treatment of women epitomized Islamic inferiority—into mainstream Arabic discourse. The opposition it generated similarly marks the emergence of an Arabic narrative developed in resistance narrative, not in the inferiority of the culture and the need to cast aside its customs in favor of those of the West, but, on the contrary, the dignity and validity of all native customs coming under attack—customs relating to women—and the need to tenaciously affirm them as a means of resistance to Western domination. ‘(Lelia Ahmed)” – Anouar Majid

Simply put, when people are attacked for their traditions, they are on the defense, griping even more tightly and fervently to what they are chastised for. Key point, however, is that the attackers hypocritically, aggressively and imprecisely combat ancient traditions.

I was once talking to someone about Islam and how misunderstood it was. Making a what I thought to be an obvious remark, that “not all Muslims are terrorists,” their response was, “but it is odd that most terrorist groups are Islamic.” Sadly enough, you can’t help but agree with their point, however the answer is deeper than their identity as Muslims, but into experiences as the colonized.

Like mentioned above, Islamic practices are so often being attacked that certain groups respond by vigorously asserting the exact practices that they are reproached for. The West’s past and present roles as colonialists and so-called ‘global leaders’ is in part at fault for exploitation of culture, resources and labor. Even apolitical, non-academics such as Greg Mortenson, the author of Three Cups of Tea, explains that the more we keep pressuring people to change, the more they will tightly grip onto traditions. Mortenson prompts us to work with and teach the on-the-ground population of other countries, especially by fiercely supporting education instead of bombs (please review article discussing Islam and Mortenson’s potent approach)

Islam in itself is pluralistic and ever-changing, as is the role of women in both Islam and global society. Trust me in that I’ve only scanned a brief surface of the issue and am still learning myself. But what we should already know is that it’s important not to assume we understand everyone experience and beliefs because of one label. We are more individual than that.

I want to end with a rather cute quote by the Sufi poet Jalal al-Din Rumi:

“The Prophet said that women totally dominate men of intellect and possessors of hearts. But ignorant men dominate women, for they are shackled by an animal ferocity. They have no kindness, gentleness or love, since animality dominates their nature. Love and kindness are human attributes; anger and sensuality belong to the animals. She is the radiance of God, she is not your beloved. She is a creator - you could say that she is not created.”

* The concept of the jihad is complex and historically rooted. When I feel I’ve grasped the doctrine better, I will speak on it.

New Moon

Eid Mubarak!

Well, it’s over! The new moon is out and Ramadan has ended. Hopefully a fresh start for me as well.

As mentioned, Ramadan is the month of fasting and extra prayer. Muslims fast from the every day nourishment and activities; all given up in the name of Allah and bettering themselves as Muslims. By challenging themselves, they become closer to Allah and better themselves as Muslims.

The month of Ramadan, though not fasting, was a difficult month for me. By moving to Bangladesh, I have challenged myself in each aspect of my life: physical (food, weather), mental (cultural barriers), professional (working in an unorganized and corrupt nation), and personal (learning to exert self-discipline.) All in all, I am fasting from my normal, comfortable life in order to challenge myself to be a better person. But as always, it’s easy to forget the reason for your fast; whether it’s for Allah or yourself, that ‘person’ is easy to lose.

As Stage Three of Culture Shock sunk in – hard – I lost sight of my ‘future/strong/ new-and-improved’ self; the self I hope to attain at the end of this expedition. All I saw was the frustrations of living in one of the most underdeveloped nations in Asia (use your imagination as to what the aggravations and derailments are…)

But here it is, the end of Ramadan. Life is back to normal for all Muslims and citizens of Bangladesh. But my fasting remains. But I literally dreamt a few nights ago that I sawed off my leg in order to challenge myself. How appropo of my life in Bangladesh: I’m literally handicapped and limbless in this new place. My dream also showed me all my friends who rallied around me, also an accurate reflection, not only friends from home but new friends here. But when you lose a leg, a limbless life must become normal, you must adapt.

On Eid, I hung out with my friend Emy and her family. She was born here but lived in Florida most her life. Here with her parents and brothers, we drove around the empty streets of Dhaka blasting Jay-Z and Luda, chillin' and laughing, had a private Reggaeton dance party between the two of us, and stayed up until 4am talking about the difficulties of adjusting here. Though slightly different situations, we both feel a little lost and outcast here -- but comforted that we are not alone in it.

So now onto Stage Four of Culture Shock – adaptation: learning to find the beauty here, to understand the cultural nuances, blending in, making it home. As the New Moon rose ending Ramadan, I hope I enter a new stage of my life in Bangladesh.

**(I had photos from Eid, the end of Ramadan, but my memory card got ruined L so there are no photos.)

How I Spent My Afternoon on 9/11

Today, I went with a fellow scholar’s family to the mosque for jumu’ah, Friday prayer. Though Muslims are to pray five times a day, Friday is the mandatory day for men to go to the mosque. I was dressed up by the women of the family in a long sleeved blouse with my orna wrapped around my head as a makeshift hijab. It was nice to blend in (for the most part) and not be gawked at for being foreign.

I joined Ms. Ahmed, her mother-in-law and her daughter in the section for women upstairs. It is not mandatory for women to attend Friday prayers at the mosque because Mrs. Ahmed said, "We have so many things to do, like care for the children." The khutba, sermon, was in Bangla mixed with Arabic but I was clued in. A few of the words that I kept picking out was ‘maph koren’ –forgive. The imam was reminding everyone that while asking for forgiveness, to remember to forgive yourself. The Ahmed family shared that this is why they come to mosque: it’s a time of the week to have reminders of what Allah has said. Today was a reminder to forgive yourself for whatever mistakes you made. It was personally a good reminder for me.

I arrived home to realize: it is September 11^th. I think it was quite fitting that I spent an amazing afternoon with a beautiful, dedicated, welcoming and compassionate Muslim family. Admittedly, I have my questions and concerns about Islam, which is hard to escape when you read American news.

But the most important thing I learned today is that the Qur’an states that there is no compulsion in Islam: that you do not try to convert people, but let them read the Qur'an themselves. Only this way can you understand the true beauty. Too often are people listening to someone's flawed interpretation. Mrs. Ahmed shared that a lot of the challenges of Islam stem from individual, local cultural practices not the chapters of the Qur'an.

I am still looking for a Qur'an in English because I would like to read it myself. As any religion, it cannot be understood after one prayer session, but I cannot make this more clear: just as the terrorists on 9/11 should not have judged all Americans to be ignorant, immoral, malicious people, we should not judge all Muslims as the same.

**My fellow Scholar, Parvez Ahmed, wrote this article for the Huffington Post the day before we went to the mosque. Please take a look!

Video: My First Iftar

My Video from YouTube

My First Iftar for Ramadan

Iftar is the evening meal during Ramadan.  From around 4-7, restaurants and food stands sell traditional Iftari food for Muslims to take home to their families.  I went to help out my friends as they sell their Iftari and was invited to participate.

Quick overview: The month of Ramadan begins at the new moon, the start of the crescent moon, of the 9^th month of the Islamic calendar.  Muslims fast from dawn to dusk all day as well as refrain from impure actions and thoughts (and smoking!).  By doing so, they are reminded of Allah with each moment of hunger and temptation.  Practicing patience, gratitude and additional prayer brings them closer to Allah.  They rise at 3 or 4 to take the morning meal, then fast until the sun sets around 7 for Iftar, the evening meal.  Back to my first Iftar…

[Click here for more pictures]

As my brothers prepared for the meal, the electricity went out.  Candles were lit and the boys hustled around in the dark.  I sat near one candle as the massive plate of muri spiced with onions, dates, garlic and chili was placed on the table.  Gia mixed lemon sharbat and filled seven glasses.  They sat and explained that they must wait for the second to last call to prayer, the signal from Allah that today’s fast is over.  About three minutes later, I hear, “Didi, khabe – ekhon!”  The muezzin’s call was clearly heard as the boys downed their lemon drink, basking in the sweetness of Allah and their first taste since dawn.  Then our hands dug into the platter of spiced crisp rice.  All you could hear was munching and breathing of seven hungry men finally breaking their fast for the day.  All I felt was the spices under my nails and their hands reaching for the same salvation.  Gia spoke, “Allah loves to see us share a plate – it brings our community together.”  I felt that too.

Towards the end of the meal, the boys were practically forcing more food down my throat.  It is this custom that I witnessed that when I share food with Bengalis, they feed my food back to me.  So, I smiled and raised a hand of full muri to Sumor’s mouth; he laughed and took the food.  Then I went around the table feeding one scoop to all the boys.  Of course, like true Bangla hospitality, they feed me a mishti each! 

It was so beautiful of them to share their meal and beliefs with me.   Each time some Bangla man on the street asked who I was, they all responded that I was their sister.  You can’t be more welcoming than that!  In one month, stay tuned for Eid – the last day of the fast!

God is Great

Finishing up my last few days of logistics, I decided to apply for my India visa here in the US (hoping for less hassle).  I am visiting some old classmates in Kolkata for some holidays, especially the Durga Puja in October :)

Waiting on line to apply for a visa, I wound up chatting with an interesting man from Hyderabad.  Talking about our families and careers, he shared that he is currently a financial adviser, teaching people to become financially independent.  I asked what his biggest piece of advice was and he said the first step to becoming financially independent is to know what you want.  Interesting, huh?

So standing on this visa line, there are twenty signs of Incredible !ndia.  We started discussing the different states we've visited in India.  He was describing Kerala then stopped, remembering the grandeur.  I agreed, that there were too many words to describe the beauty of India and he responded that the US is the same: "My wife and I are trying to go to Alaska, I hear it's...stunning."

There we were: two people of different birthplaces, loving the other's native country.  I wondered if our desire for the other country was heightened by being in the presence of a native.  But then he said it as perfect as possible, "God is great." It's not about nationality, it's being part of something greater and appreciating it.