Archive for Arts

“THE 99″: Muslim Superheroes

May 6, 2009 at 11:37 am · Filed under Arts, Faith, International, Media, Muslim Societies, Sharia

…there is nothing fundamentally different between Islam and any other belief on Earth or any other way of being human… For me, in the end, the 99 attributes of Allah are attributes that not only all Muslims value, but humanity values. Things like generosity, strength, wisdom, foresight, mercy… So my point of what I was trying to do was try to bring us together, versus pull us apart.

when i first heard about this muslim comic book called The 99, i thought it was a cheesy attempt by some apologetic opportunist. but after looking into it and the writer’s background, i think it’s kinda cool. an animated version of the comic book is in the making…i’d write more about it but i’m busy at work and i just finished explaining it to a friend…so i’m just going to copy and paste our convo, links and all… you’d probably enjoy the convo more anyway…it includes munchkins…and bacon…

c: man i just want to go home but i have to go to the other place after this
c: and work till midnight
a: think of munchkins plotting to bring down humanity
a: evil little munchkins
a: with superpowers
a: the ability to sweat cheese
a: so they can stink up any room they’re in
a: and cause others to pass out
c: does this world include hallucinogens?
a: of course
c: fun world
a: a friend of mine is a teacher
a: so he asks his students on the first day of class
a: if you could have any super power what would it be
a: this guy raises his hand and says the ability to sweat cheese
a: my friend thought it was the greatest thing he ever heard
c: i would have so many questions for that dude
c: what would your power be?
a: read minds
c: hmm that is risky business
a: theres a new islamic comic book
a: with 99 superheroes
a: 99 representing the 99 attributes of God
a: which Muslims believe in
c: really
a: so each superhero personifies an attribute
a: so this one character, Noor
a: possesses the attribute of Light
a: and she can strike light and holograms anywhere but the downside to her power is
a: she can see the bad in people as well, so she develops a cynical view of the world
c: wow
a: http://www.pbs.org/frontlineworld/stories/kuwait605/index.html
c: sounds interesting
a: theyre screening a documentary about the making of the comic book
a: but the film is also a look at how the comic book has caused controversy in the muslim world
a: religious conservatives hate it
a: one criticism is that its idolizing these superbeings, and only God is to be idolized
c: religious conservatives hate everything except god
a: they hate god too
a: i think its funny that many of these same imams
a: praise suicide bombers and yet believe chidren shouldn’t read about muslim superheroes
a: like if he blows his limbs off and takes out others with him, hes a hero
a: and it’s ok when muslim kids look at this and see it as a positive thing
a: but they cant read a comic book that promotes God’s attributes through his creation
a: it’s like shutup and go away
c: well put
a: i went to get a halal bacon sandwich
a: and the guy forgot the bacon
a: thats the only reason why i went to get it
c: so its just a halal sandwich…
c: i love turkey bacon
a: supposedly its really good at this place
c: go back and throw it in his face like you are a rockstar
a: word
a: wheres my bacon bitch
c: exactly
—————————————————————————–
WHAM! BAM! ISLAM! is the story of Naif Al-Mutawa and THE 99- the first comic book rooted in Islamic history and culture. Since its launch in 2006, THE 99 has been both an international media sensation and a lightening rod for controversy. An intimate look at an entrepreneur and his daring venture to build a new pop-culture for young Muslims, WHAM! BAM! ISLAM! examines the shifting definitions of the sacred and the secular across the Islamic world at the dawn of the 21st century.

For more info about Wham! Bam! Islam!
http://www.endeavorfilms.com

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Children’s Drawings

March 31, 2009 at 10:56 pm · Filed under Arts, Palestine

Rod Cox has initiated a cultural and educational exchange of children’s pictures between Gazan schoolchildren and schoolchildren in the U.K. Health authorities in Gaza say it is really important for children’s mental health that they maintain positive contact with the rest of the world and that this project will help them.

For more info: http://rodcoxandgaza.blogspot.com/

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WHAT WOULD YOU DO FOR THE STRUGGLE?

March 30, 2009 at 12:06 am · Filed under Arts, International

 

 

Victor Jara was an outspoken supporter of Salvador Allende’s populist politics and helped to get him elected president in 1970. Upon the coup of 1973 and General Augusto Pinochet’s grasp of power, Victor Jara was arrested, brought to the national stadium with thousands of others, and over three days was electrocuted, his hands broken, and finally shot to death on September 15, 1973. According to his wife, with broken hands he wrote his last poem on scraps of paper that were smuggled out of the stadium by survivors. The final words of which include:

“Silence and screams are the end of my song.”

Which begs the question: What would you do for the struggle of your people?

oj

 

P.S. “El Derecho de Vivir en Paz” means “The Right to Live in Peace”

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Daydream

March 23, 2009 at 2:53 am · Filed under Arts, Palestine, Poetry

 

Art by Ben Heine

Art by Ben Heine

 

 DAYDREAM

Some say I’m only dreaming, putting meaning in peace meetings

That I believe in all these things that no one else is seeing.

and I feel my heart beating when I hear the voices pleading

scream in bitter agony like a two year old who’s teething

 

All these fantasies unhealthy like eating empty calories

And it’s hard to see possibilities when planes bomb factories,

Destroy economies and all the hopes inside of me.

All this shit is killing me like clogged pulmonary arteries

 

And I can’t separate myself from it, see this struggle’s a part of me.

So that explains the pain I’m feeling, why it’s so hard to breathe

And as I step in puddles of blood, my eyes grow watery

Subtly wipe the tears away, and request you to pardon me

 

‘Cause these constant calamities have made me complicit and compliant

Find myself falling to my knees when I used to stand defiant

It might be a thousand years before all these guns become silent

So I’ll stick to these dreams as a means to free me from the violence

 

It started before they reported disorder in 1948

Before they cornered three quarters of my people and forced’em to evacuate.

It’s evil.

How one people promised the land of a second people to a third people,

Spurned people to give birth to an absurd people,

a preferred people who transfer people.

Rape and murder people,

ignore world consensus and commit human rights offenses

then hide the evidence, building security fences

claiming self defense while massacring the defenseless.

 

So I’m patiently waiting for the creation of a sovereign nation

cuz a two-state negotiations is useless if it won’t end the occupation,

So I’m basically wasting my breath on deaf and dumb populations

the situation mishandled, so dismantled like Russian space stations

 

And I see them change the information to control the debate.

Say my peace is a dream, but it seems I’m the only one who’s awake.

I’m sorry if I’m mistaken, though this situation’s got my knees shakin

I can’t accept the feeling that this whole fuckin’ time.

I was only dreaming. 

 

oj

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Seamus Darwish?

March 1, 2009 at 9:48 pm · Filed under Arts, Palestine

belfast11

It’s amazing how closely the Irish struggle and the Palestinian struggle parallel each other. Occupying force, internal disputes, and a tie to the land that spans generations. The pen/gun image is so prominent in both uprisings – the poem below brings out the likeness so vividly. Replace “potato” with “fig” or “olive” and this poem could easily be about Palestine.  It’s strange how the similarity has come to the forefront only recently do to George Mitchell’s  appointment and that we haven’t seen more Irish flags at Palestinian protests. 

 oj

Digging - Seamus Heaney

Between my finger and my thumb

The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.

 

Under my window, a clean rasping sound

When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:

My father, digging.  I look down

 

Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds

Bends low, comes up twenty years away

Stooping in rhythm through potato drills

Where he was digging.

 

The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft

Against the inside knee was levered firmly.

He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep

To scatter new potatoes that we picked,

Loving their cool hardness in our hands.

 

By God, the old man could handle a spade.

Just like his old man.

 

My grandfather cut more turf in a day

Than any other man on Toner’s bog.

Once I carried him milk in a bottle

Corked sloppily with paper.  He straightened up

To drink it, then fell to right away

Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods

Over his shoulder, going down and down

For the good turf.  Digging.

 

The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap

Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge

Through living roots awaken in my head.

But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.

 

Between my finger and my thumb

The squat pen rests.

I’ll dig with it.

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Random Encounters

February 26, 2009 at 11:21 am · Filed under American Politics, Arts, Human rights, International, israel, Media

Great spirits have always found violent opposition from mediocrities. The latter cannot understand it when a man does not thoughtlessly submit to hereditary prejudices but honestly and courageously uses his intelligence. –Albert Einstein

I’ve been working for a small law office in Brooklyn for about 3 weeks now and have come across some interesting people. This morning a man (Caucasian, probably in his 40s) came in who had come in once before during my week of training. The first time he came in, he asked if he could have a poster that was up on our office window. He was really taken by the artwork and knew nothing else of the subject matter, neither did he especially care for it at the time. The poster is an advertisement for the National Popular Conference for Palestinians in the U.S.

The guy came by today just to let me know he actually looked up the artist and he was very impressed by what he found. He then picked up another poster for an upcoming event that had a photo of a little girl from Gaza with rubble in the background, and asked how can people not be moved by such an image? I said well, apparently the world doesn’t find it that moving based on the state of events. He replied how people just don’t care and it’s sad.

As disappointed as I am in people sometimes, I also find it hard to believe that most people simply don’t care, and we began to talk about the impact of the media on the public mind and how I’d rather give the world the benefit of doubt because people are probably just ignorant and unaware of the full story. He looked at me and chuckled and said “God bless you kiddo, but as you get older you become more and more cynical. The world is just selfish.” He then talked about his grandson and how he’s trying to keep him on the right track and prevent him from becoming one of those selfish types.

Despite his jaded views, talking to this man was incredibly reaffirming and just refreshing. I mean the man didn’t know much about the issue before and he did some research on his own based on a poster he happened to pass by that really spoke to him– and now he’s trying to cultivate the same beautiful spirit in his grandson. For me that’s all the reassurance I need, despite his contrary view, that there is hope for humanity yet in this troubled world.

This experience definitely makes up for another encounter I had with some crazy Daily News photojournalist, also white and in his 40s or so, who went on and on about the evil nature of Jews. He also praised Saddam Hussein and kept calling him a hero, and said how unlike the American government, the man never killed women and children. Umm, really??! He also let me in on a “secret” about how we would spiral into a deep depression and Obama would be assassinated for the purpose of inciting a race war that would distract people from the economic collapse and keep them from blaming the real culprits, who are naturally, the Jews.

What hurt me about this encounter was that he acted, and even mentioned, that he was letting me in on his thoughts because he trusted me and knew I would understand. In other words, because I am Arab, I would naturally agree with his views and what he apparently perceives to be the typical views of Arabs and Muslims. I don’t know what disturbs me more though, his views, or the possibility that he’s right in his assumptions?

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INSOMNIAC

October 11, 2008 at 3:23 pm · Filed under Arts, Palestine, Poetry

INSOMNIAC

Buried under steel skyscrapers in Tel Aviv
Deep beneath city streets built by Zionist thieves,
Lies the land of my people, concealed by unspeakable evil,
Demolished mosque minarets and broken church steeples.

Lost in dreams of distant memories
of what could have been, but will never be.

Jealous of Americans’ contented ignorance,
Their inherent unawareness mixed with indifference
An innocence that causes him to explicitly abhor them
his words dwarfed by all those who wrote before him.

Tukan, Barghouti, Darwish, Jayyusi
What will he say that these poets did not?
Brave wordsmiths who stepped towards the gunshots,
Put pens in slingshots and flung verbs instead of rocks.

How differently will his text reflect the madness?
What hasn’t previously been expressed by those faithful Arab accents?

A wish that his words weren’t wasted ink,
but carried enough weight to sink in,
Absorbed
Not chewed and spewed,
Regurgitated like too much cake,
And left on Facebook and MySpace pages.
Like quotations from so many Arab sages

He despises how they’ve taken inspiring lines
and placed them on coffee cups of corporate franchises

Words are only powerful if they are heard.
So he urges you
To listen.

How they changed 15 days of refuge into 60 years
Circulated false claims that no one lived there
Replaced old Arab names with new Hebrew seals
Arranged elaborate Mandates and enforced biased deals

Insomniac.
How can he sleep
knowing
somewhere,
beneath exploding skies,
these children do not?

-oj

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Warring Factions

September 11, 2008 at 3:56 am · Filed under Arts, Iran, Media, War On Terror

Wanted to give everyone a heads-up about an interesting new film called “Warring Factions” set to be released soon. The documentary explores the cultural misperceptions that exist between Iranians and Americans, and how break-dance can help overcome barriers to mutual understanding and tolerance. Filmmaker Jassem Mashouf takes us to Iran for a break-dance competition and offers us a window into this often misunderstood part of the world. He talks to both Americans and Iranians to get their views of the “other” and addresses the meaning of his own identities in the process. The film is important in that it shows how state propaganda, whether it be here or there, can lead to dangerous assumptions and stereotypes and how art can serve as a powerful antidote to hate.

In one scene, there is a reenactment of his detainment by two Homeland Security officials, which causes him to miss his connecting flight to the U.S. He is subjected to a frustrating barrage of questions, an excerpt of which I have posted below. Mashouf says the experience inspires “his moment of clarity regarding the role of the individual in improving the world.” Amen.

Although there is no official release date yet, spread the word and keep an eye out for the film. If you want to schedule a screening in your community, contact the director. At a time when potential conflict with Iran seems inevitable, Mashouf’s experiment in intercultural dialogue is definitely worth checking out.

Excerpt of interrogation:

-“Who is Alexander Kluge?”
-“Who?”
-“Alexander Kluge. We found his name in your things.”
-“Where in my things?”
-“In your notebook. Who is he?” He said this while showing me the copy of the pages in my notebook.“
-You see, I’m a filmmaker and I use that notebook to write down ideas. So anything you see in there might not make any sense to you. Alexander Kluge is the name of a filmmaker that one of my professors recommended.”
-“Ok. But now you see how this is going to work.”
-“This is going to take forever,” I whined.
-“What is ‘Reenact a martyr video’?”
-Oh God. That doesn’t look good I thought. I started to explain the entry in my note book.
-“That was an idea for the film that I scrapped. Do you know what a martyr video is?”
-“No,” he said, waiting to see how I was going to get myself out of this.

-amel

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Slacker Uprising

September 10, 2008 at 6:21 pm · Filed under Arts, Election '08, Media

check it out, michael moore’s latest is being released for free on the internet this september 23rd. to get the free download, simply sign up with your email at the film site: Slacker Uprising.

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silk bands

May 29, 2008 at 1:16 am · Filed under Arts, Women

i wanted to share this even though i have to type it out. it’s a powerfully painful piece by noha radwan which was translated from arabic:

She pulls up her eyelids and struggles with them while her eyes wander around the room for a few minutes before they come down again. Everything around her suggests that she is in a bedroom which she has seen at least once before. The gold metallic curtains on the window, the tall mirror and the large wooden wardrobe with its monstrous ormolu do not seem unfamiliar. Once more she struggles with her eyelids and, startled, sees two eyes staring at her. It takes her a few seconds to realise that she is looking at herself in the mirror and that the naked body lying on the bed is actually hers. She lingers on the bed with its carefully embroidererd sheets before she comes upon the naked body lying next to her. The events of the last night force themselves upon her as she desperately presses her eyelids together. The scenes mercilessly follow until she sees what makes her whole body shudder. The scene is occupied by the same man lying by her side now breathing tediously. Did this actually happen last night? How did she allow herself to be raped? Why didn’t she resist? She could have at least screamed for help. She remembers that she had been screaming but is not quite sure anybody had heard her. She sees the little children who have wrapped the silk bands around her wrists and ankles and even around her neck. They smile sweetly as they look into her face but their hands are busy tying her to the bed and she cannot move.

She presses her lips tightly together, overcome by a strong impulse to vomit. She wants to stop the fetid air of the room from going into her lungs. She puts her hand to her mouth; nausea makes her want to throw up, to let her insides come out, to be cast beyond the borders of her being and herself.

There is a knocking inside her head tormenting her until she fears it will explode. She knows she cannot go back to sleep. The knocking intensifies. It sounds as if there is a knocking at the door. She lifts her head and puts her feet on the ground looking for something to put on. She pulls a sheet over her naked body before she walks to the door.

At the door she freezes and stares at the little boy with his raised fist. Is it possible that she is still dreaming? The cold floor under her bare feet affirms that she is not. But she is sure she sees one of the children who had tied her to the bed. With the same innocent smile on his face of the night before he says, ‘Good morning, Mommy. Is something the matter?’ When she doesn’t answer he enters the room. ‘I just wanted to ask Daddy for a little extra pocket money.’

-nadia

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