Homage to Hiroshima: Day Three

Out of the interest of time, we spent the second day of our trip in Miyajima, an hour train ride outside the city (a separate entry that will appear shortly). Upon our return to the museum to visit the west wing and the rest of Peace Memorial Park, I was anticipating another emotional rollercoaster. Knowing how quickly the time passed during our initial visit, we quickly passed by that which we had already viewed. We did, however, want to make a stop at the bookstand. Available were an abundance of books for both children and adults on a variety of topics relating to the nuclear issue and WWII. I left with three titles; two on Hiroshima: The Spirit of Hiroshima, published by the museum, and a children’s book, The Story of Barefoot Gen, about a Japanese family who opposed the war and were ostracized as a result but nonetheless held firmly to their believes despite outside threats. The third title: A Different Kind of Nuclear War: Children of the Gulf War, highlighting the cancerous effects of depleted uranium, used by the US armed forces to strengthen the piercing power of conventional ammunition. Although prohibited by international law as of 1998, having been classified as a weapon of mass destruction in 1996 for its devastating effects on populations living in the areas where it was used years after the fact, it continues to be used on the battlefields of Iraq. After purchasing too few books we made our way to the next exhibit.

The west wing is accessible via a long, somewhat claustrophobic sky bridge, with small square windows placed just below eye level, so that one had to crouch down slightly to look out, and walking on what sounded like a hollow floor we approached the other side. As we walked around the dark corner of the corridor we entered what resembled a nuclear war zone; crumbling brick walls, shattered glass and human replicas emerging from the fiery wreckage, their skin dripping from their bones like wax melting down a candlestick, the result of the intense heat of the nuclear reaction. This re-enactment, as it were, demonstrated the immediate experience of the blast- these victims, of course, were beyond hope for survival. In this area were also clothes worn by school children that dreadful day, burned and tattered. Most of them died a slow, painful death. Also on hand were articles that they had in hand on their way to school that morning. One that sticks out in my mind was a lunchbox that looked as though it had been excavated from a few feet of earth. The outside was clean but the inside revealed what appeared to be a dirty, rust covered clump of dirt; actually it was a child’s lunch that his mother had prepared, having been burnt to a crisp by the same heat that charred his skin.

There were artifacts of all sorts to be viewed. Many were ordinary items, including roof tiles and cement Buddhist statues resembling the infant figure displayed at the bank, their surfaces blistered. There were warped bottles and ceramic tea cups that had been bound together by intense heat. Accompanied by a rusted out tricycle, caked with soil, was one families story of Shin, their three year old child who fell victim to the bomb. Having been unable to save Shin’s sisters, his parents managed to pull him out from under the beams that had collapsed over him as he rode his tricycle in circles in the back yard. They rushed him to the river to try to quell his burns but without success; he died during the night. With no decent means for proper burial, his father dug a hole in the backyard where the child used to enjoy riding, and buried Shin along with the trike he so cherished. Forty years later, his mother convinced the father to raise their children’s bodies and place them in a more appropriate grave. As they were uncovering Shin’s “little bones”, they found his tricycle and donated it to the museum. One rather interesting display was a section of a cement wall, punctured by quarter sized piece of shattered glass, demonstrating the immense power released from the blast. Another large display, featuring of section the step, taken from the front of the bank, was inked with the shadow of a man who sat outside, waiting for the doors to open, unaware of what was about to occur in a few moments. The gamma rays from the bomb were so powerful that the flash produced a camera- like effect, casting permanent shadows on the ground. Considering all 42 employees were killed instantly within the thick concrete walls of the building, the customer waiting outside evaporated on impact.

Aside from remnants left in the wake of the atomic bomb were also aftershocks that continue to reverberate through Hiroshima. On display were photos of burn victims, their skin scorched and raw, bandaged in puss drenched rags, in addition to removable tissues such as hair and disfigured fingernails. Preserved by taxidermy was a malignant tongue, twisted and abscessed, from a soldier who contracted cancer after radiation exposure. Other infected body parts were preserved in formaldehyde in a tasteful but disturbing manner.

Among the final exhibits were further scientific explanations of radiation’s harmful effects. Some people ask how it that Hiroshima is not still saturated with it. Apparently the residual radiation dissipated quickly, leaving only 20% by the next afternoon. Nowadays Hiroshima’s levels of radiation are no greater than a city that hasn’t had a nuclear accident. In other words, it’s not a Hanford or Chernobyl, despite being exposed to an actual atomic explosion. The last stretch featured testimonials and drawings from the survivors. After reading them, we made our way through the park.

The park’s center feature is the Peace Arch, dedicated to honoring the souls lost to the bomb. Beneath the austere structure is a vault containing names of more than 226,870 bomb related deaths, 79 volumes deep- many having perished decades after the attack; included are Chinese and Koreans who were enslaved by the army as well as the American prisoners of war also among the dead. We offered our prayers of mercy for the fallen. Beyond the arch burns the Flame of Peace in remembrance of those whose thirsts could not be quenched while also serving as a sign of solidarity against nuclear weapons, aflame “until the day when all such weapons shall have disappeared from the earth."

A recent addition to the park is the Hiroshima National Peace Memorial Hall for the Atomic Bomb Victims, dedicated as both a memorial and educational and research center. Walking down into its modest spiraling pathway each step could be heard as if we were inside an empty tomb. The info guides provided, written in several languages, allowed us to access the personal memoirs of the victims, most containing an image as well, are an indispensable primary resource. Included is a library, featuring documentation and videos, related to the victims and their city. It’s shameful that the United States doesn’t have it’s own such research center but would rather keep it’s citizens in the dark, redirecting the funds toward promoting military recruitment in high schools and maintaining an aggressive, pre-emptive foreign policy.

Yet another sullen testament to the dead is the Memorial Mound, housing the ashes of more than 70,000 people. In a rush to rid the city of decomposing corpses, bodies were dragged from the streets and rivers to an area in the northern area of the park and cremated. Many of the ashes have been reclaimed over the years and given an individual burial but since many of the victims consisted of entire families, some were simply impossible to identify under the conditions at the time. Upon the mental images of piled bodies and the smell of burning flesh that must have enveloped the area, seeing the mound was enough to make the most callous of generals weep. Again, we offered our solemn prayers of mercy to those whose ashes were buried underneath the mound of earth that rose before us.

As if to release our sorrow, we approached the steps leading to the Peace Bell, housed under steep domed rooftop supported by four cylinder columns, modestly constructed. Carved into the surface of the bell is a map without artificial boarders, meant to symbolize “one world” reminding me of the words of John Lennon, “imagine there’s no countries.” We each took a turn at pulling back on the wooden plank, letting go and striking the bell. With each pound, a soft echo rang throughout the park; a soothing, comforting sound. Each August, on the anniversary of the bomb, several bells are rung to commemorate the “One Hundred Sounds the Japanese People Wish to Preserve.”

Across the river stands the infamous Atomic Bomb Dome, twisted in ruin, appearing as if since untouched at first glance. Over the years reinforcement beams have been added to prevent its collapse. As with the Bank of Japan building, upon detonation everyone inside was killed instantly. It was there, just 600 meters above, that the bomb was deton- ated. It looked as though the hammer of Satan had pounded the surrounding grounds, causing the earth to tremble and the bricks to fall, as if they’d never been cemented together. One of the few remaining buildings, once among the city’s most adored, initially named the Hiroshima Prefectural Commercial Exhibition Hall, its presence stirred up many painful memories among those who had survived. For twenty years, it merely remained as a condemned eyesore that many wanted dismantled. A city council vote upheld the decision to maintain the structure as a living example of the threat posed by nuclear weapons. In 1996, it was registered as a World Heritage Site, a controversial move that will surely continue to leave an imprint on the memories of all who travel there to see it.

Having made my afternoon prayers nearby, we ended our tour of Memorial Peace Park. Though my account may seem like a grim one, I encourage everyone to who travels to Japan to make this important stop. The exhibits are tastefully and objectively displayed. In fact, I was surprised to see that the strict militarism of the Japanese was held also held accountable for what happened. They were, after all, seeking to dominate the South Pacific and large portions of the Asian continent, something western imperial powers were not willing to allow. The Japanese Army was no doubt a vicious occupier of Taiwan, Korea, the Philippines, Indonesia, Singapore, and other areas, to be sure. Koreans were enslaved by the army and forced to endure rape and hard labor while looking down the barrel of a gun. In their own country, they were forbidden to use their native language, something that the current government in Tokyo is now writing out of the textbooks, along with the rape of Nanking, China, as if it never happened, furthering mutual resentment. The Korean victims of the atomic bomb were also denied reparations received by Japan from the United States- the memorial pictured didn't even become part of the park's landscape until 1999, despite the 50,000 who were killed.

Reconstructing a laundry list of war crimes committed by Japan would be an easy task. In so doing, however, one should take into consideration the fact that had Japan, or Germany, for that matter, dropped the bomb, the act would have indeed been considered a war crime, as Leo Szilard, one of the leading scientists who helped to develop the atomic bomb later noted. Those whose heads were hung at the close of the Nuremburg Trials, largely were condemned for acts of aggression, something every single US Head of State has been guilty of, including George W. Bush. As long as we’re the victors over our enemies, we’ll never be held to account, just as the Allied Powers of WWII were exempt from the trials at Nuremburg, though obvious atrocities were committed.

As we returned to our hotel in preparation to board the train back home, I paid my final respects to a city that I will always consider to be the most important of all I have visited in Japan, I hope to someday return with my children, insha’Allah. As long as this entry wound up being, it is far from completion. To give an adequate account would mean writing a book. There were many sites that I overlooked or didn’t have the time to visit. It’s those reasons that bring us back years later. Such visual reminders help us to maintain or open our eyes to the sick reality of modern warfare, which would have been condemned by any prophet of God. Seeing that Muhammad, peace be upon him, was the last in the prophetic succession, it should be recognized that he forbade the killing of civilians, now dubbed “collateral damage.” Also prohibited was the use of fire, the poisoning of crops and animals- though admittedly one wouldn’t know it by those carrying out such attacks in the name of Islam, but neither would Christ, peace be upon him, have blessed the slaughter committed by the crusaders or the war currently raging in Iraq, killing thousands.

Obviously I’ve made my position clear in regards to whether or not the use of the bomb was justified. I’ve listened to the argument that “the Japanese were ready to fight to the death,” and so it had to be done to save lives. Of course they were ready to fight to the death; that’s the essence of war. That aside, General Douglas Macarthur said a military justification to the use of the atom bomb didn’t exist. General Dwight D. Eisenhower likewise stipulated that the Japanese had already been virtually defeated, making the bomb absolutely unnecessary. As a teacher of history, I’ve yet to see these testimonials printed in any state issued high school textbook, again demonstrating the arrogance of the victors. It’s much easier to erect a Holocaust Museum to honor the victims of the Nazis than it is to recognize one’s own crimes against humanity. The fact that there exists no such grand memorial to pay tribute to the tribes who were exterminated to make way for the settlement of the western frontier nor one to recognize the tens of millions who were forced into the bowels of slave ships and worked to death building the mighty American Empire, testifies to the hypocrisy of nations. Until the perpetrators of crimes against humanity can admit their own guilt, much like the Germans were forced to do after WWII, as did later the South Africans during the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, at the close of Apartheid, the embers of resentment will continue to smolder, rendering any real attempt towards peace impossible.

As-salaam Alaikum & Eid Mubarak!

May Allah Bless you, your actions be well intentioned and rewarded. Blessed are those who strive to please thier Creator and Sustainer, insha'Allah, God willing; may we all be included in the company of the upright. May all oppressed people everywhere hold steadfast to faith and be given justice in this life and the next, insha'Allah. And may Allah Bless us all with lasting Peace. I wish you all the best in the year to come.


To my non-Muslim brethren, Eid al-Adha is one of only two universally celebrated events in Islam, the other, Eid al-Fitr, concludes the Holy month of Ramadan. Translated as “the Festival of Sacrifice”, Eid al-Adha commemorates Prophet Ibrahim’s (or Abraham's), complete submission to what he believed was Allah’s command to sacrifice Ishmael, his first born son, may peace be upon them. Having demonstrated his willingness to make the ultimate sacrifice, Ibrahim was stopped at the last moment from carrying out the slaughter, thereby proving to himself the strength of his faith. In addition, Eid al-Adha brings to a close the Hajj, the annual pilgrimage to Mecca and Medina, the largest of its kind, comprising of more than three million worshippers.

Masalaama, Peace be with You

Happy New Year from Japan!

Last year, I traveled to so-called “sunny California” to celebrate the holidays with my family. The weather was perfect: blue skies, warm cozy temperatures, and cool breezes… the week before I arrived, that is. During my two week vacation (my first in California), the sun only emerged from the damp and dreariness a handful of instances. Family time was great but the weather hindered our options. It was also during this trip that I announced my intensions to marry, something I wanted to do personally.

This year, I planned to remain in Japan to celebrate the dawning of the new year. Unlike the in the States, the focal point of celebrating New Years is not on its eve. The celebration is recognized over the first three days of January, although the equivalent to “spring cleaning” is done to freshen up for the new year, followed by eating “long life noodles” on December 31st (oddly enough, also an Italian tradition- just a guess, but perhaps it began with the Chinese, who concocted the noodle). The following days are typically time spent with family, especially grandparents, not unlike Christmas in the west; stores are closed and streets are empty- on day one at least.

January 1st is marked with a special meal, osechi, consisting of a variety of vegetables, rice, and fish, along with miso soup followed up by macha (green tea), and mochi (soft rice cake). Traditionally, mochi was made by husbands and wives who, after steaming large quantities of sweet rice, placed it into a huge granite bowl, resembling a large herb mortar, while her partner whacked it with a sledge hammer-sized, wooden mallet, producing a soft, doughy mass. Still a popular activity on the countryside, most suburbanites today lack the space for conducting such an endeavor, settling for a store bought version. In either case, it’s quite delicious. Most families, secular and religious, traditionally visit a shrine as well- the one place where large pockets of people can be found.

The remaining days are spent mainly in hiatus or going out with family and friends to karaoke, bowling, and the like. Unfortunately, for me, I was still battling the flu, that by this time had attacked my lower back, leaving me restricted primarily to my bed- I didn’t leave home for a week! I did manage to stand up long enough to throw together a sweet potato pie, but it wasn’t easy and I paid dearly for it the next day. One tip I discovered to greatly enhance the flavor of baked sweet potatoes (although fine by themselves also): break off some cinnamon stick and toss it into a covered baking dish, along with an inch of water, and bake for about an hour- amazing. As I wasn’t good for much more, Tsugumi made her debut osechi- I couldn’t imagine anything better!

After dinner, I made my way back into bed, where I laid for the next two days, reading Dostoevsky’s The Idiot, slowly recovering from the last waning remnants of the flu. My biggest regret, of course, was not being able to spend the time with the extended family, which Tsugumi largely made up for, al-humdulilah.

FAQ: How is that the Japanese New Year is on January 1st if it’s based on the Chinese calendar? Answer:
Along with many aspects of Japanese culture, traditionally, the calendar is based on the Chinese version, which identifies New Year’s Day as the "Spring Festival", beginning after the second new moon, following the winter solstice, hence, is also lunar based. After the Chinese were toppled by the British opium cartels and during the time in which the Age of European Imperialism was ravaging the world, the Japanese turned from China to Europe for inspiration (ironically, later returning Manchuria to colonize it themselves). To make a long story short and keeping to the subject in question, the Japanese kept the Chinese Zodiac but adopted Gregorian timeline. To further complicate things, however, the numerical calendar year corresponds to the number of years the current emperor has reigned. So, while, according to the Christian calendar, 2006 officially began on January 1st, year 18, specifically, Heisei 18, of the emperor’s reign also began.

Winter Time Flu Season

Okay, so most of you are probably wondering, “where’s my New Years card from Zain? What, he doesn’t celebrate that anymore either?” Wrong. See, every year, I type a bunch of letters out and send them to people around the planet. In Japan, it’s a little tricky. One: stamps are $1.10 each; two: I don’t have a printer so I have take care of that at the office. To top it all off, as of this week, I’ve come down with the flu- doc said ‘type A’ so I guess that’s a doosey. I’ve had to put my Hiroshima plans off a week and haven’t been much use to anybody except the gas and electricity guys, who, because houses are built without insulation here, are making a grip off of me this month. I have to keep the heat on all the time if I plan to stay warm- between fever outbreaks, that is. On a windy day, it’s like sleeping in a barn- the draft literally rattles the doors. My flat is less than ten years old to boot. Anyway, don’t give up on me! I will manage to get them to you! Until then, have a Happy New Year!

So this is Christmas...

The snow has arrived! I love this time of year. So many childhood memories of snowmen, Christmas decorations, baked goodies, and family time are brought back with the coming of the season. There is no other collective memory that I can recall from my childhood that are more special than these. It was the one time of year when the whole family came together to celebrate, exchange Christmas cheer, and renew our bond.

The scents of the freshly cut evergreens, steaming hot cocoa, and Mom’s homemade fudge, right out of the oven, still permeate my senses so much so that if I closed my eyes and opened them again, I wouldn’t be surprised to awake and find myself there, listening to Grandpa’s stories, and nibbling on sugar cookies and candy canes. To this day, I delight in watching A Charlie Brown Christmas, Fat Albert’s Christmas Special, and Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

So, why is it that I no longer celebrate Christmas? With all the joy that it brought, why wouldn’t I wish to continue the tradition with my own family? Principle. It’s not that I regret all those wonderful years of family time intended to honor the birth of Jesus, peace be upon him, (as is often assumed by people who misunderstand my faith). On the contrary, it’s the opposite.

Other than in namesake, Christmas, i.e., Mass of Christ, has nothing whatsoever to do with the teachings of Jesus. I can appreciate those who say “Jesus is the Reason for the Season” and to “keep Christ in Christmas.” Despite their good intentions, however, Christ never was the reason for the season. He didn’t teach us to cut down and decorate trees, eat ham, hang mistletoe, or exchange gifts in honor of his birth. Not unlike those before him, his teachings taught us to submit to the Will of God and to practice all that that encompasses, i.e., charity, honesty, patience, and consistency, to name a few.

In the beginning of my journey in Islam, I celebrated the Virgin Birth and had thought it important to remember the teachings of Jesus on Christmas, in hopes of salvaging some measure of spiritual significance. I had no problem celebrating the birth of a prophet of God, for as Muslims, we celebrate the birth of Muhammad, peace be upon him, every day. The Qur’an teaches us not to place the importance of one prophet over another so there wasn’t any apparent contradiction my actions.

Unfortunately, my upbringing did not prioritize Jesus as the focal point of Christmas, despite being raised in a Christian home. We were not Catholic, so we didn’t attend Midnight Mass. Like most families, we had our Christmas Eve traditions; ours consisted of eating cookies with milk, and opening one gift of choice. The next morning, we would wake up to find the gifts that “Santa” had left us. Mom and Dad would get up, make breakfast, and later we would open the beautifully wrapped gifts that had been gathering under the tree. Except for “knowing” that Jesus was born on Christmas Day, there was no correlation drawn. The Bible wasn’t taken out and read, we didn’t attend a religious service or anything of the sort.

The fact that this was common practice within most families, who celebrated Christmas, concerned me. I imagined a day when people would know nothing of Christ, in whose name they were celebrating. That day is upon us. In Japan, Christmas celebrations are abundant, yet less than one half of one percent of the population is Christian. Similar to Christmas in America, it is simply an excuse to go shopping and indulge in sweets, or worse, it has become a national date night.

Ironically, Christmas has become a day when sincere Christians are trying to keep Christ in the celebration, while most others have forgotten all about the event that supposedly corresponds to his birth and in many cases entirely discount any religious significance to December 25^th. As it happens, the latter are closer to the truth than most Christians would care to admit. In fact, a large list of pagan deities were given birthday celebrations on or around this day, including, Mithras, Horus, Dionysus, Hercules, and a host of others.

Scholars have found that the Virgin Birth actually took place in autumn or possibly spring, not the end of December. Historically, sheepherders kept their flocks indoors during the winter months, whereas the New Testament describes Jesus’ birth as having taken place when the flocks were being tended in the fields. Christmas became the day designated to celebrate the Virgin Birth in 350 CE under the leadership of Pope Julius I, an attempt to streamline the Roman public into Christianity. The ancient festival of Saturnalia, commemorating the birth of Saturn, god of the harvest was essentially coopted by the church which gradually replaced the names of pagan practices with holy ones. In practice, however, the celebration changed very little. The excess of feasting, drunkenness and debauchery continued to mark the days of the solstice to the extent that the Puritans actually banned the public celebration for twenty two years; in England, the church fathers instituted a day of fasting.

Like everything else associated with Christmas, December 25^th is pagan in origin. Nowhere in the Bible does God tell us to celebrate the birth of Christ on a designated day, nor did the early Christians do any such thing. The day itself relates to the winter solstice and Yuletide celebrations, honoring the Germanic pagan deity Jul, whereby followers hung mistletoe and slaughtered pigs, hence the customary Christmas ham. Odin, another pagan god, was said to the great hunt for the wild boar, became associated with the Christmas character of Santa Clause. He is said to have rode upon an eight-legged horse and would fly down to people’s homes, leaving gifts inside the boots of children who would leave carrots and straw for his flying horse. The myth of Odin merged with St. Nicholas, and boots became stockings, yet the traditions remain (although children in various countries continue to put their shoes out for Santa on Christmas Eve).

Today, the gifts are usually set beneath a Christmas tree. Ironically, the concept of cutting down trees and decorating them is explicitly condemned in the book of Jeremiah 10:1-4: "For the customs of the peoples are worthless; they cut a tree out of the forest, and a craftsman shapes it with his chisel. They adorn it with silver and gold; they fasten it with a hammer and nails so it will not totter. Like a scarecrow in a melon patch, their idols cannot speak; they must be carried because they cannot walk." Historically, there are various European traditions, influenced by the Romans who were themselves inspired by the Babylonian, which included the use of evergreens and fir trees to mark everything from fertility to birth stories of ancient gods.

Most blasphemous, perhaps, is the “Nativity of the Son,” son, referring the “son of God”−a concept that Muslims and Jews object. The Virgin Birth, as depicted in the nativity scenes displayed at Christmas time to honor Jesus, has been intertwined with the births of the sun gods of the Roman Empire and the Greek Empire before it. As the shortest day of the year had come to pass, the sun was believed to have been reborn. In actuality, “son” and sun have become one and the same. The choice to observe December 25^th had more to do with an attempt by the church fathers to coopt a pagan festival than establish a new morality; a decision that would prove difficult for the church authorities in their hope to curb pagan practices.

Of course today, people, especially Christians, are not cutting down trees to worship them. It is simply a cultural tradition, just as is gift exchanging and the other activities associated with Christmas. These traditions, however, are still of pagan origin. All three of the Abrahamic faiths, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, are instructed not to do as the pagans do and to worship God alone. There is no compromising this commandment. Nor did Jesus teach his followers to engage in mass consumption in his name, in what has been coined “the Gospel of Prosperity.” Despite the wonderful Christmas memories of my childhood, I cannot, in good conscious, pass onto my own children the association between of the Virgin Birth of the Messiah with consumerism, based on pagan concepts.

Regardless of this, however, it is still a time sanctioned by the state wherein many families, including my own, are granted holiday. As I value family time, I hope to continue making use of the time allotted. Also, in some ways, to counter the inescapable materialism whirling around, I plan to use this time to focus on the teachings of the prophets. This year, my wife and I are planning to visit Hiroshima, to pay our respects to the victims of the atomic bombs. We will also reflect upon teachings of peace and goodwill, both timeless and common to all faiths.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Having made it out of my twenties, I’ve made the transition from looking forward to being another year older to simply looking forward to what the day will bring. This year I had a great surprise awaiting me. Tsuchan took me on a trip!

We packed our bags and got everything together but where we were going, I had no idea. Tsugumi hinted that we may be taking the Shinkansen, but that was it. Considering we had just been to Tokyo a few weeks before, I wasn’t really sure where our destination would be.

As we made our way to the train station at 5 am, I wondered why we were not taking the JR line which leads directly to Shin Osaka, and the Shinkansen. I’ve only taken it once so I wasn’t in a position to second guess where we were going until we arrived at… Itami! This gave me two clues: we were flying somewhere within Japan as it’s a domestic airport.

Although I relish surprises like this, I cannot help but notice things that give them away. In this case, it was when the person behind the check in counter slapped the airport code on our luggage, “FUK.” This could only mean one place: Fukuoka! I kept my discovery to myself, to avoid a confirmation and thereby hope to remain under the impression that I still was unsure of our destination. Not for long though; the announcement in the executive lounge gave it away and if that wasn’t enough, the flight announcement was.

The flight was short and sweet. I had just enough time to read the newspaper and sip some chai. It was the first time I had ever been seated on the second floor of a plane. Too bad they don’t have windshields; it’d be great to have a pilot’s view. From the time we landed to our hotel was less than thirty minutes.

When we got to the station, it was pouring buckets. We searched around and found an umbrella for 500 yen. The winds were howling through the streets but we managed to stay dry. Luckily, the hotel wasn’t much of a distance. As we approached, I commented on how nice it looked, but Tsugumi assured me that it was much too spendy for our budget. Next I knew, we had taken a right turn and were inside the lobby checking in! It was early yet, so we just left our bags and carried on.

We jumped on the 100 yen bus to the shopping district. From there, we thought about going to Nagasaki but didn’t want to sit on a bus for four hours each way- especially if the weather was going to remain as it was when we got there. Instead, we went took a self directed tour to the Dazaifu Tenmagu shrine, which included a nice hot ceramic cup of macha and a slice of soft mochi- one of my absolute favorite things to eat in Japan.

The shrine is located away from the city and due to the weather, had attracted few visitors that day. The pathway of shops leading to the gate was com- prised of all kinds. There were some great art stores, clothing shops, and places to eat. We made our way through, sampling much of what we were offered, and then some. Basically, we were biding our time in hopes that the rain would cease as it did now and then.

When our chance came, we took it. The rains started again but I had my trusty 500 yen umbrella to shield us. When we reached the main bridge, painted red and arching over the ponds, the sun broke though. What I noticed first was the size of the enormous trees. They were beautifully twisted with centuries of beatings from the rain and wind. Others were huge green monuments, towering above any building in view.

As we made our way around to the back of the shrine, there were some smaller structures on the hillside, sur-
rounded, much to my surprise, with blazing red maples. The trees in the Kansai have all lost their flaring colors. These were among the most spectacular I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing. We took a short hike through the hills along paths carpeted red maple as if each leaf had been placed with great care.

As we were making our way down the other side, the rains again began to pour. We took shelter in a nice tatami café, set alongside the ponds. By this time, we were really happy that we’d come across it when we did. It was a cozy spot. As we sipped our hot ginger amasake the sun again broke through the clouds and the rains stopped.

As we were making our way back to the shop lined street, we noticed a place named Tsugumi. It was a quaint home décor shop with many handmade items.We browsed around but didn’t buy anything- quaint and expensive. I love these shops but seldom make a purchase. There was also a Zen temple nearby. I always admire the simplicity of the gardens often surrounding them. Set among the autumn landscape, it made for a very peaceful space.

On the way back through, we ate soba at the same place we had enjoyed the macha and mochi. Unfortunately, the soba was arranged on a plate with a false bottom so what we had hoped would be a nice portion turned into a meager serving. I suppose that’s what we get for eating at the same place twice, something we normally avoid.

That evening, back at the hotel, Tsugumi had made reservations for dinner. We enjoyed a really nice meal together. It was one of those dinners that crown a perfect day. By this time, it felt as though two days had already passed. It was really relaxing. After dinner, Tsugumi gave me my birthday package: a nice black v-neck sweater. We then received a knock at the door; room service served us birthday cake and hand shaken fruit seltzers; a perfect ending to our day.

The next morning we got up and enjoyed a buffet-style breakfast. As my Auntie pointed out, breakfast is the one meal that people from different cultures often cannot agree upon. Japanese breakfasts traditionally consist of rice and miso soup. Being a westerner, I suppose, soup for breakfast is just not appetizing in the least. Fortunately for me, our hotel offered two buffets: one Japanese, one quasi-western. It doesn’t matter all that much in the end because I am usually limited to fruit and bread at breakfast buffets anyway. This one had some potatoes that were pretty tasty. Preferring vegan and vegetarian buffets is extremely difficult to satisfy, regardless of place; that is, if I unless I want a Japanese breakfast.

After we finished up our morning meal, we took a subway to Ohori Koen. At one point this place had been a rather large royal complex, now only the ruins remain and are maintained as a park. At the highest point, there was a platform from which we had a great view. I prayed Asr, then we made our way down
to a lake nearby. The sun was shining but the winds gusts had returned, making for a chilly afternoon. In the center of the lake were a few islands, connected by a series of small bridges. As we walked along the path, the winds were so strong we felt we might be lifted off our feet at any given moment. In the background, someone practiced Jingle Bells on the sax.

We had a while yet, before our flight time. I had read about “Asia’s biggest fairs wheel,” (another pamphlet just said it was the biggest in Japan- who knows?) and wanted to take a ride. It was a jaunt though but we had the timeWhen we arrived, we couldn’t believe the height up this thing; it was BIG! We rushed to the ticket counter but were shut down when we learned that it was closed due to high winds. We decided to do the next best thing: window shop! Okay, not even a close second but we did anyway.

When we finished, we made our way to a bus stop. We had a 15 min wait. About 10 minutes into it, we noticed that the wheel was turning! Yes! But would we have enough time? We decided to take a chance. The next bus came at 17:15, an extra thirty five minutes. We rushed upstairs, back to the wheel. “Two tickets, please,” we asked. “Sorry, it won’t be open until five,” we were told. “Okay, well, how long does it take to go full circle?” we asked. “Twenty minutes.” Damn!! We had probably just missed our bus to get there and take this wheel, thereby risking missing our flight, only to find out that it wasn't to open for another fifteen minutes and that the ride would take twenty; five minutes too long! We broke for the bus. As we barreled down the stairs, we could see passengers boarding 200 meters ahead. Alas! We made it. As we left the wheel in the distance, we could almost hear its deep, sinister laugh, not unlike the marshmallow man from Ghostbusters.

We arrived back at the hotel with plenty of time to make our flight. After checking in our bags, we made our way to the lounge, where we kicked back and relaxed before our departure. It was a great way to begin another year of life. I am looking forward to all it has to bring and I am truly Blessed to have such a wonderful partner in my life to share it with. Al-humdulilah. I must be doing something right. Next phase: Fatherhood- but it’s still a ways off, insha’Allah.

Lost in Translation?

We took a trip to Tokyo- my first- and it was great!! With all due respect to Bill Murray, one of the best actors to date, Tokyo is an excellent destination. As my friend Chuck pointed out, anybody with his character’s lack of enthusiasm and bleakness while in a world renowned international city is simply a dull individual. Of course the crowds are huge- it’s Japan! Every city in the country is a New Years Eve at Time Square!

We took a too short, three day excursion to Japan’s modern capitol. Despite a population of 12 million, it was remarkably clean. Granted, we couldn’t get to all areas but the ones featured on Lost were really fun.

First on my list of places to go was the Tokyo Mosque. It was beautiful, the most amazing place I have ever had the Blessing of quietly stepping into. Tsugumi and I were wholly in awe. Again, Allah’s gift of the human capacity for creativity and exquisiteness was undeni-ably obvious. Fashi-oned after the Blue Mosque of Istan-bul, it also houses a Turkish cultural center and study hall where visitors and parishioners alike are welcomed with a smile and sweet warm tea. Flipping through the photo books of the Turkish landscape captured our interest as a possible landing for our spring travels, insha’Allah.

Though we only planned to stop in for a short while and make Asr, the afternoon prayer, we remained for several hours which quickly passed.
Listening to the Athan, calling people to prayer, resound inside the dome of the mosque was like the song of a nightingale at sunset. Following Maghrib, even- ing prayer, we made our way to a nice little soba shop in Ueno for dinner.

The next day, we rented bicycles and toured around much of the central district. When the bike keeper presented us with motorized mamacherries for 500 yen each we were more than excited. (By the way, mama charies are bicycles, reminiscent of the one that the Wicked Witch of the West rode in The Wizard of Oz. They’re commonly ridden in Japan by everyone from the guy in a business suit to a mom with a baby in the front basket and her husband sitting on the back rack with a dog in his lap- yes, I’ve seen it happen.) Though initially enthused about the motorized bicycles, I have to admit, they’re not worth their weight. The battery pack was short lived and only gave a small boost as we went up hills. It would have been just as easy without the motor boost as it was with it. Plus, on the way back, we had to turn them on in order to activate the headlights. Live and learn. Anyway, we were able to get around to quite a few places this way.

We started out by going around the Kokyo Imperial Palace where the royal family resides. The buildings are hidden from view by a mass of greenery along with a mote which encircles the perimeter, beside a wall composed of huge stones- commonly used to fortify Japanese castles. We later hit the business districts where ballpoint pens can cost several hundred dollars each.

After returning the bikes, we took a ride on a great rollercoaster! That was also a first for me. Previously, I hadn’t been on anything bigger than that which the carnivals tote around the fair- grounds every year. It was really a thrill. They built it on top of a shopping mall so it was already three stories up. As it was night time, I was able to convince Tsugumi of the beautiful view that it would offer. Once we were strapped in, I think the view lasted a few seconds just before we made what seemed to be a vertical plunge into darkness at 80 mph. I have to admit, as we were headed down, I was having second thoughts but when it was all said and done, I would have liked to have given it a second round.

Our last day, we spent mostly at Ueno park. There were many sites to be taken in. The park itself is home to three museums and a few shrines, not to mention, numerous blue tarps set up by the homeless who reside in the wooded areas. We were detracted away from the museums by the huge lines of people waiting at the ticket counters. I once saw a line of about three thousand waiting to see a Van Gough exhibit- which I chose to exchange for breathing space. We did make it the Toshogu shrine, built in 1627.
It is a humble structure, unlike most, and has survived through earthquakes, battles, and somehow managed to be spared by the carpet bombings of WWII. Painted in deep shades of red and gold, it doesn’t appear to have ever been restored or manipulated, except for the flooring. Inside, there are a number of artifacts displayed in rooms of peeling murals. I imagined a time when the autocrats sat on the tatami, sipping tea. I presume that if they ever knew me, a commoner and foreigner at that, were roaming around the shogun’s quarters, it would send them rolling in their graves.

Our plane didn’t depart until 19:30 so we were able to stop by Sensoji, close to our hotel. Sensoji is Tokyo’s oldest temple, built in 645 CE. It’s a very popular site so there were throngs of people, mostly along the 200 meter pathway, lined with food and trinket stands, leading to the temple entrance. There was a quaint hat shop half way in where I found a beautiful, burnt orange hat for Tsugumi. Hats made in Japan are of excellent quality, handmade design though can be ridiculously expensive. The winter chill was beginning to set in so once we took in the scenery, we headed back to the hotel to gather our bags and make our way home.

Besides the Tokyo Mosque and the other things I mentioned, one of the greatest treats was hitting up the veggie lunch buffets and organic markets.
Tsugumi looked up several places; we made it to three (our bellies can only take in so much, you know. Consequently, we only ate dinner only once!) Two of the places we went to were Japanese: Mother’s and the Crayon House; the other was Nataraj, an Indian spot. The food was sooo good! Kansai is really lacking in the vegetarian arena so finding such a great selection in Tokyo was really refreshing. Plus, we didn’t pay more than 1200 yen at any of them- super cheap by Japanese standards. We went to one buffet in Osaka where I could hardly eat a thing- though what I did find, I could eat till my heart’s content- and spent 2300 per person.

Bottom line: Lost in Translation is way off. Tokyo is a must see, must visit, kind of place. What’s more, I guarantee, you’ll never see cleaner subway seats in any other city in the world- except, maybe Singapore where they fine gum chewers and cane vandals- not a bad idea if you’ve ever been on a subway or bus in the States.

The Japanese Autumn: truly magnificant

The autumn colors have arrived, painting the landscape with rich shades of yellow and red. Were one to fall asleep beneath a Japanese Maple in September and awaken in November, they might think the sky had been set ablaze. Locals speak of earlier times, before the global warming epidemic, when the autumn colors were even greater than those displayed today, something I can hardly imagine when I visit the countryside this time of year.

Mino Mountain, known mostly for its aggressive monkeys that are quick to rob the naïve, who get too close, of anything they can get their hands around, seems to awaken to a whole new world once the leaves begin to turn. We recently cycled to the top to take in the sites. After living in what seems to be an endless sprawl of apart-
ments and houses built so close together you could change the channel on your neighbor’s television if only you shared the same remote, it’s hard to believe you’re still in Japan, that is until you try to sneak a glimpse at the deeply revered waterfall. One peak over the edge reveals a sea of people thicker than a Bloomsday Run.

One note about Japan: its size is relevant to the State of California with a population half that of the entire United States. Now, imagine ninety percent of those people occupying fifteen percent of the land and you can begin to understand more clearly the meaning of population density. On the other hand, as a result of these high concentrations of people, Japan has an amazing gift to offer those who wish to venture out beyond confines of the urban landscape. Somewhere on Yakushima, an island region in the south, there is said to exist the world’s oldest living tree. Imagine the fables enshrined in the core of its thick, twisted bark.

We also took the plunge into the steady flow of people visiting Kyoto in search of something beautiful beyond the small reservations of trees that dot their neighborhoods. It was especially busy as the week before it had been graced with the Thorn who seems to take pleasure in tearing away at the hopes for a sustainable environment; none other than our Commander in Chief.

The irony of the world’s most powerful leader being honored by an all exclusive tour into the cultural heart of Japan, to gaze upon the wondrous beauty in all its splendor while condemning its protocol, which calls for the "stabilization of greenhouse gas concentrations in the atmosphere at a level that would prevent dangerous anthropogenic interference with the climate system", is more than I care to ingest. The audacity of someone who spits on environmental protection, getting an unfettered tour of anything the natural creation has to offer at the peak of its splendor, while tens of thousands are told to go home, is truly insulting.

Thankfully, we planned our visit to Kyoto the following weekend, although we weren’t the only ones. Despite the tens of thousands who, along with us, had postponed their visit, turning out in huge numbers to view the fiery maples and bright yellow ginkgos, while at times it was difficult to sneak a peak, doing so was worth the inconvenience. For anyone who hasn’t laid eyes on the Kinkaku-ji, the Golden Pavilion Temple, it a magnificent demonstration of craftsmanship, covered in pure gold leaf. Set among the flaming colors of the autumn trees it’s nearly breathtaking. It’s truly a scene where God’s gifts of natural creation and human ability are realized.

Where the Deer are Tame

Nara, located an hour or so south of Osaka, makes for a great weekend destination. With its easily accessible sites- not saturated by crowds of people- some actually prefer it to Kyoto, the cultural heart of Japan. Known for its many World Heritage sites, it's also the only place I have ever seen tame deer- not necessarily a good thing due to their becoming dependent on handouts of sembe, fried rice crackers that are sold, along with disposable cameras, around every corner of their roaming area. The novelty of feeding flocks of malnourished deer with mangy coats wears off quickly.

There were many wide open parks with places to sit and eat lunch and, with the deer in the distance, it was quite relaxing. There was a feeling of quietness that was somehow refreshing enough to hear. The grasses were like carpets of green, almost like I would expect in some remote prairie in the mountains, not unlike a scene out of The Sound of Music- a film I have never actually seen in its entirety, for better or worse.

Japan's history as a nation goes back to the sixth century BCE; in 714 Nara was established as its first formal capitol.By 784, the Buddhist monasteries had become enough of an influence as to threaten the aristo- cracy. Thus, the decision was handed down to relocate to a more obedient region in the north for ten years before moving to Kyoto, where it remained for a millennium.

We made it to two of the shrines designated with World Heritage status. During what is referred to as the Nara Period, Japan adopted many of the Buddhist practices that are continued today. It was also during this period, in 710, the Fujiwara family, one of the period's most powerful, had the Kofuku-ji temple erected. It remains the symbol of Nara. Looking up five stories, to the top, I imagined what it must have felt like to be assigned to setting the roof tiles with 8th century equipment.

As with most of our tours, we rented bicycles and rode along to our next stop. Coming upon a path, lined by rows of cedar, we began to see the deer, scrounging around for something to eat. They remain primarily in the park which is a little odd because its perimeter is surrounded by busy streets and motorists who seem to fancy jumping on the accelerator only to slam on the breaks fifty yards later. Japan is a brake mechanic's dream. Fortunately, I didn't see any unlucky deer on the side of the road. They were so quick to surround the bearers of sembe I wondered how the merchants, who display it out in the open, manage to keep the deer from overrunning their carts but they kept their distance.

As we made our way to the next temple and found a place to park, we paid our small fare to enter the Todai-ji, the Great Eastern Temple, housing Japan’s largest Buddha figure, constructed in 752. The structure itself, rebuilt in 1692, is the largest wooden building in the world; its original size was actually one third larger. The amazing thing about many of these structures is the way the craftsmen put them together- without a single nail! Everything is jointed. The only nails that were used are in the doors and on the decorative metal work. Considering the age of these structures, how they're built, and the number of fault lines that crisscross the country, it's remarkable that they've remained largely intact.

Nara really is a beautiful city to visit. If time allows, a night at the Nara Hotel, close to the sites, is supposed to be great. It was built in 1909, in traditional Japanese style. I doubt I'll be doing so anytime soon because of its close proximity to where we live. Although I enjoy Kyoto for the many things it has to offer, Nara is definitely a sanctuary to those of us who aren't up to swimming in a sea of people. Either way, when visiting Japan, Nara is a must.

Eid Mubarak!

Eid al Fitr has come, marking the end of the Holy Month of Ramadan. Sisters and Brothers from all over Japan congregated to offer their prayers and their Zakat to help those in need. As it was a national holiday, many people who may not have otherwise been able to participate were present. The Eid prayer is the most significant communal gathering of the year and it a great opportunity to see the people we’ve had the pleasure of breaking bread with during the month as well as those who are normally unable to frequent the mosque.

As with any mosque during Eid, Kobe’s was filled beyond capacity, with people occupying every square meter available; there was even an overflow into the parking lot! Al-humdulilah! Praise be to Allah! Following the Eid Prayer, some of us went and tried our best at karaoke. Selman, my Brother from Toronto, made some mad rhymes worthy of an album. Lutfi, from Indonesia, sang like the Prince himself, and I have to give props to Russel, my British Brother, for his tracks. We were missing Ashfaq, who was back home in London, celebrating with his family but with us in spirit. May we continue to strive to become better human beings as much after Eid as before it.

To help us with this effort, Imam Mohsen, of Kobe Mosque, has provided some suggestions.

Ramadan in Kansai

Ramadan in Kobe is wonderful. Throughout the entire month, members of the community volunteer, donating their time, money, and hard work to prepare iftar, the meal which breaks the fast at sundown. It’s quite an amazing ordeal as there can be anywhere from 50 to a few hundred people in attendance. What I most enjoy about having iftar at the mosque is the variety of dishes that are provided, reflecting the ethnic diversity of the congregation. It’s a great Blessing to sit among so many people, from so many places, all sharing in the same event.

In addition to the brothers and sisters who frequent the mosque, we also have the pleasure of meeting many people from other areas in Japan as well as those stopping in while on business trips to the area. I’ve met students from Hokkaido, engineers from the States, and physicians from Iran. Not all of them are fasting, as it is not required while traveling; some merely come to take part in the community atmosphere and to participate in the evening prayers.

I’m fortunate enough to be in the company on imam who is a hafiz, one who can recite each and every word of the Qur’an, from beginning to end, from memory. Standing in our prayer lines shoulder to shoulder, side by side, equal before our Creator, while the imam recites the Words of Allah, is simply beautiful. As soon as Ramadan comes, it is gone again. As it is a time for spiritual renewal, I pray that all of us continue our devotion to the One who gave us life and sustains our being. Ramadan is truly a Blessing.

Ramadan Greetings

Ramadan Mubarak!

Life in Japan is good. The weather is cooling down and soon, insha'Allah, the leaves will be turning into their miraculous shades of fiery red and sunshine yellow, one of the many wonders of God's Creation. As we enter November, more than one billion people, in every country on earth, are completing the holy month of Ramadan- a month of daytime fasting, prayer and contemplation in hopes of growing nearer to God. This is the month of spiritual renewal and if lived properly, will provide a fresh foundation for the coming year. Each year, Ramadan falls approximately 10 days earlier than the previous year, allowing us the opportunity to experience this special month in every season God has to offer us.

Above and beyond anything we can gain from this month, is nearness to the Creator and Sustainer. As we as Jews, Christians, and Muslims worship the same God, be you call out to Yahweh, God, or Allah, we all desire this closeness. For those who are interested, I have included a pathway to the sermons of a dear Brother minister of mine who has recently decided to publish them online. His words are very insightful and candid, and although they differ in many respects to the teachings I practice-as they are of a Christian perspective- I respect very much his efforts in bringing people closer to God.

May we all reach this common goal.

Ameen & God Bless.

An Answer to a FAQ: Coming to Islam

I was raised in a fairly progressive Christian environment, one that did not follow a specific church dogma and was surrounded with an abundance of ideas. My parents both came from different Christian traditions, later finding a new route all together. They adopted the belief that the Bible itself outweighed any doctrine that was 'inspired' by it, contrary to many Christian sects, Catholicism, in particular.

When I reached age 18, I started questioning the faith I grew up with and began investigating others. I looked at the usual eastern philosophy, i.e., Buddhism, Hinduism, and of course, various forms of Christianity. It was during that search when I discovered that the central belief toward my knowing and understanding God (the mantra “The Word of God is the Will of God”) to be full of inconsistencies and overall inaccuracies- at least as far as applying it to the Bible is concerned. When I took up researching other faiths, I continued to run into the same problem; either doctrine outweighed actual Word or there were so many additions to the initial message that the intended meaning had be all together impossible to rediscover. Whether or not I agreed with or appriciated these additions was not the issue; I was in search of learning God’s Will though the message had been buried long before. Islam provided the cure to my dilemma.

It be should noted that I'm very analytical-overly so in the eyes of many- especially when it comes to issues of importance, in this case, the Word of Allah. The Quran’s integrity was beyond question- that being the most attractive quality of Islam. I have never questioned the existence of Allah- I simply wanted to learn the best way to please my Creator but in order to do so, I actually had to know what that message was.

People are always surprised when I tell them I came to Islam on my own accord, i.e., without having known any Muslims- I did know a Muslima from Turkey but she didn’t practice. Thus, it’s more accurate to say that Islam came to me; "Take one step toward Allah and Allah will take two towards you", as the teaching goes. As such, I was blessed with the opportunity to study without interference, i.e., people telling me I had to follow a particular set of fatwas, or school of thought, etc. In so doing, I believe I was at a great advantage for building a firm foundation for my iman. After having made Shahadda, declaration of faith, however, I began to read some the Saudi and Iranian propaganda that various brothers gave me and was briefly convinced of what I view now as corrupt ideologies, especially in regards to women. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before these concepts began to conflict with my personal ethics, at which point I distanced myself from many of the Muslims that surrounded me at that time. After a few years of nearly isolated practice and study, I began to realize that there were a lot of people with similar convictions and a wealth of material supporting my conclusions. Al-humdulilah, after a long re-thinking process, I developed a great inspiration that continues to strengthen my faith in Allah.


The Importance of Zain

Though I appreciate the genius of mathematics, I have never been great at its application. As a student, I always had a tutor to assist me. My university had a 24 hour study lounge where I often went to do my homework. One night, I called to see if my tutor/ex-girlfriend was there. When the phone picked up, I asked to speak with her. The person who happened to answer asked who was calling; I said, "Zain." My tutor came to the phone and I then proceeded to make arrangements to meet with her. When she hung up, Said, the person who answered the phone, asked her if I was Muslim. She said no but that I was interested in Islam and had been studying it for some time. When I arrived, Said introduced himself and offered to accompany me to the mosque for Friday prayers. Later that evening, I went to the Masjid and made Shahadda.

Here's were my name comes in. First of all, had Said not asked for my name, it would have been like any other night of studying. But, since he did, and because he recognized my name as being of Arabic origin, I was blessed with having been introduced into the ummah or community of faith.

So Far…

Over the last ten years, I have grown closer to Allah than I could have ever imagined. Despite all of the negative press Islam continues to be plagued with, I have never regretted my decision. The fact that there is a tremendous amount of injustice carried out in the name of Islam cannot be ignored. The truth is, as Muslims, it is our responsibility to overcome the negative stereotypes and demonstrate the actual meaning of our faith. That’s not to say that the press is unbiased in its reporting: it’s extremely biased. There is a definite agenda being followed but that does not overshadow the ills that we must correct. When more than half of our population, i.e., women, is subjected to second-class status and people are committing murder in the name of Allah, we must respond. The Taliban and Al-Queda is real (though their power and influence is extremely exaggerated) and what they did in Afghanistan was appalling. One of the biggest criticisms I have encountered has been from people who had not heard a condemnation of what took place on September 11th. In fact, there were several prominent voices that spoke out against it from amongst the Muslim leadership, as well as from the laity. Unfortunately, these voices were not given much attention in the media; therefore, they don’t exist in most people’s reality. Instead, the public was fed images of celebration among some pockets of the Muslim World (albeit some footage was admittedly taken out of context by way of using scenes from completely unrelated events).

What we have to do, as Muslims, is educate ourselves to make a necessary reformation. We must not allow extremists to speak using our voice. We must teach our children and the young people who are coming into this world to be proud of who they are. Seeking knowledge is a Divine command and is not limited to the male gender, contrary to what goes on in some countries. We are instructed that those whose faith in Islam is strongest are those who intervene in the sight of injustice. What could possibly be more detrimental than remaining silent in the face of an assault from within? To ignore our faults is to perpetuate our own demise. Islam is a wonderful blessing and if we allow its further decay, we will be held accountable. No imam, mullah, sheik, or alam will answer for our own negligence. What brought me to Islam was its message of freedom, justice and equality- none of these values can be upheld without truth, patience, and consistency.

Married Life So Far...

Okay, I know… I set this blog up so people could keep tabs on me and know what living in Japan is like and all it has to offer. What can I say? I’ve been busy living in Japan!! Since my last entry, the 30 Days leading up to my wedding, have long come and gone. I guess that could be an excuse for the 7 month lag!

So, the question that everyone wants an answer to: “How’s married life?” For those of you who have made this leap of faith, you’ll understand, I hope, when I say, “It’s wonderful!!” For those of you who are on the fence, decide what side you want to be on and make the jump, otherwise, you’re just wasting precious time- yours and her/his.

Our wedding was absolutely beautiful- as simply as I can state it. The sky was clear and blue, the sun shining, and a light breeze blew, helping cool those of us in black suits about to make the most important promise possible to another human being- okay, so I’m referring myself. We were also blessed with the last remaining cherry blossoms, dancing among the trees overhead, along with the array of spring flowers of every color and scent, spread about the park. It was truly the setting I had always imagined and beyond.

The following day, we left on a plane to Bali. It was my first experi-
ence of the tropics and it was as close to paradise as anything I have ever encountered. The people were beautiful and the sites of the clear, blue ocean and white sands were amazing. We also had the pleasure of a private villa overlooking the lush, green rice terraces of the countryside. It was there that we enjoyed our time most. We took a bicycle ride into the small neighboring towns and had the opportunity to visit a school, eat traditional Balinese fare, and do our best at making conversation with people who we didn’t share a common language with. Truly, a lovely memory. With the Grace of Allah, we will return there someday.

Over the summer, we spent nearly a month in the States. It was much more than a vacation for me; for me, it was really paying homage; doing so with my wife was all the more meaningful. We began in Spokane, where I was fortunate enough to see two of my best friends, John, who I hadn’t seen in two years, and Chris, who I hadn’t seen in five. John was visiting from Georgia on for a perspective job opportunity with the engineering division of the city, and Chris was preparing for a trip to Kuwait to teach English. Seeing both of them was a real Blessing.

Following our stay in Spokane, we spent a few days with my dad before leaving for Southern Idaho, to pay my respects to my deceased loved ones, and to share my early childhood memories with Tsugumi. While in St. Maries, dad took us for a boat ride up the St. Joe and the next day, we bicycled along the lake, which was stunning. Tsugumi and Koreena made a fresh past meal that, in the words of Arlo Guthrie, "couldn’t be beat." The next morning, we jumped into the car and headed south. Our first stop was St. Gertrude’s, the convent where my mother attended boarding school and where my beloved godmother was laid to rest. The Sisters at the convent welcomed us with open arms an accommodated us for the night. We awoke to share a breakfast of homemade bread and jam- a fond memory was recalled as one my godmother’s duties was baking bread, along with other fare harvested from the garden behind the chapel. We attended Mass where I was able to enjoy the praises of God and be comforted by memories of my godmother’s angelic voice in the choir. We said offered our thanks and continued our way to Nampa to pay respects to my grandparents.

We arrived several hours later and checked into our hotel- the Super 8 that I had passed a hundred times or more riding in the seat next to my grandparents. It was always one of the first landmarks I remember seeing just before arriving to their neighborhood. After dropping off our bags, we visited the cemeteries of both sides of my family where I prayed for their souls and left small arrangements of flowers.

We visited the house where my mother grew up and where some my fondest memories were made. We visited the post office where my granddad worked for 20 years, and had dinner that the Pizza Hut where my grandpa used to take me for lunch as a child. That evening, we visited the Capitol, a trip I don’t recall before making. The next morning, we had breakfast at the restaurant my granddad had taken me to so many times before. We sat across the isle from a kind, elderly woman who was eating by herself. We talked with her briefly and I wondered how many times my granddad had done the same. It wouldn’t surprise me if they knew each other- a question I failed to consider until now.

After leaving Nampa, we made our trip across the western side of the state, and through the entire width of Oregon, to Cape Lookout, a campground that I first visited, with my mom, when I was 14. It was great to be on the Oregon Coast again, with its bright, sunny days, cool winds, and foggy mornings. A landslide had occurred months before, altering our plans for a day hike through the forest to a walk along the south part of beach to explore what had been washed off the side of the mountain. It was actually very interesting to see how the slide had changed the beachfront through the shifting of the tide patterns.

After a few days of braving the ice cold waters of the Pacific, we made our way north towards Seattle, stopping in at Powell’s Bookstore- a bookworm’s dream come true, where we spent a considerable amount of time, and money. We also had an overnight stay in Longview, at the Warner’s, friends of my family going back to my dad’s childhood. In fact, my dad used to play in the same yard that surrounds their home when he was a child. Although our visit was far too brief, it was great to see them.

Before arriving to Seattle, we stopped in Olympia and toured the Capitol grounds before stopping into the Voyeur for the tastiest home cooked meal money can buy. Seattle welcomed us with a traffic jam that set us back an hour or more. My friend and former colleague at the international school, Chuck, gave us the keys to his home while, ironically, he was vacationing in Japan with his family. We returned the favor. It was actually Chuck who had the greatest influence in my decision to come to Japan. Had I not met him, it would have been unlikely that I would have accepted the offer. Unbeknownst to me, he had taken the same opportunity years before and after about six hours of showing me home movies, photo albums, and sharing his memories, I decided to make the call and accept the offer. The words of Brother Kariem also echoed in my mind when he related that Allah had created a vast world so that we could see and appreciate it in all its wonder and beauty.

We spent a few days in Seattle, visiting friends and places I frequented during the five years I lived there before leaving to Japan. Time is always short, but we managed to take in quite a few sites. We rented bicycles and toured the great districts Seattle has to offer and visited as many vegan spots as our bellies would allow. We even managed to take in a Storm game and an incredible performance by Ahmad Jamal- both of which were surprises to Tsugumi. Summer in Seattle is a wonderful time. I really miss that city and the friends I left behind.

Our next stop was across the boarder in Vancouver, BC. Of all the places I have been to, Vancouver tops my list of most desired places to live. It has everything: it’s ethnically and religiously diverse and open, vegan friendly, clean, and the weather is perfect. Surrounded by the huge evergreen mountains of the Coastal Range, and set alongside the Pacific Georgia Straight, who could ask for more? It was definitely our favorite spot along the way. Our visit was only a few days length, but we were able to see at least some of what it has to offer, and of course, we stopped into the bakery at Grandville Island for some Fig-Anise artisan bread, the best bread on the planet! Stanly park was beautiful, as always, and listening to languages from around the world being spoken by passers by was enjoyable as well.

We then headed back to Spokane along the Canadian highway, a breathtaking scene. The mountains in all their splendor, and the fruit trees blanketing the valleys were truly magnificent. Just before making our way back across the boarder, we stopped in at an amazing Italian restaurant. The name escapes me; it had previously been a private Victorian fashioned home. It sits on a hillside, overlooking the small town below. We finished our dinner while the sun was setting behind the mountains across the valley, coloring everything below in shades of burnt orange and deep red. We jumped into the Subaru and made our way into Spokane just after 11pm.

Our second visit was reserved for mom. It was great spending time with two of the most loved women in my life. We visited Riverfront Park, rode the Carousel, toured the shops at the Flourmill, and downtown. We also took an afternoon to trek around Riverside State Park and Manito, where we had lunch. Mom and Tsuchan made banana bread that I ate far too much of. Before we left, we hit Europa, where we saw Jenny, one of my professors, who is dear to my heart, who we had met for coffee during our first visit. I ordered a great vegan calzone, perhaps the single best meal Spokane has to offer.

We made one more visit to Chuck’s house before coming back to Japan. He had recently returned from his vacation and again opened his home to us. He treated us to a great dinner at a Chinese restaurant in the International District and we exchanged stories about our travels. He rose early the next morning to escort us the airport. It was great to see him but again, time was short.

A trip of this kind happens seldom, if ever, in one’s life. I am truly grateful for all my friends and family who breathed life into this special time, creating again, more wonderful memories that I look forward to recounting in the future, insha’Allah.

30 Days Left and Counting...!

This week marks the last month of life as I currently know it. In less than four weeks from now, I will have entered the path of the married ones, insha'Allah. I am greatly looking forward to the days and years ahead with my beloved, Tsugumi. Never before have I known a love so deep and pure, though I have prayed that Allah would grant me such a one as her's. As we enter the great halls of our future together, I pray that Allah strengthens our bond beyond measure and that its succession is everlasting. The moment I held her hand in mine, I knew her to be the one. In the words of Common, “ It doesn’t take a day to recognize sunshine.” May we fulfill the Divine gift and our love be as a garment for one another, ensuring the promise of mutual tranquility, insha’Allah.