Naeem's Blog

This past week I read this well-written post over at MuslimMatters. The author, Ibnabeeomar, logically presented his case on many Muslims missing the forest for the trees when they go to extremes in arguing for Halal/Zabiha meat all the while riba-based transactions plague their personal finances. It’s a beautiful piece that I recommend all of you take the time to read.

Many Muslims living in the West are understandably bothered by the petty arguments and polemics surrounding recurring hot topics such as Halal-vs-Zabiha, moonsighting, and participating in elections. They make the case for moving on and focusing on ‘bigger fish to fry’.

I couldn’t agree more.

Here in Saudi Arabia, while many of the issues particular to the West are non-existent, the same disease (‘missing-the-big-picture’-itis) plagues Muslims here as well. The problem here, as I see it, is that Muslims are stuck in neutral with their non-stop focus on Aqeedah.

This constant infatuation with perfecting one’s Aqeedah is like a never-ending cycle of mastering one’s basic math skills. It’s not enough that a class full of children is able to proficiently add and subtract, but they must all do it in exactly the same manner. It matters not that one student uses his fingers to add while another draws lines on paper to subtract or another does it all in her head. They must all continue studying this basic skill until it’s absolutely flawless.

I see this same counterproductive approach to this most fundamental of Islamic sciences. These Muslims, whose sincerity I do not question, overlook the social, educational, political and economic tragedies currently facing the Muslim world, believing the root cause of all our problems is our imperfect Aqeedah. If we simply focused on properly understanding Tauheed and all its ramifications, they claim, then Allah (swt) would shower His blessings down upon us all.

Actually, I can’t argue with this last statement – except with the narrow scope of how they define the ramifications of true Tauheed. For them, it means studying books on Aqeedah ad infinitum. I, on the other hand, take it to mean a Tauheed-inspired worldview in which every aspect of our life, not just the theological minutiae of Aqeedah, are dictated by the One (swt).

The Oneness of Allah (swt) is not rocket science, folks. Everything we need to know we learned in Kindergarten Sunday School.

The Prophet (saw) declared, "By Allah! I am not afraid that you will worship others with Allah after my death, but I am afraid that you will fight with one another for this dunya.” So if our dear Prophet (saw) did not fear overt shirk becoming established amongst his Ummah, then why are we so engrossed by it?

We have lost sight of the bigger picture – connecting our hearts to Allah (swt) while directing our energies towards a world where Divine justice reigns supreme – choosing to instead focus on the gory details of where is Allah (swt) or exposing those who 'worship graves'.

Disclaimer #1: I am not trying to undermine the importance of studying Aqeedah. But just as basic arithmetic skills are critical in creating a foundation for higher maths, Aqeedah is but a foundation for higher Islamic endeavors.

Disclaimer #2: Saudi Arabia is not alone in her ‘missing-the-big-picture’-itis. Every Muslim land suffers from this disease in one way or another. I just picked on their over-infatuation of Aqeedah as emblematic of the problem.

I must admit that I was (naively?) shocked to read this recent article stating the enormously high divorce rate. I had heard about divorce skyrocketing in recent times, but I never imagined it was this high.

Without getting into any deep socio-psycho analysis of the Saudi landscape, I can say that it actually isn't very surprising.

The two genders live in completely separate universes, intermixing only in forbidden encounters or after marriage. For the most part, they have created lives devoid of the other. The males go out for nightly coffee sessions and weekend desert forays while the females busy themselves at the malls and salons, if and when they are allowed out.

In and of itself, the mere separation of activities by gender in the pre-marital years does not lead to a failed marriage.

But when these activities persist after marriage, with the husband and wife insisting on the continuation of their pre-marital lifestyle, the bonds of marriage are never afforded a rich soil wherein the roots can flourish and strengthen.

In my own experience, it’s not uncommon to see young married men going out with the guys almost every night, while the wives are at home tending to the young children.

And then there is the trend of many young Saudi women having lofty expectations that their male counterparts simply cannot fulfill. From the need for a villa to a housemaid and a driver to an expense account beyond the fiscal capacity of the husband, Saudi women can be very costly to maintain.

Also, the education disparity between the genders must also be considered. While many Saudi women are completing their degrees and even continuing onto graduate school (after all, they have not much else to do), many Saudi men struggle to finish college, busying themselves with questionable business ventures as well as social misadventures.

Finally, other more seedy variables, such as homosexuality and pornography, are surely playing an unwelcome role in the divorce phenomenon.

All in all, it’s a very sad situation, with the next generation of Saudis (ie. the children) being the biggest losers.

No, not the freedoms. And, not the democracy either. I can live without all that, thank you very much.

What I miss most about living in the US is the Muslim community. Alot.

The tight-knit community that revolved around the local Masjid is simply not to be seen anywhere in Saudi Arabia. 7 years running and Riyadh has nothing remotely close to the feeling of brotherhood I felt in Baltimore.

The reasons are pretty obvious.

Muslims over here aren’t operating as a minority under attack and thus find no need to go the extra mile to build a community. On the other hand, Muslims in the West naturally gravitate towards the masjid in order to feel more at home with others who share their worldview. This inevitably leads to social activities and the like.

Also, the fact that masajid are located at every corner of Riyadh dilutes the concept of the masjid serving as the social center of the community. Masajid here serve only one purpose – prayer. In America, they fulfill multiple objectives – spiritual, social, political, and educational.

Whereas in Baltimore, I would regularly see my friends at the masjid every other night or so (and at worst, every week at Juma’a), here in Riyadh, months can go by before I see a brother who lives merely a few miles away, simply because he attends a masjid walking distance from his home. There’s no two-birds-with-one-stone approach of going to pray and also seeing the brothers. If I want to see anybody, I have to organize a separate social activity, which is simply too time consuming.

But most of all, I miss the volunteering aspect of the Muslim community in America.

I miss shoveling snow off the Masjid sidewalk.
I miss cleaning the bathrooms.
I miss serving food at community dinners.
I miss teaching at the Sunday School.
I miss cleaning up after Iftar dinners.
I miss working with the youth groups.
I miss rolling out the carpets for Juma’a.
I miss selling tickets for fundraising dinners.
I miss collecting donations.
I miss organizing car parking arrangements for Eid.
I miss the high of carrying out said parking plan to perfection.
I miss the exhaustion felt after executing a successful summer festival.
I miss selling balloons after the Eid prayer.
I miss mowing the lawn of the Masjid.
I miss calling up parents to remind them of the next Muslim Kids Club trip.
I miss all the sweat and blood that went into building a thriving Muslim community.

And I am pained at the thought of not exposing my own children to these most beautiful opportunities to serve their Lord. If ever there were a reason for me to go back to the US, the Muslim community and all that it offers would be it.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with the term ‘rubbernecker’, it refers to those depraved individuals who, while driving by a car accident, quickly turn their necks back and forth just so they can catch a glimpse of the wreckage. And to top it off, in the process of their gawking, they’re forced to slow down their car which inevitably results in a traffic jam.

I find it very unsympathetic of these schmucks to find some sort of viewing pleasure as they pass by the remains of someone else’s misery.

I can only imagine the frustrations felt by those involved in the accident. Adding insult to the injury caused by the crash, they have to stand there and endure the humiliation of becoming an unreluctant circus act for hundreds of passing viewers.

Why don’t these heartless souls just hand the victims a top hat and cane so they can at least dress for the part?

Sheesh.

And that’s not the worst of it.

You’ve all the heard the quip when someone is caught staring at somebody else, the person will respond, ‘Hey buddy, why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer’.

Well, some folks took that suggestion literally.

I’ve seen people here in Saudi Arabia, where I have witnessed more gruesome accidents than I wish to discuss, slow down their cars to the point where they can take out their phone and snap a few quick pics of the shocking scene.

Such an insensitive act is a serious invasion of the victim’s moment of grief and misfortune.

I shared my thoughts with some co-workers and they both felt I was being too sensitive. They reasoned that as long as the pics aren’t of the people involved and aren’t being taken to make light of the situation, it’s no big deal.

Really?! Where is the humanity???

I find such logic lacking in compassion and simple courtesy.

Or am I simply being too sensitive here?

When I first arrived in Saudi Arabia, I was warned about a specific tactic used by car thieves where they would initiate a 'fender-bender' accident, causing you to jump out of your car to check the damage. Then, while you're inspecting the back of your car and talking to the driver that hit you, his partner sneaks into your car and drives away.

When I heard this, I brushed it off as something that rarely occurs and is simply being highlighted due to the shock factor.

Until recently, that is.

A few months back, my friend's co-worker had newly arrived to the Kingdom and was running some errands with his family. As is normally the custom here, the husband will run into a corner shop to quickly grab some fruits or bread, while the family sits in the car. And due to the immense heat, the car will remain running with the A/C for the family's sake.

In the case of this fellow, while he was in the store, a car thief broke the window, jumped into his car, and drove off, WITH THE FAMILY INSIDE!

Thankfully, the criminal had some mercy and let out the family further down the road. Needless to say, the victim and his family were extremely distraught and soon left the Kingdom.

I was shocked when I heard this story as the incident was closer to home than some news item in the paper. Yet, I was still undeterred and maintained my practice of leaving the car running with my family inside.

Until two weeks ago when my very own friend had a similarly unfortunate incident. He had just finished shopping at IKEA and pulled his car up to the loading area to get his family and their items. He casually got out to put the bags in the trunk and help his wife with the baby, and in the blink of an eye, a car zoomed up, dude jumped out and into my friend's car, and both cars sped off.

Thankfully, the family was not in the car. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for his wallet (including the most essential Iqama card) and cell phone. Somewhat happy ending in that last week the police found the car abandoned in the outskirts of the city.

Regardless, this one hit too close for comfort. Since then, I've become alot more vigilante in turning off my car while my family waits inside. I would strongly recommend all others to follow suit.

Not sure what we're going to do when the summer heat arrives.

Well, this video is not technically a CNN report. It was produced by Suroosh Alvi of VBS.TV, but CNN is hosting Part 1 (Part 2 is here). So it's close enough.

Anyways, a friend forwarded me this video report and I must admit my ambivalence towards the overall tone. It's really geared towards the regular man on the street. The narrator takes extreme liberty in describing this most sacred rite in Islam, at one point comparing the crowds performing tawaaf to a mosh pit, but so be it. Such are the times we live in.

At the same time, he seemed generally apologetic in presenting the Hajj rites to his non-Muslim audience. For example, I found it odd how he expressed his concern that the airplane scene where all the passengers were chanting the Talbiyya made them look like a bunch of terrorists. Also, why did he mention the Filipino stewardesses and how they wished they were anywhere else in the world?

And when describing Madina, he talked about the camels and malls and oh yeah, there's also this cool looking mosque called the Prophet's Mosque. Huh? Isn't that the ONLY reason for going to Madina? And what about that tiny little detail of our Prophet (saw) being buried there? No mention. The stopover in Madina was all about getting into some 'meditative state'.

And since I'm all about picking on my brother Suroosh, it would've been nice if he had mentioned that the Ka'bah was built by Prophet Abraham (as). After all, he is the patriarch for the three main monotheistic faiths.

Maybe I'm reading too much into the flow of his piece, but I simply didn't care for his vibe.

He seems to have taken the Orientalist approach of communicating the Hajj experience to the Western public. He (and by extension, his audience) represent the world of sanity and civility while the millions of heathen pilgrims fill the role of the unsophisticated 'Other'. Clamoring on bus rooftops, jostling for position in front of the Kaaba, sleeping on the streets of Mina - these are the bedraggled masses hopelessly littering the sacred grounds of Mecca.

In addition to his questionable tone, I wanted to also make some corrections:

1. He says that video recording is strictly prohibited in the sanctuary of Mecca and so he secretly recorded his video footage and smuggled it out. Sure, if you're walking around with a huge camera on your shoulder, like those used by cameramen working for broadcast networks. But tiny digital cameras have become so ubiquitous that the Saudi authorities basically turn a blind eye. That's what allowed me to record this and this. And I recorded both videos in the open without any need for sneaking the footage out of Mecca.

2. The fancy high-rise hotels that shocked and disappointed the narrator are NOT solely for the super rich. In fact, most of the guests staying in those hotels are regular folks who are staying there via discounted rates afforded by their Hajj/Umrah group. And even for the regular guest (like me), the average cost per night ranges from $120 to $150 for a double room, hardly the scope of the rich and famous.

3. And our video host makes another mistake when he claims that the super rich take those rooms in order 'to pray from the confines of their rooms', as if to avoid the dirty company of the masses found around the Holy Mosque. That may be said of the Royal Palace, reserved for Saudi royalty and visiting dignitaries, that overlooks the Haram, but the pilgrims staying in the surrounding hotels have come from all around the world for the sole purpose of standing in front of the Ka'bah. Not sure who he met that was praying from within his/her hotel room.

Near the end of the second part, he describes the scene of pilgrims lining the streets in their makeshift tents and plastic mats as apocalyptic. Sure, I guess it may come off as a bit dreary and morbid from the confines of an air-conditioned bus. But in reality, when one moves away from the five-star accommodations afforded to pilgrims coming from the West and walks the streets with the 'regular' pilgrim, one only senses joy and elation. Thankfully, both times I was blessed to make the Hajj, I was able to get a taste of the more simplistic Hajj and I would most definitely not describe it as apocalyptic.

Life is a series of dots, each one representing an event, each one representing a special moment. Memories are made up of these dots, be they blissful, heartbreaking, or both.

Special is the one capable of connecting some of these dots. Like when a child barely capable of holding a pencil accomplishes the feat, connecting two or three dots results in pure joy.

What then of the select few who are able to make complete pictures from these dots and glean true meanings of life? Ya Allah!

Here, then, is my humble tale of connecting a few dots in my life. Maybe one day I shall be able to make something from these various connections dispersed throughout my life that resemble a picture.

But for now, I simply get giddy when I connect a few lonesome dots.

---

It all began with a harmless donation of 200riyals (~$50).

My friend from Madina was on a quick weekend trip to Riyadh and hadn’t brought sufficient pocket money. I suggested he take the 200riyals for his immediate needs and upon his return to Madina, he could donate it to his Sheikh, who looks after the needs of over 50 destitute families in Jeddah. With that condition, he happily accepted.

Fast forward a couple hours.

My wife had gone out to a local mall where unfortunately her purse was stolen. Seems like a group of young abaya-clad girls rushed into the store where my wife was shopping, causing a commotion of sorts, and rushed back out, in the process conveniently taking her purse as it hung off the back of the stroller.

Needless to say, everything was lost.

Included in the damage was my wife’s phone, which had a pre-paid balance of 1,300riyals. While we immediately cancelled the credit cards and ATM cards, we weren’t able to cancel the phone SIM chip. The SIM card wasn’t under my name, so I was told to come in-person to the local STC (Saudi Telecom Company) office. Unfortunately it was 8pm and they would only open up the next day at 4pm.

My immediate response was to write off the 1,300riyals as, I figured, any small-time pick-pocket surely knows how to transfer the balance to another phone number. Either that, or they would use the bulk of the balance to make international calls and what not.

So you can imagine my pleasant surprise when I walked into the STC office the following day and found the balance untouched. They quickly issued a new SIM chip with the 1,300riyal balance.

1,300riyals were miraculously rescued from the debris of the purse-snatching fiasco.

Or so I thought.

“Or who is there that can provide you with Sustenance if He were to withhold His provision?” (67:21)

The Prophet (saw) stated “…and the Rizq is fixed. Nothing will take place before its due time, and nothing will be deferred beyond when it is due.”

The following day, I went to my HR department to request new health insurance cards for my wife and 4 kids. 200riyals a pop they told me. Stunned, I asked why in the world is it so expensive to print some cheap plastic cards?

Fraud was the answer. Many employees report lost or stolen cards while passing them on to relatives or friends who use the cards to avail medical services they are not entitled to (most hospitals don’t ask for picture IDs – I bet they knowingly turn a blind eye, preferring the guaranteed insurance money over turning away a fraudulent patient).

So, I had to pony up 1,000riyals for the insurance cards. Oh well - you gotta do what you gotta do.

I then went to the two banks to have them re-issue the ATM cards. They told me that the charge for it would be 50riyals. A bit pricey for a small plastic card, but clearly more reasonable than the insurance card. So I didn’t argue too much.

And that’s when it struck me and a few dots seemed to connect.

With the combination of the insurance cards, ATM cards, and the donation, that 1,300riyals was simply not meant to be in my pocket. My sustenance (rizq) has been predetermined and this amount was going to leave my hands one way or another.

Just as it is said that your rizq will run after you like death (and so, the teaching goes, there is no point in running after it), it can be equally stated that it will run away from you in a similarly guaranteed fashion.

Today, I stand before you as living proof of that.

I recorded this short clip as I was walking out of the Haram this past weekend. I couldn't pass up the shot of these workers washing the floor of the Haram with the Ka'aba in the background.

(I tried embedding the video directly here, but no go. Will keep trying. In the meanwhile, sorry for that extra click.)

when you take an extremely talkative 10-yr old girl, a yellow belly 8-yr old son, a cranky 2-yr old baby, an even-crankier pregnant wife, and a cheap bastard (who won't pay for air tickets) and throw them all in a car for an 8-hour trip to Mecca?

Baddest. Road-trip. Ever.

And I don't mean 'baddest' as in Michael Jackson "I'm Bad". I mean bad as in it was so rough that I had to resort to a grammatically incorrect term to fully express my misery.

Half way to Mecca (around 11pm at night), I blew out a rear tire. The force of the tire tread ripped out the plastic molding of our Toyota Prado as well as part of the rear bumper.

So there we were, middle of nowhere, pitch-black desert, on a weeknight (being the Mr. Smartypants I am, I figured traveling on a weekday would result in less traffic, which it did - so there went my chances of getting any roadside help), without a flashlight, having to change a flat on my Prado that I had never done before.

Sweet.

Now, I've changed many flat tires in my life, but never from an SUV which has the spare tire mounted underneath the rear of the vehicle. The procedure to simply REMOVE THE SPARE took over 30 freakin' minutes!!! I had my son holding up my cellphone to provide some semblance of light, with headlights of the occasional passing car or truck helping out.

Once I got the spare down, I had to jack up the truck and switch tires. This proved to be an even bigger ordeal, for our fearless son, whose sole task was to hold the cellphone, got startled by a tiny desert mouse running around our truck. He started hopping around, letting out screeches and screams that would've put any woman to shame.

So much for naming my son after the Prophet's uncle, Humza, also known as Asad-Allah (the Lion of Allah).

Sigh.

After he bravely situated himself back inside the truck, my wife took over cellphone duties and I got the tires swapped.

It took me one hour exactly for the whole operation.

And wouldn't you know it, right when I was pulling out, emergency roadside service pulls up behind me. I kid you not. He was probably hiding behind some desert hill, just waiting for me to finish.

Lazy scoundrel.

But I was impressed by one taxi of three youth who pulled over about 15 minutes before I was done. They kindly offered assistance, which I politely declined since I was basically finishing up.

It took me another hour or so, stopping at 4 or 5 different gas stations, looking for a tire shop where I could buy a tire to replace my blown one. And also I stopped several times to take power naps. And also I drove extra slow, mainly because my wife kept nagging me every time too fast for her nerves.

So our trip that normally has taken us 8 or 9 hours ended up taking 13 grueling hours.

Which was nice for my wife, because it gave her even more time to make sure I understood that she's NEVER driving to Mecca again.

Worsest. Road-trip. Ever.

But in the end, as you all probably guessed, it was totally worth it - with images such as this one to really sweeten our experience:



That's a clip of Humza and Aya relaxing on the second floor near mount Safa inside the Haram.

One last note. We got rooms at the Zamzam tower hotel, one of the hotels at the megacomplex right outside the Haram, better known as Burj al-Bait.

While it was annoying at having to pass MotherCare and Promod and Starbucks on the way to the Haram, we thoroughly enjoyed our stay at Zamzam. The rooms had a beautiful view of the Haram, as well as the audio from the Haram connected directly into each room (with volume controls!). The executive suites were reasonably priced (500sar/night) for 2 rooms plus a sitting room, although the valet parking was a bit pricey (150/night).

[hi-res link]

It all started with my Saudi co-worker telling me how his wife reminds him of a GMC Suburban.

Odd, I thought to myself, I never considered it a compliment to describe one's wife as an oversized SUV, but hey, different folks, different strokes.

He continued by explaining the odyssey of his marriage, which began as it does for many youth - in need of money. But since the Shariah compliant banks don't offer straight up cash loans, he had to take a popular, alternative route.

He went to a dealership and financed the Suburban (valued at around 100,000 riyals) over a 5 year payment period. He explained how outside the dealership there are individuals with 'bags of money' waiting to buy your newly purchased vehicle (of course at a discounted rate).

The dealer sold the car, the middle man made his pretty profit, and best of all, my friend got the cash he needed to help him get married. Perfect!

Not really, I thought. Although each transaction is permissible in Islam, the entire transaction wreaks of a straight-up money for money loan (read: Riba) with the commodity (in this case the Suburban) thrown in as a mere formality.

But wait, it gets even better.

There are some banks here in Saudi that are using steel as the commodity in order to give out loans. It's the same as the example of the Suburban, except that man standing outside the parking lot with the money is taken out of the equation. The bank conveniently replaces him, ending up as both the seller and the buyer, all in order to allow you to get a halal cash loan.

Here's how their magic works: You walk into the bank needing say 50,000 riyals. The bank sells you 50,000 worth of steel for 60,000 over 5 years. Then they buy it back from you for 50,000. You walk out of the bank with 50,000 in hand and a debt of 60,000 to be paid over 5 years.

In fact, my friend told me that the steel actually does exist, in some warehouse outside Riyadh, in order to comply with the Shariah board's requirement. Someone he knows actually wanted to go out to see the steel in order to verify the 'validity' of the transaction and sure enough, the warehouse was there, full of steel. Some worker over there actually laughed how no one has ever come to visit the premises since its creation several years ago.

But I digress.

Now I'll be the first to admit that there are few topics as daunting, complex, and mysterious as Islamic finance - astrophysics and female psychology are two that immediately come to mind. But even I can understand that one of the fundamental principles of Islamic finance is that money can't be made from money. The Islamic economic system is a commodity-based system - transactions are based on buying and selling goods, not buying and selling money.

How in the world can these people convince themselves that they're partaking in a halal transaction?

In the end, I shake my head and think how fitting that a society that has made a sham of Islamic morality, has done the same to Islamic economics.

So is it just me or does anyone else see the eerie similarities between the actions described above and the actions of Bani Israel when they left their fishing nets out on the Sabbath, and returned the next day in order to collect the fish?

Both adhered to the letter of the law, while flaunting the spirit of the law.

===========

UPDATE: I did some more research and found that Saudi scholars have not sanctioned the second type of transaction, where the bank sells the commodity and then buys it back. However, they have approved of the first example (where the SUV is sold to a guy outside the bank).

Nonetheless, many banks in KSA perform both types of transaction, banking (pun intended) on the customer's ignorance of the fatwa details.

That being said, I still find it extremely questionable that I can walk into a bank, finance some steel (or rice or whatever) that everyone knows I will never use, and then walk out and sell it for straight up cash. Although it complies with all the Shariah requirements, it reminds me of the saying: If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck...

Its been 6 years since we moved to Saudi Arabia and I've had a considerable amount of time to reflect on the overall pros and cons of making that move. I'm able to simplify it into a quick analogy:

Imagine two towns.

The first town has many amenities that make life easy and comfortable. Of these services, one of the most attractive is its fully loaded gym with swimming pool, sauna, and tennis and basketball courts. It allows me to regularly workout and keep my body in shape. However, the town has a terrible sewage problem in which many diseases lurk. If the malaria-infested mosquitoes and occasional outbreaks of cholera don't get you, the stink of the sewage-filled river will bother you to no end. Although the opportunities to get into good shape are abundant, the chances of getting sick are too high.

The other town is cleaner and has a proper sanitation system thereby limiting the exposure to life-threatening diseases. However it has limited amenities and most significantly has no gym. While this environment greatly minimizes my chances of getting sick, at the same time, the absence of the gym gives me little hope of getting stronger and healthier.

Which is better for my personal health?

6 years and counting, I find myself in the latter town. While I feel that I've brought my family to a setting that is safer for their spiritual well-being, it has not allowed us to improve and become stronger in our faith.

The strong, central community. The positive influences afforded through the camaraderie of the brothers. The gluttony of opportunities in community activism. The plethora of conferences and seminars and other educational outlets.

All things I need to build up the strength of my iman. All missing here in Riyadh.

I feel that I've basically preserved my faith while living here - having neither regressed nor progressed. And sadly I'm feeling the same fate is destined for my children.

Conversely, I'm too scared to consider the thought of moving back to the states as exposing myself and my family to the greater chances of 'getting sick' is not a viable option.

Sometimes I nostalgically look back and wish for the chance to run to the gym and do some serious 'lifting'. Until then, I guess I'll have to do with bench pressing cement blocks and doing squats with my kids on my shoulders.

There are many essential skills that are slowly fading away into the abyss of the 'old days' that I'm started to get frustrated with all things modern. For example, handwriting skills have basically become a lost art. Kids are learning to text, twitter, and email before they learn the proper form of handwriting.

Fine, you may argue that handwriting is not really that essential.

How many people out there have ever started a fire? Not talking about a fire caused by splashing cooking oil onto the stove while frying eggs, resulting in the kids running for their lives and the wife coming to the rescue (I speak from experience). I'm referring to an actual campfire with logs, matches, and that cool firestarter stuff. Not many, I'm guessing, because there simply is little need nowadays.

Damn you Modernity!

Also, what about the ability to (ahem) attend to your personal needs in an Eastern-style toilet? I'd say that ranks right up there with hunting, starting a fire, and talking to a coconut as skills you need to survive a FedEx plane crash.

Ever since we moved to Saudi Arabia, I can't tell you how many nightmares I've had to endure thanks to my children's misadventures in the flat toilets.

What am I talking about, forget them...I've had too many misadventures MYSELF!

Damn you Modernity!

And let's not forget about eating with your hands. My two older kids make a bigger mess when they eat with their hands than their 18 month old younger sister. Personally, I'm not too bad when it comes to eating with my hands, but I'm nowhere as skilled as my Saudi counterparts. When we get together and eat from a large plate of rice, they'll take a handful, smoothly squeeze it into a small ball, and pop it into their mouths. Then they'll look at me awkwardly contorting my hand and arm to get the rice into my mouth and sympathetically offer me a spoon.

Damn you Modernity!

Hmmm...what other possible reasons can I curse at Modernity?

I wanted to clarify that my previous post was not intended to be simply an anti-Saudi-establishment rant. In fact, I’ve previously criticized the unfortunate expat pastime of whining and bashing against the Saudis.

Although I focused on the Mutawwa and their less-than-logical techniques, I truly believe their methodology typifies the ill-advised approach to reform employed by so many Muslims around the world.

We Muslims are all about window-dressing. Our idea of self-improvement is akin to putting make-up on a pig.

It's never about replacing the rotten core.

It's ‘religiously’ easier to grow a beard than to suppress your anger.
It's easier to don the scarf than to bite your tongue.
It's easier to memorize a host of ahadith than to crush your pride.
It's easier to use a miswak than to mend a broken relationship.
It's easier to lower your gaze and turn away from a sister than to help her with her groceries.
It's easier to regulary attend the local masjid than to turn away a bribe.
It's easier to correct others than to master the art of silence.

It’s so much easier to tackle the demons within by covering them with a thin coating of religiosity.

Whether it’s your self, your child, or your society, dealing with the outer forms of the sickness is quicker and less tasking than dealing with the inner essence of the problem.

Internal change (Islah) requires coming to terms with the repulsiveness of your true self, accepting scathing criticism by those more knowledgable, and adopting a long-term strategy to rectification.

Very painful, very difficult and very ugly.

Sadly, we are all the Mutawwa, in one form or another. We are all resistant to the pressures and pains of true internal reform, preferring the relative comforts of piety of the exterior.

The Saudi Religious Police (also known as Mutawwa) have been getting a bad rap for quite some time. In addition to all the negative energy directed towards them by the general public, they've come under greater media and governmental scrutiny for recent cases of extreme abuse.

I would normally not add fuel to this fire (as opinions are very emotionally charged from both sides), but I couldn't avoid chiming in on my dear friend Shariq's first blog entry over at Minjid.com.

The brother presents his case for supporting 'the Commission' as they provide an invaluable service to society.

I say hogwash.

My gripe is not with their abuses of power (which even their supporters condemn), but with the entire premise of enforcing Islamic principles. It makes no sense that propagation of (selected) virtue and removal of (selected) vice be forced down the throats of the masses.

And even if the Mutawwa were to succeed in covering every woman and forcing every man to pray, then what? Would that magically transform Saudi society into an Islamic utopia? All this obsession with the outer forms while ignoring the internal states is pure folly and doomed to failure.

The Prophet (saw) was sent with the primary mission to perfect akhlaq (moral character, etiquettes) - a lofty goal that can never be accomplished with superficial tactics of forcing people to pray and cover. The proper way is to focus on the hearts and attract people to the balanced teachings of our beloved Prophet (saw).

Honey. Vinegar. Flies. It's really not that complicated folks!

Why not teach people (dare I suggest *by example*, gasp!) to treat each other nicely, renounce bribery, avoid littering, give each other the benefit of the doubt, carry out fair financial transactions, treat maids and drivers with kindness, shun domestic abuse, embrace education, properly queue in lines, drive like humans, and so on?

These principles of justice, kindness, and civility are more important to society than ensuring that every strand of hair is covered or every man is praying in the masjid.

After all, what has decades of harassing unrelated couples and closing businesses at prayer times gotten them?

Internet pornography, Satellite dishes in over 90% of homes, and a flourishing underground homosexual society.

They've simply swept the problems off the streets and into the homes. How convenient.

Yay for a forced veneer of piety!

The Mutawwa consistently choose form over substance which has always proven to be a failed approach. Hearts remain unaffected by their brutish efforts.

They have disenfranchised the vast majority of Saudi youth with their shallow attempts at enforcing virtue and thwarting vice. They may have 'cleaned up' the streets of Saudi Arabia, but the hearts remain as polluted as ever.

Is that the type of Islamic society our dear Prophet (saw) struggled for?

Note: My rant is equally applicable to Iran, Afghanistan, or any other nation attempting to police piety.

Well, sort of:

When I first arrived to Riyadh, I thought it peculiar how shops were arranged. You'll find shops selling a certain commodity all grouped together. For example, there's a cellphone souk (Arabic for market) with dozens of stores, all selling the same models of phones. Same for the computer souk, gold souk, car souk, and so on.

I found it very odd at first because back in the US, retailers don't open their shops right next to the competition. That simply doesn't make business sense.

American entrepreneurs scout out a location to ensure they are one of the few selling their wares in the vicinity. After all, if I'm selling cellphones, my business would obviously do better if I'm the only seller in the area.

And so, when I first saw stores lined up, one after the other, all selling the same items, I was seriously confused. How do they ever make money? Why not relocate to another place, away from the competition?

And then after settling down, I realized how convenient these souks are for the consumer. Instead of driving all over Riyadh looking for the store that sells what I want, I simply go to the souk and shop around. No hassle of driving from one end of town to the other. Everything is available within walking distance.

I now am perplexed how shoppers in the West survive, having to drive long distances, going from store to store to find what they need.

The convenience here is amazing. And the vendor of item X realizes that his chances of making a sale are increased when he's located in the X souk as opposed to a location where he is the only one selling item X.

Some of you may be thinking, 'Big deal, we have shopping malls in the West', but the two are actually quite different.

The souks I'm referring to are more analogous to a strip plaza with twenty clothing stores, all selling the very similar, if not the exact, style of clothing, from the same manufacturer or supplier, with differences in sizes and colors available in each store's stock.

If you want your car fixed, there's a designated area with dozens of mechanics and auto-repair shops. You want to buy a satellite dish, you'll find a strip of 15 shops, all selling the same variety of dishes. If you want plants for your garden, there are flower markets consisting of large stalls, all attached to each other, all selling the same flowers with slight differences in the variety offered.

And this mentality has even spilled onto the streets. When a Saudi parks on the side of the road to sell watermelon or dates out the back of his truck, it's only a matter of time before five others do the same.

If the same thing were to occur in the US, the original vendor would bark at the others to go find their own turf.

I would like to think that these Muslim sellers embody the divine principle of tawakul (trust in Allah) and acknowledge that their rizq (sustenance) is pre-determined by Allah, so no matter if they were the only one in the area or one of several hundreds, their lot is fixed.

But I'm too cynical to think so positively of these folks.

Truth is, these rascals probably collude with each other to set the prices. And being so close only facilitates their conspiring.

Oh well, at least it beats having to drive around town.

I was asking a Saudi co-worker about his nation's obsession with Kabsa, a traditional Saudi dish consisting of a mound of rice with either chicken or lamb thrown on top. He himself admitted to eating it everyday for lunch. And he mentioned that many Saudis eat the same dish for lunch AND dinner.

I remember another co-worker proudly declaring that during Ramadan, he has to have Kabsa for Suhoor, every single morning!

Their simplicity is mind-boggling. No Saudi appetizers, no Saudi side-dishes, and no Saudi desserts.

Just Kabsa.

I'll admit that it took me a while to warm up to Kabsa – I'm used to some curry on top of my rice. But now that I've gotten used to it, I actually like it. But not so much to accept it every single day.

I just don't understand that.

He explained that the mindset, especially with the older generation, is to view food for its utility. The meal is not an experience to be savored or a source of entertainment. The meal is simply a source of energy for the body. The entertainment, if needed, comes from the conversation during the meal, not the meal itself.

I find such an unsophisticated approach to eating commendable. Food ceases to be the goal and returns to its original role of serving as a means to the goal (of sustenance). One relishes the quality of one's company as opposed to the quality of the food.

But maybe the Saudi style of eating has nothing with such higher aspirations. Maybe they're simply too culturally lazy to innovate new dishes. After all, the Saudi men all wear the same dress. ;-)

Finally, it's worth noting that the newer generation does not share the same culinary ideals of their forefathers. Indian and Chinese food are very trendy with the younger families, in addition to the unfortunate habit of fast-food.

So much for higher aspirations.