Dongurigal

Because I know how to beat a dead Teddy bear

I continue to be in a state of fury over the curious incident of the teddy bear in the Sudan, so much so, that I wrote my first ever opinion letter to a national newspaper. Will it make it into Monday's National Post? Probably not.

But it will make it into this blog.

First the background: My letter is in response to this letter that is in today's issue of the NP. I will also quote it here, in case it disappears in the next few days.

Sudan was right to jail teacher

National Post  Published: Saturday, December 01, 2007

Re: Ludicrous Fanaticism, Boris Johnson, Nov. 30.

British school teacher Gillian Gibbons should have known better than to name a stuffed toy bear Muhammad, while working in a Muslim country like Sudan. How many teddy bears in England are called Jesus? I think she was punished for her lack of sensitivity and her ignorance of the culture of the country more than anything else. Those who are not familiar with the culture of the country they intend to serve should stay home. Muslim people are deeply religious and very sensitive to what they perceive as lack of respect.

As to the subject of reformation of Islam, if we use the example of the Christian reformation, Islam is already a puritanical religion, it does not need to be reformed. However, if we mean by reformation we mean liberalization, it has not yet been liberalized.

M. Massaad, Orleans, Ont.

Here's my response:

Letter writer M. Massoud is probably right in assuming that there are not a lot of teddy bears in England called Jesus. It's not a common boy's name in English. But, I'd bet there are a lot of teddy bears in Latin and South America called Jesus--maybe there's even one in some teacher's grade 2 classroom. Why? Because it's a boy's name in Spanish. Just like Muhammed is a common boy's name in Muslim countries.

Far from being insensitive and ignorant, I'd argue that by encouraging her students to vote on a name for the teddy bear in her class, primary school teacher Gillian Gibbons was acting in a culturally sensitive way.  There she is, in the Sudan, teaching mostly Muslim boys and girls, offering them a chance to name the bear as they see fit, rather than forcing them to call the bear Teddy or Edward or Winnie. Or worse, Jesus.

M. Massoud, do you really want to align your thinking with the dangerous fanatics who are calling for her execution? Do you genuinely think she's being punished for her "lack of sensitivity and ignorance of the culture (of Sudan?)"

My guess is that the majority of Mulsims, even (or especially) those that are "deeply religious and very sensitive to what they perceive as lack of respect (of their religion)," are probably horrified by this sad and insane story. Because that is what it is--insane.  And most definitely un-Islamic.

--Dongurigal, Regina, SK.

Ok--I used my real name in the letter, so if it makes it into the NP, I'll have outed myself.

I'm pleased to report that my heroine of moderation, Irshad Manji, did write about this story; I got ahead of myself the other day. She is a voice of reason, and, moreover, has a damn good sense of humour.

Those who think that moderate Muslims are staying silent on this issue, please note they are not. Here's one group, The Muslim Canadian Congress, that refuses to be bullied by the fanatics nor let the fanatics speak for all Muslims.

Finally, because I am and have been an international school teacher, I lurk in the various open teachers' forums where not only are the stories that make it into the media discussed, but sometimes you learn the "inside scoop." In other words, you find out what the media isn't reporting.  Check this out--what has happened to Ms. Gibbons sounds more like a tale of revenge that got seriously out of control. If you don't feel like reading 8 pages of sometimes stupid, inane, and anti-Islamic commentary, I point you to comments #10, #27, #29, #33, #34, #36-38, #49, #52-54 where the posters know or know of Ms. Gibbons, in person. How do I know these posters know her? I don't. Nonetheless, their commentary makes for some interesting speculation.

The common thread that binds all fanatics, whether they are breast-feeding nazis, environmentalists who sterilize themselves for the good of the planet, or religious wing nuts brandishing swords in the name of God is that they all lack a sense of humour and a joie de vivre. They are tedious, earnest, one-track minded, and very dangerous. Let's stop taking them seriously--not the fact that they are dangerous, that can't be ignored--but let's stop taking what they say as the voice of their "people." They don't speak for me. They don't speak for the people they claim to speak for. They only speak for themselves.

Oh my! When it comes to fanaticism, I have no sense of humour. I'm an anti-fanatic fanatic.   

I guess it's time I stopped flogging that poor teddy bear. I've said my piece.

The Storm before the Calm

Mom tells me that I've been very calm throughout this pregnancy, not prone to my usual ups and downs, my rants and rages about things over which I have no control.  It's probably the one good thing about being pregnant--this hormonally-induced even keel. That and the baby moving about, which is cool in an "I've got an kitten in my belly, let's play poke, poke, provoke" kind of way.

Yes, I am calmer than normal, except when I'm crossing the street. Still, I am capable of righteous outrage. Two recent situations--one of small-minded ignorance and intolerance and the other of frightening fundamentalism and intolerance have set me off. Not that I can do anything about it except rant and rage. Mostly to myself. And to the computer. Or at the newspaper.

And in this blog. I can't keep it in any longer. It's not good for the kitty.

The first situation occured at a judo competition in Winnipeg. An 11-year-old Muslim girl was forbidden from competing because, heavens to betsy, she wears a hijab and oh my, oh dear, it might strangle her or something while she's being flipped. Never mind that she obviously practices her sport in hijab. Whatever, she can't compete. Now, dear, you go sit on the bench and watch like the submissive and oppressed little Muslim girl that you are. (Oppressed by who, exactly? Eh?)   

I roll my eyes and gnash my teeth. How many girls did I see doing sports in Kuwait, wearing hijab and long sleeved-shirts and ankle covering leggings? A lot. I thought, jeez, they must be hot. I wouldn't want to wear what they're wearing myself. But hey, that's their religion, that's their custom, they're getting exercise, they're having fun, they're competing. Get over it, Canada. Just get over it and fuss about something more important. Like the frigid weather and the fact that we all walk around looking like terrorists, oops I mean, covered Muslim women, in the winter.

And speaking of intolerance, well, let's move on over to the Sudan where an innocent British primary school teacher is being held in custody and threatened with 40 lashes and a 6 month jail stint because she named a classroom teddy bear Mohammed--that was after she put it to a vote and the majority of her seven-year-old students chose that name. 

Mohammed is a popular boy's name. It's not just the Prophet's name (PBUH), it's a boy's name. So, in a classroom of mainly Sudanese kids, many of whom are Muslim, it's probably not that unusual that her students chose that name.  But you get a bunch of fundamentalist jackasses handing out pamphlets that say she's insulted the Prophet and Islam, and the next thing you know they've stirred up the masses, some people get violent, some people protest, and some more "reasonable" types insist on an apology so that she can be forgiven, if Allah wills it.

Whatever.

But if an apology gets you out of jail and safely out of the country, Ms. Gibbons, just do it. And then rescind the apology when you get back to England. And then go into hiding when some other fundamentalist eejit sends you a death threat. You did not insult Islam. You did not insult the Prophet. You named a teddy bear Mohammed. It's a boy's name, too. But go into hiding anyway, cause fundamentalists, whatever their religion--these ones just happen to be Muslim, are crazy fucks. If you don't think like them, you die. Or get lashed. 

LATEST NEWS UDPATE:  They really are crazy motherfuckers, these fundamentalist assholes.  I'm swearing and inarticulate. Sorry Hubs.

See, I told you, still capable of impotent rage and rants. I think I'll go read what Irshad Manji has to say about this.  She's reasonable. She's Muslim. She's devout. (Oh, but she's also a lesbian. BOOOO! She can't possibly speak for her religion).

Wait, one more fundamentalistic gobbly goop story that gets me hopping mad. Gotta love the Halton Catholic School Board for taking The Golden Compass off its library shelves. Well, heck, the book has been written by an avowed atheist so it has no place in a Catholic (and for my non-Canadian readers--publicly funded) school library. No place at all, never mind that the writing is brilliant and that the story is just plain good and that the book has been around since 1995 or 1996 and that no one--certainly not Halton Catholic School Board officials--noticed it (except a few avid readers, including my Catholic mom and youngest sister who read it back in the nineties and LOVED the tale) until Nicole Kidman and that James Bond drool bucket, Daniel Craig decided to star in the movie version, coming soon to a theatre near you. And then it's all, "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh an atheist wrote this book, an atheist wrote this book! Oh my gosh. Catholic junior high schoolers are going to be brainwashed. Oh my gosh!!!!! TAKE IT OFF THE SHELVES. LET'S HAVE A BONFIRE!"

And now to calm myself down. Sigh.

What I want for my birthday

Don't ask me why, but I'm dying to get my hands on Corinne Maier's latest book, No Kid: 40 Reasons for Not Having Children.  I suppose it's the masochist in me considering I'm about to have the one thing the author regrets doing twice over. Either that, or I think it will be a great way to practice my French because it hasn't been translated in English yet. 

That said, I can't even find it in the Francophone Boutique of Amazon dot canada so I may have to ask my mother-in-law to send me a copy for my birthday and that may not go over well.

Since I can't review, dispute or agree with what Ms. Maier has actually written as all my information is coming from media hype and angry or "I hear ya, sistah" comments, I can still wonder if she has based her advice mainly on her own and other's anecdotal experiences and observations or if she has also encorporated research on French family policy--which she insists is encouraging the cult of motherhood there--and the issues surrounding the dismal European birthrate.

I'd have to see the bibliography, if there is one.

This quote caught my eye though and it makes sense, especially if you're the kind of person who has fixed ideas of how your kids should or must turn out, which I imagine is most of us--even the most laid back, earth mama type.  I mean, let's face it, the offspring of the most laid back earth mama type is probably going to become a corporate lawyer.

Who drives a Hummer.

"Children are born to disappoint you," she says. "Because we dream about wonderful children, but there are no wonderful children. They are people like me and you, and they fail, they do things you don't expect, they dream of things you don't even imagine, things that are pointless for you but not for them. So of course they have to disappoint you. Most children are difficult."

And I suppose in the end, that's just it. Kids have their own goals, dreams, and personalities and these may differ from your own so vastly that you have nothing in common--except genes. Is that enough of a reason to regret having them?

Bouf, I shrug. C'est la vie. 

Conversation in a maternity clothing shop

I have a bad habit of spilling too much information about myself to shop clerks (or bureaucrats which is probably why Saskatchewan Health is denying me health coverage, a bit of stress considering I'm nearly 5 months pregnant and my doctor is reluctant to book appointments for me until I get that damn card even though I'm paying in cash. That whole situation is a long boring nightmare of a story but suffice it to say I'm fighting it and will be contacting the provincial ombudsman on Monday if my application isn't approved.)

So I'm in the maternity shop buying a few tops when the teenage shop clerk hands me a form and asks me to fill it out because I can then enter to win a make over for the baby's room.

"Thanks," I say, "but I won't need this, I don't really live in Canada." (I definitely don't want to tell that to the health bureaucrats--I will be living in Canada for at least 12 months hence give me health coverage damnit. Oops, OT).

"Oh, where do you live?"

"Well, I guess Vietnam."

"Vietnam!!!!! What are you doing there?"

"Uh, um, my husband works there."

"Oh, really, is he over there because of the war?"

Blink blink blink blink blink. "War? Um, uuuuuuuuh, uuuuuh. No. He's. Not."

Ok Hollywood. Do us a favour and stop producing war movies about 'Nam. It's confusing the teens.