The MagicMuslims solve the Ramadan moonsighting issue...

The MagicMuslims are here again, using their cartoon superpowers to make the world a better place. They bring levity and humour to a world that needs a smile. They are 'Ordinary Muslims, with extraordinary powers.' Brought to you by Spirit21, if you haven't seen them before, you can read more here.

Muslims follow a lunar calendar, and the beginning of each month is signalled by the sighting of the new moon. This becomes a particularly frenzied and controversial affair for the highly auspicious month of fasting, Ramadan, and leaves many confused over how such a simple matter ever got so complicated...

Enjoy the cartoon.

In conversation with God...

As we approach the month of Ramadhan, it's time to get my head into shape, and my soul more tender so that they spiritual days of fasting can work their magic. At a prep-lecture last night, the speaker talked about the importance of engaging in munajat (moo-nah-jaat) with the Creator - intimate conversation. I was moved to think about how little we (for which read 'I') focus on creating space for ourselves and in dialogue with the Divine. Sadly, I think a lot translations of the Qur'an (and other Holy scripture) create the sense of distance, grandeur and scariness of the Creator, when perhaps we should be think more along the lines of best friend?

In that spirit, I rather liked this animated short by Matthew Walker called 'Operator' where a man calls the operator to get the number for God so he can have a chat. Spot on. Enjoy.

Temporary note: there seems to be a problem with the video running which i'm looking at fixing, in the meantime click on the link above, or please come back when the video is running properly. Sorry!

The MagicMuslims go to the Elections

If you want to meet the MagicMuslims, you can find out more here: http://www.spirit21.co.uk/magicmuslims/

Spirit21 reveals The Magic Muslims...

Spirit21 is proud to reveal The Magic Muslims - Ordinary Muslims with Extraordinary Powers. Fun-loving, quirky and joyful in life, once you've met them, you'll want to keep coming back for more. Any Muslim you meet could be a MagicMuslim - a quiet superhero trying to bring happiness, humour and compassion to the world.

I'm really excited to bring you these characters - created and commissioned as original Superheroes by Spirit21 for everyone to enjoy and interact with. Every month or so a new cartoon with the characters will be published, so you can check out their antics in the world. I hope you enjoy them, as much as I enjoyed creating them. Please share your comments and thoughts, but do remember the copyright!

Make sure you get to know The Magic Muslims better here

The Art of Conversation - Britons, Britain, Muslims and Islam

Readers of a sensitive disposition should be advised that this article contains words of a difficult nature. What you are about to read may cause a temporary shut down in common sense and a brief outburst of hysteria.

Shariah.

Are you still there? I have smelling salts if you need them. Beware, here are a few more: fatwa, hijab, apostasy, niqab, cousin-marriage, Imam, Muslim women.

We can take a short breather now, and collect ourselves. Phew. I apologise if my outburst has reduced some readers to gibbering ranting Alf Garnett type creatures.

When the Archbishop mentioned the scary S-word, all rational debate - even if it be to score a resounding knock-out in the first three minutes for the secular corner - was suspended. What on earth have we just experienced in the last few days? Rowan Williams barely mentioned the word 'shariah' and the country was in an Armageddon-style-end-of-the-world frenzy. It wasn't even possible to get a word in edgeways to say that he was not in fact advocating shariah law. Instead, the media was awash with images of floggings from Somalia to the rings of Saturn and all the way in between.

Now that we are in the post-MTV, post-spin sound-bite century, we have lost the ability for discussion and debate. Sophistication and subtlety are a thing of the past. What I rue most is the lost art of conversation. Mention a word, and its caricature will be whipped up in front of you. Muslim woman in hijab? Poor, oppressed woman, one of four wives forced into marriage to her cousin, barely speaks English, wishes she could wear a mini-skirt... Muslim Imam? Mad ranting mullah burning a flag... Fatwa? Sentence to death for parking on a double yellow line.

It is completely impossible to have any kind of conversation about these issues without tantrums and hysteria. If British culture, values and laws are robust, then they will stand the test of discussion about these concepts, and vanquish anything that turns out to be barbaric or medaeival, or simply just not suited to the stiff upper lip and rugged British constitution. The knee-jerk ranting that surrounds us belies a lack of confidence and an unfounded sense of mistrust in the historic institutions that have made this country great.

We must ditch the cartoon (pun entirely intended) responses to any Muslim-sounding word that decorate our front pages week in week out. If we could get away from the unhelpful and misleading stereotypes that have lodged themselves into the public psyche, then maybe we could work our way through these minefields that seem to explode every few weeks. We might find our national debate engaging in that elusive thing - progress. Instead, the conversations that we need to have are being de-railed by the inability to communicate on the same wavelength. How can Muslims be part of the national conversation, if their terminology is at best unheard and misunderstood, or worse is misrepresented and the object of scaremongering?

P.S. To reduce the burden on some 'opinionated' readers, I have prepared some comments in advance that you might like to make. If you still feel het up, you can register your vote for your preferred tantrum. (1) What on earth is this Muslim complaining about? If she doesn't like it here she can go home (2) Stop blowing us up if you don't want us to react with hysteria every time you mention a foreign word (3) All Muslim women are oppressed. This is a fact. Thus Muslims are wrong on every possible count and we are right about everything (4) The sooner Muslims get it into their thick heads that this is Britain and we do things the British way, the happier we will all be

First day back in the office

We wish you a merry Christmas, We wish you an Eid Mubarak... Christmas carols like never before

With the Muslim festival of Eid celebrating the hajj last week, and the celebration of Christmas this week, I couldn't help myself but to indulge everyone in a little festive humour.

I have taken some beloved Christmas songs, and re-written the lyrics with a twist, and then had the carols performed by traditional carol singers. The result is an acoustic treat.

Enjoy the songs, and the festive season. And if you love them as much as I do, leave your comments and encouragement. Please make sure you credit Spirit21 correctly.

There are two songs, which have been recorded with a live audience:

We wish you an Eid Mubarak -
A timeless classic, with a bit of modern day multiculturalism

I'm dreaming of a moonsighting -

The new moon tells us when Eid is, but when is the new moon?

(c) All rights reserved

To listen to the carols, visit: www.spirit21.co.uk/media/eidcarol

Humour for the weekend - Who said that?

The posts recently have been a little serious, so I thought I would share this little comic moment which made me chuckle. Watch out for the mildly colourful language.

It was the first day of school and a new student named Chandrashekhar Subrahmanyam entered the fourth grade. The teacher said, "Let's begin by reviewing some American History. Who said 'Give me liberty, or give me Death' ? She saw a sea of blank faces, except for Chandrashekhar, who had his hand up: "Patrick Henry, 1775" he said.

"Very good!" Who said "Government of the People, by the People, for the People, shall not perish from the Earth?" Again, no response except from Chandrashekhar. "Abraham Lincoln, 1863" said Chandrashekhar.

The teacher snapped at the class, "Class, you should be ashamed. Chandrashekhar, who is new to our country, knows more about its history than you do."

She heard a loud whisper: "F**k the Indians."

"Who said that?" she demanded. Chandrashekhar put his hand up. "General Custer, 1862."

At that point, a student in the back ! said, "I'm gonna puke." The teacher glares around and asks "All right! Now, who said that?" Again, Chandrashekhar says, "George Bush to the Japanese Prime Minister, 1991."

Now furious, another student yells, "Oh yeah? S*ck this!" Chandrashekhar jumps out of his chair waving his hand and shouts to the teacher, "Bill Clinton, to Monica Lewinsky, 1997!"

Now with almost mob hysteria someone said "You little shit. If you say anything else, I'll kill you." Chandrashekhar frantically yells at the top of his voice, "Gary Condit to Chandra Levy, 2001."

The teacher fainted. And as the class gathered around the teacher on the floor, someone said, "Oh shit, we're f**ked!"

And Chandrashekhar said quietly, "George Bush, Iraq, 2007."

Are Muslims allowed to have a sense of humour?

Check out this spoof blog about a tongue in cheek Islamist: http://theislamicist.wordpress.com/

The nameless author is weaving a chapter by chapter insight into his parody of growing up to be an Islamist. It's well worth a read, for a humorous few minutes. I particularly like comments such as:

"I was surprised at how many women their were. The next thing I was surprised at was how many men there were. " which for anyone who has been to an Islamic society at university and been exposed to the obsession with gender, will find very sharp as an observation.

Other moments include: "They successfully lobbied for a new prayer space, and we got a lobby." and "It was then that I became involved with my first Islamicist group, the Hizb-ut-Tizer (party of Tizer). They wanted to get rid of corrupt Muslim states and replace them with a superstate, based in Scotland, made from girders."

The blog was picked up by the Guardian who wrote a comment piece

Reading through the comments, however, it seems that the public don't like Muslims to have a sense of humour, or can't seem to compute that Muslims might be able to poke a bit of fun...

The Inconvenient Diversity of Muslims

A group of civil servants are holding a meeting in the gloomy depths of Whitehall. The lacklustre policy-makers have been tasked to find solutions for Muslims. They check the Daily Mail and The Sun to research the problems.

"Immigration," cries one of them. "National security!" barks another. "Parallel lives and integration," disagrees the third. "They won’t eat sausages." They pause and then chorus in horror: "What, no bangers and mash?" However, they do all agree on one thing: that Muslims are being problematic. If only they could organise themselves into one group, and present a unified document on their problems and the appropriate solutions, how handy that would be. They sigh wistfully at this utopia. Perhaps the Government could even elect someone to head this all up, an Archbishop, or a chief Rabbi.

"The Ottomans used to call the head honcho a 'mufti'," pipes up one of the new interns to the department. He rummages around in his briefcase and pulls out a recent report by an online pollster called YouGov. The intern is keen to impress. "42 per cent of Sunni Muslims believe that the UK should have a Sunni Muslim religious leader or mufti. 53 per cent of non-Muslims believe the same." He lifts his head and glances at his compatriots like a puppy looking for adulation. He can sense he has captured the attention of the senior civil servants. Suddenly, a loud burp makes them turn their heads to the chubby old codger at the back of the room. "It’ll never work," he hiccups. They all ignore him, infatuated by the statistics.

The consultant licks his lips. His contract is up for renewal and he urgently needs a new high profile project. "Let’s scope out a role for a mufti. We could do a reality TV show with a hundred thousand pound a year job at the end of it. We’d call it, 'The Mufti' and run a twelve week knock out competition. The tasks would include: condemnation of suicide bombers, alignment of all Muslims into one view and making sure all Muslim children speak only English from birth. Maybe one of the tasks could be a fashion show for Mufti clothes and beards from round the world."

They all turn back to look at the intern. "53 per cent of other Muslims think it’s a good idea too." "Does 'other Muslims' mean Shi'a Muslims?" asks the old codger. "Er, no, they are considered separately." The weary codger sighs: "I wonder why there are more 'other Muslims' than Shi'a Muslims in this poll, given the high percentage of Shi’a Muslims in the UK." The intern looks sheepish. He looks to the consultant for help, who in turn looks at the simple pie charts on the report: "63 per cent of Sunni Muslims believe that a Mufti would have a positive impact, and 54 per cent believe it would improve relations with non-Muslims." He looks up, smug. He can sense a meaty renewal to his contract. "Grass roots search is the way to go fellows, we'll by-pass any organisation and go straight to all those with no track records in community work. That way we don't have to worry about agreement, consensus and diversity."

The old codger leans over to look at the report and then snorts with the cynicism of age. "Mufti, shmufti." He glances disdainfully at the intern who recoils in fear. "Ignoring the fact that the sample is not representative of the British Muslim population, 27 per cent of those polled didn’t even know if the UK should have a mufti, and a further 31 per cent said no. Between them is more than those who said that the UK should have one. 52 per cent thought the impact of a mufti would be negative, neutral or simply didn't know. That's more than those who thought it was a good thing." He pauses. "It’s a complete nonsense." He yawns and slumps back in his chair.

The grey suits mutter discontentedly. "This is Britain. We can't be doing talking to people of different views from different groups. It's just inconvenient. The Muslims who keep telling us that they are a diverse community of different ethnic groups and that they have varying views about Islam, is just a red herring to distract us. They need to get it together, and if they don't, we'll do it for them." He turns to his assistant. "Get the idea over to the PM straight away. Tell him we need a mufti." The assistant scuttles out of the room.

"I'll write a document defining British Islam!" chips in the intern, trying to reclaim the glory for his idea. The room goes quiet and he's not sure if he has hit upon a winner or not. He tries his luck. "The policy will include who can be an Imam and what the Imam can say. It will specify what schools Muslims can go to and how they have to fit in and go to the school disco. Obviously, we need to define what kinds of coverings Muslim women can wear especially when expressing political opinions. We don't want just anyone participating in the political process willy-nilly. There could be a section on what languages Muslims are allowed to speak, especially at home, and of course we would define what opinions they can have. I could add an appendix on songs they need to learn to support the English football team, and how to behave in a pub."

"Old hat, dear boy, old hat. We've got the citizenship test which covers football and pubs, and we're sorting out legislation and guidelines on schooling and clothing. We're getting rid of any organisations that seem to represent the variety of Muslim views and we're already talking at grassroots level to people who have done little or no community service to get them more involved to brainwash the kids." The grey suit smiles darkly. He has been working on his oratory style so he sounds more like Jack Straw. "The Muslim community is not uniform. You can't just appoint an Archbishop of Muslims, or a Chief Islamic Rabbi." The old codger's voice hints at his exasperation with the lack of understanding and reality in the room.

The grey suit's assistant creeps back into the room. He leans over and whispers something into the ear of the suit. His face darkens, and then he fidgets in his chair. "Forget this low-level drivel you've been discussing. I've been summoned by Gordon to talk about British-ness, and how we make the very un-British habit of snitching on people and telling tales into a Union Jack stamped British value." He turns to the rest of the room and waves his hands around, as though consigning Blair's rhetoric to the past. He addresses them with a speech drawn from his goldfish memory. "These failed terrorists in London and Glasgow, they are criminals, and we all need to be working to get rid of them. I don't want to hear any more talk of Islamic terrorists or Islamofascists. You idiots got that? They are criminals and must be treated as such."

The old codger’s first instinct is cynicism: "A Scotsman defining Britishness? Criminals defined and persecuted because of the hideousness of their crimes? Faith not maligned because of the actions of the extremist few?" He feels a counter-surge of optimism. He secretly hopes that this change of language about Muslims and terrorists from Brown signals a ray of hope, a change in the lunacy of the last few years. He'll give Gordon some time to prove himself, but he’ll be watching…

Can I be fashionable and Muslim?

How do I combine my value of modest dress with my human desire to be fashionable? A little voice in my head pipes up and says "I want to be fashionable!" I don't want to be eyed up for my vital statistics, but I do want to be noticed for my style. Are faith and fashion compatible?

Picture a Muslim and you probably imagine a rather stern looking long-bearded uncle with a dour expression, or a jilbab-swathed niqab-covered woman. Their clothes will sway modestly in a range of whites or blacks that the colour-naming people at Dulux would be proud of: Unnoticeable Noir or Inconspicuous Ebony for the dark ladies' attire, Nearly New White or Pious Purity for the men's dazzling jalabiyas.

The climax of this style of dress is in Makkah, during the hajj season. I am mesmerised during this period when I watch the swirls of black and white circulate around the Ka'bah, the House of God and the focus of Muslim prayer. There is an elegance to the complementary balance of the two colours, the yin and yang of the male and female. I myself have stood admiring the unfussy clothing of men and women in such mosques, clothing which is equally loose and modest for both genders. I revel there in the simplicity of the fashion which has poise and grace and lends itself to furthering the spiritual quest.

Back in the mundane world, visiting friends and family, going out to work, participating in community affairs, there is a little voice in my head pipes up and says "I want to wear colour!" or, more surprisingly, "I want to be fashionable!" I don’t want to look ugly, I want to be aesthetic. I don't want to be eyed up for my vital statistics, but I do want to be noticed for my style. How do I combine my value of modest dress with my human desire to be fashionable? Are faith and fashion incompatible?

The hijab is certainly not immune to trends. There are square headscarves, long ones and circular ones to name but a few. They come in all colours and fabrics. There is even fashion to be observed in black scarves. They come in two-tone, with embroidery, tassels, diamonds, lace. Selecting the right black scarf for the right occasion from the enormous noir collections of some Muslim women is an art form. Long cloaks are the same: they come in different textiles, different cuts, buttoned, sleeved, sheer with lining.

Watching women comparing their latest modest cloaks and scarves is an endearing revelation of the glory of humanity. Even the strict unemotional guidelines of black jilbabs, hijabs and niqabs are joyously brought to life by the most modest and particular of women under the God-given healthy desire of human beings to be individuals.

There is a simple human joy in taking pride in what you wear. Human beings were designed to be clothed. In the Islamic tradition, one of God's names is Jamaal, beauty, and He loves beauty. Why would He then not love beautiful (modest) dress? Ali ibn Abi Talib, the son-in-law of the Prophet, takes his young servant to the market one day insisting that the servant buys a nice shirt. Young people should be nicely dressed, he explains. Out in the Middle East, dashing young men buy their tailored jalabiyas, from Armani.

I flick through some fashion magazines looking for ideas of how I can fuse the parameters of modest dress with style. I take a promenade round the shops, enjoying my window-shopping as much as the next British woman. This summer looks promising, lots of knee-length floaty dresses that I can team up with a pair of trousers, and a long sleeve t-shirt underneath if required. Some of the prints are big and loud – will they attract too much attention? Some of the dresses look a bit clingy, perhaps making my curves a bit too obvious? Where lies the happy fusion between my spiritual search for modesty and my human desire for aesthetics and individuality?

The fashion industry wants to expose every insulting bump of my cellulite and every delicious curve with its post-modern lycra look. "The bumps and curves are mine all mine!" I cry. Neither should be up for public scrutiny. They are for me to know and you to mind your own business. I want to reclaim the mystery of being a woman, I want to assert the feminine glamour and grace that are my God-given due.

The little voice in my head tells me that the fashion industry sucks. A pox upon the limited choice it offers me and its bittersweet style dictatorship! Fashion as fascism? I'm too hooked to the idea of being fashionable to think such a heretical thought. Nonetheless, I sigh helplessly at the black and white choices I'm offered: stylish and skimpy; modest and frumpy; androgynous and depressed. Black jilbab or black mini-skirt? It is a false dichotomy this black or black choice.

The glossy women's magazines are the soft gentle face of the fashion police. They create the rules on how to dress and then enforce compliance. The Tehran police in Iran was less subtle. It recently commissioned local designers to come up with 'trendy' outer wear for women. The aim was to give women choices of Islamic dress while remaining within the letter of the law.

The rule-makers are missing the point. They may be able to govern clothing with their laws. But fashion, like faith, is an expression of the spirit.

Comedy Subtitling

Subtitling these days on telly has gone a bit loopy. A middle eastern man on a Channel 4 documentary was given subtitles to help with his Arabic twang, even though he was entirely comprehensible. On the other hand, I stared uncomprehendingly as a Glaswegian woman on a make-over show talked at sixteen to the dozen with no textual assistance. Perhaps it's where you're from rather than your proximity to the broad cross section of widely understood English accents and language that makes the difference?

Anyhow, I find the whole thing both humorous and perplexing. If you are as tickled as I was by the erratic use of subtitling, you'll enjoy this.






Or see the video here

Fantasy Celebrity Big Brother

With the whole world taking an interest in Big Brother, and what it means for some of the big social issues of our time, it got me thinking that putting together other big names under the cameras for 24 hours a day might not be such a bad thing. Either they would have to sort out their differences and get to know each other as people, or we'd actually get to see them for what they are.

Here is my proposal for the first 12 nominations:
George Bush (pretty obvious choice, could be good fun)
Condoleeza Rice (I want to know what really lies underneath that unruffled exterior)
Ahmedinajad (also pretty obvious choice, want to see how they all react with each other)
Cherie Blair (I think she'd be much more entertaining than hubby)
Gordon Brown ("Liar!" exclaimed Cherie Blair. 'Nuff said)
Shami Chakrabarty (just to get some good soundbites)
King Abdallah of Saudi Arabia (how do they keep those long white thobes so clean and dazzling?)
Gadaffy (the curve ball)
Liz Hurley ("I'd like to order some safety pins with this week's budget". She'd just be highly watchableTV)
Chaves (or is he the curve ball?)
Putin (to see how long it takes for him to start a mafia)
Patricia Hewitt or Margaret Beckett or John Reid (just to get one of them away from all those pies they are messing with and keep them out of trouble for a few weeks).

I reckon the winner would be either Shami (for remaining sane) or Ahmedinajad for just jaw dropping shock.

Who do you think would win? What are your proposals for a fantasy celebrity big brother?