Novel Ideas

I’d had this static in my head for some time. I don’t know if it is the fasting or the need of a vacation or what. Fasting doesn’t normally affect me that way. Whatever the reason, I’d had it for a while now, a distractedness, a listlessness. Only when I found myself out shopping with my wife for her new specs and found myself in front of a bookstore did I realize I need a book. I need a book. I strode inside and went straight to the fiction section.

I hadn’t read a novel in I don’t know how long. I do almost all my reading online, come to think of it. I read the newspaper daily online, the New York Times, and get most all the information I feel the need for from links and forwards from somewhere or other. But reading online isn’t the same as paper. I think it’s mostly because of the nasty flickering of my cheap monitor that does it, that gives me that tired and defocused feeling after a period of reading online. But maybe there’s something about the medium itself. I don’t know. Reading a book on paper is soothing and calming. I’d forgotten that.

I went straight to the fiction section and browsed through the limited selection. There’s a few books I’ve marked mentally as wanting to read, if I ever came across them, but I scanned the shelves and none of them presented themselves. I finally settled on a book called “A Fine Balance” by Rohinton Mistry. I’d never heard of him, but the book was set in India in 1975, the year I was born and a few years before I arrived there. I bought it. I finished it in two days. It was just what I needed. The book itself was just all right, nothing spectacular. It follows four people thrown together for a year during Indira Ghandi’s Internal Emergency. The book has great detail; it brought back lots of memories, of beggars, of supercrowded buses, of the market, of a trip we took to a scheduled caste village. The characters were good too, sympathetic and believable. But the ending was just awful. Here these four people are, struggling to get by as their economic position, their future is chipped away at, even as their situations go from bad to far far worse, they can make it through their kindness to each other, their incredible adaptability. But in the last few pages, for really no apparent reason, one of the four just can’t take it anymore and throws himself in front of a train. The End. It’s like the author ran out of ideas and tied off the story the easy way. I think any story that ends in suicide in the last paragraph is by definition a crappy book. It’s not that I can’t handle tragedy. The majority of the book is far more tragic than that. It’s that it is so unexplained, and so incongruous with what I’ve experienced of Indian culture. It’s like the author deliberately refused to give the book meaning, even though the story up till then was suffused with meaning. But instead, no, meaningless death. I always read the last sentence of any book I’m about to buy. If I had read the last paragraph, I wouldn’t have bought it. Nonetheless, reading a novel was just what I needed, even one that ended badly like that.

The day after finishing it I went to the local university library, which had an even more woeful selection, except with more Shakespeare, and checked out “Underworld” by Don DeLilo. You’ve probably heard of it, since it was a national bestseller. It also got a lot of publicity after September 11 because the cover shows a gloomy shot of the twin towers with a bird banking toward the towers that could be a plane if you squint. The book came out years before; it is obviously a coincidence, but just like the $20 note that you can fold to look the towers, it got a lot of buzz because of it. I’m still in middle of it. It is a strange book in that there is hardly a narrative at all. It’s more like a series of vignettes or short stories with just two or three themes barely stringing them together. But it is still a very captivating book, because the vignettes are so moving. Each one evokes a different picture or idea to chew on. And the writing is very distinctive. He writes in idiom, with lots of sentence fragments, and mixed tenses and made up words, not just in the conversation but in the author’s narrative too, really loose and free. I especially like the made up words and the words that don’t technically fit the meaning but the sound of them still works. I find my own writing terribly stiff and boring, so I’m hoping to draw a little inspiration from this one. I go on holiday officially on Wednesday (I’ve been on holiday mentally for two weeks now); I’ll probably finish it up then.

Naming conventions pt. 3

One last thing about names here is the “bin”. Bin is Arabic for “son of”. Binti is “daughter of”. Although it does not appear on the birth cert itself, it is inserted between the first and last names of muslims, or more accurately, between the child’s name and the father’s name. (So in case you hadn’t put it together yet, my name is not Bin. I am the son of Gregory.) That part is straightforward. What is curious though, is that non-muslims don’t get a “bin”. Instead, they get “anak” inserted between their and their father’s name, as in Jefferson Anak Tutong. Anak means “child” or “child of” in that context. Then, it seems only with Hindus, it is changed to a/l or a/p, short for “anak lelaki” or “anak perempuan”, meaning son of or daughter of, respectively. What could be the reason for this? Why not just “bin” and “binti” for everybody? There’s nothing particularly islamic about it, aside from the Arabic origin of the word. There is a ton of Arabic in Bahasa Malaysia (and Bahasa Iban for that matter. See Bup Kudus) that doesn’t have any overt islamic significance, so that’s not a good reason. I don’t know, but I think it is a bit of chauvanism on the part of the Malays, to distinguish between the muslims and non-muslims that way. It’s not as though anybody would be confused between Muhammad Abdul Latif and Sivabakti Mahalingam. It’s not uniform anyway. Some tribes here in Sarawak use bin even though they are not muslim, specifically the Melanau, who are very close to the Malays in culture but are mixed christian and muslim. Maybe it’s a non-issue… Still, from time to time, some wiseacre in my class will put “bin” on his attendance sheet.

Living Tradition

You should go have a look at Living Tradition, a brand new blog advocating for Traditional Islam in North America. It is a collaborative weblog, with Modern Muslimah among the contributors. The team is acting kind of as a watchdog for the brand new Progressive Muslim “movement” and their flagship website, Muslim Wake Up. You might want to start with the opening salvo from last week. The writing is great: clear, strong, and accessible even if MWU and PM don’t mean much to you.
Like a lot of people, I was excited by MWU when the site first debuted. But it wasn’t long before I grew quite disenchanted. I know a lot of people gave up on them when (ugh) Sex and the Ummah showed up. But I’ll tell you what, I bailed before that. Mike Muhammad was more than I could stomach. I’ve got a low tolerance for that kind of pandering self-indulgence from a grown man. But it got much worse after that, to the point where I can’t bear to look. Which is why I’m happy to find a site where I can keep up on developments at a little distance. How bad is the “progressive muslim” agenda? It’s like a convert’s worst nightmare. Just read the very first principle. What is a muslim, according to them? It’s not what you practice. It’s not even what you believe. I quote:

We affirm that a Muslim is anyone who identifies herself or himself as “Muslim,” including those whose identification is based on social commitments and cultural heritage.

If you grew up eating briyani, you’re in, brother. Of course once Islam is defined in terms of cultural heritage instead of faith in God and His Prophet, everything that follows is open to change at any time. Maybe Groucho Marx was an early forerunner of the PMU when he said, “Those are my principles. If you don’t like them, I have others.”

Naming conventions pt. 2

On the subject of names, one curious naming convention here has to do with converts to Islam. I don’t know what the actual rate of conversion in Malaysia is, but it is significant. I’m forever running into converts. My next door neighbor turns out to be an Iban convert. As you probably know, it is customary when converting to take or be given an Islamic first name. Although very common, it is by no means a requirement of conversion. Many American converts will simply add the Islamic first name to their existing name, like my friend Muhammad Steve, or never officially change their name at all. The only time Nabi Muhammad changed somebody’s first name was when it had an explicitly unislamic meaning, such as Abdul ‘Uzza, meaning the servant of the pagan god Uzza.
Anyway, here in Malaysia, many people believe or are instructed that they must drop their family names and take the last name “Abdullah” when they convert. This is a huge obstacle to conversion for many people. Even if they themselves are amenable to the idea, it is a slap in the face to the family that many interested in conversion are unwilling to do. There is no reason why a convert should need to do this. To my knowledge, Nabi Muhammad never changed a convert’s family name. The names of the Noble Companions of the Holy Prophet are replete with family names predating Islam, like Sayyidina Omar Al-Khattab or Sayyidina Othman Al-Affan, may Allah be well pleased with them.
If converts knew the circumstances under which it is necessary to add “Abdullah”, they would be even more resistant if not offended. It is in the case of bastard children. Muslim children born out of wedlock do not take their father’s name; there is no relationship between the father and child at all. In this case, the child will take the last name “Abdullah”. I don’t mean to say there is anything wrong with the name Abdullah or any stigma attached to the name itself. It is a beautiful name in its own right, and many children are given this name, which means the servant of God. Nabi Muhammad said that he was happiest when Allah Almighty called him by that name. According to Islamic spirituality, all people have eight true names, one of which is Abdullah. So far from being a scarlet letter, it is a veil of modesty cast over people coming from an unfortunate situation. But it does not apply to converts.

Naming conventions

Naming conventions in Malaysia are very different from the States. Most muslims do not use hereditary names. Instead, the father’s name is the child’s last name. Ahmad the son of Hasan is named Ahmad Hasan, or Ahmad bin Hasan, the bin meaning “son of”. Because of the different systems, you will have a bit of trouble when you register the birth of your child in both countries. If you give your child your hereditary name, then if you are Hasan Smith, your son Ahmad’s full name in Malaysia would be Ahmad Smith Hasan Smith. Fine in the US, odd in Malaysia. On the other hand, if you do as I have done and abandon your hereditary name, you would simply put “Ahmad” as his name, and in Malaysia your son would be Ahmad Hasan Smith. His son would be Salih Ahmad. The Smith hereditary name will end with you.
Fine in Malaysia, but when you go to the US embassy, they will insist that your son’s name is just “Ahmad”, because the Malaysian birth cert calls the two fields “name” and “father’s name” instead of “given name” and “surname”. Confused yet? It is really just a matter of convention, but I have had to submit three affidavits so far to clarify this point for my three kids, and I’ll be doing it one more time in about two weeks for KakUda. You would think the US Consul in Malaysia would be a little more aware of Malaysian custom. A hint for those about to go through it; “It’s the same damn thing” is not an acceptable explanation on your affidavit.

It’s interesting to note, by the way, that a small number of Malays with Arab ancestry, the entire Chinese population, the Sikhs and other minorities here do use family names. When these folks are identified in the news, their father’s name is never mentioned. The famous lawyer Karpal Singh, for example, must be officially named Karpal Singh Mohinder Singh (or whatever his father’s first name is). But he is simply referred to as Karpal Singh. Nobody gets confused. I guess Malaysia is just way ahead of the US when it comes to multiculturalism.
The only folks who don’t get their names how they would like them are muslim converts who want to keep their family names, like Ahmad the son of Hasan Smith. Ideally, Hasan Smith would like for his son to be Ahmad Hasan Smith, and his son to be Salih Ahmad Smith. That would be the perfect blend of both systems, in my humble opinion. The large and growing number of Chinese converts would prefer this kind of thing, I think. The telegenic Chinese convert Ridhwan Teh Abdullah would prefer his (hypothetical) son to be Hisham Ridhwan Teh, or perhaps Hisham Teh Ridhwan, but not Hisham Teh Ridhwan Teh, I would hazard.

Shaykh as-Sayyid Muhammad Alawi Al-Maliki

Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji`oon.
To Allah we belong and unto Him do we return.

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]oday a great scholar of Ahlus Sunnah wal-Jama`ah, Shaykh as-Sayyid Muhammad Alawi Al-Maliki Al-Hasani passed on to the afterlife. Janazah will be held for him after Salaat al-Isha prayer tonight at Masjid Al-Haraam, Makkah. He was one of the most learned scholars of hadith and musnad Ahli Bait in our century and a Shaykh of the Ba-Alawi tariqat.

He passed away today before Fajr Prayer.

Please recite surat al-Fatiha for him.

For Shaykh Muhammad’s biography see here

[Reproduced entirely from a forward by Naqshbandi.org]

Mysteries of the Coconut: Santan

Coconut Shredding Machine
Coconut Shredding Machine
When I was a kid, I remember my father bringing home a coconut once or twice as a novelty. He used a screwdriver to knock a hole in one of the three dark spots at the end of the coconut, then drained the milky liquid into a cup. After we had shared the drink, he busted open the coconut and we ate the white meat inside. It was fun. I liked it. Now I am in the land of coconuts; there are coconut palms growing everywhere you look. But any Malaysian reading this would think we were absolutely crazy. No-one would dream of doing what we did. There are uses for almost every single part of the coconut palm (something I hope to write more about soon), but the unprocessed meat is considered inedible.

The principal way coconut is used in Malaysian cooking is through the coconut milk, called santan.
Continue reading “Mysteries of the Coconut: Santan”