On equality in the mosque

As some of you know, Katie and I have recently returned from a two-month trip to Europe. One thing that I love to do while travelling is to discover mosques where I can perform the Friday prayer. In Muslim countries, there are always well established mosques on hand. In non-Muslim ones, depending on how long a Muslim minority has been established there, there are either mosques that look like mosques, or there are buildings converted into mosques from other uses (such as a former cinema I found in Philadelphia), or temporary prayer facilities at university campuses. What's common between all of these places of worship is the welcome they extend to the Muslim worshipper and the sense of brotherhood that almost always emanates from them.

So imagine my surprise when, in Luton, England, I was told that, to the best of my interlocutor's knowledge, mosques there have no "arrangements" for women worshippers. He said there might be something at the university, but, at that stage, it was too late to check. It's always something of a shock to the system to find yourself amid the ultra-conservative Muslims of Luton. Never did I think, though, that the community, which has been in Britain for two or three generations, would continue the common South-Asian practice of excluding women from the mosque. Especially since Luton itself features Islamic schools with female students and women teachers.

My mosque in Dhaka has a women's section, albeit, from what I hear, a small, crowded one, with no view of the men's prayer halls. So Katie was able to attend the mosque in Bangladesh in 2006, but not in Britain in 2009.

After Britain came Belarus. Minsk, my native city, is home to a long-standing Tatar community, present there for over 500 years. There was a mosque in Minsk for most of this time but, tragically, it was first expropriated and then blown up by the city authorities under Communist rule. Since 1997, however, a new mosque has been under construction (very much a stop-go process; the small Belarusian Muslim community is short on funds). The building site features a make-shift structure that serves as a temporary mosque while construction continues. It's actually quite beautiful inside, and includes a women's section, although, again, a small one. Katie and I prayed at this mosque when we were in Minsk; the other places we went to in Belarus didn't have mosques, as far as we knew.

The big shock came in Turkey. Ostensibly, Turkish Islam is all smiles and all kindness. The Turkish Muslims we know are genuinely warm and kind-hearted people, ma sha' Allah. However, something about the way Islamic institutions are managed in Turkey is badly broken. In Istanbul, the mosque where I went for Friday prayer most weeks (because it was located close to the apartment we were staying in) had no women's section.

So one day, Katie and I went off in search of a place where the two of us could perform Friday prayer together. We went to two different mosques in another neighbourhood, and the results were even more surprising. It turned out that both those mosques did have women's sections, BUT those sections were taken over by men during Friday prayers. Thus, of the 35 congregational prayers a week, women could pray at the mosque 34 times. However, they were obliged to stay away for just one prayer, which just happened to be the most important one of the week. Compounding the double standards (if not outright hypocrisy) is the fact that, in one of those mosques, the Friday sermon was about the importance of family, while the prayer featured verses from the Qur'an about the importance of Friday prayer. Hello?

So it was quite comical (sadly so) to see an official from Diyanet, the Turkish governmental agency in charge of Islamic institutions, saying, after a mosque designed by a female architect opened, that Turkey should build more such mosques. That mosque is the first in Turkey designed by a woman, and the first to feature a women's prayer hall equal in size to the men's one. The joke lies in the fact that there is no move underway by Diyanet to admit women into the mosques which currently bar them from taking part in Friday prayer, even though they already have women's sections.

On our way home to Montreal, Katie and I stopped by the Muslim prayer rooms at Atatürk International Airport in Istanbul to perform the fajr prayer. The women's prayer room was spacious and well equipped, but infested with cockroaches. Not surprisingly, I didn't see any cockroaches in the men's one. Katie was glad to leave Turkey, and I don't blame her.

So now we're in Perrysburg, Ohio, visiting my in-laws. Katie and I got married at the mosque here, the Islamic Center of Greater Toledo (see picture), in 2005. This is probably the most equitable of all purpose-built mosques I've seen anywhere in the world when it comes to ensuring women's access to prayer facilities. The prayer hall is simply divided down the middle with a low barrier; men have half the space, while women have the other. The barrier is high enough to ensure modesty, yet not high enough to create a sense of segregation. Men and women have equal access not just to the prayer space, but to the other elements of the mosque, such as the high dome and the stained-glass windows, that give it beauty and help in the contemplation of the Divine.

As Jimmy Carter reminded us last month, "it is simply self-defeating for any community to discriminate against half its population." It is high time for us Muslims around the world to start paying much more attention to the Prophet's (peace be upon him) injunction: "Do not prevent the maid-servant of God from going to the mosque" (Bukhari).

[This post was written in Perrysburg.]

My mother on the niqab

To celebrate the first anniversary of Notes on Religion, I asked several people to contribute articles on religion-related issues that they find important.

To start off the series, here's an article by my mother, Maria Tchooudkhouri (Chowdhury), who lives in Toronto, where she works as a pharmacy technician. She was born near Čavusy, Belarus, and has lived in Ukraine, Bangladesh and Kuwait. She has an MSc in geography from the Belarusian State University in Minsk. My mother runs a Russian-language blog on life in Toronto, called "Toronto through My Eyes".

When Culture Is Mistaken for Religion

By Maria Tchooudkhouri

When I walk to work, sometimes I meet a woman dressed fully in black, her face fully covered, not even her eyes showing. Her hands in black gloves hold her young child.

Another picture is from TV. A church somewhere in North America. Colourfully dressed people singing, then starting to dance, to clap, some of them jumping, twisting and screaming.

What is common between these two cases, besides people being religious?

The people in them are following the cultural, ethnic traditions of their respective ancestors, mistaking cultural elements with religious norms. Thinking that those elements are the norms.

In the deserts of the pre-Islamic Middle East, women had to carefully cover themselves from the burning sun, harsh wind, sand and dust to preserve their beauty. When Islam was introduced, the teaching of modesty in clothing was interpreted according to local cultural tradition.

With the spread of the religion, cultural elements from the Middle East were adapted far beyond the region. Covering the face became a symbol of religiousness for some people. Some Muslims and non-Muslims alike think that, if a woman is fully covered, she is a more "real" Muslim than those with open faces, not to mention those who wear non-traditional chlothes.

But let's not forget -- religion teaches us modesty, and not a rejection of our identity. Our face is our identity, given to us by God. We have the right, and probably even the obligation, not to hide it.

Editor's note: Notes on Religion does not necessarily agree with the views expressed by guest authors.

Alexander Nevsky's remains arrive in Minsk

The remains of St Alexander Nevsky (d. 1263) have arrived in Minsk. The Russian Orthodox Metropolitan Vladimir of Tashkent and Central Asia accompanied the remains to Belarus. A "round-the-clock adoration of the relic" is taking place at the St Euphrosyne of Polack (Polatsk) Church in Minsk.

Nevsky is the Orthodox patron saint of soldiers and diplomats (Белорусские новости).

Belarusian journalist imprisoned for Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) caricatures

Aliaksandr Źdźvižkoŭ (whose name is also spelled Alexander Sdvizhkov in English), the former editor of the defunct Belarusian opposition newspaper Zhoda (Agreement), has been sentenced to three years in prison by the Minsk City Court for reprinting the caricatures of the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) which first appeared in the Danish newspaper Jyllands-Posten.

After having the cartoons reprinted, Źdźvižkoŭ was quoted as saying "We did the right thing by speaking out against Islamic hysteria." I have to say, whipping up hysteria by attacking what is sacred to someone else is a funny way of "speaking out against... hysteria." In particular, Źdźvižkoŭ didn't seem to remember that Belarus has its own community of around 30,000 Muslims who were exhibiting no "hysteria" over the cartoons, and that printing the cartoons in Zhoda (especially given the negative depiction of the Prophet contained in most of them) would be needlessly, gratuitously offensive to Belarusian Muslims.

As it happened, Ismail Varanovič, the head of the Spritual Directorate of the Muslims of the Republic of Belarus, sued Źdźvižkoŭ for "inciting hatred" against the Muslim community. However, he now claims that the government and, in particular, the Committee of Religious and Ethnicity Affairs, put him up to it. More that that, they made him understand that it was their express desire that he sue Źdźvižkoŭ.

Varanovič says that he felt sorry for Źdźvižkoŭ at the trial, which was held behind closed doors, and even tried to help him by telling the court that he had come to think that Źdźvižkoŭ's actions represented not an incitement to hatred, but rather a mere illustration to the story of the cartoon controversy. According to Varanovič, Źdźvižkoŭ apologised to him personally, and to the Muslim community in general, for his actions.

So it seems that the Belarusian Muslim community was led into something not of its own choosing, and was used by the government in its own game against Źdźvižkoŭ. This theory is supported by the fact that the prison term that Źdźvižkoŭ was sentenced to -- three years -- is the most severe of all so far received by people found guilty in the cartoon controversy in any country.

So why is it that the Belarusian authorities were after Źdźvižkoŭ? Two reasons have been raised in the independent and opposition press. Some say that the Belarusian government wanted to impress rich(er) Muslim countries with their defence of Islam in order to attract investments from them. However, the theory that sounds more likely to be true is that the authorities wanted to move Źdźvižkoŭ out of the way for a while because his newspaper, Zhoda, had endorsed Aliaksandr Kazulin, a Social-Democratic candidate for the Belarusian presidency. In addition, the action taken against Źdźvižkoŭ can serve as a warning to what is left of the independent Belarusian media to be more careful in what they say -- not about Islam, but about President Lukašenka. This theory rings true not just because of various actions against journalists undertaken by the Belarusian government in the past, but also because Zhoda was shut down following a threat from Lukašenka to do so.

So where does this leave the Belarusian Muslims? Unfortunately, they have faced a certain degree of scapegoating from the Belarusian opposition, which is not normally known for anti-Muslim positions. Thus, the deputy leader of the Belarusian Popular Front, Alieś Michalievič (Mikhalevich), has asked Metropolitan Filaret, the Exarch of the Russian Orthodox Church in Belarus, to intervene with the authorities in order to get Źdźvižkoŭ's sentence softened. In his appeal, Michalievič claims that Źdźvižkoŭ has been made to suffer for "expressing his Christian convictions", and asks sarcastically whether the "the law of the Shari'a" is in force in Belarus. To which one may reply that one does not need to look as far as the Shari'a to find condemnation of libel and hate speech of the kind that the cartoons represented.

One pro-opposition journalist has even warned that Belarusians should beware of the transformation of our country into "Belarusistan". In his view, Źdźvižkoŭ understood this danger, but went overboard in his response. At best, the journalist's statement regarding the "present threat" posed by Belarusian Muslims reflects a hastily put together reaction that ignores the simple facts that the Muslim community has lived peacefully in what is now Belarus for over 600 years and, that Muslim scholars were writing religious treatises in Belarusian centuries ago, and that further, Muslims constitute less than 1 percent of the population of Belarus. These sorts of responses from respected segments of the opposition intelligentsia are irresponsible and seem to imply an attempt to align pro-Western Belarusian views with those of extreme right-wing Western European politicians. What does not make sense in this equation, however, is that those xenophobic politicians try to court public support by attacking immigrants or their children (which is, in itself, wrong), while Belarus, as I said above, has what can be quite justifiably considered an indigenous Muslim population.

So what is needed here are liberal voices, ones that understand that freedom comes with responsibility, and that we Belarusians are one people who must continue building our country for all of us together, whether we are Orthodox Christians, Catholics, Muslims, Jews, or what have you. Fortunately, there are some who have been speaking out in just such a vein.

Since becoming a "normal European country" is one of the biggest dreams of the Belarusian opposition, I'd like to suggest that turning on minorities at the slightest hint of imagined provocation is not the way to achieve that dream.

Lukašenka in hot water over anti-Semitic comments

Belarus and Israel are in the middle of a diplomatic spat over controversial comments made recently by Belarusian President Aliaksandr Lukašenka (Lukashenka) about Belarusian and Israeli Jews.

Speaking to Russian journalists in Minsk on 12 October, Lukašenka declared,

If you have been to Babrujsk [Babruysk], did you see what state the city is in? It was scary to walk into it, it was a pigsty. It was largely a Jewish city; you know how Jews act towards the place they live in. Take a look at Israel; I have been there, for one.... Under no circumstances do I want to hurt them, but they do not really make sure that the grass is mowed like in Moscow, among the Russians, or Belarusians. What a city it was.... We fixed it up, and we say to Israeli Jews: Come back, guys. I told them: Come back with money.

Five days later, the Israeli ambassador to Belarus, Zeev Ben-Arie, protested in no uncertain terms, saying that "in these comments, one can hear echoes of a myth that I had hoped had long been buried by the history of enlightened mankind, about poorly dressed, dirty, foul smelling Jews, an anti-Semitic myth." Ben-Arie also said he hoped that "Belarusian cities would reach the level of Israel's municipal services and social services in general."

Israeli Foreign Minister Tzipi Livni accused Lukašenka of anti-Semitism, saying

It is the responsibility of world leaders to battle anti-Semitism, which rears its ugly head in various places around the world, not promote it. Anti-Semitism reflects first and foremost on the community in which it appears, and on its leaders.

On 18 October, the Belarusian ambassador to Israel, Ihar Liaščenia (Liashchenia), issued a statement reminding Israelis that "during the last five or six centuries, Jews in our region did not feel as protected and safe anywhere as they did in the Belarusian lands.... This good attitude towards Jews, which has become traditional, persists in modern Belarus as well."

Regarding Babrujsk, Liaščenia remarked that the residents of the city,

with the help of the state, were trying to host the republic-wide harvest festival in a decent manner. The renewed, rebuilt city of Babrujsk is, among other things, a homage to many generations of members of the Jewish community whose native city this was.

"Belarus and anti-Semitism are mutually exclusive ideas," Liaščenia concluded (Белорусские новости).

One can't envy poor Liaščenia his duty of restoring calm after Lukašenka's gaffe. After all, Lukašenka managed to squeeze three typical anti-Semitic stereotypes into one statement: that Jews are allegedly dirty, that they allegedly have no attachment to the place they live in, and that they are simultaneously rich. That Liaščenia managed to turn Lukašenka's words around and portray the restoration of parts of Babrujsk as a homage to Jews is a credit to his quick thinking, or that of others in his embassy or the Belarusian foreign ministry.

Liaščenia is right on one thing. Belarus has historically been a highly tolerant place towards minorities (for instance, there were mosques in operation in Belarus centuries ago, while even in modern-day Greece and Slovenia, the very existence of mosques is a controversial issue). It remains tolerant to this day. However, as Lukašenka's words show, we Belarusians (yes, I am one) have some way to go towards living up to the image of tolerance we always congratulate ourselves with.

Dubai sheikh marries Belarusian waitress

Sheikh Saeed bin Maktoum al-Maktoum, 30, a member of the ruling family of Dubai, has married Natasha Aliyeva, a 19-year-old Belarusian trainee waitress he met at Hotel Minsk. Their simple Islamic wedding was preceded by a courtship that lasted less than a month.

The couple met after Sheikh Saeed arrived in Belarus to take part in a shooting championship and moved into the presidential suite of Hotel Minsk. He asked for a glass of orange juice to be sent up to him, and the juice was brought by Aliyeva. The sheikh was immediately smitten, and asked her out. Prior to the wedding, Aliyeva converted from Christianity to Islam, the religion not just of her new husband, but also her Azerbaijani-born father, Muslim Aliyev.

According to Nina Shakhnut, one of Aliyeva's high-school teachers, "Natasha has really aristocratic looks and such charm. I can see what the prince sees in her."

Aliyeva's mother, Liliya, was at first reluctant to let her daughter marry Sheikh Saeed: marriage to him would mean adapting to "a faraway country, strange people, polygamy." Indeed, Sheikh Saeed already had a wife and five children; Aliyeva was to become his second wife. Eventually, Aliyeva's mother relented, and the wedding went ahead.

According to the sheikh's new mother-in-law, he is "an honest, intelligent and tactful man with an excellent education. His fortune doesn't interest me. I'm not a woman to exchange my daughter for money. I don't believe Natasha cares for his fortune either."

That fortune is quite substantial: Sheikh Saeed reportedly has assets worth ₤8 billion (Canadian $16.9 billion / US $16.3 billion).

The newly-married couple have now departed for Cyprus, where Sheikh Saeed is taking part in another shooting competition. Natasha's sister Galina is moving to Dubai with them, to act as interpreter for the newlyweds.

Sheikh Saeed's late father, Sheikh Maktoum bin Rashid al-Maktoum, was the emir of Dubai between 1990 and 2006. Asked by Belarusian journalists whether he would one day himself become the ruler of Dubai, Sheikh Saeed answered, "Is it important? Money and power come and go. Belief is the only thing that remains for ever" (Daily Mail).