Beyond Rainbow Colors: Flying in the Clarity of Faith

“Nobody told me when I was born/ that my life would be harder than my father’s and son’s lives. Nobody told me when I was a child/ that life was full of pits and tunnels and trackless labyrinths. Nobody told me when I was a youth/ that my homeland was not a homeland and that my enemy and friend are aligned against me/ and my lover would be as fickle as a chameleon.”



Uncertainty as a way of life comes as a surprise and a form of suffering. So observed the Iraqi poet Hashem Shafiq several years before the fall of Saddam. But could he have imagined how his words would ring in the silence of depopulated and dangerous Baghdad streets? How could he have dreamed that his own Iraqis would end dispersed in labyrinthine exile throughout neighboring nations-- almost like the Palestinians?



As a student of intellectual history perhaps Hashem had realized such displacement and loss was possible, though he tried to avoid facing the possibility—for, as the poem continues: “Nobody, except Brecht, told me when I was a young man that exiles are the shoes they wear, and only Sartre told me that political parties are religions, and only Abu al-Atahiah told me that mankind is a curse. And when I became an adult, I did not tell myself: beware of tomorrow.”



Beware of tomorrow? True, for the displacement of millions of men, women and children will continue. Beware of today? Now in Darfur, Arab tribes murder and drive way Arab tribes. As Jeffrey Gettleman writes in the New York Times this week, “Darfur is beginning to resemble Somalia, the world’s longest-running showcase for AK-47-fed chaos. Highwaymen in green camouflage…routinely flag down trucks and drag out passengers, robbing the men and sexually assaulting the women. Newly empowered warlords are exacting taxes…”



And these empowered men are Muslims? These heavily armed Arab tribes Terjem and Mahria, that earlier raped and pillaged together as Janjaweed in Darfur, have they now turned on each other as well? And this “Arab-Arab bloodshed, fueled by an overflow of guns in Darfur and a breakdown in the traditional order, seems to be spreading faster than anyone can control. Several tribes have recently fought over land, livestock and the right to extort money along certain trade routes. Among those fighting: Hotiya versus Rizeigat … Rizeigat versus Habanniya; Habanniya versus Salamat.”



The Enemy of my Enemy is my Friend. I have seen this mindset in action even in the socially mobile neighborhoods of Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. I have seen versions of it divide and oppress both immigrant and former slave. In many Muslim American communities no one truly trusts the other, or speaks the other’s language, and here we are all fallen and in exile. Things Fall apart, the Center will not hold. While officials sleep in soft white beds, tribal loyalties haunt the house like mice, increasing in number and increasing in hunger too. Where is Islam? Is it only a dream?



This week Felix is yet another hurricane name. But long before Islam arrived in Yemen in 630, Arabia Felix--or Happy Arabia—was a group of wealthy kingdoms selling incense and spices along the Camel routes of the Indian Ocean. Oh where are they now, with their famous hydraulic technology for wells, their fabled wealth? Where is Saba, Ma'in; Qataban, Hadramaut? Where is Zufar? Hardly anything about this kingdom is known, no texts have been found. However this region has also been linked to Ubar and Iram, mentioned in the Quran as a splendid city punished for wickedness; 89.6-13.



Empires fall, and drag down millions into misery. Empires promise peace, but there is a price. But can Empires really keep out the chaos of factions and tribes? The Iraqi Poet Hashem also considered another colonial power that tried to do such a thing, observing the wall of the Roman Emperor Hadrian, constructed in Britain: “In the first century, There was a Roman King -- to whom the stones submitted, And the Rebel land yielded. And the sea And the blue color of these skies… What kind of plundering King is this who chases out of his capital all the "Barbarians" of the world and builds this steady wall in the face of older times, against the wind, against spears plotting elsewhere?”



One might ask these questions to Israel, to the USA, about any colonial power, any utopian oppressor. And yet even when a system is unjust, it is not impossible to mitigate oppression. For example, as they tried to colonize Morocco, the French faced resistance in the Bled el Siba –the countryside traditionally characterized by dissidence and anarchy and tribalism. These days such violent tribes would be condemned as terrorists like the Taliban.



In 1922, Abdulkrim El-Khattabi declared the formation of an “Independent Republic,” a confederation of tribes with an impressive force of about 120,000 guerilla troops. However, the combined French and Spanish colonial armies — using, among other weapons, mustard case against the population— defeated the forces of Abd el-Krim and he was forced into exile.



However after their submission many tribes (such as the Beni Mtir) were allowed to keep customary law and tribal council, easing the way for their slow economic integration. If we accept that collectively we are part of an existing empire then it might be wise to learn from earlier examples of patience and mercy.



However, many Muslim nations do not learn from history, and seem caught in a terrible cycle of action and reaction, between anarchy and authoritarian control. Visionaries and careful administrators are both needed, at least if they are able work together in the spirit (and not just the law) of our religion.



The lawless and violent present seems ugly indeed, but it is also time for creative initiative. This year let us pray for peace based on human initiative and faith not founded on fear.



The new morning air is fresh. Morning glories open starry eyes. All nature is opening. All nature is enjoying its break fast. Even in this city of the Empire State, dandelions come before deadlines. Even here the phone lines resemble musical scores, and like soaring notes the birds fly up from along the lines into clarity; birds fly beyond the rainbow of our tribal soul. Why-- oh why--- can’t we?