Unfound

Where one looks,
One does not find.

Revelations and fears
Of being hopelessly behind.

A loss or a win,
One must wonder,
How did this all begin?

Two Voices

Two Voices

In the mind of every man lay,

That truth and reality,

Of what his heart truly does say

Two voices linger after,

Each without a thought,

To the needs of their master,

Who was never told,

That he will become,

Forever the subject of their laughter

Together they speak,

And when it becomes harder to know,

Whichever of them is the weak,

All that is left in the snow,

Does no longer matter. 

Sorry Pen

For what do you write, sad poet?

For whose pleasures does your sorry pen toil?

What words do you think will affect, dear poet,

The deathly ring on our soil?

For whom do you watch and listen, old man?

There is no longer any innocence to admire,

All the little virgins in our lands, old man,

Have long since let their hearts tire

Your poems speak of love and camaraderie,

But when, O father 

Did you last witness a truth instead of trickery?

Is it not, dear father, 

Your very own children who now lay sick in misery?

Your thoughts smack of beauty,

And the reader must watch and listen,

For a love neither true or plenty,

In the words of a single man, lost to his poetry.

A Doctor's Lesson

“Since I am your host,” the Doctor said from his place at the head of the lavish dinner table,              ``will you allow me to share a most educational story?” he looked around the large dining hall in his home as he deliberately placed a full glass of red wine to his lips. He dined with two colleagues, doctors from a hospital he owned, and their wives. Effectively he was their boss, but Nicholas was an old friend; they had studied medicine together in London and he now sat to his right with his wife Dana and lovely daughter Ana beside them. On the other side of the table was Dr Danworth, a spectacled and hawkish looking man who had only been at the hospital for a year and was now passing a bowl of soup to his young daughter Jane who sat across from his quiet and irritably shy wife Isabella. The Doctor’s own wife and son Adam sat beside him to the left as was their custom, preceding the Danworths.

“I will pose a question first,” and he pleasantly noticed his own wife’s expression change as she recognized a serious conversation at the outset. She knows me so well, he thought. “What do you know of that can push a man to the highest peaks of achievement and bring him all the way down again?” he paused and glanced at his only son Adam who sat propped up on a child’s chair next to his mother, wishing no such luck on those he held dear. He was a boy still, only just beginning to grow into his teenage years and looked on with all the innocence of youth. “What do you know of that can drive a perfectly normal man to the very edge of insanity, or cause a man to throw away everything he has worked for just like that,” and he clicked his fingers together, creating a crisp echo in the dining hall.

The doctor sat back on the high backed wooden chair that he had bought on an expedition to Turkey many years before. It fit his posture well and added to the air of superiority that surrounded the man. His guests appeared comfortable and he was noted for being a generous host, although few employees were ever invited within the confidence of his own home. Nicholas was a regular in the Doctor’s household, but for Dr Danworth this was his very first invitation. Being the nervous man that he is, Dr Danworth had fretted and worried over the smallest details surrounding the invitation, dress code and correct manners and time and directions and so many other things that made his wife’s head spin on the way to their destination. It was her that spoke first.

“Money,” she murmured almost to herself so that the doctor barely heard.

“Good answer, my dear, although a little too easy. Money will make people do all sorts of terrible things, yes, it will, “he seemed to lose himself in a moment’s thought and then, “but it is not money I speak of. Although it can be the devil himself in so many ways, money won`t drive a man insane every time. There do exist, my dear, contrary to public opinion, those who care little for it or its benefits.”

“I’d say those are pretty hard to come by, my friend,” Nicholas said, smiling behind his glass and digging into a steaming dish, “are we talking medical or spiritual?”

“Well we are not talking Dr. Danworth’s surgical blade,” and they both shared a laugh that was only half-heartedly repeated by Dr Danworth himself. “What I speak of, Nicholas, is something that will break any man’s will, it cannot be measured by MRI’s or X-ray’s. I think we will all agree that it would be more spiritual than physical, no? We agree then, that some few people do not care as much for money and wealth as the rest of us?”

“Ummm,” Nicholas agreed, his mouth filled with food.

“Is it greed father?” his son asked him from across the table and the Doctor could see his child concentrating and following the conversation. Adam had already grown accustomed to his father’s way of speaking in riddles, preferring to engage rather than teach outright. Good, he thought, he will learn something I hope.

“No Adam, although greed is a mother to many, many evils. It will break empires and whole nations and make pigs of even the best people. But it is not greed I speak of either. I speak of an idea so abstract that we can never really grasp its meaning, a reality so elusive that it causes men to throw away whole fortunes and lifetimes as if at a whim.” The Doctor, being private and cautious as a way of life, was a man of great responsibility and bold action. He was a self made man by all accounts and had worked hard to maintain his family’s stature and this determination acquired him a reputation for being a deep thinker and problem solver. Many a dinner guest had enjoyed his light humour and interesting conversation.

Nicholas broke off from a whisper shared with Dana and said, “I find it interesting that everyone seems to immediately think of negative things. Money, hate, greed. Could it not be a pleasant thing? Or an obligation perhaps?” Nicholas was a methodical thinker and liked to play the role of the devil’s advocate who tackled each problem by first turning it on its head. He was often the voice of reason in the surgery room, preferring caution to immediate action.

“Well said, my friend, so which is it you say?” replied the host, knowing that his friend played along. He saw that across the table and amidst sips of wine and forkfuls of food, his guests were busily considering the options. Even Dr Danworth, who was not the easiest conversationist, seemed to be mildly interested. Those who knew him well, Nicholas, Dana, even their daughter, recognized now that there was a point in this story that the doctor wished to make to them all. He rarely spoke at such length without aim.

“How about loyalty? That can cause the downfall of a man and it is a somewhat abstract concept is it not?” Nicholas ventured. Before the Doctor could reply, Dr Danworth decided to join the conversation from the other side of the table, where he had been nervously picking at his plate and listening in absently thus far.

“There is not much that is abstract about loyalty. True, it is not tangible and sometimes even illogical, but loyalty does not drive a man to insanity,” and he paused for a moment, “although it does make for sometimes odd decision-making.” He raised his glass in salute as if by that one comment he had paid his dues to the gathering and they all followed, enjoying the taste of fine wine. Although it was not a question, all their heads turned once again to the Doctor.

From his position at the head of the table, the Doctor took a mental note of the reactions he saw poised before him. He prided himself on reading people remarkably well and could see that his long time confidante Nicholas was assessing the Doctor’s aim and had already decided to play along. They knew each other well enough to carry out whole conversations that were seemingly not related but all the while each playing off the other until finally they reached a common goal. Good, Nicholas knows where I’m going, the Doctor thought to himself.

Danworth is a vain man, the thought came naturally to him, as if sent by an unknown messenger in his mind. His powers of observation were abnormally sharp and had led to his swift rise and reputation as a professional who did not miss a detail. The Doctor naturally used the same talent to discover people’s tendencies, their weaknesses, and most importantly, their aspirations. It helped him inspire the people around him. He loves to be right, the Doctor realized as he watched Danworth place his wife’s hand squarely on the table in front of him rather than hold it, then pick up his fork again.

As if on an unheard cue, Mrs Danworth said, “Come now Doctor, won’t you tell us the story,” and retreated again into her chair.

“How do you know I haven’t started already? What is a story, after all, but a collection of happenings and thoughts and opinions?” he replied.

“Daddy, are you a philosopher?” his son suddenly asked from across the table where he had been steadfastly following his father’s every word, to the great joy of the man who appreciated the natural curiosity in his son’s eyes. Before he could answer the question, Nicholas spoke up, placing his now empty glass on the table.

“Your father is a philosopher of the very best kind, he does not know it!” and roaring laughter followed, the wine having an effect now on the adults who were having their third round of the deep red drink. Even Dr Danworth seemed to be lighter and more attentive, although his wife and child were still more subdued than the usual. They did not really join in the conversation, except to throw in a word here or there, and that much was apparent to all the other guests.

Before being seated for dinner, when Nicholas and the Doctor had met earliest for a scotch and somber business conversation, Nicholas had told the Doctor of the most unfortunate circumstances that found his associate Dr Danworth on verge of leaving his wife and home of 24 years for another, younger woman. Nicholas described their grief avidly with the knowledge of a man who had witnessed the real distress of a woman scared of losing her husband. He told the Doctor how Mrs Danworth and her daughter had together pleaded with him to talk some sense into the man, believing that a colleague’s opinion may affect Dr Danworth enough to provoke thoughts of his image and social status. Nicholas further explained that he did not know how to breach the matter with Dr Danworth, who was a reserved man that did not appreciate much personal talk, and Nicholas being a rather technical man found such an emotional subject a difficult one to approach. Between the two of them, they recognized immediately that the Doctor, also being the host of the evening and certainly held in high esteem by the entire staff at the hospital, was a more eloquent speaker and delicate problem solver. So the Doctor told Nicholas not to worry and to think no more of the matter. He would find a way to advise their friend without offending his conservative nature.

“Son, I am not a philosopher, I am a doctor. But all jokes aside, I am just a man who observes very closely what goes on about him. You should remember that. We should not only learn from our mistakes, we should learn from the mistakes of everyone around us, eh?” he moved towards another sip of wine and then realizing that the glass was nearly empty, refilled his glass and passed the bottle along.  They were all attentive again, not having to be told that the good Doctor was back to his riddle once more.

“Listen to me well,” and he fixed his piercing blue eyes directly on Dr Danworth across the table, who realized he was under attention and fixed his spectacles, “I speak of love.” And they all immediately noticed his serious, deep tone of voice. The kind he used at home or at the hospital when he wanted everyone to listen, to teach or command. His eyes caught those of his wife then and they shared a moment of understanding. She was the only person in the room who he was sure already held the answer to all his questions.

“I will repeat my question again, lest you forget it: what do you know of that can push a man to the highest peaks of achievement and bring him all the way back down again? What do you know of that can drive a perfectly normal man to the edge of insanity?” He saw that the words had an immediate effect on everyone at the table, including the children but especially the elder ones.

“The love of a son or daughter. The love of a wife or mother. The passionate love of youth,” and he squeezed his wife’s hand tightly,” and worst of all, the fake love of lust.” With that he broke the eye contact he had held with Dr Danworth while he spoke. The action itself had an effect on the man who found himself in somewhat of a trance as he felt the heaviness of the Doctor’s lasting gaze lift and struggled with the implications of why he was suddenly in the spotlight. The wine worked to delay his thoughts while he pondered what the Doctor was trying to tell him.

As he spoke those words, the Doctor couldn’t help but notice how instinctively the daughter and mother shared a glance, and Nicholas and his wife, then with their daughter. As if a stack of dominoes had been tipped to tumble, one by one the guests at his table followed his words and turned to their immediate loved ones. It’s crazy, we are all in love with someone but it’s the last thing that comes to mind, he thought to himself, we really are odd creatures. His eyes caught those of his wife then and they shared a moment of understanding. He turned then back to Dr Danworth seated opposite him and upraised the man’s reaction to his diatrebe about love. After all, the entire show was for his benefit. He hoped that his comments would get the point across to his employee and saw the whole thing as the possibility of deflecting a long and tedious break up that always left broken homes in its wake. Although he did not particularly harbour any affections for the doctor or his wife, or their superbly quiet daughter,  he did like to see stability in his hospital and plus, he had promised Nicholas to intervene. So he decided to really drive the message home.

“You said that loyalty does not drive a man to insanity, Dr Danworth?” and went on before the man could reply, but he was pleased to see that Danworth was quick to alertness. He did not seem so affected by the wine now and the Doctor really began to think that the man had caught on to his subtle attempt at advice, “but loyalty can be interpreted as an act of love. What would you do Mrs Danworth if, God forbid, your husband and lovely daughter were suddenly taken away from you? If all those years were erased as if they never happened?” he saw the sudden tension enter her frame and a gleam of understanding. Good, she finally gets it, he thought.

With tears brimming her eyes, and to her credit there was true sincerity in her manner, Mrs Danworth turned to her husband beside her, looked him squarely in the eyes, and whispered, “I would just shrivel up and die”. There was a long, lingering moment of silence as they all recognized the significance of the moment. Nicholas, of course, had already told his wife and agonized with her over his need to intrude on the Danworths’ lives. It was her, in fact, who had suggested he speak to his friend to intercede in his capacity as their employer.

“You see, Dr Danworth,” and he paused to take up his own wife’s hand once again,” there is nothing harsher about the reality of love than the lack of it.”

The Small Voices in a Loud Culture: An Interview with Palestinian Filmmaker Enas Muthaffar

Enas Muthaffar is a young, ambitious Palestinian filmmaker from Jerusalem. Her family was once forced to leave their home when, in 1948, the first war began. Now it is 2005 and a wall is being built, a 72 mile barrier that will restrict access not only to Jerusalem, but to other cities as well. So the family must evacuate for a second time. They live in Ramallah but work in Jerusalem, that ancient city where their livelihood has inevitably lain. In July, they shall even require passes to return to Ramallah where after twenty-seven years this story unfolds.

Last year, a small group of exploratory Swiss filmmakers initiated a series of writing, editing and filming workshops where Enas and four others – operating amidst the turbulence of an Occupied West Bank - have put together a documentary film called My Home: Swiss Palestinian Film Encounters. Her segment East and West, the last in a series of five, explores the individual tragedies of an occupied people in terms of her immediate family and their reactions to giving up another home, this one twenty-seven years old.

Enas has traveled the world to participate in film festivals and screenings of My Home: Swiss Palestinian Encounters. She recently visited Concordia University in Montreal along with several of her colleagues to promote the cause. We spoke in a quiet, empty auditorium where the screening had been shown to a sparse, largely disinterested student audience. The Q & A session that followed seemed largely off target, focusing more on Palestinian realities than Enas or her film.

An obviously motivated young woman, she did not portray the image of occupied, restricted weakness that is occupation, but rather one of righteous strength. Several times during the interview, when we delved into the more personal effects of the occupation, she became very emotional; her voice dropped to a barely audible level and her eyes seemed to water a little, though it was hard to be sure in the dim light of such a large room.

MAZIN ALMUSHARAF: Hello, Enas. I understand you lived in Egypt for 4 years?

ENAS MUTHAFFAR: Hi. 5 actually

MA: I lived there for 15. How were you received in Egypt, as a Palestinian, I mean did a lot of people care and try to help?

EM: I tried to stay away from politics in Cairo [a moment’s thought] I think I was afraid

MA: Afraid?

EM: Yes. I had National Security agents who took me in more than once and questioned me. But my mother had told me when I left for Egypt, she said: “Where you are going, this is not your home, you don’t have to do anything, just learn well and come back. It is not your country, so do not get into trouble.”

MA: So you didn’t talk any politics in Cairo?

EM: Well of course you talk to your friends. And they understand, after all, they are Egyptians you know, they are Arabs. They have “a martyr in every house” you know, like Abdel Nasser.

MA: How hard was it for you to put this project together and to bring out your message from Palestine, in terms of literal difficulties?

EM: Well it wasn’t a matter of hard. It was a matter of doing the work. It was a pleasure and an opportunity. You see cinema is a way to meet other cultures and to be with other people. It’s really the way to experience dreams and well, it is a lot of work and material to go through. A lot of minds came together to make this project happen across borders. There are the obvious constraints of course.

MA: I was looking at some of the titles of your work. Paradise Now, Can’t be News, they seem more like statements than titles. So, can you tell me who you are speaking to?

EM: Well Paradise Now is not my work, I was an assistant scriptwriter. Can’t Be News, I’m still working on that. It’s been about 3 years now. It’s about a suicide bomber from Jericho. My other work is stuff like AHH YA SITTY [Oh My Grandmother].

MA: Do you prefer working in Arabic or English?

EM: The one you saw today was written in English because the email to my sister that it is about was in English. This is literally the same email I sent, with the photos of the wall and everything. I also had to do an Arabic version for the Arabic Film Festival. Post-production was done in Switzerland. They were very generous with me, letting me do an Arabic and English version. But Oh My Grandmother was in Arabic.

MA: Do you think it makes a difference? I mean to the audience, especially about this issue, because Palestinians are Arabs, right? So did it have different effects?

EM: Not really. Well of course I never had the same audience, you know. But people that saw both, like my parents, said that the English version was better. It felt much stronger. Because the whole film is in Arabic but the voiceover is in English. So in a way, I used both.

MA: It’s a long way from Ramallah to Quebec. Can you compare the audience reactions from place to place? Were you received differently in different places?

EM: [laughs] Well I remember one premiere, this summer in Switzerland. The place was packed, a very lively reception. I think when the public is dealing with a festival, cinema and art it is much easier for films to be accepted as pieces of cinema. This evening cannot compare. It was a big room, a small audience, not so many people. The films are beginning to meet people. The importance is really for the audience to come to the point of speaking about cinema. That is our commitment in the festival, to speak about cinema.

MA: Today most of the questions were about Palestine.

EM: Yes, of course. They are Palestinian films. People expect to see certain images being shot, which is fine by me. I am not really surprised.

MA: Like the checkpoints and the soldiers?

EM: It’s fine. They are used to certain images. As you said, the way from Ramallah to Quebec is very long. So what they see on the news are certain realities that we experience. But we have another life.

MA: What do these images represent to you?

EM: There are certain images from our life that we don’t really communicate with people through the news because they are not considered headlines. But they are really part of who we are. They represent our identity and why it is very hard to live under an occupation. I think people will see more films and they will start getting used to these images. The last images in my film are very political. The first shot with my father and the wall on the foreground, you see exactly why we have to leave. This shot has a political meaning but in a family story, in the suffering of a father. If you only think about the politics of it, it is not really film.

MA: Then what is it?

EM: When people go to the theatre to see a film they want to see something different in terms of a story. Let’s say you have Cinderella, you want to tell that story. You don’t just put clips of her and the clock do you? There are details. Stories come from details. What you see on the mainstream news is not details, it is facts. A story has to be detailed, otherwise it doesn’t really communicate.

MA: So would you say that you are trying to show the political implications of what is happening in a very specific way towards individuals, rather than a whole society?

EM: That’s very important, yes. This is the way it works in news. That’s fine by me because people need to be informed. But as a filmmaker, I am concerned with a certain person, a certain character, living in a certain place. In my case it was Palestine and in my case it was my father and the subject of us having to leave that house. Generally speaking, people leave their houses for many reasons, for hurricanes, no money or whatever. But this is my story.

MA: So you began a film about the wall, and ended up doing it about your family?

EM: When I first started East and West, it was to be an experimental about the wall. I really believed that I had nothing to add of my own. I mean, it is a sad story that we have to leave but I felt that there are much stronger, more terrible stories to tell than mine.

MA: What changed your mind?

EM: Two things. First, Nicholas Vladimov said to me once: “why don’t you do it about your family?” And I said “well I think there are much stronger stories.” But then my father said something to me that really brought it home, he said “You know, I think this is the first time in my life I have had to pack”. So I realized that in 1948, when they had to leave the first time, he did not pack.

MA: He had no time?

ES: No, they were in Jordan before the war broke out. They were at a wedding and they heard the news of what happened and realized that they could never come back. Their house as it existed then did not exist any more. When he said that sentence, this was a sign for me. He never had an opportunity to pack. That’s why when you asked about the political aspect, I said we are forgetting about ourselves. We think that the checkpoint is normal, but when I come here, I realize that it is not fine, the checkpoint is not ok. Then I go back, and I have to cross those checkpoints.

MA: But you have only one shot of the wall, at the end. Is there any particular reason for that? I mean you refer to it a lot but show it only once.

EM: I really hate it. One shot for me at the end was more than enough. It is so ugly. I see it every morning and I thought I am not going to put more than one shot of this ugly thing in my film that I will show my grandchildren. It was not really an artistic choice. It was more of a feeling although it worked out well in the end.

MA: What is your favourite work?

EM: For Archives Only. I really love it in terms of the way that it was produced. I was able to do what I wanted to do, I had space to think.

MA: You had complete freedom?

EM: Yes I had complete freedom. I didn’t really feel the presence of a producer in a bad way. It was a very special piece. We were allowed to think about ourselves, not only as Palestinians, you know? It was also very political because it was discussing the psychological effects of the occupation on children. We had kids who were ten years old or fourteen that had gunshot wounds or were paralyzed because of the occupation. It was terrible seeing it like that.

MA: These are children hurt by the Israeli’s or related violence?

EM: Any related violence. It is all because of the occupation anyway. No matter who is pulling the trigger.

MA: What does the title mean? For Archives Only?

EM: It is my whole perception of the issue. The whole Palestinian issue is kept in the archives isn’t it? Don’t you think so? It’s for certain uses only. Everything is for archive

MA: For certain uses by whom?

EM: A filmmaker perhaps. By someone who will file a case against Israel in the future, or whatever. It’s really an archive. It hasn’t changed anything. If you want to get into political facts; we had Oslo. They can say we had ‘peace’, but look at it now. That proves that nothing has changed.

MA: So you are saying the whole issue is being sidelined?

EM: Totally. I always think about that. We need to revisit this stuff as much as possible. If not, the archives are useless. They are dead.

MA: What do you think attracted people like Jean Perret and Nicholas Vladmiov to the Palestinian issue?

EM: It’s funny you should say that because I asked Jean Perret the same question not too long ago. His answer impressed me. He said “we have to listen to the small voices. We are living in a very individual culture where the mass media is very loud, the mainstream is very strong. We strongly believe that you have to listen to the small voices, the ones that will tell us the details that explain the complexity of life”. Isn’t that amazing?

No Longer a Stroll Through Passport Control

By Mazin Almusharaf – Montreal Sunday, July 23, 2006


Traveling used to be fun. It is now becoming a tale of hardship, occasional discrimination, and unending surprise. Bombs in the transportation services of Mumbai, Madrid, London and the recent scare in Manhattan have ensured that a significant change in carefree travel has occurred and another chapter begun, so to speak.

What used to be merely a stroll through passport control for Canadian citizens is no longer a simple check-in procedure but can develop into an interrogation process, a bombardment of questions regarding one’s country of origin, immigration procedures, and personal opinion on matters deemed essential to national security.

Immigration to Canada has long been a prized goal, a guarantee that one’s nationality shall no longer be a factor in causing hardship at the borders of any given country. Canadians are welcomed with open arms in most regions of the world and do not require visas, a welcome reality for immigrants who may have been denied access to any number of countries based solely on their nationality.

However, dual nationality has never been under so much scrutiny as the present day, one in which deportations occur and security certificates exist, evacuations are under way and stranded citizens persist, all shedding light on the changing nature of travel.

Canada is recognized as a peace-loving, immigrant-friendly nation where the rule of law prevails and where citizens of third world countries, especially war-torn regions like Lebanon from 1975 to 1990 as well as today, have always believed that a change in passports will result in significant changes to the treatment of incoming passengers who, more often than not, are subject to intrusive searches and possible deportation.

Holders of Syrian, Sudanese, Iranian, Palestinian, or even Saudi Arabian travel documents are singled out in US airports, often being handed a large red, orange, or yellow envelope and directed to a waiting room. The official terms are red flag, orange flag, or yellow flag - depending on the degree of suspicion.

Amidst growing tensions between Ottawa and Washington in regards to a new mandatory ID that Canadians may need to enter the US in the future, and an evacuation fiasco in Lebanon that finds foreigners of all kinds struggling to leave that country, one’s passport is more important than ever.

Ships have been sent out to ensure the safe return of Canadian, British, American and French passport holders who have found themselves in the cross-fire of the most recent Israeli-Arab drama, many of whom are dual citizens of Lebanese or Arabic origin.

Enter 23 year old Ali Kilani, a Syrian born Canadian resident whose family emigrated to Canada in 2002 and a student at McGill University in Montreal. Mr. Kilani left Canada on March 18^th, 2004 en route to a vacation in the Dominican Republic with his American girlfriend who lives in Washington D.C.

His travel documents consisted of a valid 10 year US visa, which he received from the American consulate in Montreal, his Syrian passport and a Canadian Permanent Resident Card. The couple met in New York, decided to spend a night in Manhattan and boarded a flight to the Dominican Republic the next evening.

Little did they know that due to recent regulations, part of an overhaul in response to September 11^th, visitors must sign out with the Immigration and Naturalization Service before leaving the United States. Nor was Mr. Kilani aware that foreign nationals are now required to change their flight plans to encompass an airport that holds an INS office, which does not maintain one in every American airport. In fact, no one mentioned any of this to him.

An educated young man, fluent in both English and French, Mr. Kilani is hardly an aggressive figure; clean shaven and well spoken, he would appear to be just another tourist.

He does, however, have a small, almost nondescript tattoo below his right ear that spells “Allah” in traditional Arabic calligraphy. Another tattoo on the four fingers of his right hand spell “loco”, Spanish for crazy. This was enough to warrant an extended interrogation at the hands of US officials.

The trip to the Dominican Republic proved uneventful; the couple arrived at their holiday destination and spent a full week enjoying the sun, seemingly a world away from the ice cold of a Canadian winter. Their return trip found them at Miami International Airport, where they were promptly stopped by US Customs officials and told to wait, in separate rooms, even as their planes departed without them.

It would be a tiring six hour wait, an almost two hour interrogation and search, and a degrading experience to say the least.

Mr. Kilani was taken into a room in Miami International Airport where he was interviewed by an officer of the INS, a man of Saudi Arabian origin who Mr. Kilani describes as friendly and gentle and who spoke to him in fluent Arabic. He was asked basic questions on his immigration, on his destination, his studies, his relationship with his girlfriend and other mundane questions, the kind one expects from a bored police officer at a traffic checkpoint.

Then came the real juicy stuff: Have you ever been to Saudi Arabia? Asks the interrogator, to which Mr. Kilani, whose passport is in the hands of the US official, calmly answers No.

Have you ever been to Afghanistan? To which the Canadian gives the same answer, wondering at the intentions behind two seemingly unrelated questions. Finally, after being asked to describe his travel experiences, which included Lebanon, Thailand, England and Cyprus, the most astounding question of all: Can you please share your thoughts with us on Jihad?

Mr. Kilani was understandably surprised. What do Saudi Arabia and Afghanistan have to do with him? He later wondered what would have changed had he answered yes to both questions, not fully understanding why a trip to Saudi Arabia - which is the custodian of Islam’s holiest site Mecca and a destination for billions of Muslims worldwide - may have changed his position with the US authorities. Afghanistan is another story altogether, but Saudi Arabia is supposedly an ally.

Would more questions have followed? Would a trip to Saudi Arabia have placed him squarely in the cross-hairs of the American government?

By definition Jihad is a struggle within, the killing of innocent people – that is not Jihad, or even a part of Islam was his answer, although he describes a moment of confusion at having to explain his innermost beliefs to a stranger with a notepad.

On 24^th March 2004, Mr. Ali Kilani was deported from the United States, his ten-year visa revoked, and his girlfriend’s luggage not allowed onto her plane to Washington D.C. Mr. Kilani was forced to take her suitcases with him to Montreal, as if they were tainted by his very presence, and then FedEx them back to her in the following days.

Today, thousands of Lebanese Canadians stand on the docks of Beirut with passports in hand, hoping for a swift departure from their country of origin to the safe haven which is Canada. Without their passports, they would not be considered Canadian and thus neither the responsibility of the Harper government nor worthy of being saved, a difficult truth to swallow.

Since his 2004 experience in Miami, Mr. Kilani has received his Canadian passport and become a citizen rather than a Permenant Resident. Regardless, he says that he will not return to the United States as what used to be a stroll through passport control for all Canadians may well have become a rather more complicated issue “where our passports don’t protect us like we thought”, in his own words.

Quebec Student Strike in Perspective: General Assembly to Decide Course of Action

Wednesday, March 09, 2005 @06:11PM
by Mazin Almusharaf

The $103 million cuts to loans and bursaries proposed last March by the Charest government have since caused an upheaval of response amongst institutions in the province, most notably in the francophone CEGEPs.

Students have organized classroom walk-outs, public strikes, a massive flyer campaign and have even resorted to such random acts as the mice-in-the-office fiasco which granted them immediate media exposure on a nation-wide scale. The common belief amongst the student community, and sympathetic advisors such as la Fédération étudiante universitaire du Québec, is that these cuts will make education less accessible in terms of affordability to potential as well as current students.

And the ball is rolling as more schools will decide whether to join in a general student strike. A general assembly has been called for Wednesday, March 9 at Concordia to let the student population decide what course of action should be taken. The Canadian Federation of Students, FEUQ and the Concordia Student Union are all pushing for a strike.

"These cuts have had a disastrous effect on students across the province, and no one can stand idly by," said Tim McSorley, chair of the CFS-Q.

The CSU is a perfect example of the structural handicap in Concordia with only eight executives to execute jobs, according to CSU VP External Arielle Reid.

"It's not as if they could dispatch a foot soldier or two to lend a hand," she said. Reid expressed strong belief that the current student movement is making a difference and that this is the only way to go, saying "it will never work from the top, it has to come from the bottom."

FEUQ was slower to support the strike mandate, though many of its members were in favour. Nick Vikander, VP university affairs for the organization said the strike wasn't their first priority but now it is time to up the pressure.

"Last semester we had some demonstrations, and this semester we've been helping on the ground especially at CEGEPS across Quebec."

Over half of Quebec's 45 CEGEPs shut down in protest mid-November, coupled with student solidarity on the issue and dissent within Charest's own Cabinet make the situation a difficult one to ignore on the part of the provincial administration. In a dramatic political endeavour of which former Education Minister Pierre Reid was a victim, Charest shuffled his cabinet—demoting and raising positions apparently at will and effectively re-uniting his right-wing policies with similar policy-makers. Former Municipal Affairs Minister Jean-Marc Fournier was moved to the education portfolio.

According to McSorley, the new minister will not mean a cakewalk for students fighting for accessible education.

"Fournier was on the de-merger portfolio, selling that. He's good at that," he said, adding that Fournier has done more media interviews since the shuffle than Reid did during his entire mandate as Education Minister.

"Reid wasn't able to convince the public as to why they're making changes [to education]."

Fournier has already taken a firm stance against striking students, saying that they will be responsible to make up for their own lost time. Many students are concerned about lengthening their school year and not being able to get a full summer's work done.

But McSorley hopes that students can set aside individualism for the benefit of the entire education structure. "Cuts are not only a threat to students coming after [those about to graduate], but could do serious harm to Quebec society. This is an issue of a publicly funded system."

Vikander stressed that if students do vote for a strike mandate, they maintain complete control over when they want to return to class.

"Students can choose to have a one-day strike, a three-day strike or longer," he said and subsequent general assemblies will be called to renew the mandate.

McSorley also maintains that while student strikes do not operate in the same way as labour strikes, they can still be effective. "It shows strong solidarity and voice among students that they are united and are willing to give up something they've paid for. This effectively builds public support."

CFS and the CSU are in favour of a three-day strike. Two central demands will be discussed at the GA: to do away with reforms that have been made to education (and effectively reverse the change in ratio of loans and bursaries). The second is calling on McGill and Concordia to adhere to the cap on international tuition. If Wednesday's GA reaches a strike mandate, McSorley said they plan to join in the afternoon demonstration with the Université de Montréal.

The strike would officially begin on March 16 with a day of student protest. "We're exploring different actions. This will not be just a stay-at-home strike," said McSorley.

Cooperation between Montreal's universities and CEGEPs reached similar heights in 1996 and Université de Montréal and UQAM have a long history of mobilization. Meanwhile Anglophone institutions in Quebec have been slower to join the movement. At UQAM, a school-wide faculty vote finds the institution as a whole divided on the issue. Certain faculties, such as the Arts, Education, Languages and Communications, and Political Science have voted for an indefinite suspension of class. The School of Management students voted against the strike.

Strangers in the Night: CKUT Benefit An Evening of Performances, Presentations and Politics

When a stranger strolls into your home, uninvited and unannounced, you tend to react. When that very same stranger insists on asking lots of questions, rearranging belongings, and in effect, telling you what to do, that reaction might take on dark overtones.

The war correspondent walks into people's homes every day. He asks his questions, probes his surroundings and alters them constantly with his thoughts and words. How are we to receive him?

Never before have journalists been so targeted in the world. Last year alone there have been forty-seven outright killings of journalists. This is by no means a characteristic norm of journalism, but rather a direct result of the mainstream media's coverage on war. It is the stranger who blasts his way through your front door, that asks all the wrong questions (occasionally coming up with his very own answers) and it is the stranger who does so in full view of a cocked, loaded, and ready to fire foreign unit dressed in army uniforms.

In times of war the media takes on grand proportions. It is the means through which the world is informed, it is the lifeline of millions of working minds, and it is the creator of reality. To those who don't know any better, fact, reality, and entertainment are all wrapped up in a pleasant half-an-hour news package-with commercials.

Media, War & Occupation

On a chilly Sunday evening, April 9, a crowd of activists, artists and professionals gathered at La Sala Rossa, a hall awash in maroon walls and shadowy corners in Mile End. It was gradually filled with avid listeners, energetic fans and the occasional journalist who gathered to attend the annual CKUT Radio 2006 Funding Drive.

This year the theme was "Media, War and Occupation, from Afghanistan to Iraq" and the event featured talks by Jooneed Khan, an international affairs reporter at La Presse, and Sonali Kolakhtar, a women's rights activist, as well as performances by the Narcisyst of the Euphrates, an Iraqi hip-hop artist, and the soothing melodies of the Oud instrument, played by the Hassan al-Hadi band.

The Bad Guys

Jooneed Khan has witnessed the realities of war on a people under occupation first hand. He was in Baghdad in 1990 and again in 2003 where several times, both before and after the American invasion, he witnessed the plight of a citizenry that has been bombarded continuously for over a decade. He has spoken to families, taxi drivers and strangers, so reporting and collecting information from the locals, whom he stresses are an essential part of any real story.

A quiet looking, inquisitive man, he described how the mainstream media only entered Baghdad on the heels of the army. He explained that the notion of "embedded journalists" is a product of World War II, when reporters lived and travelled with the army. Now the select few, mainly corporate media correspondents, witness events through the lens of American war machines. One can only assume that they report accordingly.

"We are the bad guys now" he said, sadness filling his eyes. He told of the "completely staged"-and globally broadcast-fall of Saddam's statue as it occurred before his eyes. His story revealed that the crowd was airlifted into the square to pose for the millions of viewers around the world who would be mesmerized by the image of Iraqi's celebrating the onset of occupation and the symbolic fall of a towering tyrant.

"The U.S. has turned us into beggars."

Sonali Kolakhtar, a pleasant and sincere woman who has lived in the

United States for many years, delivered a passionate statement about the situation of women in Afghanistan, the role of the media and the absolute mess that Western interference has created there.

She described Afghanistan as being "used, abused and abandoned by the international community," a claim she backed up with facts of media coverage since the invasion and the distinct increase in drug production. "The people didn't want the Taliban, they didn't want Western occupation and they didn't want the Northern Alliance-the warlords who are in power now."

With clarity and conviction, Sonali spoke her mind to an attentive, highly enthusiastic Montreal crowd. Her voice occasionally rose along with her emotions, and her accusations fell upon the ears of a Canadian audience concerned about their country's role in Afghanistan-the importance of which was only enhanced by Prime Minister Stephen Harper's choice of Kandahar as his first foreign trip.

She compared the roles of the American forces to those of the Canadian, who have announced that they shall be taking leadership of the operations in the battle-ridden territory. This is NATO's first

adventure outside the lands of its member countries and a real test of its raison d'être. Sonali, who is the host of Uprising Radio in Los Angeles, said "let's be very clear-the U.S. is in charge, the U.S. is

making policy; and Canada will follow."

Awareness, Responsibility and Reflection

The media's role in shaping reality is a great responsibility, but it is also a great tool. Sonali Kolakhtar explained to the crowd her notion of "silence as a propaganda tool," where she cites purposeful silences in the media as a way of sidelining certain issues. The plight of Afghani women is but an example.

The CKUT event eventually led to a night of conversation, music and a general sense of cultural awareness. The Narcisyt of Euphrates sang his heart out in a series of songs filled with Arabic words, religious references and nationalistic statements as the night was brought to a close with the oud and percussion band Hassan Al-Hadi. The mood quickly changed from the fact spewing speeches of experienced activists to the artistic expression of the young.

A Day's Work on the Battlefield; Al Jazeera Refuses to be Silenced

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It takes a special breed of journalists to report from the war zone. In an environment of constant bombing, certain chaos and hardly visible conclusion, a select few set out to the dangerous task of informing the rest of the world.

While most people flock away from the horrific scenes that accompany every war, the foreign correspondent is instead drawn to them like a moth to the flame. He remains as long as possible, hovering in the vicinity while living in a mixture of fear and exhilaration, prediction and hope, even if only to secure a last snapshot or capture the right moment.

Such was the case for Taysir Alluni. One of the last reporters to leave Kabul in the wake of the American invasion, the foreign correspondent for Al Jazeera - a Qatar based news network - covered the suffering of the Afghani people extensively. During a period of relative silence from the Western media, it is rumoured that Alluni’s coverage raised eyebrows. In a notable departure from the mainstream, Al JAzeera continued to air the shocking live images of maimed children, charred land and the consequences of war unhampered by American warnings.

A Syrian born Spanish citizen, Alluni is widely recognized as the first to interview Osama Bin Laden only weeks after 9/11. What may easily have passed as another day at the office, and surely an assignment to inspire any journalist, would become an important event not only for the man, but the issue of press freedom as a whole.

What is essentially a forum for public debate; the media has found itself increasingly restricted in coverage of war. It has become quite a risky business. Coalition forces in Baghdad host a number of “embedded journalists” – a Pentagon term for the few who are not targeted by the military – and care little about the rest. Already, seventy two journalists have died on duty. Alluni himself barely escaped the bombing of Al Jazeera’s Baghdad office during his last days on the battlefield which is Iraq.

Surely exhausted and mentally spent from many a death experience, Alluni returned to Spain where he found himself accused of collaborating with, and membership of, his very own sources. The irony of his predicament is inescapable. Logically, the search for truth which is journalism leads to a variety of sources and the more the merrier. Yet this professional norm, and rather obvious conclusion, has been instead twisted into an image of corruption, espionage and malpractice.

He has spent over a year in Spanish custody where he still maintains his innocence, saying “If I am sentenced here, then I am paying simply for my job”. Al Jazeera, human rights groups and the Paris based Reporters Without Borders insist that the evidence is “circumstantial”.

He was hardly alone though. Twenty four men stood accused by the Spanish High Court of aiding terrorism in what has been labelled “Europe’s Biggest Al Qaida Trial” by the media. Its conclusion has found eighteen men, all of Arabic descent, receiving sentences ranging from Aluuni’s six to thirty five years. The rest were acquitted.

The trial has sparked a flurry of support for both Taysir Alluni and his employers. Instead of creating the impression of a loathsome, hostile Al JAzeera, the bombing of its offices, murder of its cameraman and six year sentence against its correspondent seems to have backfired. What emerges is a relatively small yet passionately adamant news network that refuses to be quiet.