By Zubair Ahmed
BBC News, Mumbai
A writer once said that more than one soul dies in a suicide.
It seems so in Neha Sawant's home. The atmosphere in the tiny flat in Mumbai has been lifeless since the 11-year-old was found hanging from her apartment window.
It has been weeks but her parents are still in deep shock. They look dazed and sleep-deprived.
Neha's distraught grandmother said in a broken voice: "Our brains are not working. We still cannot believe it."
Neha, at 11, must be one of the youngest in Mumbai to commit suicide. Figures suggest that more and more teenagers in India's financial hub are killing themselves.
Dizzying
Inexplicably, teenage suicides have become an almost daily occurrence in Maharashtra - one of India's most developed states - and its capital Mumbai (Bombay).
“ Something has gone amiss in [children's] lives quite early and suicides are a manifestation of that ”
Clinical psychologist Rhea Timbekar
The toll of teenage suicides from the beginning of the year until 26 January 2010 stood at 32, which is more than one a day.
While there are no comparative figures for the same period in 2009, there is a consensus among the concerned authorities in Mumbai that teenage suicides are spiralling out of control.
There is also a general agreement between psychologists and teachers that the main reason for the high number of teenagers taking their own lives is the increasing pressure on children to perform well in exams.
The scale of this largely preventable problem is dizzying - both in India with its billion-plus people and particularly in the state of in Maharashtra.
More than 100,000 people commit suicide in India every year and three people a day take their own lives in Mumbai.
Suicide is one of the top three causes of death among those aged between 15 and 35 years and has a devastating psychological, social and financial impact on families and friends.
'Needless toll'
World Health Organisation Assistant Director-General Catherine Le Gals-Camus points out more people die from suicide around the world than from all homicides and wars combined.
"There is an urgent need for co-ordinated and intensified global action to prevent this needless toll. For every suicide death there are scores of family and friends whose lives are devastated emotionally, socially and economically," she says.
“ The children don't realise they have more avenues than academic successes ”
School principal Mangala Kulkarni
In Mumbai the authorities are so alarmed by the scale of the problem that they have began a campaign, Life is Beautiful, which aims to help students cope with academic pressure.
Psychologists visit government schools in Mumbai once a week to train teachers dealing with students' problems.
Sharadashram Vidyamandir school boasts illustrious alumni such as cricketers Sachin Tendulkar and Vinod Kambli. It has been holding parent-teacher assemblies where parents can receive tips on tackling the pressures children face.
And yet such sessions could not prevent 12-year-old Shushant Patil's death. He was found hanging in the school toilet on 5 January.
Mangala Kulkarni is the principal of the girls' section of the school. She says that ultimately families need to be more proactive when it comes to stopping students from feeling stressed.
"The children don't realise they have more avenues than academic successes. They need to be made to realise this by their families from childhood," she said.
Blockbuster
A helpline in Mumbai, called Aasra, has been operating for several years to tackle the problem.
The director of the helpline, Johnson Thomas, says the problems today's children face are manifold: "They have peer pressure, they have communication problems with their parents, broken relationships, academic pressure and fear of failure," he says.
The home ministry estimates that for every teenage suicide in Mumbai there are 13 failed attempts.
One theory behind the recent rise is the influence of a recently released Bollywood blockbuster, Three Idiots, which has a scene where an engineering student is shown committing suicide after a mediocre exam result.
The film's impact has been debated and scrutinised in prime time television shows, with many directly blaming it for adding to the problem.
But Mumbai clinical psychologist Rhea Timbekar argues that it would be wrong to blame the film, which she says strives to explain that parents should not put too much pressure on their children.
Ms Timbekar says that she recently met a child who had not eaten for four days.
The child's parents said they were upset with him because he only got 89% in exams and stood third in the class, compared to coming first in previous years.
"Such parents need to be counselled," she asserts.
Ms Timbekar said that another explanation for the high teenage suicide rate was "copycat suicides" where children read about suicides in newspapers and decide to do the same thing themselves.
'Extreme steps'
Dilip Panicker, an eminent psychologist in Mumbai, says that pressure of exams is alone is too simplistic an explanation.
"At one level school pressures and expectations from parents are a valid reason," he says, "but that's always been there.
"In fact, parents used to beat up their kids in our time. What's changed is that today children are more aware, they have more exposure. They are more independent. So they blame themselves for failures and take extreme steps."
Psychologists also argue that the definition of a teenager needs to be revised in 2010.
"Today's 11-year-olds are the new teens. What we did at the ages of 14 and 15 children can do at 11 today," says Rhea Timbekar.
She demolishes the theory that children are more likely to be spontaneous in committing suicide, as opposed to adults who start with an idea, proceed with a plan and end with action.
"A child doesn't just wake up in the morning and says I will commit suicide today," she argues. "Something has gone amiss in their lives quite early on and suicides are a manifestation of that."
The breakdown of India's traditional family system is also being blamed for the problem. In a city like Mumbai - where it is common for both parents to work - children tend to become reclusive and watch too much television.
Dilip Panicker argues that there is a simple solution.
"If parents love their children unconditionally, with all their successes and failures, the problem would be greatly alleviated."
Story from BBC NEWS:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/2/hi/south_asia/8473515.stm
Published: 2010/02/01 11:32:11 GMT
© BBC MMX
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Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Yemen's greatest enemy is sitting across its border
Yemenis baulk at the idea that their neighbours should supply more aid
Wednesday, 27 January 2010
Once upon a time in the early 1950s, the King of Yemen, Imam Ahmad, dispatched an adviser to Germany who returned with marvellous tales of what he had seen there. Describing the economic miracle which the US's Marshall Plan had wrought, he explained that although the Germans had started and then lost a war against the Americans, the streets of Cologne were now as clean as the Imam's table.
No fool, the Imam decided that Sanaa's streets would soon be a match for Cologne's; all he needed to do was declare war against America, lose it, and wait for the aid to pour in. The tale may be apocryphal but, as London readies itself for tomorrow's hastily convened conference on how to help Yemen root out an al-Qa'ida cell capable of equipping a Nigerian youth with enough explosives in his underpants to down a passenger plane, it is worth reviewing the highlights of Yemen's aid history.
The traditional attitude of all Yemen's leaders towards foreign aid, and the form which aid from neighbouring Saudi Arabia has taken since the 1970s, as well as the West's most recent effort to co-ordinate aid efforts in Yemen, should all be borne in mind.
Yemen's educated classes assume that Imam Ahmad's pragmatic "we'll take as much cash as we can get by whatever means and with as few strings attached as possible" policy is also the name of President Ali Abdullah Salih's game. It benefited Yemen during the Cold War; Maoist Chinese built the country's first paved road, Soviets modernised the Red Sea port of Hodeidah and ensured the country was armed to the hilt at almost no cost, while the Americans sorted out a water supply and a girls' school.
Video: Global summit on Yemen
Yemenis also assume that President Ali Abdullah Salih has deliberately refrained from cracking down hard on his jihadists in order to maintain the flow of anxious aid – money, surveillance equipment, weapons – from his Western allies and neighbouring Saudi Arabia. His mercenary short-sightedness is largely to blame, they say, for Yemen's shaming reputation as a jihadists' haven.
Saudi aid in the security field is already reckoned to be around double the $140m to be offered to Yemen by the US this year, and there is more – harder to quantify precisely – in the form of mosque-building, charity and religious education. But the hardest Saudi aid to quantify is the cash flowing straight out of a Saudi "Special Office" to the sheikhs of many Yemeni tribes, especially ones located anywhere near the Saudi border.
A Yemeni civil rights activist laments the Saudis' financial clout, portraying it as one of the chief banes of Yemen's existence: "Although Yemenis hate Saudis," he explains, "the Saudis know how to spread their influence by their wealth and they have corrupted everything in Yemen." He claims that two thirds – in other words, 6,000 of Yemen's approximately 9,000 tribal sheikhs – benefit from Saudi handouts, the most powerful of them to the tune of $3.5m a month.
The Saudis' apparent reluctance to invest in the long-term development and improvement of the country and help educate its people is what makes Yemenis baulk at the now frequently voiced Western opinion that Yemen's rich neighbours, rather than any Western countries, should be taking the lead in supplying aid to Yemen.
Pointing out the drawbacks inherent in Saudi Arabia's style of giving may be unwise, however, when the West has nothing much to boast about. A 2006 London conference devoted to aiding development in Yemen, involving both Western powers and Yemen's Gulf neighbours, resulted in pledges of almost $5bn, precious little of which has been received, let alone spent.
Yemen's Foreign Minister, Dr Al-Qirbi, in London for tomorrow's conference, has been complaining that if those projects had got off the ground and begun to bear fruit, "things would be very different now". The donors' reply to that would be that the human capital, the skills and standards needed to run the projects, were not available.
The scattering of brand new schools in Yemen's rural areas, standing empty and already decaying for lack of teachers, are a still more eloquent reminder of Yemen's true needs.
Victoria Clark's 'Yemen: Dancing on the Heads of Snakes' will be published by Yale in March
Comment:
9000 tribal leaders most of whom has direct contact with a foreign country. This is a modern era version of Zemene-Mesafint.
Wednesday, 27 January 2010
Once upon a time in the early 1950s, the King of Yemen, Imam Ahmad, dispatched an adviser to Germany who returned with marvellous tales of what he had seen there. Describing the economic miracle which the US's Marshall Plan had wrought, he explained that although the Germans had started and then lost a war against the Americans, the streets of Cologne were now as clean as the Imam's table.
No fool, the Imam decided that Sanaa's streets would soon be a match for Cologne's; all he needed to do was declare war against America, lose it, and wait for the aid to pour in. The tale may be apocryphal but, as London readies itself for tomorrow's hastily convened conference on how to help Yemen root out an al-Qa'ida cell capable of equipping a Nigerian youth with enough explosives in his underpants to down a passenger plane, it is worth reviewing the highlights of Yemen's aid history.
The traditional attitude of all Yemen's leaders towards foreign aid, and the form which aid from neighbouring Saudi Arabia has taken since the 1970s, as well as the West's most recent effort to co-ordinate aid efforts in Yemen, should all be borne in mind.
Yemen's educated classes assume that Imam Ahmad's pragmatic "we'll take as much cash as we can get by whatever means and with as few strings attached as possible" policy is also the name of President Ali Abdullah Salih's game. It benefited Yemen during the Cold War; Maoist Chinese built the country's first paved road, Soviets modernised the Red Sea port of Hodeidah and ensured the country was armed to the hilt at almost no cost, while the Americans sorted out a water supply and a girls' school.
Video: Global summit on Yemen
Yemenis also assume that President Ali Abdullah Salih has deliberately refrained from cracking down hard on his jihadists in order to maintain the flow of anxious aid – money, surveillance equipment, weapons – from his Western allies and neighbouring Saudi Arabia. His mercenary short-sightedness is largely to blame, they say, for Yemen's shaming reputation as a jihadists' haven.
Saudi aid in the security field is already reckoned to be around double the $140m to be offered to Yemen by the US this year, and there is more – harder to quantify precisely – in the form of mosque-building, charity and religious education. But the hardest Saudi aid to quantify is the cash flowing straight out of a Saudi "Special Office" to the sheikhs of many Yemeni tribes, especially ones located anywhere near the Saudi border.
A Yemeni civil rights activist laments the Saudis' financial clout, portraying it as one of the chief banes of Yemen's existence: "Although Yemenis hate Saudis," he explains, "the Saudis know how to spread their influence by their wealth and they have corrupted everything in Yemen." He claims that two thirds – in other words, 6,000 of Yemen's approximately 9,000 tribal sheikhs – benefit from Saudi handouts, the most powerful of them to the tune of $3.5m a month.
The Saudis' apparent reluctance to invest in the long-term development and improvement of the country and help educate its people is what makes Yemenis baulk at the now frequently voiced Western opinion that Yemen's rich neighbours, rather than any Western countries, should be taking the lead in supplying aid to Yemen.
Pointing out the drawbacks inherent in Saudi Arabia's style of giving may be unwise, however, when the West has nothing much to boast about. A 2006 London conference devoted to aiding development in Yemen, involving both Western powers and Yemen's Gulf neighbours, resulted in pledges of almost $5bn, precious little of which has been received, let alone spent.
Yemen's Foreign Minister, Dr Al-Qirbi, in London for tomorrow's conference, has been complaining that if those projects had got off the ground and begun to bear fruit, "things would be very different now". The donors' reply to that would be that the human capital, the skills and standards needed to run the projects, were not available.
The scattering of brand new schools in Yemen's rural areas, standing empty and already decaying for lack of teachers, are a still more eloquent reminder of Yemen's true needs.
Victoria Clark's 'Yemen: Dancing on the Heads of Snakes' will be published by Yale in March
Comment:
9000 tribal leaders most of whom has direct contact with a foreign country. This is a modern era version of Zemene-Mesafint.
The Latino Crescent
by Lyndsey Matthews, from The Brooklyn Rail
A woman wearing a hijab rushes up the stairs of a mosque in Union City, New Jersey. She is frantically murmuring, “Empanadas, empanadas, empanadas!” as if to remind herself to pick up the savory Latino pastries for the crowd waiting inside. The sixth annual Hispanic Muslim Day event is about to begin.
More than 60 percent of Union City’s population is Latino, and the storefronts in this neighborhood proudly display flags from Puerto Rico, Mexico, and the Dominican Republic. This stately columned building used to house the city’s Cuban community center, once a popular venue for traditional Hispanic celebrations like quinceañeras. For 17 years, it’s been the Islamic Educational Center of North Hudson.
Unlike churches and synagogues, mosques do not keep rosters of their worshippers. Where one goes to pray is more fluid in the Islamic tradition. Shinoa Matos, one of the young women in attendance, estimates that of the thousands of people who pray at the Union City mosque in any given week, more than a hundred are Latino. “Just like how there are Albanian mosques in Albanian neighborhoods,” she explains, “we are a Latino mosque because we are in a Latino neighborhood.” Islam, however, discourages differentiation among ethnic groups, she says, so Muslims try not to do it.
Inside the mosque the aromatic scent of steaming empanadas, spiced beef stuffed inside shells of puffed pastry, inundates the first floor auditorium. About a hundred people of various ages mingle around a dozen round tables covered with white plastic cloths and topped with cream-colored ceramic vases holding bouquets of purple silk pansies. Grandmothers coo over infants while a group of young men plug a laptop into the sound system to play nasheed, a traditional form of Islamic music. There are more women than men, and only a few women are not veiled. By what seems like an act of natural separation, the men sit on the left of the auditorium, the women on the right, with a few scattered in between.
Eventually Ramon Omar Abduraheem Ocasio comes to the front of the auditorium to give the keynote speech. He is a family man who found Islam in Harlem in the 1970s and reared his six children as Muslims. He describes what it was like in those days to be ostracized in the neighborhood’s mosques, which members of the Nation of Islam dominated.
Ocasio is one of the 44 million Latinos living in the United States who constitute the nation’s largest minority population, according to 2007 U.S. Census estimates. This, plus the rapid growth in the number of adherents of Islam in the United States, has given rise to the relatively new demographic of American Latino Muslims. In 1997 the American Muslim Council identified some 40,000 Hispanic Muslims in the country, a number that had swelled nine years later to a reported 200,000. A 2008 study by the Pew Forum on Religious and Public Life put the number of Latino Muslim U.S. residents at 4 percent of all Muslim U.S. residents. The figure represents a tiny minority within a tiny minority—just over half of 1 percent of the U.S. population—and a somewhat surprising one. Latinos have long been associated with the Roman Catholic Church and, more recently, with the evangelical Christian traditions. All the same, it is not unusual for Americans to change faith for another denomination, an entirely new religion, or no religion at all. For example, of the nearly one in three Americans raised as Catholics, fewer than a quarter still consider themselves Catholic.
Although Islam has not permeated Latino culture to the extent that it has permeated black culture—24 percent of Muslim Americans are black—its influence is evident. Characters in the Spanish-language telenovela El Clon (The Clone) often discuss Islam and the prerequisites for becoming a Muslim. The appeal, Latinos who have converted say, comes from their search for a simpler and more intimate experience of God. They find the Muslim emphasis on family and conservative values familiar and, beyond that, Latinos often share neighborhoods with black and immigrant Muslims, and in turn develop strong ties as neighbors, friends, and coworkers.
The pale blue balloons floating on strings above the tables match Alex Robayo’s baby-blue collared shirt. As the Hispanic Muslim Day emcee, he speaks in both Spanish and English and directs his remarks primarily to the non--Muslims in the crowd.
“Are there any Catholics in the room?” he asks. A young dark-haired woman with a copy of El Coran, the Koran in Spanish, resting on the table in front of her quietly raises her hand and cringes slightly under the attention that turns in her direction.
Repeatedly, Robayo stresses the similarities between Christianity and Islam—the belief in one God and the many common prophets, including Jesus. Many converts say that they find the Christian idea of the Trinity complicated and that the monotheistic simplicity of the Islamic concept of tawheed—the “one true oneness of God”—has great appeal.
Robayo shares a story about his mother, a Roman Catholic, whom he picks up after Mass most weeks. He admires the beauty of the Catholic statues of Jesus and the saints but appreciates that in Islam there are no images. He likes the Islamic notion of a direct, unmediated conversation with God, a straightforward approach that appeals to many converts to Islam.
“You may say in Spanish dios, in English God, in Arabic Allah,” Robayo tells the crowd. “Are dios and God different?”
“Dios es grande,” he says.
Excerpted from The Brooklyn Rail (Sept. 2009), an incisive, eclectic, free journal of arts, politics, and culture.
www.brooklynrail.org
comment:
The simple reason they accept islam is because it's idea of God is simple-one and only one God no complicated idea of trinity.
A woman wearing a hijab rushes up the stairs of a mosque in Union City, New Jersey. She is frantically murmuring, “Empanadas, empanadas, empanadas!” as if to remind herself to pick up the savory Latino pastries for the crowd waiting inside. The sixth annual Hispanic Muslim Day event is about to begin.
More than 60 percent of Union City’s population is Latino, and the storefronts in this neighborhood proudly display flags from Puerto Rico, Mexico, and the Dominican Republic. This stately columned building used to house the city’s Cuban community center, once a popular venue for traditional Hispanic celebrations like quinceañeras. For 17 years, it’s been the Islamic Educational Center of North Hudson.
Unlike churches and synagogues, mosques do not keep rosters of their worshippers. Where one goes to pray is more fluid in the Islamic tradition. Shinoa Matos, one of the young women in attendance, estimates that of the thousands of people who pray at the Union City mosque in any given week, more than a hundred are Latino. “Just like how there are Albanian mosques in Albanian neighborhoods,” she explains, “we are a Latino mosque because we are in a Latino neighborhood.” Islam, however, discourages differentiation among ethnic groups, she says, so Muslims try not to do it.
Inside the mosque the aromatic scent of steaming empanadas, spiced beef stuffed inside shells of puffed pastry, inundates the first floor auditorium. About a hundred people of various ages mingle around a dozen round tables covered with white plastic cloths and topped with cream-colored ceramic vases holding bouquets of purple silk pansies. Grandmothers coo over infants while a group of young men plug a laptop into the sound system to play nasheed, a traditional form of Islamic music. There are more women than men, and only a few women are not veiled. By what seems like an act of natural separation, the men sit on the left of the auditorium, the women on the right, with a few scattered in between.
Eventually Ramon Omar Abduraheem Ocasio comes to the front of the auditorium to give the keynote speech. He is a family man who found Islam in Harlem in the 1970s and reared his six children as Muslims. He describes what it was like in those days to be ostracized in the neighborhood’s mosques, which members of the Nation of Islam dominated.
Ocasio is one of the 44 million Latinos living in the United States who constitute the nation’s largest minority population, according to 2007 U.S. Census estimates. This, plus the rapid growth in the number of adherents of Islam in the United States, has given rise to the relatively new demographic of American Latino Muslims. In 1997 the American Muslim Council identified some 40,000 Hispanic Muslims in the country, a number that had swelled nine years later to a reported 200,000. A 2008 study by the Pew Forum on Religious and Public Life put the number of Latino Muslim U.S. residents at 4 percent of all Muslim U.S. residents. The figure represents a tiny minority within a tiny minority—just over half of 1 percent of the U.S. population—and a somewhat surprising one. Latinos have long been associated with the Roman Catholic Church and, more recently, with the evangelical Christian traditions. All the same, it is not unusual for Americans to change faith for another denomination, an entirely new religion, or no religion at all. For example, of the nearly one in three Americans raised as Catholics, fewer than a quarter still consider themselves Catholic.
Although Islam has not permeated Latino culture to the extent that it has permeated black culture—24 percent of Muslim Americans are black—its influence is evident. Characters in the Spanish-language telenovela El Clon (The Clone) often discuss Islam and the prerequisites for becoming a Muslim. The appeal, Latinos who have converted say, comes from their search for a simpler and more intimate experience of God. They find the Muslim emphasis on family and conservative values familiar and, beyond that, Latinos often share neighborhoods with black and immigrant Muslims, and in turn develop strong ties as neighbors, friends, and coworkers.
The pale blue balloons floating on strings above the tables match Alex Robayo’s baby-blue collared shirt. As the Hispanic Muslim Day emcee, he speaks in both Spanish and English and directs his remarks primarily to the non--Muslims in the crowd.
“Are there any Catholics in the room?” he asks. A young dark-haired woman with a copy of El Coran, the Koran in Spanish, resting on the table in front of her quietly raises her hand and cringes slightly under the attention that turns in her direction.
Repeatedly, Robayo stresses the similarities between Christianity and Islam—the belief in one God and the many common prophets, including Jesus. Many converts say that they find the Christian idea of the Trinity complicated and that the monotheistic simplicity of the Islamic concept of tawheed—the “one true oneness of God”—has great appeal.
Robayo shares a story about his mother, a Roman Catholic, whom he picks up after Mass most weeks. He admires the beauty of the Catholic statues of Jesus and the saints but appreciates that in Islam there are no images. He likes the Islamic notion of a direct, unmediated conversation with God, a straightforward approach that appeals to many converts to Islam.
“You may say in Spanish dios, in English God, in Arabic Allah,” Robayo tells the crowd. “Are dios and God different?”
“Dios es grande,” he says.
Excerpted from The Brooklyn Rail (Sept. 2009), an incisive, eclectic, free journal of arts, politics, and culture.
www.brooklynrail.org
comment:
The simple reason they accept islam is because it's idea of God is simple-one and only one God no complicated idea of trinity.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Robert Fisk’s World: The stakes get higher as Arab princes try to outdo each other
Saturday, 16 January 2010
Do the Saudis not have the slightest idea of what is going on around them?
Prince al-Waleed bin Talal of Saudi Arabia is quite a man.
He says he doesn't want to be the prime minister of Lebanon – everyone who wants to be the prime minister of Lebanon says that – but he is immensely wealthy. True, his bank balance has sunk from $23.7bn to a mere $13.3bn since 2005 (thus sayeth Forbes magazine). But he's just announced that he wants to construct the world's tallest building – a 1km-high goliath which will dwarf his neighbour emir in Dubai who last month opened the paltry 25,000ft Burj Khalifa amid the sand dunes of his bankrupt creditors. The nephew of King Abdullah, al-Waleed understandably calls his company Kingdom Holdings. He also happens to be a major shareholder in Rupert Murdoch's News Corp – which is why you won't be reading these words in The Times. Long live Kingdom Holdings, I suppose.
Because yesterday morning, I was taking an al-Jazeera television crew around the repulsive, obscene, outrageous, filthy, stinking slums of the Sabra and Chatila refugee camps not far from my home in Beirut, a place of such squalor that the gorge rises that human beings even live there. Sabra and Chatila – yes, the site of that infamous massacre in 1982 when Lebanese Christian militiamen allied to Israel slaughtered up to 1,700 Palestinian civilians while the Israeli army surrounded the camps, watched the killings – and did nothing. They were the survivors of the great exodus or ethnic cleansing of 1948 – or their sons or grandsons – who fled Galilee for the "temporary" safety of Lebanon and, like the visa applicants of the movie Casablanca, wait and wait – and wait – to go home. Which they will never do. "I am very positive," Prince al-Waleed said when he announced his new priapic tower, to be constructed in the Red Sea port of Jeddah. "We are always looking for new investments."
Now I know that there are a lot of fine philanthropists in the Gulf, Prince al-Waleed among them, but what is one to make of all this? Afghanistan is collapsing in blood; Iraq remains a state of semi-civil war; the Israelis continue to thieve land for Jews and Jews only from the Arabs who hold the title deeds to that property – and Prince al-Waled wants to build a tower reaching a kilometre into the sky. Do the Saudis – who gave so much largesse to the Taliban (we have to forget this, of course, along with the fact that the Saudis provided most of the murderers of 9/11, which is why we bombed Kabul rather than Riyadh) – not have the slightest idea of what is going on around them?
For example, we all know that the Americans maintain stocks of weapons among their allies. They keep munitions in South Korea and, indeed, in the Arab Gulf (aka Saudi Arabia). But very quietly this week, they agreed to double their munitions supplies in Israel from $400m of weapons to $800m. Of course, Washington's gift of $9bn to Israel up to 2012 – never, of course, to be spent on those illegal colonies which are built against international law on Arab land but which Barack Obama now pusillanimously ignores – has nothing to do with this. But don't imagine that – in the event of a new "preventive" war – Israel cannot draw on these supplies for its own army and air force. After all, it was a missile taken to Saudi Arabia by the US marines for use against Iraq in 1991 that ended up in the hands of the Israeli air force as part of a quid pro quo for not joining in the war against Baghad - and which was subsequently used to kill civilians in a Lebanese ambulance in 1996.
But these days, Arab compliance reaches new heights every day. Now, for example, we have the Egyptian government – and its ever popular president (see the American-approved presidential election results which are way above 90 per cent) – building a wall around Rafah, part of the vast mass of poverty which constitutes Gaza, thus preventing food, gasoline (and, no doubt, weapons) from reaching the trapped Palestinians of this prison camp. A camp, one has to add, which meets with the full approval of Lord Blair of Kut al-Amara, whose honourable involvement in the invasion of Iraq has now been outdone by is extraordinary success as peace envoy to the Middle East.
Egypt's intelligence boss (a certain Mr Sulieman who might be the next president of Egypt were it not for his pattern of heart attacks) approves of this wall, which is a very definite assistance to Israel and which will yet further impoverish the Palestinians of Gaza to the point at which the inhabitants of Sabra and Chatila might actually feel themselves lucky they don't live in "Palestine".
In Israel itself, the deputy foreign minister humiliates the Turkish ambassador – while complaining about an anti-Semitic series on Turkish television – by forcing the diplomat to sit on a low sofa, refusing to shake hands and addressing him, with two colleagues, from higher chairs. The foreign minister himself, our dear friend Mr Lieberman, has now acquired the habit – every time poor old (and I mean old) US envoy George Mitchell raises the question of Jerusalem – of walking out of the room. That's what Obama's point man is worth. Israel's crazies – Netanyahu is a moderate chap by comparison – now prove that Israel can be just as much a banana Raj as the rest of the Middle East.
But fear not. The princes and the emirs and the caliphs and the presidents will be able to outbid each other in towers and hotels. I have a bigger painting set than yours. I have a sharper pencil, more crayons, a larger train set (Qatar, please note), a bigger bear than yours. And the world will watch this tragedy and marvel at the toy boxes now being opened in the Middle East. And, by the way, how many crayons do the children of Sabra and Chatila have?
Do the Saudis not have the slightest idea of what is going on around them?
Prince al-Waleed bin Talal of Saudi Arabia is quite a man.
He says he doesn't want to be the prime minister of Lebanon – everyone who wants to be the prime minister of Lebanon says that – but he is immensely wealthy. True, his bank balance has sunk from $23.7bn to a mere $13.3bn since 2005 (thus sayeth Forbes magazine). But he's just announced that he wants to construct the world's tallest building – a 1km-high goliath which will dwarf his neighbour emir in Dubai who last month opened the paltry 25,000ft Burj Khalifa amid the sand dunes of his bankrupt creditors. The nephew of King Abdullah, al-Waleed understandably calls his company Kingdom Holdings. He also happens to be a major shareholder in Rupert Murdoch's News Corp – which is why you won't be reading these words in The Times. Long live Kingdom Holdings, I suppose.
Because yesterday morning, I was taking an al-Jazeera television crew around the repulsive, obscene, outrageous, filthy, stinking slums of the Sabra and Chatila refugee camps not far from my home in Beirut, a place of such squalor that the gorge rises that human beings even live there. Sabra and Chatila – yes, the site of that infamous massacre in 1982 when Lebanese Christian militiamen allied to Israel slaughtered up to 1,700 Palestinian civilians while the Israeli army surrounded the camps, watched the killings – and did nothing. They were the survivors of the great exodus or ethnic cleansing of 1948 – or their sons or grandsons – who fled Galilee for the "temporary" safety of Lebanon and, like the visa applicants of the movie Casablanca, wait and wait – and wait – to go home. Which they will never do. "I am very positive," Prince al-Waleed said when he announced his new priapic tower, to be constructed in the Red Sea port of Jeddah. "We are always looking for new investments."
Now I know that there are a lot of fine philanthropists in the Gulf, Prince al-Waleed among them, but what is one to make of all this? Afghanistan is collapsing in blood; Iraq remains a state of semi-civil war; the Israelis continue to thieve land for Jews and Jews only from the Arabs who hold the title deeds to that property – and Prince al-Waled wants to build a tower reaching a kilometre into the sky. Do the Saudis – who gave so much largesse to the Taliban (we have to forget this, of course, along with the fact that the Saudis provided most of the murderers of 9/11, which is why we bombed Kabul rather than Riyadh) – not have the slightest idea of what is going on around them?
For example, we all know that the Americans maintain stocks of weapons among their allies. They keep munitions in South Korea and, indeed, in the Arab Gulf (aka Saudi Arabia). But very quietly this week, they agreed to double their munitions supplies in Israel from $400m of weapons to $800m. Of course, Washington's gift of $9bn to Israel up to 2012 – never, of course, to be spent on those illegal colonies which are built against international law on Arab land but which Barack Obama now pusillanimously ignores – has nothing to do with this. But don't imagine that – in the event of a new "preventive" war – Israel cannot draw on these supplies for its own army and air force. After all, it was a missile taken to Saudi Arabia by the US marines for use against Iraq in 1991 that ended up in the hands of the Israeli air force as part of a quid pro quo for not joining in the war against Baghad - and which was subsequently used to kill civilians in a Lebanese ambulance in 1996.
But these days, Arab compliance reaches new heights every day. Now, for example, we have the Egyptian government – and its ever popular president (see the American-approved presidential election results which are way above 90 per cent) – building a wall around Rafah, part of the vast mass of poverty which constitutes Gaza, thus preventing food, gasoline (and, no doubt, weapons) from reaching the trapped Palestinians of this prison camp. A camp, one has to add, which meets with the full approval of Lord Blair of Kut al-Amara, whose honourable involvement in the invasion of Iraq has now been outdone by is extraordinary success as peace envoy to the Middle East.
Egypt's intelligence boss (a certain Mr Sulieman who might be the next president of Egypt were it not for his pattern of heart attacks) approves of this wall, which is a very definite assistance to Israel and which will yet further impoverish the Palestinians of Gaza to the point at which the inhabitants of Sabra and Chatila might actually feel themselves lucky they don't live in "Palestine".
In Israel itself, the deputy foreign minister humiliates the Turkish ambassador – while complaining about an anti-Semitic series on Turkish television – by forcing the diplomat to sit on a low sofa, refusing to shake hands and addressing him, with two colleagues, from higher chairs. The foreign minister himself, our dear friend Mr Lieberman, has now acquired the habit – every time poor old (and I mean old) US envoy George Mitchell raises the question of Jerusalem – of walking out of the room. That's what Obama's point man is worth. Israel's crazies – Netanyahu is a moderate chap by comparison – now prove that Israel can be just as much a banana Raj as the rest of the Middle East.
But fear not. The princes and the emirs and the caliphs and the presidents will be able to outbid each other in towers and hotels. I have a bigger painting set than yours. I have a sharper pencil, more crayons, a larger train set (Qatar, please note), a bigger bear than yours. And the world will watch this tragedy and marvel at the toy boxes now being opened in the Middle East. And, by the way, how many crayons do the children of Sabra and Chatila have?
The perils of young Egyptians' secret marriages
By Yolande Knell
BBC News, Cairo
In the leafy grounds of Cairo University there are many dating couples among the crowds of students. Some sit close together in shady corners and hold hands.
Religious customs and ideas of social propriety in Egypt do not permit them to take their relationships much further.
However there is a way of bending the rules - urfi marriage.
Young Egyptians are said to be opting for these informal marriages in record numbers, often as a way of getting around religious strictures against premarital sex.
“ It's quite a conservative society. There's no premarital or extramarital sex, so they believe this gives a legitimate cover to the relationship ”
Madiha Safty Sociologist
"It's a secret marriage between a boy and girl which even their parents don't know about," explains a 20-year-old archaeology student. "They don't announce it publicly."
"From what I hear there are a lot of students in this university who have urfi marriages," adds his companion, Dina.
A urfi marriage is literally a "traditional" or "customary" marriage which does not need an official contract. Some students sign a hand-written document or come to a verbal agreement.
Others buy an unofficial marriage contract for about US $20 and sign it in front of two witnesses to try to meet Islamic requirements of a public declaration.
'Legitimate cover'
Usually they carry on living at home and stay quiet about their arrangement.
“ Some husbands who deny their marriages so the woman is forced to launch a lawsuit to prove paternity ”
Fawziya Abdullal Egyptian Centre for Women's Rights
"The young couple sees a urfi marriage as a pragmatic solution," says sociologist, Madiha Safty from the American University in Cairo.
"It's quite a conservative society. There's no premarital or extramarital sex, so they believe this gives a legitimate cover to the relationship."
The costs of a regular marriage and the obligations that go with it are one reason why experts believe more young Egyptians are making urfi arrangements.
"It's a cultural thing," Dr Safty observes.
"[With regular marriages] the groom is supposed to give a gift of jewellery upon engagement, he has to pay a sum for his fiancee to prepare for her life in marriage and find a place to live.
"At the same time she's supposed to provide the furniture. Of course people would also like to have a fancy wedding which can be quite expensive."
Pregnancies
Although they may be cheap, many urfi marriages do not end happily.
“ I was afraid so I called the guy I married and told him he needed to come over and ask for my hand officially ”
Female student who regretted her urfi marriage
A telephone hotline at the Egyptian Centre for Women's Rights receives regular calls from young women confused about the legal and religious status of their marriages or seeking help when things have gone wrong.
Legal advisor, Fawziya Abdullal, says the most serious cases involve pregnancies.
"Maybe they have a baby, then [the woman] will become responsible for the child. There are some husbands who deny their marriages so the woman is forced to launch a lawsuit to prove paternity. A DNA test has to be done."
"She has a lot of hassles and difficulties," she says.
"It will also affect her reputation because as a woman in Middle Eastern culture she cannot marry another man."
' Excuses'
It is difficult to get young women who have had bad experiences of urfi marriages to speak about them but one told us her story through a lawyer.
She explained she had never had a boyfriend before she went to university but met a fellow student on campus and fell in love.
He gave her many reasons why they could not formally marry but persuaded her to sign a urfi marriage contract.
They consummated their union at her house when her parents were out at work.
However the woman became nervous after her mother confronted her about blood on her bed sheets.
"Really I was afraid so I called the guy I married and told him he needed to come over and ask for my hand officially," she recalls.
"Straight away he found a lot of excuses why he could not come and we had an argument.
"He broke up with me and tore up our urfi marriage contract."
Eventually the student revealed to her family what had happened and they tried reporting the case to the police.
However as she had consented to sex she had no comeback. She said she felt humiliated.
Politicians and religious officials have recently called for campaigns to warn women of the dangers of urfi marriages.
There have also been suggestions of new laws to make the practice illegal.
Story from BBC NEWS:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/2/hi/middle_east/8466188.stm
Published: 2010/01/19 07:56:56 GMT
© BBC MMX
Print Sponsor
BBC News, Cairo
In the leafy grounds of Cairo University there are many dating couples among the crowds of students. Some sit close together in shady corners and hold hands.
Religious customs and ideas of social propriety in Egypt do not permit them to take their relationships much further.
However there is a way of bending the rules - urfi marriage.
Young Egyptians are said to be opting for these informal marriages in record numbers, often as a way of getting around religious strictures against premarital sex.
“ It's quite a conservative society. There's no premarital or extramarital sex, so they believe this gives a legitimate cover to the relationship ”
Madiha Safty Sociologist
"It's a secret marriage between a boy and girl which even their parents don't know about," explains a 20-year-old archaeology student. "They don't announce it publicly."
"From what I hear there are a lot of students in this university who have urfi marriages," adds his companion, Dina.
A urfi marriage is literally a "traditional" or "customary" marriage which does not need an official contract. Some students sign a hand-written document or come to a verbal agreement.
Others buy an unofficial marriage contract for about US $20 and sign it in front of two witnesses to try to meet Islamic requirements of a public declaration.
'Legitimate cover'
Usually they carry on living at home and stay quiet about their arrangement.
“ Some husbands who deny their marriages so the woman is forced to launch a lawsuit to prove paternity ”
Fawziya Abdullal Egyptian Centre for Women's Rights
"The young couple sees a urfi marriage as a pragmatic solution," says sociologist, Madiha Safty from the American University in Cairo.
"It's quite a conservative society. There's no premarital or extramarital sex, so they believe this gives a legitimate cover to the relationship."
The costs of a regular marriage and the obligations that go with it are one reason why experts believe more young Egyptians are making urfi arrangements.
"It's a cultural thing," Dr Safty observes.
"[With regular marriages] the groom is supposed to give a gift of jewellery upon engagement, he has to pay a sum for his fiancee to prepare for her life in marriage and find a place to live.
"At the same time she's supposed to provide the furniture. Of course people would also like to have a fancy wedding which can be quite expensive."
Pregnancies
Although they may be cheap, many urfi marriages do not end happily.
“ I was afraid so I called the guy I married and told him he needed to come over and ask for my hand officially ”
Female student who regretted her urfi marriage
A telephone hotline at the Egyptian Centre for Women's Rights receives regular calls from young women confused about the legal and religious status of their marriages or seeking help when things have gone wrong.
Legal advisor, Fawziya Abdullal, says the most serious cases involve pregnancies.
"Maybe they have a baby, then [the woman] will become responsible for the child. There are some husbands who deny their marriages so the woman is forced to launch a lawsuit to prove paternity. A DNA test has to be done."
"She has a lot of hassles and difficulties," she says.
"It will also affect her reputation because as a woman in Middle Eastern culture she cannot marry another man."
' Excuses'
It is difficult to get young women who have had bad experiences of urfi marriages to speak about them but one told us her story through a lawyer.
She explained she had never had a boyfriend before she went to university but met a fellow student on campus and fell in love.
He gave her many reasons why they could not formally marry but persuaded her to sign a urfi marriage contract.
They consummated their union at her house when her parents were out at work.
However the woman became nervous after her mother confronted her about blood on her bed sheets.
"Really I was afraid so I called the guy I married and told him he needed to come over and ask for my hand officially," she recalls.
"Straight away he found a lot of excuses why he could not come and we had an argument.
"He broke up with me and tore up our urfi marriage contract."
Eventually the student revealed to her family what had happened and they tried reporting the case to the police.
However as she had consented to sex she had no comeback. She said she felt humiliated.
Politicians and religious officials have recently called for campaigns to warn women of the dangers of urfi marriages.
There have also been suggestions of new laws to make the practice illegal.
Story from BBC NEWS:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/2/hi/middle_east/8466188.stm
Published: 2010/01/19 07:56:56 GMT
© BBC MMX
Print Sponsor
Monday, January 4, 2010
A Talking Drug
There is one visible difference between a Yemeni and most men in the world. Seven out of 10 men will have a protruding ball bulging out of their left cheek. It is not a physical abnormality, but a ball of qat, a mildly narcotic leaf that Yemenis have been chewing for centuries.
Taxi drivers will have bags of qat leaves next to their shift sticks. Vendors will have bags of qat next to the cash registers. Bureaucrats will keep qat next to their computers. Armed guards standing at attention outside public offices will break from holding their kalashnikov to pull more leaves out of the bag. By the time the sun comes down at six, the ball of qat will bulge so big that a Yemeni's speech becomes muddled and their smile turns bright green.
Qat is supposed to quicken the mind and liberate the tongue. A stimulant that induces banter and creativity. "It's like a talking drug," says Khaled, my translator. "Some people talk too much when they chew qat, but after a while it makes them sleepy and lazy." The crash after the high.
In Yemen, qat is not a luxury item, but an essential part of everyday life. Some Yemenis will spend a better part of their salary on these leaves and a better part of their day hoping for it to be 4 p.m. -- the time of day when and everybody retreats to attend a qat party.
It's a tradition that every Yemeni, no matter the social status or gender, relish. Women attend their own qat chews called tafritahs. Men attend maquils. Each chew is an opportunity to gossip, discuss politics, or simply catch up with ones neighbors.
Yemeni men chew qat.
Even though I am a woman, I have been invited to attend a maquil at the house of Jaruallah Omar, a prominent member of Yemen's Socialist Party. I arrive at 4 p.m. with Khaled, my translator to find that 50 pairs of sandals are already stacked outside the door.
I enter a smoky rectangular room 15 feet wide and as long as a tennis court to find over 60 men sitting on the floor, each separated by an armrest, compulsively stuffing their cheeks with qat. Each man has a large plastic bag full of qat, a silver spitoon, and a bottle of "Shamlan" brand mineral water at his feet.
They hold stems of qat branches and pluck the leaves fastidiously. The tender leaves from the top are preferred, but some men seem happy enough to put thick wide leaves into their mouths. I am told that tender qat can reach a price of up to $100 dollars a bag. But there are also bags that command the modest price of two bucks.
I am welcomed to this maquil as if I am one of the boys. I am asked to sit to the right of the host, Jaruallah, a charismatic man who is a leading figure in Yemen's Socialist Party. This is a great honor. The more important the person, the closer the get to sit next to the host.
Men gather at a daily "maquil" to chew qat and socialize.
Everybody wants me to try their qat. "Here, take mine, its of the finest quality," says one man with a red kafiyah draped over his head. Another man passes me an entire branch and adds, "You must try this one, it's more powerful."
I do as I'm told. First shake the leaves and massage them with my fingers to take away any pesticides. Then pluck, stacking the tender leaves on my lap and discarding the rest of the branch. Soon I am chewing on half a dozen leaves and pushing the mash with my tongue to the left, where the wad of sour paste is supposed to be lodged for a couple hours. It's not particularly unpleasant, a bit like chewing on blades of grass. But the damn qat activates the salivary glands, and I am soon swallowing thick gobs of green saliva.
While we chew, the conversation -- to my misfortune -- revolves around me. "Where were you born?" I tell them I was born in Colombia. "Why do you look like an American?" "Because my mother is American," I respond. I try to get in a few questions of my own, but the group, which consists of members of the Socialist Party and various professors and journalists, don't want to talk of Yemen. They want to hear about the Marxist guerrillas in my homeland. "What is their political program?" "Do you think they will get to power?" "Are they trying to form another Cuba?" I am amused that they are so interested in the plight of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, but I suppose its not surprising given that before unification, southern Yemen was a Communist state.
As we joke about how both Colombia and Yemen, have much in common -- Arabica coffee beans, coca and qat -- Faris Saddaq, a leading political analyst, rummages through a newspaper. Khaled my translator tells me that it is also a tradition to select a news item to discuss. Khaled explains that this only happens after the qat has had time to take hold, "so that the conversation will be more lively."
The article that has been chosen by Saddaq is one that was originally printed in a Jewish newspaper and has been translated and reprinted in an Arabic daily. The headline of the piece: "Why the Arab World Lags Behind Israel."
Once the piece has been read out loud, people take turns commenting. They discuss why Yemen, the poorest country in the Arab world, trails behind all their neighbors. One man comments that the problem is corruption. Another man says that Yemen is too insular. Another man spews a long and impassioned speech about the importance of education.
The talk goes on for hours. It happens ever day, day after day, just as it has for centuries. Work comes to a halt as Yemen stops to chew qat. Hundreds of thousands of dollars are spent on these leaves. And half the productive workday is spent idly, stuffing cheeks.
I listen to the endless debate at the maquil, and think that Yemen's underdevelopment has a lot to do with all this qat chewing.
Taxi drivers will have bags of qat leaves next to their shift sticks. Vendors will have bags of qat next to the cash registers. Bureaucrats will keep qat next to their computers. Armed guards standing at attention outside public offices will break from holding their kalashnikov to pull more leaves out of the bag. By the time the sun comes down at six, the ball of qat will bulge so big that a Yemeni's speech becomes muddled and their smile turns bright green.
Qat is supposed to quicken the mind and liberate the tongue. A stimulant that induces banter and creativity. "It's like a talking drug," says Khaled, my translator. "Some people talk too much when they chew qat, but after a while it makes them sleepy and lazy." The crash after the high.
In Yemen, qat is not a luxury item, but an essential part of everyday life. Some Yemenis will spend a better part of their salary on these leaves and a better part of their day hoping for it to be 4 p.m. -- the time of day when and everybody retreats to attend a qat party.
It's a tradition that every Yemeni, no matter the social status or gender, relish. Women attend their own qat chews called tafritahs. Men attend maquils. Each chew is an opportunity to gossip, discuss politics, or simply catch up with ones neighbors.
Yemeni men chew qat.
Even though I am a woman, I have been invited to attend a maquil at the house of Jaruallah Omar, a prominent member of Yemen's Socialist Party. I arrive at 4 p.m. with Khaled, my translator to find that 50 pairs of sandals are already stacked outside the door.
I enter a smoky rectangular room 15 feet wide and as long as a tennis court to find over 60 men sitting on the floor, each separated by an armrest, compulsively stuffing their cheeks with qat. Each man has a large plastic bag full of qat, a silver spitoon, and a bottle of "Shamlan" brand mineral water at his feet.
They hold stems of qat branches and pluck the leaves fastidiously. The tender leaves from the top are preferred, but some men seem happy enough to put thick wide leaves into their mouths. I am told that tender qat can reach a price of up to $100 dollars a bag. But there are also bags that command the modest price of two bucks.
I am welcomed to this maquil as if I am one of the boys. I am asked to sit to the right of the host, Jaruallah, a charismatic man who is a leading figure in Yemen's Socialist Party. This is a great honor. The more important the person, the closer the get to sit next to the host.
Men gather at a daily "maquil" to chew qat and socialize.
Everybody wants me to try their qat. "Here, take mine, its of the finest quality," says one man with a red kafiyah draped over his head. Another man passes me an entire branch and adds, "You must try this one, it's more powerful."
I do as I'm told. First shake the leaves and massage them with my fingers to take away any pesticides. Then pluck, stacking the tender leaves on my lap and discarding the rest of the branch. Soon I am chewing on half a dozen leaves and pushing the mash with my tongue to the left, where the wad of sour paste is supposed to be lodged for a couple hours. It's not particularly unpleasant, a bit like chewing on blades of grass. But the damn qat activates the salivary glands, and I am soon swallowing thick gobs of green saliva.
While we chew, the conversation -- to my misfortune -- revolves around me. "Where were you born?" I tell them I was born in Colombia. "Why do you look like an American?" "Because my mother is American," I respond. I try to get in a few questions of my own, but the group, which consists of members of the Socialist Party and various professors and journalists, don't want to talk of Yemen. They want to hear about the Marxist guerrillas in my homeland. "What is their political program?" "Do you think they will get to power?" "Are they trying to form another Cuba?" I am amused that they are so interested in the plight of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, but I suppose its not surprising given that before unification, southern Yemen was a Communist state.
As we joke about how both Colombia and Yemen, have much in common -- Arabica coffee beans, coca and qat -- Faris Saddaq, a leading political analyst, rummages through a newspaper. Khaled my translator tells me that it is also a tradition to select a news item to discuss. Khaled explains that this only happens after the qat has had time to take hold, "so that the conversation will be more lively."
The article that has been chosen by Saddaq is one that was originally printed in a Jewish newspaper and has been translated and reprinted in an Arabic daily. The headline of the piece: "Why the Arab World Lags Behind Israel."
Once the piece has been read out loud, people take turns commenting. They discuss why Yemen, the poorest country in the Arab world, trails behind all their neighbors. One man comments that the problem is corruption. Another man says that Yemen is too insular. Another man spews a long and impassioned speech about the importance of education.
The talk goes on for hours. It happens ever day, day after day, just as it has for centuries. Work comes to a halt as Yemen stops to chew qat. Hundreds of thousands of dollars are spent on these leaves. And half the productive workday is spent idly, stuffing cheeks.
I listen to the endless debate at the maquil, and think that Yemen's underdevelopment has a lot to do with all this qat chewing.
Jesus: the Muslim prophet
Jesus: the Muslim prophet
Mehdi Hasan
Published 10 December 2009
Christianity is rooted in the belief that Jesus is the Son of God, so is Islam’s version of Christ a source of tension, or a way of building bridges between the world’s two largest faiths?
Christians, perhaps because they call themselves Christians and believe in Christianity, like to claim ownership of Christ. But the veneration of Jesus by Muslims began during the lifetime of the Prophet of Islam. Perhaps most telling is the story in the classical biographies of Muhammad, who, entering the city of Mecca in triumph in 630AD, proceeded at once to the Kaaba to cleanse the holy shrine of its idols. As he walked around, ordering the destruction of the pictures and statues of the 360 or so pagan deities, he came across a fresco on the wall depicting the Virgin and Child. He is said to have covered it reverently with his cloak and decreed that all other paintings be washed away except that one.
Jesus, or Isa, as he is known in Arabic, is deemed by Islam to be a Muslim prophet rather than the Son of God, or God incarnate. He is referred to by name in as many as 25 different verses of the Quran and six times with the title of "Messiah" (or "Christ", depending on which Quranic translation is being used). He is also referred to as the "Messenger" and the "Prophet" but, perhaps above all else, as the "Word" and the "Spirit" of God. No other prophet in the Quran, not even Muhammad, is given this particular honour. In fact, among the 124,000 prophets said to be recognised by Islam - a figure that includes all of the Jewish prophets of the Old Testament - Jesus is considered second only to Muhammad, and is believed to be the precursor to the Prophet of Islam.
In his fascinating book The Muslim Jesus, the former Cambridge professor of Arabic and Islamic studies Tarif Khalidi brings together, from a vast range of sources, 303 stories, sayings and traditions of Jesus that can be found in Muslim literature, from the earliest centuries of Islamic history. These paint a picture of Christ not dissimilar to the Christ of the Gospels. The Muslim Jesus is the patron saint of asceticism, the lord of nature, a miracle worker, a healer, a moral, spiritual and social role model.
“Jesus used to eat the leaves of the trees," reads one saying, "dress in hairshirts, and sleep wherever night found him. He had no child who might die, no house which might fall into ruin; nor did he save his lunch for his dinner or his dinner for his lunch. He used to say, 'Each day brings with it its own sustenance.'"
According to Islamic theology, Christ did not bring a new revealed law, or reform an earlier law, but introduced a new path or way (tariqah) based on the love of God; it is perhaps for this reason that he has been adopted by the mystics, or Sufis, of Islam. The Sufi philosopher al-Ghazali described Jesus as "the prophet of the soul" and the Sufi master Ibn Arabi called him "the seal of saints". The Jesus of Islamic Sufism, as Khalidi notes, is a figure "not easily distinguished" from the Jesus of the Gospels.
What prompted Khalidi to write such a provocative book? "We need to be reminded of a history that told a very different story: how one religion, Islam, co-opted Jesus into its own spirituality yet still maintained him as an independent hero of the struggle between the spirit and the letter of the law," he told me. "It is in many ways a remarkable story of religious encounter, of one religion fortifying its own piety by adopting and cherishing the master spiritual narrative of another religion."
Islam reveres both Jesus and his mother, Mary (Joseph appears nowhere in the Islamic narrative of Christ's birth). "Unlike the canonical Gospels, the Quran tilts backward to his miraculous birth rather than forward to his Passion," writes Khalidi. "This is why he is often referred to as 'the son of Mary' and why he and his mother frequently appear together." In fact, the Virgin Mary, or Maryam, as she is known in the Quran, is considered by Muslims to hold the most exalted spiritual position among women. She is the only woman mentioned by name in Islam's holy book and a chapter of the Quran is named after her. In one oft-cited tradition, the Prophet Muhammad described her as one of the four perfect women in human history.
But the real significance of Mary is that Islam considers her a virgin and endorses the Christian concept of the Virgin Birth. "She was the chosen woman, chosen to give birth to Jesus, without a husband," says Shaykh Ibrahim Mogra, an imam in Leicester and assistant secretary general of the Muslim Council of Britain (MCB). This is the orthodox Islamic position and, paradoxically, as Seyyed Hossein Nasr notes in The Heart of Islam, "respect for such teachings is so strong among Muslims that today, in interreligious dialogues with Christians . . . Muslims are often left defending traditional . . . Christian doctrines such as the miraculous birth of Christ before modernist interpreters would reduce them to metaphors."
With Christianity and Islam so intricately linked, it might make sense for Muslim communities across Europe, harassed, harangued and often under siege, to do more to stress this common religious heritage, and especially the shared love for Jesus and Mary. There is a renowned historical precedent for this from the life of the Prophet. In 616AD, six years in to his mission in Mecca, Muhammad decided to find a safer refuge for those of his followers who had been exposed to the worst persecution from his opponents in the pagan tribes of the Quraysh. He asked the Negus, the Christian king of Abyssinia (modern-day Ethiopia), to take them in. He agreed and more than 80 Muslims left Mecca with their families. The friendly reception that greeted them upon arrival in Abyssinia so alarmed the Quraysh that, worried about the prospects of Muhammad's Muslims winning more allies abroad, they sent two delegates to the court of the Negus to persuade him to extradite them back to Mecca. The Muslim refugees, claimed the Quraysh, were blasphemers and fugitives. The Negus invited Jafar, cousin of Muhammad and leader of the Muslim group, to answer the charges. Jafar explained that Muhammad was a prophet of the same God who had confirmed his revelation to Jesus, and recited aloud the Quranic account of the virginal conception of Christ in the womb of Mary:
And make mention of Mary in the Scripture, when she had withdrawn from her people to a chamber looking East,
And had chosen seclusion from them. Then We sent unto her Our Spirit and it assumed for her the likeness of a perfect man.
She said: Lo! I seek refuge in the Beneficent One from thee, if thou art God-fearing.
He said: I am only a messenger of thy Lord, that I may bestow on thee a faultless son.
She said: How can I have a son when no mortal hath touched me, neither have I been unchaste?
He said: So (it will be). Thy Lord saith: It is easy for Me. And (it will be) that We may make of him a revelation for mankind and a mercy from Us, and it is a thing ordained.
Quran, 19:16-21
Karen Armstrong writes, in her biography of Muhammad, that "when Jafar finished, the beauty of the Quran had done its work. The Negus was weeping so hard that his beard was wet, and the tears poured down the cheeks of his bishops and advisers so copiously that their scrolls were soaked." The Muslims remained in Abyssinia, under the protection of the Negus, and were able to practise their religion freely.
However, for Muslims, the Virgin Birth is not evidence of Jesus's divinity, only of his unique importance as a prophet and a messiah. The Trinity is rejected by Islam, as is Jesus's Crucifixion and Resurrection. The common theological ground seems to narrow at this point - as Jonathan Bartley, co-director of the Christian think tank Ekklesia, argues, the belief in the Resurrection is the "deal-breaker". He adds: "There is a fundamental tension at the heart of interfaith dialogue that neither side wants to face up to, and that is that the orthodox Christian view of Jesus is blasphemous to Muslims and the orthodox Muslim view of Jesus is blasphemous to Christians." He has a point. The Quran singles out Christianity for formulating the concept of the Trinity:
Do not say, "Three" - Cease! That is better for you. God is one God. Glory be to Him, [high exalted is He] above having a son.
Quran 4:171
It castigates Christianity for the widespread practice among its sects of worshipping Jesus and Mary, and casts the criticism in the form of an interrogation of Jesus by God:
And when God will say: "O Jesus, son of Mary, did you say to the people, 'Take me and my mother as gods besides God'?" he will
say, "Glory be to You, it was not for me to say what I had no right [to say]! If I had said it, You would have known it.
Quran 5:116
Jesus, as Khalidi points out, "is a controversial prophet. He is the only prophet in the Quran who is deliberately made to distance himself from the doctrines that his community is said to hold of him." For example, Muslims believe that Jesus was not crucified but was raised bodily to heaven by God.
Yet many Muslim scholars have maintained that the Islamic conception of Jesus - shorn of divinity; outside the Trinity; a prophet - is in line with the beliefs and teachings of some of the earliest Jewish-Christian sects, such as the Ebionites and the Nazarenes, who believed Jesus to be the Messiah, but not divine. Muslims claim the Muslim Jesus is the historical Jesus, stripped of a later, man-made "Christology": "Jesus as he might have been without St Paul or St Augustine or the Council of Nicaea", to quote the Cambridge academic John Casey.
Or, as A N Wilson wrote in the Daily Express a decade ago: "Islam is a moral and intellectual acknowledgement of the lordship of God without the encumbrance of Christian mythological baggage . . . That is why Christianity will decline in the next millennium, and the religious hunger of the human heart will be answered by the Crescent, not the Cross." Despite the major doctrinal differences, there remain areas of significant overlap, such as on the second coming of Christ. Both Muslims and Christians subscribe to the belief that before the world ends Jesus will return to defeat the Antichrist, whom Muslims refer to as Dajjal.
The idea of a Muslim Jesus, in whatever doctrinal form, may help fortify the resolve of those scholars who talk of the need to reformulate the exclusivist concept of a Judaeo-Christian civilisation and refer instead to a "Judaeo-Christian-Muslim civilisation". This might be anathema to evangelical Christians - especially in the US, where populist preachers such as Franklin Graham see Islam as a "very evil and wicked religion" - but, as Khalidi points out, "While the Jewish tradition by and large rejects Jesus, the Islamic tradition, especially Sufi or mystical Islam, constructs a place for him at the very centre of its devotions."
Nonetheless, Jesus remains an esoteric part of Islamic faith and practice. Where, for example, is the Islamic equivalent of Christmas? Why do Muslims celebrate the birth of the Prophet Muhammad but not that of the Prophet Jesus? "We, too, in our own way should celebrate the birth of Jesus . . . [because] he is so special to us," says Mogra. "But I think each religious community has distinct celebrations, so Muslims will celebrate their own and Christians their own."
In recent years, the right-wing press in Britain has railed against alleged attempts by "politically correct" local authorities to downplay or even suppress Christmas. Birmingham's attempt to name its seasonal celebrations "Winterval" and Luton's Harry Potter-themed lights, or "Luminos", are notorious examples. There is often a sense that such decisions are driven by the fear that outward displays of Christian faith might offend British Muslim sensibilities, but, given the importance of Jesus in Islam, such fears seem misplaced. Mogra, who leads the MCB's interfaith relations committee, concurs: "It's a ridiculous suggestion to change the name of Christmas." He adds: "Britain is great when it comes to celebrating diverse religious festivals of our various faith communities. They should remain named as they are, and we should celebrate them all."
Mogra is brave to urge Muslims to engage in an outward and public celebration of Jesus, in particular his birth, in order to match the private reverence that Muslims say they have for him. Is there a danger, however, that Muslim attempts to re-establish the importance of Jesus within Islam and as an integral part of their faith and tradition might be misinterpreted? Might they be misconstrued as part of a campaign by a supposedly resurgent and politicised Islam to try to take "ownership" of Jesus, in a western world in which organised Christianity is in seeming decline? Might it be counterproductive for interfaith relations? Church leaders, thankfully, seem to disagree.
“I have always enjoyed spending time with Muslim friends, with whom we as Christians have so much in common, along with Jewish people, as we all trace our faith back to Abraham," the Archbishop of York, Dr John Sentamu, tells me. "When I visit a mosque, having been welcomed in the name of 'Allah and His Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon Him', I respond with greetings 'in the name of Jesus Christ, whom you Muslims revere as a prophet, and whom I know as the Saviour of the World, the Prince of Peace'."
Amid tensions between the Christian west and the Islamic east, a common focus on Jesus - and what Khalidi calls a "salutary" reminder of when Christianity and Islam were more open to each other and willing to rely on each other's witness - could help close the growing divide between the world's two largest faiths. Mogra agrees: "We don't have to fight over Jesus. He is special for Christians and Muslims. He is bigger than life. We can share him."
Reverend David Marshall, one of the Church of England's specialists on Islam, cites the concluding comments from the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, at a recent seminar for Christian and Muslim scholars. He said he had been encouraged by "the quality of our disagreement". "Christians and Muslims disagree on many points and will continue to do so - but how we disagree is not predetermined," says Marshall. "Muslims are called by the Quran to 'argue only in the best way with the People of the Book' [Quran 29:46], and Christians are encouraged to give reasons for the hope that is within them, 'with gentleness and reverence' [1 Peter 3:15]. If we can do this, we have no reason to be afraid."
“The Muslim Jesus" by Tarif Khalidi is published by Harvard University Press (£14.95)
Mehdi Hasan is the NS's senior editor (politics)
Follow the New Statesman team on Twitter
Mehdi Hasan
Published 10 December 2009
Christianity is rooted in the belief that Jesus is the Son of God, so is Islam’s version of Christ a source of tension, or a way of building bridges between the world’s two largest faiths?
Christians, perhaps because they call themselves Christians and believe in Christianity, like to claim ownership of Christ. But the veneration of Jesus by Muslims began during the lifetime of the Prophet of Islam. Perhaps most telling is the story in the classical biographies of Muhammad, who, entering the city of Mecca in triumph in 630AD, proceeded at once to the Kaaba to cleanse the holy shrine of its idols. As he walked around, ordering the destruction of the pictures and statues of the 360 or so pagan deities, he came across a fresco on the wall depicting the Virgin and Child. He is said to have covered it reverently with his cloak and decreed that all other paintings be washed away except that one.
Jesus, or Isa, as he is known in Arabic, is deemed by Islam to be a Muslim prophet rather than the Son of God, or God incarnate. He is referred to by name in as many as 25 different verses of the Quran and six times with the title of "Messiah" (or "Christ", depending on which Quranic translation is being used). He is also referred to as the "Messenger" and the "Prophet" but, perhaps above all else, as the "Word" and the "Spirit" of God. No other prophet in the Quran, not even Muhammad, is given this particular honour. In fact, among the 124,000 prophets said to be recognised by Islam - a figure that includes all of the Jewish prophets of the Old Testament - Jesus is considered second only to Muhammad, and is believed to be the precursor to the Prophet of Islam.
In his fascinating book The Muslim Jesus, the former Cambridge professor of Arabic and Islamic studies Tarif Khalidi brings together, from a vast range of sources, 303 stories, sayings and traditions of Jesus that can be found in Muslim literature, from the earliest centuries of Islamic history. These paint a picture of Christ not dissimilar to the Christ of the Gospels. The Muslim Jesus is the patron saint of asceticism, the lord of nature, a miracle worker, a healer, a moral, spiritual and social role model.
“Jesus used to eat the leaves of the trees," reads one saying, "dress in hairshirts, and sleep wherever night found him. He had no child who might die, no house which might fall into ruin; nor did he save his lunch for his dinner or his dinner for his lunch. He used to say, 'Each day brings with it its own sustenance.'"
According to Islamic theology, Christ did not bring a new revealed law, or reform an earlier law, but introduced a new path or way (tariqah) based on the love of God; it is perhaps for this reason that he has been adopted by the mystics, or Sufis, of Islam. The Sufi philosopher al-Ghazali described Jesus as "the prophet of the soul" and the Sufi master Ibn Arabi called him "the seal of saints". The Jesus of Islamic Sufism, as Khalidi notes, is a figure "not easily distinguished" from the Jesus of the Gospels.
What prompted Khalidi to write such a provocative book? "We need to be reminded of a history that told a very different story: how one religion, Islam, co-opted Jesus into its own spirituality yet still maintained him as an independent hero of the struggle between the spirit and the letter of the law," he told me. "It is in many ways a remarkable story of religious encounter, of one religion fortifying its own piety by adopting and cherishing the master spiritual narrative of another religion."
Islam reveres both Jesus and his mother, Mary (Joseph appears nowhere in the Islamic narrative of Christ's birth). "Unlike the canonical Gospels, the Quran tilts backward to his miraculous birth rather than forward to his Passion," writes Khalidi. "This is why he is often referred to as 'the son of Mary' and why he and his mother frequently appear together." In fact, the Virgin Mary, or Maryam, as she is known in the Quran, is considered by Muslims to hold the most exalted spiritual position among women. She is the only woman mentioned by name in Islam's holy book and a chapter of the Quran is named after her. In one oft-cited tradition, the Prophet Muhammad described her as one of the four perfect women in human history.
But the real significance of Mary is that Islam considers her a virgin and endorses the Christian concept of the Virgin Birth. "She was the chosen woman, chosen to give birth to Jesus, without a husband," says Shaykh Ibrahim Mogra, an imam in Leicester and assistant secretary general of the Muslim Council of Britain (MCB). This is the orthodox Islamic position and, paradoxically, as Seyyed Hossein Nasr notes in The Heart of Islam, "respect for such teachings is so strong among Muslims that today, in interreligious dialogues with Christians . . . Muslims are often left defending traditional . . . Christian doctrines such as the miraculous birth of Christ before modernist interpreters would reduce them to metaphors."
With Christianity and Islam so intricately linked, it might make sense for Muslim communities across Europe, harassed, harangued and often under siege, to do more to stress this common religious heritage, and especially the shared love for Jesus and Mary. There is a renowned historical precedent for this from the life of the Prophet. In 616AD, six years in to his mission in Mecca, Muhammad decided to find a safer refuge for those of his followers who had been exposed to the worst persecution from his opponents in the pagan tribes of the Quraysh. He asked the Negus, the Christian king of Abyssinia (modern-day Ethiopia), to take them in. He agreed and more than 80 Muslims left Mecca with their families. The friendly reception that greeted them upon arrival in Abyssinia so alarmed the Quraysh that, worried about the prospects of Muhammad's Muslims winning more allies abroad, they sent two delegates to the court of the Negus to persuade him to extradite them back to Mecca. The Muslim refugees, claimed the Quraysh, were blasphemers and fugitives. The Negus invited Jafar, cousin of Muhammad and leader of the Muslim group, to answer the charges. Jafar explained that Muhammad was a prophet of the same God who had confirmed his revelation to Jesus, and recited aloud the Quranic account of the virginal conception of Christ in the womb of Mary:
And make mention of Mary in the Scripture, when she had withdrawn from her people to a chamber looking East,
And had chosen seclusion from them. Then We sent unto her Our Spirit and it assumed for her the likeness of a perfect man.
She said: Lo! I seek refuge in the Beneficent One from thee, if thou art God-fearing.
He said: I am only a messenger of thy Lord, that I may bestow on thee a faultless son.
She said: How can I have a son when no mortal hath touched me, neither have I been unchaste?
He said: So (it will be). Thy Lord saith: It is easy for Me. And (it will be) that We may make of him a revelation for mankind and a mercy from Us, and it is a thing ordained.
Quran, 19:16-21
Karen Armstrong writes, in her biography of Muhammad, that "when Jafar finished, the beauty of the Quran had done its work. The Negus was weeping so hard that his beard was wet, and the tears poured down the cheeks of his bishops and advisers so copiously that their scrolls were soaked." The Muslims remained in Abyssinia, under the protection of the Negus, and were able to practise their religion freely.
However, for Muslims, the Virgin Birth is not evidence of Jesus's divinity, only of his unique importance as a prophet and a messiah. The Trinity is rejected by Islam, as is Jesus's Crucifixion and Resurrection. The common theological ground seems to narrow at this point - as Jonathan Bartley, co-director of the Christian think tank Ekklesia, argues, the belief in the Resurrection is the "deal-breaker". He adds: "There is a fundamental tension at the heart of interfaith dialogue that neither side wants to face up to, and that is that the orthodox Christian view of Jesus is blasphemous to Muslims and the orthodox Muslim view of Jesus is blasphemous to Christians." He has a point. The Quran singles out Christianity for formulating the concept of the Trinity:
Do not say, "Three" - Cease! That is better for you. God is one God. Glory be to Him, [high exalted is He] above having a son.
Quran 4:171
It castigates Christianity for the widespread practice among its sects of worshipping Jesus and Mary, and casts the criticism in the form of an interrogation of Jesus by God:
And when God will say: "O Jesus, son of Mary, did you say to the people, 'Take me and my mother as gods besides God'?" he will
say, "Glory be to You, it was not for me to say what I had no right [to say]! If I had said it, You would have known it.
Quran 5:116
Jesus, as Khalidi points out, "is a controversial prophet. He is the only prophet in the Quran who is deliberately made to distance himself from the doctrines that his community is said to hold of him." For example, Muslims believe that Jesus was not crucified but was raised bodily to heaven by God.
Yet many Muslim scholars have maintained that the Islamic conception of Jesus - shorn of divinity; outside the Trinity; a prophet - is in line with the beliefs and teachings of some of the earliest Jewish-Christian sects, such as the Ebionites and the Nazarenes, who believed Jesus to be the Messiah, but not divine. Muslims claim the Muslim Jesus is the historical Jesus, stripped of a later, man-made "Christology": "Jesus as he might have been without St Paul or St Augustine or the Council of Nicaea", to quote the Cambridge academic John Casey.
Or, as A N Wilson wrote in the Daily Express a decade ago: "Islam is a moral and intellectual acknowledgement of the lordship of God without the encumbrance of Christian mythological baggage . . . That is why Christianity will decline in the next millennium, and the religious hunger of the human heart will be answered by the Crescent, not the Cross." Despite the major doctrinal differences, there remain areas of significant overlap, such as on the second coming of Christ. Both Muslims and Christians subscribe to the belief that before the world ends Jesus will return to defeat the Antichrist, whom Muslims refer to as Dajjal.
The idea of a Muslim Jesus, in whatever doctrinal form, may help fortify the resolve of those scholars who talk of the need to reformulate the exclusivist concept of a Judaeo-Christian civilisation and refer instead to a "Judaeo-Christian-Muslim civilisation". This might be anathema to evangelical Christians - especially in the US, where populist preachers such as Franklin Graham see Islam as a "very evil and wicked religion" - but, as Khalidi points out, "While the Jewish tradition by and large rejects Jesus, the Islamic tradition, especially Sufi or mystical Islam, constructs a place for him at the very centre of its devotions."
Nonetheless, Jesus remains an esoteric part of Islamic faith and practice. Where, for example, is the Islamic equivalent of Christmas? Why do Muslims celebrate the birth of the Prophet Muhammad but not that of the Prophet Jesus? "We, too, in our own way should celebrate the birth of Jesus . . . [because] he is so special to us," says Mogra. "But I think each religious community has distinct celebrations, so Muslims will celebrate their own and Christians their own."
In recent years, the right-wing press in Britain has railed against alleged attempts by "politically correct" local authorities to downplay or even suppress Christmas. Birmingham's attempt to name its seasonal celebrations "Winterval" and Luton's Harry Potter-themed lights, or "Luminos", are notorious examples. There is often a sense that such decisions are driven by the fear that outward displays of Christian faith might offend British Muslim sensibilities, but, given the importance of Jesus in Islam, such fears seem misplaced. Mogra, who leads the MCB's interfaith relations committee, concurs: "It's a ridiculous suggestion to change the name of Christmas." He adds: "Britain is great when it comes to celebrating diverse religious festivals of our various faith communities. They should remain named as they are, and we should celebrate them all."
Mogra is brave to urge Muslims to engage in an outward and public celebration of Jesus, in particular his birth, in order to match the private reverence that Muslims say they have for him. Is there a danger, however, that Muslim attempts to re-establish the importance of Jesus within Islam and as an integral part of their faith and tradition might be misinterpreted? Might they be misconstrued as part of a campaign by a supposedly resurgent and politicised Islam to try to take "ownership" of Jesus, in a western world in which organised Christianity is in seeming decline? Might it be counterproductive for interfaith relations? Church leaders, thankfully, seem to disagree.
“I have always enjoyed spending time with Muslim friends, with whom we as Christians have so much in common, along with Jewish people, as we all trace our faith back to Abraham," the Archbishop of York, Dr John Sentamu, tells me. "When I visit a mosque, having been welcomed in the name of 'Allah and His Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon Him', I respond with greetings 'in the name of Jesus Christ, whom you Muslims revere as a prophet, and whom I know as the Saviour of the World, the Prince of Peace'."
Amid tensions between the Christian west and the Islamic east, a common focus on Jesus - and what Khalidi calls a "salutary" reminder of when Christianity and Islam were more open to each other and willing to rely on each other's witness - could help close the growing divide between the world's two largest faiths. Mogra agrees: "We don't have to fight over Jesus. He is special for Christians and Muslims. He is bigger than life. We can share him."
Reverend David Marshall, one of the Church of England's specialists on Islam, cites the concluding comments from the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, at a recent seminar for Christian and Muslim scholars. He said he had been encouraged by "the quality of our disagreement". "Christians and Muslims disagree on many points and will continue to do so - but how we disagree is not predetermined," says Marshall. "Muslims are called by the Quran to 'argue only in the best way with the People of the Book' [Quran 29:46], and Christians are encouraged to give reasons for the hope that is within them, 'with gentleness and reverence' [1 Peter 3:15]. If we can do this, we have no reason to be afraid."
“The Muslim Jesus" by Tarif Khalidi is published by Harvard University Press (£14.95)
Mehdi Hasan is the NS's senior editor (politics)
Follow the New Statesman team on Twitter
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Do You Know Who Owns Trader Joe’s?
February 19, 2009, 10:41 am
Do You Know Who Owns Trader Joe’s?
By STEPHEN J. DUBNER
Do you shop at Trader Joe’s?
From what I have seen, the world is divided into three sets of people.
1. Those who have never been to a Trader Joe’s, and perhaps have never heard of it.
2. Those who love Trader Joe’s more than they love their own families.
3. Those who love Trader Joe’s more than they love their own families and are incensed that there isn’t one nearby.
So, let me ask those of you who fall into categories 2 and 3: Who owns Trader Joe’s?
1. Some great California family full of surfers and gardeners.
2. A small band of communal farmers in Oregon.
3. A huge German discount-grocery chain best known in the U.S. for no-glamor stores often located in marginal neighborhoods.
Yeah, it’s No. 3. The company is called Aldi and, though I’d seen one or two of its stores in the past, I didn’t even know it was a grocery store. Then I read this very interesting Wall Street Journal piece about the company’s ambitious new plan for the U.S., which calls for 75 new stores this year. The article claims that Aldi is so good at selling cheap goods that WalMart couldn’t compete with it in Germany. How do they do it? Here’s one way:
Store-brand goods generally make up 22 percent of U.S. food sales in terms of unit volume, according to research by Nielsen Co., while in some European markets, they account for about 30 percent. At Aldi, 95 percent of the goods are the retailer’s own brands.
They are, in other words, not the obvious owner of a chain like Trader Joe’s — which, although it tries to be ruthlessly cheap, also has a very high style quotient and neighborhood grocery store vibe.
I thought of all this when I ran into a friend who used to work at a Trader Joe’s. I asked her if she knew who owned the chain. She said no, then thought about it, and suddenly remembered: “Oh yeah, some Germans!”
She knew this only because some Aldi executives came to look at her store a few times, and as she recalls it, her management asked all the employees to not speak to the Aldi executives. It was unclear why this was necessary.
Then she remembered something else: “The carts we used to wheel boxes up and down the aisles, we called them U-boats, because they were shaped like a U. We were told to definitely not call them U-boats whenever the Germans were visiting.”
Do You Know Who Owns Trader Joe’s?
By STEPHEN J. DUBNER
Do you shop at Trader Joe’s?
From what I have seen, the world is divided into three sets of people.
1. Those who have never been to a Trader Joe’s, and perhaps have never heard of it.
2. Those who love Trader Joe’s more than they love their own families.
3. Those who love Trader Joe’s more than they love their own families and are incensed that there isn’t one nearby.
So, let me ask those of you who fall into categories 2 and 3: Who owns Trader Joe’s?
1. Some great California family full of surfers and gardeners.
2. A small band of communal farmers in Oregon.
3. A huge German discount-grocery chain best known in the U.S. for no-glamor stores often located in marginal neighborhoods.
Yeah, it’s No. 3. The company is called Aldi and, though I’d seen one or two of its stores in the past, I didn’t even know it was a grocery store. Then I read this very interesting Wall Street Journal piece about the company’s ambitious new plan for the U.S., which calls for 75 new stores this year. The article claims that Aldi is so good at selling cheap goods that WalMart couldn’t compete with it in Germany. How do they do it? Here’s one way:
Store-brand goods generally make up 22 percent of U.S. food sales in terms of unit volume, according to research by Nielsen Co., while in some European markets, they account for about 30 percent. At Aldi, 95 percent of the goods are the retailer’s own brands.
They are, in other words, not the obvious owner of a chain like Trader Joe’s — which, although it tries to be ruthlessly cheap, also has a very high style quotient and neighborhood grocery store vibe.
I thought of all this when I ran into a friend who used to work at a Trader Joe’s. I asked her if she knew who owned the chain. She said no, then thought about it, and suddenly remembered: “Oh yeah, some Germans!”
She knew this only because some Aldi executives came to look at her store a few times, and as she recalls it, her management asked all the employees to not speak to the Aldi executives. It was unclear why this was necessary.
Then she remembered something else: “The carts we used to wheel boxes up and down the aisles, we called them U-boats, because they were shaped like a U. We were told to definitely not call them U-boats whenever the Germans were visiting.”
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Divorce by Texting
India: Divorce by text messaging and e-mail on the rise among Muslim men
New Delhi, 13 Feb. (AKI/Asian Age) - A rights organisation based in India said that divorces through e-mail, text message (SMS) and telephone are on the rise among India's Muslim population.
A study on "Marriage and divorce amongst Muslim women in India", undertaken by Sahiba Hussain, reader, Centre for Dalit and Minorities, Jamia Milia Islamia, highlights that more and more men are divorcing via SMS and e-mail.
Where women do not have access to mobile phones or computers, men use landline phones to pronounce the divorce declaration. "From 15 divorces that we looked at in 2008, eight were pronounced via SMS, e-mail and over the phone," said Husssain.
"Five divorce declarations were given face to face but amongst these also, only in one case a witness present when the declaration was made," she said.
The phenomenon is taking place despite a decree by the All-India Muslim Women Personal Law Board’s which forbids men from divorcing by electronic means.
Most of the SMS’ and e-mails had husbands complaining along predictable lines. They did not find the wife "beautiful enough", "compatible enough" or of having brought "adequate dowry".
Dowry demands are on the rise and the minimum cash payment being made by the wife’s family to the bridegroom is 5,000 rupees or the equivalent of 80 euros.
Even those families which earn as little 10 rupees per day or 15 euro cents are expected to fork out a dowry.
"One woman was so confused after receiving the SMS that she sought clarification from the qazi, or Islamic judge who, on reading the pronouncement, said that it did amount to a divorce.
"The husband was working abroad when he sent it," Hussain said.
Over 30 women have been interviewed so far from Delhi and several other cities in Bihar including Darbanga, Madhubani, Munghyar and Gaya in Bihar.
The idea was to include feedback from women living in both urban and rural India. Only one woman received a registered notice. In 90 percent of the cases it was found that women had to wait, sometimes as long as 27 years, just to recover her 'meher' or dowry, with husbands giving assurance that the "meher would be given to the woman at an appropriate time".
With Islamic judges not being in a position to ensure bridegrooms pay the maintenance or support money, a majority of Muslim women seek maintenance through civil courts, the study concludes.
Women divorcees are among those with the lowest social status in Indian Muslim society.
The report cites the example of one such divorced woman who faces much social stigma while "until today, her younger two sisters have remained unmarried", said Hussain.
New Delhi, 13 Feb. (AKI/Asian Age) - A rights organisation based in India said that divorces through e-mail, text message (SMS) and telephone are on the rise among India's Muslim population.
A study on "Marriage and divorce amongst Muslim women in India", undertaken by Sahiba Hussain, reader, Centre for Dalit and Minorities, Jamia Milia Islamia, highlights that more and more men are divorcing via SMS and e-mail.
Where women do not have access to mobile phones or computers, men use landline phones to pronounce the divorce declaration. "From 15 divorces that we looked at in 2008, eight were pronounced via SMS, e-mail and over the phone," said Husssain.
"Five divorce declarations were given face to face but amongst these also, only in one case a witness present when the declaration was made," she said.
The phenomenon is taking place despite a decree by the All-India Muslim Women Personal Law Board’s which forbids men from divorcing by electronic means.
Most of the SMS’ and e-mails had husbands complaining along predictable lines. They did not find the wife "beautiful enough", "compatible enough" or of having brought "adequate dowry".
Dowry demands are on the rise and the minimum cash payment being made by the wife’s family to the bridegroom is 5,000 rupees or the equivalent of 80 euros.
Even those families which earn as little 10 rupees per day or 15 euro cents are expected to fork out a dowry.
"One woman was so confused after receiving the SMS that she sought clarification from the qazi, or Islamic judge who, on reading the pronouncement, said that it did amount to a divorce.
"The husband was working abroad when he sent it," Hussain said.
Over 30 women have been interviewed so far from Delhi and several other cities in Bihar including Darbanga, Madhubani, Munghyar and Gaya in Bihar.
The idea was to include feedback from women living in both urban and rural India. Only one woman received a registered notice. In 90 percent of the cases it was found that women had to wait, sometimes as long as 27 years, just to recover her 'meher' or dowry, with husbands giving assurance that the "meher would be given to the woman at an appropriate time".
With Islamic judges not being in a position to ensure bridegrooms pay the maintenance or support money, a majority of Muslim women seek maintenance through civil courts, the study concludes.
Women divorcees are among those with the lowest social status in Indian Muslim society.
The report cites the example of one such divorced woman who faces much social stigma while "until today, her younger two sisters have remained unmarried", said Hussain.
Increasing divorce rate alarms many in Saudi Arabia
Increasing divorce rate alarms many in Saudi Arabia
Some say men are unable to deal with modern women
By Donna Abu-Nasr
Associated Press
Published: Monday, Dec. 11, 2006 11:59 a.m. MST
JIDDAH, Saudi Arabia — Khulud Abdul-Aziz enrolled in a course on manners, fashion and cooking that prepares young women to be good wives because she does not want to end up another statistic in Saudi Arabia's rising divorce rate.
"I want to be qualified for marriage in every respect," said the 19-year-old university student who is getting married in a few months.
The increasing divorce rate has alarmed many here, but some argue Saudi men can be part of the problem, unable to deal with a female population that is more educated and assertive.
The course Abdul-Aziz takes at al-Shaqaiq Society in the western seaport of Jiddah is just one of the ways social organizations are trying to help curb the number of divorces, which has grown 20 percent in recent years, according to government estimates.
While courts and marriage officials register around 70,000 marriage contracts annually, they also process more than 13,000 official divorce papers, said the Planning Ministry, according to media reports.
Fahad al-Yahya, a psychiatrist who counsels married couples, estimates at least 30 percent of Saudi first marriages end in divorce. The rate is comparable to the United States where, according to the National Center for Health Statistics, 33 percent of first marriages are disrupted either by separation or divorce.
So alarming is the problem that Saudi newspapers often carry stories discussing the issue, citing examples of the trivial incidents that lead to some of the divorces.
For instance, newspapers reported that a man divorced his wife after he found out she'd owned a camera phone for two years. Another left her because she insisted on waiting for a flight at the airport that kept getting delayed instead of returning home — as the husband had suggested.
Experts say the rapid technological change the kingdom witnessed as a result of the 1970s oil boom is one of the major reasons for the rise in divorce rates.
Oil money rapidly turned desert expanses into slick urban centers and gave a boost to women's education, introduced only in the 1960s. But this quick jump into the 21st century has not been accompanied by a parallel adaptation in traditions, tribal customs and attitudes, such as views that wives should be meek and undemanding. Some men, experts say, don't know how to cope with educated women.
"The Saudi woman has joined the work force and has become more educated," said al-Yahya. "This has changed their image from the one that prevailed in the past."
Stringent rules segregating the sexes have remained in place despite the modern facade that has brought malls, satellite TV and the Internet into the kingdom.
Boys and girls are separated once they reach puberty and are often not prepared to live with a member of the opposite sex after they get married. Women, who must wear veils and black cloaks called abayas, are kept away from men who are not husbands, brothers or uncles.
Very rarely do couples go out before they get married, and some don't see their spouses until their wedding night.
Even after they get married, it is difficult for couples to go out together. For instance, a married couple cannot go out to dinner with other married couples because the wives would be in the presence of men who are not their husbands. At family gatherings, women and men sit in separate rooms.
The institution of marriage also has been rocked by the introduction of other forms of marriage, sometimes called weekend marriages, that have grown in popularity in Saudi Arabia after influential clergy issued edicts supporting them earlier this year. These marriages relieve men of financial responsibilities and other obligations, including having to reveal them to family or other wives. Islam allows men to have up to four wives.
The proponents of such marriages say they decrease the number of unwed Saudi women, but critics say such unions destroy the family structure and encourage men to take additional wives who are usually younger "ornaments" rather than older unmarried women.
"I wonder if the virtuous men issuing such edicts do not pause to ponder the effects of such righteous proclamations on our fragile society," wrote Tariq al-Maeena in Arab News recently.
Al-Yahya said one way to save marriages is to make divorces more difficult. In Islam, a man can dissolve a marriage just by telling his wife, "You are divorced." Women, meanwhile, must go to court to get their marriages dissolved and only under exceptional circumstances such as the husband's mental illness.
"If there were strict laws they would make men think twice before divorcing their wives," al-Yahya said.
At a recent al-Shaqaiq Society class, Abdul-Aziz and 17 other young women sat in leather chairs at a horseshoe-shaped table to hear a lecture on "Discovering the Treasures for a Happy Life." The society also offers similar courses for men.
"What do you want out of married life?" instructor Almass al-Hijn asked the group. "Is your goal to find someone to spoil you and take you out to restaurants or to find a man who will protect you and with whom you can build a family?"
One student, 19-year-old Sara Bawahhal who recently got engaged, said she just hopes the course gives her the tools she needs to be a good wife.
"Girls don't know what is expected of them in marriage," she said. "This course expands a girl's horizons so she can go into marriage with open eyes."
© 2009 Deseret News Publishing Company | All rights reserved
Some say men are unable to deal with modern women
By Donna Abu-Nasr
Associated Press
Published: Monday, Dec. 11, 2006 11:59 a.m. MST
JIDDAH, Saudi Arabia — Khulud Abdul-Aziz enrolled in a course on manners, fashion and cooking that prepares young women to be good wives because she does not want to end up another statistic in Saudi Arabia's rising divorce rate.
"I want to be qualified for marriage in every respect," said the 19-year-old university student who is getting married in a few months.
The increasing divorce rate has alarmed many here, but some argue Saudi men can be part of the problem, unable to deal with a female population that is more educated and assertive.
The course Abdul-Aziz takes at al-Shaqaiq Society in the western seaport of Jiddah is just one of the ways social organizations are trying to help curb the number of divorces, which has grown 20 percent in recent years, according to government estimates.
While courts and marriage officials register around 70,000 marriage contracts annually, they also process more than 13,000 official divorce papers, said the Planning Ministry, according to media reports.
Fahad al-Yahya, a psychiatrist who counsels married couples, estimates at least 30 percent of Saudi first marriages end in divorce. The rate is comparable to the United States where, according to the National Center for Health Statistics, 33 percent of first marriages are disrupted either by separation or divorce.
So alarming is the problem that Saudi newspapers often carry stories discussing the issue, citing examples of the trivial incidents that lead to some of the divorces.
For instance, newspapers reported that a man divorced his wife after he found out she'd owned a camera phone for two years. Another left her because she insisted on waiting for a flight at the airport that kept getting delayed instead of returning home — as the husband had suggested.
Experts say the rapid technological change the kingdom witnessed as a result of the 1970s oil boom is one of the major reasons for the rise in divorce rates.
Oil money rapidly turned desert expanses into slick urban centers and gave a boost to women's education, introduced only in the 1960s. But this quick jump into the 21st century has not been accompanied by a parallel adaptation in traditions, tribal customs and attitudes, such as views that wives should be meek and undemanding. Some men, experts say, don't know how to cope with educated women.
"The Saudi woman has joined the work force and has become more educated," said al-Yahya. "This has changed their image from the one that prevailed in the past."
Stringent rules segregating the sexes have remained in place despite the modern facade that has brought malls, satellite TV and the Internet into the kingdom.
Boys and girls are separated once they reach puberty and are often not prepared to live with a member of the opposite sex after they get married. Women, who must wear veils and black cloaks called abayas, are kept away from men who are not husbands, brothers or uncles.
Very rarely do couples go out before they get married, and some don't see their spouses until their wedding night.
Even after they get married, it is difficult for couples to go out together. For instance, a married couple cannot go out to dinner with other married couples because the wives would be in the presence of men who are not their husbands. At family gatherings, women and men sit in separate rooms.
The institution of marriage also has been rocked by the introduction of other forms of marriage, sometimes called weekend marriages, that have grown in popularity in Saudi Arabia after influential clergy issued edicts supporting them earlier this year. These marriages relieve men of financial responsibilities and other obligations, including having to reveal them to family or other wives. Islam allows men to have up to four wives.
The proponents of such marriages say they decrease the number of unwed Saudi women, but critics say such unions destroy the family structure and encourage men to take additional wives who are usually younger "ornaments" rather than older unmarried women.
"I wonder if the virtuous men issuing such edicts do not pause to ponder the effects of such righteous proclamations on our fragile society," wrote Tariq al-Maeena in Arab News recently.
Al-Yahya said one way to save marriages is to make divorces more difficult. In Islam, a man can dissolve a marriage just by telling his wife, "You are divorced." Women, meanwhile, must go to court to get their marriages dissolved and only under exceptional circumstances such as the husband's mental illness.
"If there were strict laws they would make men think twice before divorcing their wives," al-Yahya said.
At a recent al-Shaqaiq Society class, Abdul-Aziz and 17 other young women sat in leather chairs at a horseshoe-shaped table to hear a lecture on "Discovering the Treasures for a Happy Life." The society also offers similar courses for men.
"What do you want out of married life?" instructor Almass al-Hijn asked the group. "Is your goal to find someone to spoil you and take you out to restaurants or to find a man who will protect you and with whom you can build a family?"
One student, 19-year-old Sara Bawahhal who recently got engaged, said she just hopes the course gives her the tools she needs to be a good wife.
"Girls don't know what is expected of them in marriage," she said. "This course expands a girl's horizons so she can go into marriage with open eyes."
© 2009 Deseret News Publishing Company | All rights reserved
High dowry? No, won’t marry you!
By Diana Al-Jassem
JEDDAH – Young Saudi men have started an online campaign to boycott marrying Saudi women because dowries and marriage costs are spiraling.
“Let her become a spinster!” is the theme of the campaign which is attracting a large number of young Saudi men who can’t afford to marry Saudi women and are looking for non-Saudi brides.
The websites leading the campaign want Saudi society to intervene before the cost of marriage gets completely out of control.
The websites are asyeh.com. almgha.com. toyota4arab.com, tomaar.com. alhora.com, and montdiatna.com.
“The theme of the campaign may seem a bit harsh... but these young men have their reasons,” said Abdullah Al-Jefn, an Islamic scholar and researcher.
He said the campaign touches on an important issue which should be studied in universities and schools.
“For most young Saudis, getting married is a dream that is becoming increasingly hard to achieve,” Al-Jefn said.
“Shariah law allows the girl to ask the man for whatever dowry she likes; this is not wrong or banned in Islam,” he said. – SG
JEDDAH – Young Saudi men have started an online campaign to boycott marrying Saudi women because dowries and marriage costs are spiraling.
“Let her become a spinster!” is the theme of the campaign which is attracting a large number of young Saudi men who can’t afford to marry Saudi women and are looking for non-Saudi brides.
The websites leading the campaign want Saudi society to intervene before the cost of marriage gets completely out of control.
The websites are asyeh.com. almgha.com. toyota4arab.com, tomaar.com. alhora.com, and montdiatna.com.
“The theme of the campaign may seem a bit harsh... but these young men have their reasons,” said Abdullah Al-Jefn, an Islamic scholar and researcher.
He said the campaign touches on an important issue which should be studied in universities and schools.
“For most young Saudis, getting married is a dream that is becoming increasingly hard to achieve,” Al-Jefn said.
“Shariah law allows the girl to ask the man for whatever dowry she likes; this is not wrong or banned in Islam,” he said. – SG
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Unmarried Women — Alarming Statistics
The Middle East's Leading English Language Daily
Monday 25 October 2004 (11 Ramadan 1425)
Depending on the societies they live in, when unmarried girls reach a certain age which differs from society to society, people begin to refer to them as “old maids” or “spinsters”.
Especially in Arab countries, people still look upon a young unmarried girl as though she were to blame for her state. Fingers are pointed accusingly at her regardless of the reasons or her own circumstances. The girl soon becomes the butt of ridicule, accusations, and meddling by those around her and even those closest to her.
The reasons for the girl’s delay in getting married or in not getting married at all are many and varied. There are social circumstances and pressures that drive a girl to study and to work in order to become financially stable.
There are also other reasons such as high dowries. Then there are families which demand that a prospective suitor have certain characteristics or else they will not allow their daughters or sisters to marry him. Omaimah Sanad from Sayidaty, a sister publication of Arab News, examined the problem.
JEDDAH, 25 October 2004 — What do girls in Saudi Arabia say about why they are not married? How much do they suffer because they are not married? Can a girl begin a new life and start a family no matter how late?
Fawzia, who is 38 years old, said: “I tried to imitate some girls in my family by carrying the banner of ‘No To Marriage’ — at least not until I had completed my education, graduated and worked as a teacher. As time passed, I became increasingly involved in my professional life. To be fair, I received many proposals at that time but the men did not meet my standards. And my friends and family agreed with me because they wanted me to have what I wanted in a partner. My mother, however, God rest her soul, disagreed and used to try to convince me to take the proposals more seriously. She told me over and over not to imitate my cousins since they had not received proposals as good as mine in the first place. But I didn’t listen to her and thought that as I was still young and attractive, I had plenty of time to consider different options and choose the right man. The days and months flew by and with the deaths of my mother and father, I was left alone. Most of my friends are married now; I’m still alone and my looks are fading with time. I realize too late that I’ve wasted my life setting impossible conditions for the men who wanted to marry me.”
Dr. Ulfat, a single woman in her 40s, said: “I wronged myself by going along with my mother’s decisions. My mother refused every suitor on the basis that he wasn’t worthy of us. And what made things worse was that my father was so much weaker than my mother that she had ‘the’ say in everything related to my sisters and me for more than 20 years. My sisters and I never had the courage to disagree with her or challenge her. And if the suitor was up to our standards, she would make up conditions that were impossible to fulfill. We never knew what she wanted from a prospective husband. The situation continued until we were no longer young but were still being called ‘Miss’. Now whenever anyone asks us why we are not married, we justify ourselves by saying that we are too involved with our professional lives. Our mother still dreams of a perfect husband for each of us; in her eyes, we are still ‘little girls’ even though we are all highly qualified adults.”
Mona, who is 35 and still single, said: “Yes, it is not easy being an unmarried woman in our society. Girls who refuse to marry don’t do so without a reason. Very often the reason is her family’s attitude and that is the reason in my case. Today I’m 35 and I’ve been getting proposals since I was 14; my father, however, refused them all since he was influenced by my stepmother who accused every man of being a gold digger, greedy for my money and social status. At the same time, she managed to marry off her own daughters to men who were not always up to the standards she set for me. The result was that I focused on my studies since I had no other outlet. I had to dodge the queries about my being single. People pitied me and said how strange it was that with my looks, education and status that I was still unmarried. Even after I graduated and began working, suitors approached my family but all were turned away. We have reached the point where no one will ask for me since it is well-known that everybody will be refused.”
Munira, who is over 30, said: “My love for children surpasses everything in the world. I was so eager to get married and have a family but my mother refused every man who proposed to me or my sister. When I asked my mother why she refused them even though many came from prominent families, she answered that this was in accordance with our late father’s will that we not marry anyone outside our tribe and that we had been betrothed as children to some of our paternal cousins because they could protect us and keep in the family the wealth inherited from our father. For 20 years we waited for our cousins to propose to us but they never did. The years passed by and our younger brothers and sisters got married while we have remained single.”
Hayat and her sister are teachers and together earn more than SR12,000 every month. They say their father refuses to let them marry because of what they earn; if they marry, he will lose access to their money. He treats every man as someone who wants only his daughter’s salary. He does not want to lose it. The fact is that their father allows them only SR1,000 a month and this has forced them to go to a lawyer to file suit against him and to complain of his mistreatment of their mother. If the suit is successful, they can then marry.
Leila, who turned 34 only recently, said: “My chances of getting married are decreasing if not already ended. In this day and age, young men are unlikely to marry a girl they’ve not seen — or at least one which their relatives have seen. After all, this is how girls get married; someone from among the man’s family or friends sees the girl and recommends her. Since I’m not allowed to leave the house or go out or work, no one will see me and so I remain unmarried. These conditions are the ones I have lived under since childhood; my mother didn’t allow me to go anywhere but school and so I didn’t make many friends. In order to have friends, you must be able to come and go and that is what I was not allowed to do. And even after I graduated, I wasn’t allowed to work. This made me ask my family what had been the point of my education and my degree if I was not to be allowed to work? They said both would be an advantage when I raised my children. I have now gone to a matchmaker in hopes that she can find a husband for me.”
Traditions have been a major obstacle to 32-year-old Lamia’s marriage. “My family is the reason I wasn’t able to marry the one my heart chose even though they knew his family well. We had been neighbors for a long time and my brothers and sisters like him which is why my involvement with him was so natural from the start. After we grew up and completed our college education, it was only natural that he should ask my family for my hand in marriage. My family refused even though they have known him for 30 years. He is like a son to my father who likes him and speaks approvingly of his conduct and character. They would not at first tell me why they had refused but I persisted and finally the reason my father gave me was: ‘He isn’t originally Saudi.’ This shocked me because I had no idea my family would refuse someone for such a shallow reason or even that they would think along such narrow lines. This has led me to refuse all other men who proposed in hopes that my family will finally let me marry the person I have chosen.”
Maha, who is 37, said: “My not being married is a matter that is out of my hands even though I’m well-educated and said to be attractive. Many men, however, will not propose to someone who is better educated than they are. There was once a young man who asked to marry me and my family and his agreed on everything. Then he suddenly disappeared without any explanation except that he didn’t want to marry an educated working woman. This scenario has been repeated several times.”
Why Marriages Are Delayed
Dr. Bakr Bagader, an anthropology professor at King Abdul Aziz University in Jeddah, said: “People differ in the age at which a woman is considered an ‘old maid’. Much depends on the practices and ideas of the society the girl lives in. We often see today that the marriageable age is linked to the stages in education because of the responsibilities of making a living and supporting a family. A man must be able to earn a living and it is even better if both partners can work and contribute to the family’s finances. Two incomes give a family more disposable income and increase status. Completing education is thus seen as important and delays marriage for girls. In fact, in some situations, a degree and a job for a girl is highly desirable. Women no longer feel that their worth or status is dependent upon their husband. Another factor in delaying marriages is that it is now possible for women to delay having children until they want them rather than getting married and getting pregnant the same year.”
According to the latest statistics from the Ministry of Planning:
• There are 2,638,575 married women in Saudi Arabia out of a total of 4,572,231.
• The number of unmarried girls over 30 is more than 1.5 million: Makkah: 396,248; Riyadh: 327,427; Asir: 130,812; Madinah: 95,542; Jizan: 84,845; Qasim: 74,209; Jouf: 5,219; Tabuk 36,689 and the Eastern Province 21,543.
Copyright: Arab News © 2003 All rights reserved. Site designed by: arabix
Monday 25 October 2004 (11 Ramadan 1425)
Depending on the societies they live in, when unmarried girls reach a certain age which differs from society to society, people begin to refer to them as “old maids” or “spinsters”.
Especially in Arab countries, people still look upon a young unmarried girl as though she were to blame for her state. Fingers are pointed accusingly at her regardless of the reasons or her own circumstances. The girl soon becomes the butt of ridicule, accusations, and meddling by those around her and even those closest to her.
The reasons for the girl’s delay in getting married or in not getting married at all are many and varied. There are social circumstances and pressures that drive a girl to study and to work in order to become financially stable.
There are also other reasons such as high dowries. Then there are families which demand that a prospective suitor have certain characteristics or else they will not allow their daughters or sisters to marry him. Omaimah Sanad from Sayidaty, a sister publication of Arab News, examined the problem.
JEDDAH, 25 October 2004 — What do girls in Saudi Arabia say about why they are not married? How much do they suffer because they are not married? Can a girl begin a new life and start a family no matter how late?
Fawzia, who is 38 years old, said: “I tried to imitate some girls in my family by carrying the banner of ‘No To Marriage’ — at least not until I had completed my education, graduated and worked as a teacher. As time passed, I became increasingly involved in my professional life. To be fair, I received many proposals at that time but the men did not meet my standards. And my friends and family agreed with me because they wanted me to have what I wanted in a partner. My mother, however, God rest her soul, disagreed and used to try to convince me to take the proposals more seriously. She told me over and over not to imitate my cousins since they had not received proposals as good as mine in the first place. But I didn’t listen to her and thought that as I was still young and attractive, I had plenty of time to consider different options and choose the right man. The days and months flew by and with the deaths of my mother and father, I was left alone. Most of my friends are married now; I’m still alone and my looks are fading with time. I realize too late that I’ve wasted my life setting impossible conditions for the men who wanted to marry me.”
Dr. Ulfat, a single woman in her 40s, said: “I wronged myself by going along with my mother’s decisions. My mother refused every suitor on the basis that he wasn’t worthy of us. And what made things worse was that my father was so much weaker than my mother that she had ‘the’ say in everything related to my sisters and me for more than 20 years. My sisters and I never had the courage to disagree with her or challenge her. And if the suitor was up to our standards, she would make up conditions that were impossible to fulfill. We never knew what she wanted from a prospective husband. The situation continued until we were no longer young but were still being called ‘Miss’. Now whenever anyone asks us why we are not married, we justify ourselves by saying that we are too involved with our professional lives. Our mother still dreams of a perfect husband for each of us; in her eyes, we are still ‘little girls’ even though we are all highly qualified adults.”
Mona, who is 35 and still single, said: “Yes, it is not easy being an unmarried woman in our society. Girls who refuse to marry don’t do so without a reason. Very often the reason is her family’s attitude and that is the reason in my case. Today I’m 35 and I’ve been getting proposals since I was 14; my father, however, refused them all since he was influenced by my stepmother who accused every man of being a gold digger, greedy for my money and social status. At the same time, she managed to marry off her own daughters to men who were not always up to the standards she set for me. The result was that I focused on my studies since I had no other outlet. I had to dodge the queries about my being single. People pitied me and said how strange it was that with my looks, education and status that I was still unmarried. Even after I graduated and began working, suitors approached my family but all were turned away. We have reached the point where no one will ask for me since it is well-known that everybody will be refused.”
Munira, who is over 30, said: “My love for children surpasses everything in the world. I was so eager to get married and have a family but my mother refused every man who proposed to me or my sister. When I asked my mother why she refused them even though many came from prominent families, she answered that this was in accordance with our late father’s will that we not marry anyone outside our tribe and that we had been betrothed as children to some of our paternal cousins because they could protect us and keep in the family the wealth inherited from our father. For 20 years we waited for our cousins to propose to us but they never did. The years passed by and our younger brothers and sisters got married while we have remained single.”
Hayat and her sister are teachers and together earn more than SR12,000 every month. They say their father refuses to let them marry because of what they earn; if they marry, he will lose access to their money. He treats every man as someone who wants only his daughter’s salary. He does not want to lose it. The fact is that their father allows them only SR1,000 a month and this has forced them to go to a lawyer to file suit against him and to complain of his mistreatment of their mother. If the suit is successful, they can then marry.
Leila, who turned 34 only recently, said: “My chances of getting married are decreasing if not already ended. In this day and age, young men are unlikely to marry a girl they’ve not seen — or at least one which their relatives have seen. After all, this is how girls get married; someone from among the man’s family or friends sees the girl and recommends her. Since I’m not allowed to leave the house or go out or work, no one will see me and so I remain unmarried. These conditions are the ones I have lived under since childhood; my mother didn’t allow me to go anywhere but school and so I didn’t make many friends. In order to have friends, you must be able to come and go and that is what I was not allowed to do. And even after I graduated, I wasn’t allowed to work. This made me ask my family what had been the point of my education and my degree if I was not to be allowed to work? They said both would be an advantage when I raised my children. I have now gone to a matchmaker in hopes that she can find a husband for me.”
Traditions have been a major obstacle to 32-year-old Lamia’s marriage. “My family is the reason I wasn’t able to marry the one my heart chose even though they knew his family well. We had been neighbors for a long time and my brothers and sisters like him which is why my involvement with him was so natural from the start. After we grew up and completed our college education, it was only natural that he should ask my family for my hand in marriage. My family refused even though they have known him for 30 years. He is like a son to my father who likes him and speaks approvingly of his conduct and character. They would not at first tell me why they had refused but I persisted and finally the reason my father gave me was: ‘He isn’t originally Saudi.’ This shocked me because I had no idea my family would refuse someone for such a shallow reason or even that they would think along such narrow lines. This has led me to refuse all other men who proposed in hopes that my family will finally let me marry the person I have chosen.”
Maha, who is 37, said: “My not being married is a matter that is out of my hands even though I’m well-educated and said to be attractive. Many men, however, will not propose to someone who is better educated than they are. There was once a young man who asked to marry me and my family and his agreed on everything. Then he suddenly disappeared without any explanation except that he didn’t want to marry an educated working woman. This scenario has been repeated several times.”
Why Marriages Are Delayed
Dr. Bakr Bagader, an anthropology professor at King Abdul Aziz University in Jeddah, said: “People differ in the age at which a woman is considered an ‘old maid’. Much depends on the practices and ideas of the society the girl lives in. We often see today that the marriageable age is linked to the stages in education because of the responsibilities of making a living and supporting a family. A man must be able to earn a living and it is even better if both partners can work and contribute to the family’s finances. Two incomes give a family more disposable income and increase status. Completing education is thus seen as important and delays marriage for girls. In fact, in some situations, a degree and a job for a girl is highly desirable. Women no longer feel that their worth or status is dependent upon their husband. Another factor in delaying marriages is that it is now possible for women to delay having children until they want them rather than getting married and getting pregnant the same year.”
According to the latest statistics from the Ministry of Planning:
• There are 2,638,575 married women in Saudi Arabia out of a total of 4,572,231.
• The number of unmarried girls over 30 is more than 1.5 million: Makkah: 396,248; Riyadh: 327,427; Asir: 130,812; Madinah: 95,542; Jizan: 84,845; Qasim: 74,209; Jouf: 5,219; Tabuk 36,689 and the Eastern Province 21,543.
Copyright: Arab News © 2003 All rights reserved. Site designed by: arabix
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Who's in the know: Women surge, men sink in education's gender gap
December 7, 2009
Who's in the know: Women surge, men sink in education's gender gap
By ELIZABETH CHURCH
From Monday's Globe and Mail
Female students are dominating campuses, a shift that will change 'who does what.' But leaving men behind has its costs
EDUCATION REPORTER
In a red-brick building at the University of Guelph, where veterinarians have been schooled for the better part of a century, a demographic shift is taking place that offers a window into the future of human behaviour.
In the past decade, Ontario Veterinary College has seen its student numbers turned on their head: Women account for more than 80 per cent of its students during that time, and now make up more than half of the province's practising vets.
It's an extreme example of a story that is playing out on campuses in Canada and around the world - and a trend that could have profound social implications. There are now three female undergraduates for every two male students on Canadian campuses, and more women than men graduated with higher education degrees in 75 of 98 countries examined in a recent UNESCO study.
Women are expected to gain more power in public and corporate life and more financial independence.
Faced with a dwindling number of potential mates who are their education equals, however, researchers speculate more women may take a pass on the traditional family, or be more willing to leave it when things don't work. And more men may find themselves tending to hearth and home.
"We are an example of things to come," says Serge Desmarais, Guelph's associate vice-president, academic, and a psychologist who specializes in gender studies. "Imagine 30 years from now when 60, 70 per cent of the people who are educated are women. It has to change the ratio of who does what. And that has huge social ramifications."
Economist Ross Finnie agrees. "It's a whole new world," says Prof. Finnie, who teaches public policy at the University of Ottawa. "This is a complete flip-around from not so long ago. I think the direction of change is almost certain. I don't think it's ridiculous to say women will have the upper hand in a way they haven't in the past."
Today's "gender gap" has been a long time in the making. Women reached parity at the undergraduate level in 1987, at the masters level in 1997, and now account for about 46 per cent of PhD candidates. Women are still the minority in fields such as engineering, computer science and math, but account for the majority of students in most disciplines.
But the economic meltdown and the huge hit taken by traditionally male-dominated industries, such as the auto sector, has brought a new urgency to the debate. Even in the depths of the current recession, when the country shed 330,000 jobs, about 62,000 new positions were created for university graduates in the 12 months up to September, Statistics Canada numbers show.
Some university leaders say the gap is a reflection of a larger societal puzzle that sees boys lagging girls in academic achievement long before they reach campuses, and has led to new approaches for teaching boys, such as boys-only schools. Studies show that as early as Grade 9, more girls plan to attend university, and those aspirations increase as they approach graduation.
"We should be concerned about any group not participating in post-secondary education," says Ryerson University president Sheldon Levy. "We need to ask some tough questions about the graduation rates of men out of high school and why they aren't going to universities."
Others are more cautious, pointing to U.S. research that finds girls historically have done better at school, but were discouraged from continuing their education. And men are still going to university at record levels: 85,000 of them were in Canadian undergraduate and graduate programs in 2007 - about 30 per cent more than in 2000. As for colleges, men and women are going in equal numbers.
At Guelph, first-year student vet Adam Little is acutely aware of his outnumbered status. "I am a white guy and I am in the minority. It is definitely a different dynamic," says Mr. Little, who acknowledges he and his male classmates tend to stick together. While he knows of several men who had ambitions of going to the vet college, they took different paths when confronted with the school's admissions hurdles. "The people who stick with it are mostly women," he adds.
Some attempts to right the growing imbalance have been controversial. When University of Alberta president Indira Samarasekera told local media she was prepared to be "an advocate for young white men," the reaction was quick, including a poster campaign by students mocking her remarks.
"I know a problematic statement when I see one," said student Derek Warwick, a key organizer of the campaign. A Métis student from rural Alberta, he says there are plenty of groups - racial minorities, aboriginals, students from low-income families - who are underrepresented at universities and deserve attention.
And despite the changes anticipated by some researchers, women in Canada hold roughly 5 per cent of top corporate jobs and account for 5.6 per cent of the highest earners, according to the research group Catalyst Inc. Young women still make about 90 cents for every dollar earned by a young man.
A South Asian who was one of only two female engineering professors at the University of British Columbia when she began her career, Dr. Samarasekera says she understands how much ground women and minority groups still need to gain. But she argues society can no longer ignore what is happening to men.
"There is a feeling men can take care of themselves - clearly that is not true. If that were true, we wouldn't be seeing this growing gap." Men's failure to go on to higher education in the same numbers as women is a "demographic bomb," she warns, that will hurt Canada's ability to compete and limit men's potential.
But beyond stepping up recruitment efforts, universities say their hands are tied. "We really have no ability to do anything in the admissions process to give preferential treatment," says David Hannah, the vice-president responsible for enrolment at the University of Saskatchewan. "I've had deans ask me about that as a way to get a better balance in their programs, and the answer is no. It's against the law."
In the United States, favouritism toward male applicants is suspected at some liberal arts colleges, where the absence of faculties such as engineering and computer science puts gender numbers even more off-kilter. The U.S. Commission on Civil Rights last month began an inquiry into accusations that private schools are discriminating against women to prevent campuses from becoming "too female," fearing this will discourage others from applying.
At the University of Guelph, Prof. Desmarais says simple solutions such as boys-only schools can't be expected to solve such a complex question. The greater problem, he argues, is the still-held belief by some groups that education is a waste of their time.
"The problem is not what happens here, but what happens to lead people here," he says. "If achieving in school earlier in life is not perceived to be important, then I can tell you, they are never seeing university."
At the vet school, Mr. Little says being one of 26 men in a class of 112 has some obvious advantages. Although singlet, at least in one respect, the odds are still in his favour.
CTVglobemedia Publishing, Inc
Who's in the know: Women surge, men sink in education's gender gap
By ELIZABETH CHURCH
From Monday's Globe and Mail
Female students are dominating campuses, a shift that will change 'who does what.' But leaving men behind has its costs
EDUCATION REPORTER
In a red-brick building at the University of Guelph, where veterinarians have been schooled for the better part of a century, a demographic shift is taking place that offers a window into the future of human behaviour.
In the past decade, Ontario Veterinary College has seen its student numbers turned on their head: Women account for more than 80 per cent of its students during that time, and now make up more than half of the province's practising vets.
It's an extreme example of a story that is playing out on campuses in Canada and around the world - and a trend that could have profound social implications. There are now three female undergraduates for every two male students on Canadian campuses, and more women than men graduated with higher education degrees in 75 of 98 countries examined in a recent UNESCO study.
Women are expected to gain more power in public and corporate life and more financial independence.
Faced with a dwindling number of potential mates who are their education equals, however, researchers speculate more women may take a pass on the traditional family, or be more willing to leave it when things don't work. And more men may find themselves tending to hearth and home.
"We are an example of things to come," says Serge Desmarais, Guelph's associate vice-president, academic, and a psychologist who specializes in gender studies. "Imagine 30 years from now when 60, 70 per cent of the people who are educated are women. It has to change the ratio of who does what. And that has huge social ramifications."
Economist Ross Finnie agrees. "It's a whole new world," says Prof. Finnie, who teaches public policy at the University of Ottawa. "This is a complete flip-around from not so long ago. I think the direction of change is almost certain. I don't think it's ridiculous to say women will have the upper hand in a way they haven't in the past."
Today's "gender gap" has been a long time in the making. Women reached parity at the undergraduate level in 1987, at the masters level in 1997, and now account for about 46 per cent of PhD candidates. Women are still the minority in fields such as engineering, computer science and math, but account for the majority of students in most disciplines.
But the economic meltdown and the huge hit taken by traditionally male-dominated industries, such as the auto sector, has brought a new urgency to the debate. Even in the depths of the current recession, when the country shed 330,000 jobs, about 62,000 new positions were created for university graduates in the 12 months up to September, Statistics Canada numbers show.
Some university leaders say the gap is a reflection of a larger societal puzzle that sees boys lagging girls in academic achievement long before they reach campuses, and has led to new approaches for teaching boys, such as boys-only schools. Studies show that as early as Grade 9, more girls plan to attend university, and those aspirations increase as they approach graduation.
"We should be concerned about any group not participating in post-secondary education," says Ryerson University president Sheldon Levy. "We need to ask some tough questions about the graduation rates of men out of high school and why they aren't going to universities."
Others are more cautious, pointing to U.S. research that finds girls historically have done better at school, but were discouraged from continuing their education. And men are still going to university at record levels: 85,000 of them were in Canadian undergraduate and graduate programs in 2007 - about 30 per cent more than in 2000. As for colleges, men and women are going in equal numbers.
At Guelph, first-year student vet Adam Little is acutely aware of his outnumbered status. "I am a white guy and I am in the minority. It is definitely a different dynamic," says Mr. Little, who acknowledges he and his male classmates tend to stick together. While he knows of several men who had ambitions of going to the vet college, they took different paths when confronted with the school's admissions hurdles. "The people who stick with it are mostly women," he adds.
Some attempts to right the growing imbalance have been controversial. When University of Alberta president Indira Samarasekera told local media she was prepared to be "an advocate for young white men," the reaction was quick, including a poster campaign by students mocking her remarks.
"I know a problematic statement when I see one," said student Derek Warwick, a key organizer of the campaign. A Métis student from rural Alberta, he says there are plenty of groups - racial minorities, aboriginals, students from low-income families - who are underrepresented at universities and deserve attention.
And despite the changes anticipated by some researchers, women in Canada hold roughly 5 per cent of top corporate jobs and account for 5.6 per cent of the highest earners, according to the research group Catalyst Inc. Young women still make about 90 cents for every dollar earned by a young man.
A South Asian who was one of only two female engineering professors at the University of British Columbia when she began her career, Dr. Samarasekera says she understands how much ground women and minority groups still need to gain. But she argues society can no longer ignore what is happening to men.
"There is a feeling men can take care of themselves - clearly that is not true. If that were true, we wouldn't be seeing this growing gap." Men's failure to go on to higher education in the same numbers as women is a "demographic bomb," she warns, that will hurt Canada's ability to compete and limit men's potential.
But beyond stepping up recruitment efforts, universities say their hands are tied. "We really have no ability to do anything in the admissions process to give preferential treatment," says David Hannah, the vice-president responsible for enrolment at the University of Saskatchewan. "I've had deans ask me about that as a way to get a better balance in their programs, and the answer is no. It's against the law."
In the United States, favouritism toward male applicants is suspected at some liberal arts colleges, where the absence of faculties such as engineering and computer science puts gender numbers even more off-kilter. The U.S. Commission on Civil Rights last month began an inquiry into accusations that private schools are discriminating against women to prevent campuses from becoming "too female," fearing this will discourage others from applying.
At the University of Guelph, Prof. Desmarais says simple solutions such as boys-only schools can't be expected to solve such a complex question. The greater problem, he argues, is the still-held belief by some groups that education is a waste of their time.
"The problem is not what happens here, but what happens to lead people here," he says. "If achieving in school earlier in life is not perceived to be important, then I can tell you, they are never seeing university."
At the vet school, Mr. Little says being one of 26 men in a class of 112 has some obvious advantages. Although singlet, at least in one respect, the odds are still in his favour.
CTVglobemedia Publishing, Inc
Saturday, December 12, 2009
What it Means to be a Women
INFERTILTY
What it Means to Be a Woman
In developing countries, where infertility is seen as a personal failing, or even a curse, a woman who can't conceive may face devastating ostracism. But there's hope for more affordable treatment.
By Karen Springen | Newsweek Web Exclusive
Sep 15, 2008 | Updated: 10:20 a.m. ET Sep 14, 2008
Mamta Jhunjhun Wala, 42, of Mumbai still remembers the stigma of being unable to bear children for the first 13 years of her marriage. People ask a woman's name—and then, "How many children do you have?" When the woman answers "none," she says, "they don't know what they can talk to you about." Thanks to treatments at Mumbai's Malpani Infertility Clinic, Wala finally conceived a daughter, now 10, and twin boys, now 8. With her doctor, she started a support group to help give other infertile couples the help she wishes she had had, she says. "There were a lot of emotional questions, and support I needed, and there was nobody for me."
Wala is lucky. "It is very, very difficult for people in the United States to deal with [infertility], and yet, when you go to other cultures, it's even more devastating to people," says Dr. David Adamson, president of the American Society for Reproductive Medicine and a board member of the International Federation of Fertility Societies. Worldwide, the World Health Organization says about one in 10 couples experiences difficulty conceiving a child at some point in their lives.
In some developing countries, the consequences of infertility—which can include ostracism, physical abuse and even suicide—are heartbreaking. "If you are infertile in some cultures, you are less than a dog," says Willem Ombelet of the Genk Institute for Fertility Technology in Belgium. Women are often uneducated, so their only identity comes from being moms. "It [infertility] is an issue of profound human suffering, particularly for women," says Marcia Inhorn, professor of anthropology and international affairs at Yale University. "It's a human-rights issue."
The stigma that infertile women face can infiltrate every aspect of life. They may not even be invited to weddings or other important gatherings. "People see them as having a "bad eye" that will make you infertile, too. Infertile women are considered inauspicious," says Inhorn. Other people simply "don't want to have them around at joyous occasions," says Frank van Balen, coauthor (with Inhorn) of "Infertility Around the Globe" and a professor in the department of social and behavioral sciences at the University of Amsterdam. Their reasoning: "they could spoil it," he says.
Often the female takes the blame even when the problem lies with the man, says Inhorn. The women often keep their husband's secret and bear the insults. In Chad, a proverb says, "A woman without children is like a tree without leaves." If a woman doesn't bear children, their husbands may leave them or take new wives with society's blessing. In some Muslim places, women can't go on the street on their own. "If they have a child with them, they can do their errands," says van Balen.
Childlessness can also be an enormous economic problem in developing countries where Social Security, pensions and retirement-savings plans are not the norm. "If you don't have your children, no one looks after you," says Guido Pennings, professor of philosophy and moral science at Belgium's Ghent University. Religion shapes attitudes, too. "People are supposed to go out and populate the earth," says Ian Cooke, director of education for the International Federation of Fertility Societies and cofounder of the Low-Cost IVF Foundation. In the Hindu religion, a woman without a child, particularly a son, can't go to heaven. Sons perform death rituals. Infertile couples worry that without a child, who will mourn for them and bury them? In China and Vietnam, the traditional belief is that the souls of childless people can't easily rest. In India, the eldest son traditionally lights the funeral pyre. In Muslim cultures, the stigma follows childless women even after death: women without children aren't always allowed to be buried in graveyards or sacred grounds.
In Western countries, it has become much more socially acceptable to be childless, and more American women are hitting their 40s without kids, according to the latest census data. By contrast, in many developing countries, women have no careers—just motherhood—to give them their identity. "The notion of child-free living is not considered an acceptable thing for a married couple," says Inhorn. And particularly in Muslim and Hindu areas, she says, adoption "is not an immediate second path."
Legal adoption is "bureaucratically onerous" and often not socially acceptable, says Elizabeth Roberts, assistant professor of anthropology at the University of Michigan, who studied the people of Ecuador. So it's not surprising that even extremely poor people may go into debt trying to conceive. "A family is only a family if there are children, basically," says Roberts. "The biggest stumbling block is money."
Many couples may waste valuable years resorting to "black magic," says Aravinda Guntupalli, a professor at the University of Tübingen in Germany who studied infertility in India. The couples ask so-called sacred people what days they should fast, and they journey to spiritual places. In the tribal area of India where Guntupalli worked, women dry up umbilical cords and sneak them into infertile women's food to try to help them. "They think it creates some fertility juice in the body," she says.
Not surprisingly, infertility treatments are rarely covered by insurance or by government aid. "How do you provide what is clearly a highly technological, sophisticated procedure in a place that doesn't have a lot of money?" says Adamson, a member of the not-for-profit International Committee Monitoring Assisted Reproductive Technologies, a technical adviser to the World Health Organization. Leaders of countries struggling with dirty drinking water, tuberculosis, malaria and AIDS may find IVF expenditures hard to justify.
Infertile couples in developing countries don't publicize the fact that they need help even if they can afford treatment. Children are seen as a gift of the gods, so failure to conceive may be perceived as an indication that someone has sinned or is unworthy. "People aren't willing to go up on [the equivalent of] Oprah Winfrey and say, 'Yes, I'm infertile, and I'm getting treatment'," says Dr. Aniruddha Malpani, an Ob-Gyn who runs the Malpani Infertility Clinic in Mumbai with his wife. "People have actually traveled [for treatment], telling people they're going on holiday," says Inhorn.
Even for couples who do have access to fertility clinics, there are challenges. For example, some cultures consider masturbation evil. Yet it's traditionally the way doctors get semen samples to check a man's sperm count and then to perform IVF. In some cases, doctors can offer condoms that allow a couple to have intercourse and save the sperm. Another cultural hurdle: the Muslim world does not accept egg or sperm donation. "Each child should have a known father and a known mother," explains Inhorn. "Every child must know his own heritage." Adds Adamson: "It's very important to honor and respect the fact that people have these values."
One important approach is to focus on preventing, rather than curing, infertility. A major cause of infertility is untreated reproductive tract infections such as chlamydia and gonorrhea. In places like Africa, the cost of condoms, and taboos against them, contribute to the STD problem. Infection from female genital mutilation adds to the problem. And in some countries, 90 percent of women do not deliver in hospitals, which can also cause complications. And the hospitals they use for birth or abortions aren't always sanitary. Some doctors also believe sperm quality has suffered from toxins like lead, high in Mexico City and Cairo, and dioxin sprayed on crops.
In the developed world, there's sometimes little sympathy for the problem, since the common view is that developing countries are suffering from overpopulation and don't need any more babies. The United Nations projects that the world population will balloon from its current 6.7 billion to 9.1 billion by 2050. But the picture is more complicated than it seems. "We have a fertility paradox in Africa—high fertility rates, and high infertility rates," says Dr. Silke Dyer, an Ob-Gyn in Cape Town and a member of the European Society for Human Reproduction and Embryology task force on developing countries and infertility. (Infertility treatment proponents note that IVF doesn't contribute to overpopulation any more than saving lives with vaccinations does. And both alleviate suffering.)
The good news is that interest in treating infertility around the globe is growing. In 2004, the World Health Organization said people should have access to high-quality services for family planning, including infertility services. Doctors hope to provide $200 to $500 IVF cycles, with cheaper drugs and simplified laboratories, by the end of the year in places like Cape Town and Cairo. Their goal: more happy birth stories, like Wala's.
Find this article at
http://www.newsweek.com/id/158625
© 2008
What it Means to Be a Woman
In developing countries, where infertility is seen as a personal failing, or even a curse, a woman who can't conceive may face devastating ostracism. But there's hope for more affordable treatment.
By Karen Springen | Newsweek Web Exclusive
Sep 15, 2008 | Updated: 10:20 a.m. ET Sep 14, 2008
Mamta Jhunjhun Wala, 42, of Mumbai still remembers the stigma of being unable to bear children for the first 13 years of her marriage. People ask a woman's name—and then, "How many children do you have?" When the woman answers "none," she says, "they don't know what they can talk to you about." Thanks to treatments at Mumbai's Malpani Infertility Clinic, Wala finally conceived a daughter, now 10, and twin boys, now 8. With her doctor, she started a support group to help give other infertile couples the help she wishes she had had, she says. "There were a lot of emotional questions, and support I needed, and there was nobody for me."
Wala is lucky. "It is very, very difficult for people in the United States to deal with [infertility], and yet, when you go to other cultures, it's even more devastating to people," says Dr. David Adamson, president of the American Society for Reproductive Medicine and a board member of the International Federation of Fertility Societies. Worldwide, the World Health Organization says about one in 10 couples experiences difficulty conceiving a child at some point in their lives.
In some developing countries, the consequences of infertility—which can include ostracism, physical abuse and even suicide—are heartbreaking. "If you are infertile in some cultures, you are less than a dog," says Willem Ombelet of the Genk Institute for Fertility Technology in Belgium. Women are often uneducated, so their only identity comes from being moms. "It [infertility] is an issue of profound human suffering, particularly for women," says Marcia Inhorn, professor of anthropology and international affairs at Yale University. "It's a human-rights issue."
The stigma that infertile women face can infiltrate every aspect of life. They may not even be invited to weddings or other important gatherings. "People see them as having a "bad eye" that will make you infertile, too. Infertile women are considered inauspicious," says Inhorn. Other people simply "don't want to have them around at joyous occasions," says Frank van Balen, coauthor (with Inhorn) of "Infertility Around the Globe" and a professor in the department of social and behavioral sciences at the University of Amsterdam. Their reasoning: "they could spoil it," he says.
Often the female takes the blame even when the problem lies with the man, says Inhorn. The women often keep their husband's secret and bear the insults. In Chad, a proverb says, "A woman without children is like a tree without leaves." If a woman doesn't bear children, their husbands may leave them or take new wives with society's blessing. In some Muslim places, women can't go on the street on their own. "If they have a child with them, they can do their errands," says van Balen.
Childlessness can also be an enormous economic problem in developing countries where Social Security, pensions and retirement-savings plans are not the norm. "If you don't have your children, no one looks after you," says Guido Pennings, professor of philosophy and moral science at Belgium's Ghent University. Religion shapes attitudes, too. "People are supposed to go out and populate the earth," says Ian Cooke, director of education for the International Federation of Fertility Societies and cofounder of the Low-Cost IVF Foundation. In the Hindu religion, a woman without a child, particularly a son, can't go to heaven. Sons perform death rituals. Infertile couples worry that without a child, who will mourn for them and bury them? In China and Vietnam, the traditional belief is that the souls of childless people can't easily rest. In India, the eldest son traditionally lights the funeral pyre. In Muslim cultures, the stigma follows childless women even after death: women without children aren't always allowed to be buried in graveyards or sacred grounds.
In Western countries, it has become much more socially acceptable to be childless, and more American women are hitting their 40s without kids, according to the latest census data. By contrast, in many developing countries, women have no careers—just motherhood—to give them their identity. "The notion of child-free living is not considered an acceptable thing for a married couple," says Inhorn. And particularly in Muslim and Hindu areas, she says, adoption "is not an immediate second path."
Legal adoption is "bureaucratically onerous" and often not socially acceptable, says Elizabeth Roberts, assistant professor of anthropology at the University of Michigan, who studied the people of Ecuador. So it's not surprising that even extremely poor people may go into debt trying to conceive. "A family is only a family if there are children, basically," says Roberts. "The biggest stumbling block is money."
Many couples may waste valuable years resorting to "black magic," says Aravinda Guntupalli, a professor at the University of Tübingen in Germany who studied infertility in India. The couples ask so-called sacred people what days they should fast, and they journey to spiritual places. In the tribal area of India where Guntupalli worked, women dry up umbilical cords and sneak them into infertile women's food to try to help them. "They think it creates some fertility juice in the body," she says.
Not surprisingly, infertility treatments are rarely covered by insurance or by government aid. "How do you provide what is clearly a highly technological, sophisticated procedure in a place that doesn't have a lot of money?" says Adamson, a member of the not-for-profit International Committee Monitoring Assisted Reproductive Technologies, a technical adviser to the World Health Organization. Leaders of countries struggling with dirty drinking water, tuberculosis, malaria and AIDS may find IVF expenditures hard to justify.
Infertile couples in developing countries don't publicize the fact that they need help even if they can afford treatment. Children are seen as a gift of the gods, so failure to conceive may be perceived as an indication that someone has sinned or is unworthy. "People aren't willing to go up on [the equivalent of] Oprah Winfrey and say, 'Yes, I'm infertile, and I'm getting treatment'," says Dr. Aniruddha Malpani, an Ob-Gyn who runs the Malpani Infertility Clinic in Mumbai with his wife. "People have actually traveled [for treatment], telling people they're going on holiday," says Inhorn.
Even for couples who do have access to fertility clinics, there are challenges. For example, some cultures consider masturbation evil. Yet it's traditionally the way doctors get semen samples to check a man's sperm count and then to perform IVF. In some cases, doctors can offer condoms that allow a couple to have intercourse and save the sperm. Another cultural hurdle: the Muslim world does not accept egg or sperm donation. "Each child should have a known father and a known mother," explains Inhorn. "Every child must know his own heritage." Adds Adamson: "It's very important to honor and respect the fact that people have these values."
One important approach is to focus on preventing, rather than curing, infertility. A major cause of infertility is untreated reproductive tract infections such as chlamydia and gonorrhea. In places like Africa, the cost of condoms, and taboos against them, contribute to the STD problem. Infection from female genital mutilation adds to the problem. And in some countries, 90 percent of women do not deliver in hospitals, which can also cause complications. And the hospitals they use for birth or abortions aren't always sanitary. Some doctors also believe sperm quality has suffered from toxins like lead, high in Mexico City and Cairo, and dioxin sprayed on crops.
In the developed world, there's sometimes little sympathy for the problem, since the common view is that developing countries are suffering from overpopulation and don't need any more babies. The United Nations projects that the world population will balloon from its current 6.7 billion to 9.1 billion by 2050. But the picture is more complicated than it seems. "We have a fertility paradox in Africa—high fertility rates, and high infertility rates," says Dr. Silke Dyer, an Ob-Gyn in Cape Town and a member of the European Society for Human Reproduction and Embryology task force on developing countries and infertility. (Infertility treatment proponents note that IVF doesn't contribute to overpopulation any more than saving lives with vaccinations does. And both alleviate suffering.)
The good news is that interest in treating infertility around the globe is growing. In 2004, the World Health Organization said people should have access to high-quality services for family planning, including infertility services. Doctors hope to provide $200 to $500 IVF cycles, with cheaper drugs and simplified laboratories, by the end of the year in places like Cape Town and Cairo. Their goal: more happy birth stories, like Wala's.
Find this article at
http://www.newsweek.com/id/158625
© 2008
Modern Maternity
PREGNANCY
Modern Maternity
More women are having kids after 40, but whether they did it with medical help or not, the road to motherhood can be rough.
By Joan Raymond | Newsweek Web Exclusive
Sep 15, 2008 | Updated: 10:20 a.m. ET Sep 14, 2008
Jennie Villa wanted to have it all. A great education and career. Financial security. A loving husband. And kids. For Villa, the dream came true, albeit a little later than she would have liked. At age 37, she met that man of her dreams. Three years later they got married. This past August, at age 41, Villa, of Cleveland, gave birth to fraternal twins: a son, Quinn, and daughter Kendall. Her life, she says, is "pretty perfect." And when it comes to her kids, she is over the moon. "I think they're a miracle," says Villa, who got pregnant the old-fashioned way, without the use of assisted reproductive technologies.
Any woman who has had a child after age 40 can understand Villa's hyperbole. That's because, statistically speaking, the chances of having a successful pregnancy at what doctors call an "advanced maternal age" are fairly dismal. By about age 40, a woman's chance of getting pregnant naturally is only about 5 percent in any given month (down from about 20 percent at age 30). The use of assisted reproductive technologies ups the odds—but not as much as it could if a woman were younger. By age 45, a woman's chance of getting pregnant with her own eggs is virtually zero.
Still, some women are defying those odds. According to the National Center for Health Statistics, the number of mothers giving birth at age 40 or older has doubled in the last several decades, partly due to medical assists like in vitro fertilization or the use of donor eggs.
The reasons women become first-time moms or add to the brood later in life are as varied as the women themselves. There are career goals to meet. And bank accounts to grow. Some women waited for marriage. Some never married at all. There are second marriages. And even surprise births.
For those who wait, getting pregnant is a roll of the dice even with the help of science. "Not every egg over age 40 is created the same," says Dr. Karen Ashby, assistant professor of reproductive biology at University Hospitals Case Medical Center. "Some healthy women will get pregnant without a problem, other women simply won't."
It's clear that even as medical interventions are helping more older women get pregnant, science can't keep up with the increase in the number of women who delay childbearing and then find themselves battling the clock. For every high-profile midlife mom like actress Marcia Cross or Nicole Kidman, there are lots of women who can't get pregnant. The total number of women age 40 to 44 who don't have kids at all is about 20 percent—double what it was 30 years ago, according to a census report released in August.
There's no breakdown of how many of the childless women in that age group chose not to have kids and how many didn't have them because of fertility issues or other circumstances. But choice seems to be the operative word when it comes to how women feel about the lack of children. Women without children who believed it was better to have a child were more likely to report being lonely and depressed in their later years than women who said it didn't make a difference, says Tanya Koropeckyj-Cox, associate professor of sociology at the University of Florida, author of a 2003 study that analyzed data from a survey of more than 3,800 men and women about relationships and family life.
Those women who do get pregnant after 40 may face a laundry list of age-related medical issues. "When you're older you tend to acquire diseases" such as high blood pressure and diabetes, both of which can affect pregnancies, says Dr. Alan Peaceman, chief of the division of maternal fetal medicine at Northwestern Memorial Hospital and professor of obstetrics-gynecology at Northwestern's Feinberg School of Medicine.
And simply being older and pregnant carries a much greater risk of miscarriage. Babies of older moms aren't immune to problems, either. They may be born too small or have underdeveloped lungs. And there is the risk for Down syndrome, which increases with maternal age, a problem that was in the spotlight recently when 44-year-old Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin, whose 5-month-old son Trig has the disorder, became the Republican nominee for vice president.
But "assuming they can get out of the first trimester without a miscarriage, most women can do fine," says Peaceman, who stresses that if women want to get pregnant later in life, it's important to protect fertility. That means quitting smoking, staying at a normal weight and avoiding sexually transmitted diseases.
The problems with later-in-life pregnancies are all too familiar to Terry Runyon, a 41-year-old banking executive from Chicago. Diagnosed with unexplained infertility in her mid-30s, Runyon underwent a series of assisted reproductive treatments. She got pregnant, but miscarried. Then she got pregnant again, and 17 weeks into the pregnancy, she lost one of the twins she was carrying. The surviving twin, Brandon, now 3, is healthy, happy and "completely the love of our lives," says Runyon.
And earlier this year, Runyon got a surprise. She's pregnant and due this October. "Everyone said I was infertile—and then I get pregnant just by having sex with my husband," she says. "I'm astounded."
She admits that the fears of the pregnancy problems like those she experienced in the past made her first trimester difficult. "I know what can go wrong, and I was petrified," she says. "But at the end of the day, I can only change certain things. I can't change the fact that I'm older, but I can take the best care of myself as possible."
That's what Sandy Robertson did. When she was in her late 30s, Robertson, a part-time teacher, went through numerous medical treatments, including fertility drugs, insemination and in vitro fertilization. She did get pregnant with IVF, but miscarried due to an ectopic pregnancy that resulted in the loss of one of her fallopian tubes. Robertson quit using medical assists. Her doctors told her she would probably never get pregnant again.
She refused to accept what they said. She started taking better care of herself by improving her diet and reducing stress with meditation and visualization. Despite the odds, she did get pregnant several times in her early 40s. But the pregnancies ended in miscarriage. At age 44, Robertson got pregnant again. This time she carried to term, and she is now the proud mom of 5-year-old Patricia.
But the pregnancy wasn't easy. "Every doctor I saw put me through every test possible," she says. "But all the doctors could find was that I was a 44-year-old woman with one fallopian tube who just happened to be healthy and pregnant."
With celebrity magazines chock full of photos of famous over-40 moms, it's easy to forget that women like Robertson are the exception, not the rule. Reproduction has its own timetable, doctors caution. "It's not our place to tell women forget your education and career and go have babies," says Dr. Tommaso Falcone, professor and chairman of the Department of Obstetrics-Gynecology at the Cleveland Clinic. "But it's irresponsible to not share information. And it's clear that it's harder to have a child at 40. No one should get pregnant until they are ready to be pregnant, but women need to make reproductive decisions based on facts."
Those facts can't take the glow off successful late-in-life moms. "I said numerous times that I should have had kids earlier," says Villa, who was monitored closely during her pregnancy and was on bedrest for several weeks due to complications. "It can be a rough ride when you're older. I am probably in the worst shape of my life. But I'm also the happiest. I was ready to be a mom." Which is the best reason to get pregnant—regardless of age.
Find this article at
http://www.newsweek.com/id/158410
© 2008
Modern Maternity
More women are having kids after 40, but whether they did it with medical help or not, the road to motherhood can be rough.
By Joan Raymond | Newsweek Web Exclusive
Sep 15, 2008 | Updated: 10:20 a.m. ET Sep 14, 2008
Jennie Villa wanted to have it all. A great education and career. Financial security. A loving husband. And kids. For Villa, the dream came true, albeit a little later than she would have liked. At age 37, she met that man of her dreams. Three years later they got married. This past August, at age 41, Villa, of Cleveland, gave birth to fraternal twins: a son, Quinn, and daughter Kendall. Her life, she says, is "pretty perfect." And when it comes to her kids, she is over the moon. "I think they're a miracle," says Villa, who got pregnant the old-fashioned way, without the use of assisted reproductive technologies.
Any woman who has had a child after age 40 can understand Villa's hyperbole. That's because, statistically speaking, the chances of having a successful pregnancy at what doctors call an "advanced maternal age" are fairly dismal. By about age 40, a woman's chance of getting pregnant naturally is only about 5 percent in any given month (down from about 20 percent at age 30). The use of assisted reproductive technologies ups the odds—but not as much as it could if a woman were younger. By age 45, a woman's chance of getting pregnant with her own eggs is virtually zero.
Still, some women are defying those odds. According to the National Center for Health Statistics, the number of mothers giving birth at age 40 or older has doubled in the last several decades, partly due to medical assists like in vitro fertilization or the use of donor eggs.
The reasons women become first-time moms or add to the brood later in life are as varied as the women themselves. There are career goals to meet. And bank accounts to grow. Some women waited for marriage. Some never married at all. There are second marriages. And even surprise births.
For those who wait, getting pregnant is a roll of the dice even with the help of science. "Not every egg over age 40 is created the same," says Dr. Karen Ashby, assistant professor of reproductive biology at University Hospitals Case Medical Center. "Some healthy women will get pregnant without a problem, other women simply won't."
It's clear that even as medical interventions are helping more older women get pregnant, science can't keep up with the increase in the number of women who delay childbearing and then find themselves battling the clock. For every high-profile midlife mom like actress Marcia Cross or Nicole Kidman, there are lots of women who can't get pregnant. The total number of women age 40 to 44 who don't have kids at all is about 20 percent—double what it was 30 years ago, according to a census report released in August.
There's no breakdown of how many of the childless women in that age group chose not to have kids and how many didn't have them because of fertility issues or other circumstances. But choice seems to be the operative word when it comes to how women feel about the lack of children. Women without children who believed it was better to have a child were more likely to report being lonely and depressed in their later years than women who said it didn't make a difference, says Tanya Koropeckyj-Cox, associate professor of sociology at the University of Florida, author of a 2003 study that analyzed data from a survey of more than 3,800 men and women about relationships and family life.
Those women who do get pregnant after 40 may face a laundry list of age-related medical issues. "When you're older you tend to acquire diseases" such as high blood pressure and diabetes, both of which can affect pregnancies, says Dr. Alan Peaceman, chief of the division of maternal fetal medicine at Northwestern Memorial Hospital and professor of obstetrics-gynecology at Northwestern's Feinberg School of Medicine.
And simply being older and pregnant carries a much greater risk of miscarriage. Babies of older moms aren't immune to problems, either. They may be born too small or have underdeveloped lungs. And there is the risk for Down syndrome, which increases with maternal age, a problem that was in the spotlight recently when 44-year-old Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin, whose 5-month-old son Trig has the disorder, became the Republican nominee for vice president.
But "assuming they can get out of the first trimester without a miscarriage, most women can do fine," says Peaceman, who stresses that if women want to get pregnant later in life, it's important to protect fertility. That means quitting smoking, staying at a normal weight and avoiding sexually transmitted diseases.
The problems with later-in-life pregnancies are all too familiar to Terry Runyon, a 41-year-old banking executive from Chicago. Diagnosed with unexplained infertility in her mid-30s, Runyon underwent a series of assisted reproductive treatments. She got pregnant, but miscarried. Then she got pregnant again, and 17 weeks into the pregnancy, she lost one of the twins she was carrying. The surviving twin, Brandon, now 3, is healthy, happy and "completely the love of our lives," says Runyon.
And earlier this year, Runyon got a surprise. She's pregnant and due this October. "Everyone said I was infertile—and then I get pregnant just by having sex with my husband," she says. "I'm astounded."
She admits that the fears of the pregnancy problems like those she experienced in the past made her first trimester difficult. "I know what can go wrong, and I was petrified," she says. "But at the end of the day, I can only change certain things. I can't change the fact that I'm older, but I can take the best care of myself as possible."
That's what Sandy Robertson did. When she was in her late 30s, Robertson, a part-time teacher, went through numerous medical treatments, including fertility drugs, insemination and in vitro fertilization. She did get pregnant with IVF, but miscarried due to an ectopic pregnancy that resulted in the loss of one of her fallopian tubes. Robertson quit using medical assists. Her doctors told her she would probably never get pregnant again.
She refused to accept what they said. She started taking better care of herself by improving her diet and reducing stress with meditation and visualization. Despite the odds, she did get pregnant several times in her early 40s. But the pregnancies ended in miscarriage. At age 44, Robertson got pregnant again. This time she carried to term, and she is now the proud mom of 5-year-old Patricia.
But the pregnancy wasn't easy. "Every doctor I saw put me through every test possible," she says. "But all the doctors could find was that I was a 44-year-old woman with one fallopian tube who just happened to be healthy and pregnant."
With celebrity magazines chock full of photos of famous over-40 moms, it's easy to forget that women like Robertson are the exception, not the rule. Reproduction has its own timetable, doctors caution. "It's not our place to tell women forget your education and career and go have babies," says Dr. Tommaso Falcone, professor and chairman of the Department of Obstetrics-Gynecology at the Cleveland Clinic. "But it's irresponsible to not share information. And it's clear that it's harder to have a child at 40. No one should get pregnant until they are ready to be pregnant, but women need to make reproductive decisions based on facts."
Those facts can't take the glow off successful late-in-life moms. "I said numerous times that I should have had kids earlier," says Villa, who was monitored closely during her pregnancy and was on bedrest for several weeks due to complications. "It can be a rough ride when you're older. I am probably in the worst shape of my life. But I'm also the happiest. I was ready to be a mom." Which is the best reason to get pregnant—regardless of age.
Find this article at
http://www.newsweek.com/id/158410
© 2008
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Should dads be in the delivery room?
By Clare Murphy
Health reporter, BBC News
It was once imparted to the father over the phone, yet now it's men themselves who often tell their exhausted partner the sex of the child she has just delivered. But could men be more of a hindrance than a help in the delivery room?
French obstetrician Michel Odent says yes, and even blames fathers for an increasing rate of births by Caesarean section.
At a debate hosted this week by the Royal College of Midwives, Mr Odent will argue against what he dubs "the masculinisation of the birth environment".
The presence of an anxious male partner in the labour room makes the woman tense and slows her production of the hormone oxytocin, which aids the process of labour, so the French doctor contends.
This, he says, makes her much more likely to end up on the operating table having an emergency Caesarean section.
"Having been involved for more than 50 years in childbirths in homes and hospitals in France, England and Africa, the best environment I know for an easy birth is when there is nobody around the woman in labour apart from a silent, low-profile and experienced midwife," he says.
"Oxytocin is the love drug which helps the woman give birth and bond with her baby. But it is also a shy hormone and it does not come out when she is surrounded by people and technology. This is what we need to start understanding."
He will be debated by Duncan Fisher, a leading advocate for fathers, who, while pressing for more preparation for fathers, argues they are there because women want them to be - "and we should trust mothers' instincts".
Here we come
Certainly men's appearance on the labour ward does co-incide with a rising number of caesarean births - although ironically their arrival was in part a backlash against doctor-led, highly-medicalised care in favour of a more woman-centred approach.
In the 1960s only about a quarter of men in the UK attended the birth of an infant, today it is well over 90%.
“ There are many reasons why the number of emergency Caesarean sections has risen ...none of which have anything to do with the presence of dads ”
Patrick O'Brien Consultant obstetrician
It is seen as an important rite of passage for any involved father, as well as a marker of social progress - the less developed a country, the more likely childbirth is to be seen as a woman's business best conducted behind closed doors.
"But I think the other issue is the lack of one-to-one care of women by midwives," says Winnie Rushby of Doula UK, an organisation which provides birthing support from experienced, but non-medically trained women. "Fathers have been called on to provide that help.
"Some of them are very attuned to the emotional and psychological needs of their partner. But if they are shocked by bodily fluids and very agitated by the pain they see her in, this could play on her mind and stop her psychologically entering the place she needs to be to deliver the baby - the birthing 'zone', if you like.
"We've gone from men not being there to virtually all men being there. We need to find a new medium, where there is no shame in discussing whether the father should be there or not. Women need to start asking if they really do want him there - and if so, is he prepared for what will go on."
Staying home
In fact, the greatest advocate of putting men in the mix was US doctor Robert Bradley, who in 1962 published Father's Presence in Delivery Rooms. This was a review of 4,000 cases when husbands were present.
“ Some partners will not feel comfortable themselves in providing physical and emotional support during labour ”
Elizabeth Duff National Childbirth Trust
He concluded, quite contrary to Dr Odent, that the husband's presence as a so-called "birth coach" actually helped the woman to relax. "With husbands coaching, we have more than 90% totally unmedicated births. No other approach comes near to that figure," he wrote.
Iran only recently allowed fathers into the delivery room after the health ministry in Tehran asked doctors to reduce the number of Caesarean births.
At 70% it has been among the highest in the world, and has been explained largely by women's fear of childbirth. Bringing in the men, it was hoped, would provide women with the reassurance they needed to deliver their baby without surgery.
Whether some men do in fact aid or irk in the delivery room is likely to remain a staple - and unresolved - debate, as any clinical trial would be almost impossible to conduct.
"But what we do know is that there are many reasons why the number of emergency caesarean sections has risen - including obesity, older mothers, and fear of litigation - none of which have anything to do with the presence of dads," says Patrick O'Brien, a consultant from the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists.
"Having a baby together is an intense, life-changing experience that most couples want to experience together. The father can be an immensely reassuring presence for the mother.
"And as for the suggestion that men won't cope with the so-called gore - well, most of his role can be carried out at the head-end, talking, mopping her brow, offering sips of water. Of course a man shouldn't feel forced to be there, but I have yet to meet one who said after the birth of his baby - 'I wish I'd stayed at home'."
Story from BBC NEWS:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/2/hi/health/8377099.stm
Published: 2009/11/25 11:59:42 GMT
© BBC MMIX
Print Sponsor
Advertisement
Health reporter, BBC News
It was once imparted to the father over the phone, yet now it's men themselves who often tell their exhausted partner the sex of the child she has just delivered. But could men be more of a hindrance than a help in the delivery room?
French obstetrician Michel Odent says yes, and even blames fathers for an increasing rate of births by Caesarean section.
At a debate hosted this week by the Royal College of Midwives, Mr Odent will argue against what he dubs "the masculinisation of the birth environment".
The presence of an anxious male partner in the labour room makes the woman tense and slows her production of the hormone oxytocin, which aids the process of labour, so the French doctor contends.
This, he says, makes her much more likely to end up on the operating table having an emergency Caesarean section.
"Having been involved for more than 50 years in childbirths in homes and hospitals in France, England and Africa, the best environment I know for an easy birth is when there is nobody around the woman in labour apart from a silent, low-profile and experienced midwife," he says.
"Oxytocin is the love drug which helps the woman give birth and bond with her baby. But it is also a shy hormone and it does not come out when she is surrounded by people and technology. This is what we need to start understanding."
He will be debated by Duncan Fisher, a leading advocate for fathers, who, while pressing for more preparation for fathers, argues they are there because women want them to be - "and we should trust mothers' instincts".
Here we come
Certainly men's appearance on the labour ward does co-incide with a rising number of caesarean births - although ironically their arrival was in part a backlash against doctor-led, highly-medicalised care in favour of a more woman-centred approach.
In the 1960s only about a quarter of men in the UK attended the birth of an infant, today it is well over 90%.
“ There are many reasons why the number of emergency Caesarean sections has risen ...none of which have anything to do with the presence of dads ”
Patrick O'Brien Consultant obstetrician
It is seen as an important rite of passage for any involved father, as well as a marker of social progress - the less developed a country, the more likely childbirth is to be seen as a woman's business best conducted behind closed doors.
"But I think the other issue is the lack of one-to-one care of women by midwives," says Winnie Rushby of Doula UK, an organisation which provides birthing support from experienced, but non-medically trained women. "Fathers have been called on to provide that help.
"Some of them are very attuned to the emotional and psychological needs of their partner. But if they are shocked by bodily fluids and very agitated by the pain they see her in, this could play on her mind and stop her psychologically entering the place she needs to be to deliver the baby - the birthing 'zone', if you like.
"We've gone from men not being there to virtually all men being there. We need to find a new medium, where there is no shame in discussing whether the father should be there or not. Women need to start asking if they really do want him there - and if so, is he prepared for what will go on."
Staying home
In fact, the greatest advocate of putting men in the mix was US doctor Robert Bradley, who in 1962 published Father's Presence in Delivery Rooms. This was a review of 4,000 cases when husbands were present.
“ Some partners will not feel comfortable themselves in providing physical and emotional support during labour ”
Elizabeth Duff National Childbirth Trust
He concluded, quite contrary to Dr Odent, that the husband's presence as a so-called "birth coach" actually helped the woman to relax. "With husbands coaching, we have more than 90% totally unmedicated births. No other approach comes near to that figure," he wrote.
Iran only recently allowed fathers into the delivery room after the health ministry in Tehran asked doctors to reduce the number of Caesarean births.
At 70% it has been among the highest in the world, and has been explained largely by women's fear of childbirth. Bringing in the men, it was hoped, would provide women with the reassurance they needed to deliver their baby without surgery.
Whether some men do in fact aid or irk in the delivery room is likely to remain a staple - and unresolved - debate, as any clinical trial would be almost impossible to conduct.
"But what we do know is that there are many reasons why the number of emergency caesarean sections has risen - including obesity, older mothers, and fear of litigation - none of which have anything to do with the presence of dads," says Patrick O'Brien, a consultant from the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists.
"Having a baby together is an intense, life-changing experience that most couples want to experience together. The father can be an immensely reassuring presence for the mother.
"And as for the suggestion that men won't cope with the so-called gore - well, most of his role can be carried out at the head-end, talking, mopping her brow, offering sips of water. Of course a man shouldn't feel forced to be there, but I have yet to meet one who said after the birth of his baby - 'I wish I'd stayed at home'."
Story from BBC NEWS:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/go/pr/fr/-/2/hi/health/8377099.stm
Published: 2009/11/25 11:59:42 GMT
© BBC MMIX
Print Sponsor
Advertisement
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