Weekend Plans and Tunes

I was singing Fela’s Lady as loudly as possible in the shower today for no reason. It’s a phase that comes and goes. A particular song finds its way back into my consciousness and remains there for days until something else knocks it off. Without doubt one of the musician’s most danceable and happiness inducing tunes, Lady has taken over my consciousness; not just the singing part of the track but the nice arrangement of horns, guitars and drums that introduce it. I now have reason to believe that Fela included so much instrumentation time on his tracks and little singing time so that when the listener feels like listening only to the sounds, they can be catered for without having to endure his voice, or politics.

My weekend has begun. It mostly begins on Thursday evenings when all classes are done. What I’ve been doing since then out of class work is scouring the internet for new places to visit. My search has led me to the Scott Joplin’s House in St. Louis and the Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts Centre also in the city. I have tonight to get much of my course work out of the way then take to the road. I can’t think of something more fun to do this weekend.

Now, those interested in Fela’s ballads should do well to check this out. One of his most famous slow jamz is titled Trouble Sleep Yanga Wake Am as well as Dog Eat Dog and Observation is No Crime. Needless to say, I’m so extremely jealous of those discovering Fela’s music for the very first time. Even for me listening to them again in intervals of weeks, I still get the same thrills of the very first time. Enjoy the weekend, good people.

Note on photo: Seen at the International Institute last week. I never knew that Joseph Pulitzer was an immigrant. He came into the country from Hungary.

At the Cathedral Basilica (ii)

More pictures from the St. Louis Cathedral Basilica.

Coffee with the Quakers

A guest post by Adeleke Adesanya

Anyone looking in through the glass from outside would think we were just having a coffee break, while working on a Sunday. We talked about politics, heard a first person account of the civil demonstrations against planned cuts in child services. Someone brought up the issue of expected redundancies at the museums and I wondered whether it would have been preferable to charge entrance fees for adults instead. The majority did not seem to agree with me. I was having my first meeting with the Quakers of Birmingham, otherwise known as the Society of Friends. They are a religious organisation, founded in the 1630s and infamous for being non-conformists. But I am getting ahead of myself.

In the middle of the healthy debates, an elderly lady asked me if I had attended a Friend’s meeting before. I said, “No”. Truth is, I had attempted to find their meeting place the previous week but had a difficult time locating them and arrived just in time for coffee. I decided not to partake then.  Their meeting rooms are tucked discretely into the middle of Bull Street, at Birmingham’s commercial centre. The premises, without any signage, are better known for hosting seminars and business meetings. Inside, the decor was stylish in a minimalist, business like fashion.

The elderly lady asked how I heard of them. I told her of a handbill I had received in my post graduate student induction pack. But once again, the truth is a bit more complicated. Many years prior, I read Charles Colson’s Born Again. The lasting impression that book made on me was that President Nixon was a Quaker. Later, I found out, President Hoover was also a Quaker. They were arguable the two most unpopular US presidents before George.W.Bush.  Both of them demonstrated placid sedateness in the midst of the worst public storms and they credited their faith for the fortitude to stay calm. I was intrigued; what made these guys tick?

I got a clue when I joined them for worship last Sunday. It was devoid of any ceremony; we sat for an hour in easy silence. Quakers believe God is an inner light that should speak to us as we wait on it. Sitting in meditative silence, they waited to hear. I was informed that sometimes, someone who was inspired will speak up but that did not happen on my watch. It was a refreshing silence, so humbling to listen in prayer for a change. The challenge was, of course, not in abstaining from speaking but in quieting the mind. Anyone who has taking part in meditation would know that thoughts seem to wait for one to be calm before intruding. But I can imagine a habit of silent meditations being useful in dealing with worries.  After the silent service, there were some brief announcements, and then we had coffee together.

A first time visitor would like to ask Quakers when their service starts. They like to say it is immediately after worship stops. Quakers have been conscientious objectors throughout their existence and made history as a result. They founded Pennsylvania to escape persecution.  They were pioneers in the anti-slavery and women’s rights movements.They still campaign against the death sentence. Perhaps, in the UK, much is made of their past because today they have shrunk in size, numbering 25000. The meeting I attended had only eleven members in attendance, excluding myself. The other thing I was made to realize is that English Quakers have an inclusive, flexible and unwritten theology that now includes atheist Quakers. What struck me most about them was what was absent; loud prayers, direct exhortations.I left feeling I had spent a Sunday morning rather well and thinking, I could do this again. And that was one more item off my “Things to Do before I Die List”.

It is Written

Maybe I should have started the report on my crazy religious weekend from the mosque visit. After all, we went there first. Now, that particular post coming at the end of a long and beautiful description of the other places I went to on the same day, I feel like an angry blogger – something I’ve tried to consciously avoid. Life is too short to spend being angry all the time. Not when there is so much beauty around to satisfy even the most ordinary life. So there, I’m done with complaining for the next couple of weeks. Again, religion is a testy topic, and I’ve been warned to steer clear of its contentious parts. I’ve not taken well to that piece of advice. Sorry mum.

And so a new week begins, hopefully on a positive note. I thank you for voting in the poll on the right side. I’ve been too lazy to blog about it. I have a few academic papers to put in during this week so I don’t hope to blog much as it goes by (but we all know how well I stick to that promise). There may be other things I forgot to put in the poll, but if you have any ideas, feel free to include them under “others.”

In any case, here’s just a quick note to say that I’m still breathing. I bought two lovely postcards from the Cathedral Basilica and I’m willing to send it by post to whomever expresses interest. One shows the building from the inside, the other from the outside. Cost: $1. No tax.

This reminds me. I still owe some people postcards I promised to send. Sigh. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I’ll try to send them all off this week. What can I say, I’ve been a combination of busy and lazy. Welcome to the crazy life of a student, worker and blogger in America.

(In the photo: A group of students listening to the Kenyan Ambassador to the United States Mr. Elkanah Odembo on his visit to campus last week. I was there to impress him with my smattering of Swahili, his native language.)

Islam in America

It’s funny that before the recent controversy about the Cordoba House in NY city a block away from the former World Trade Centre buildings, my imagination never successfully pictured a mosque in the United States. Of course it’s a no-brainer, there has to have been a mosque somewhere. Or where did Malcolm X, Mohammed Ali, and other countless immigrants from the Middle East do their Friday prayers. Somehow I must have always thought that they prayed in designated places in their homes. Of course, now I know different. Even Wikipedia has a list of all the mosques in the country. So when I had to drive one of the current Arabic teachers on the Fulbright program to a place to pray on Friday, wiki was there to help.

The problem was, it wasn’t called a mosque even though that was what it was. It was called an Islamic Community Centre. What on earth is that? When we went to a Cathedral, it was called a cathedral. When we visited a Synagogue, it was called as such. But when we went to the mosque, it was called something else. It was not just a place for socialization. It was a Mosque – a praying ground. When did it become a crime to call something by its own name? Only in America, perhaps. The only consolation is that, by any other name, the building remained visible for all to see with a minaret pointing to heaven. On the one hand, I am proud of the country living up to its creed of freedom for all (including freedom from discrimination on the basis of religion, and the freedom of worship). This is beyond impressive and it speaks to diversity, courage and maturity. On the other hand, I’m disgusted by the hypocrisy that would make a mosque be called by any other name for any reason in order to adjust to the discomfort of a needlessly frightened society.

(Click image to enlarge)