To all those who insist Muslims are not denouncing Islamic
 extremists, here's a sample to both show they are, and why they
 may not be.

 www.tinyurl.com/cy4cby
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 From the Toledo Blade.

 Article published April 6, 2009

 Islam's uncouth custodians wreaking havoc

 PESHAWAR, Pakistan - My annual and occasionally semiannual
 visits to Peshawar, the city of my birth, have been a source of
 joy and renewal for many years. I have believed that one could
 always go home. Now I'm not so sure.

 Located at the crossroads of Asia, this ancient city was once
 called the city of flowers. A famous American traveler called it
 the Paris of Asia and its main street, the Street of Story
 Tellers, the Piccadilly of Central Asia. Comparisons to Paris
 and Piccadilly were always a stretch, but as metaphors for a
 romantic and exotic place it was very apt.

 Here the great Indian plains and the Central Asian steppes
 converged and gave rise to a fascinating culture that always
 carried the echoes of far away lands.

 It was through the high mountain passes in the Hindu Kush that
 all invaders, beginning with Alexander of Macedonia in 320 B.C.
 and many more who followed the trail, came to the Indian
 subcontinent.

 It was in this milieu that I was born, raised, and was steeped
 in the culture and languages of the city. When I left Peshawar
 in 1963 for America, I shed a few tears, as most young men and
 women do when they leave home. I took with me nothing but a few
 snapshots and a rich album of memories.

 In the past eight years, the face of this city has been
 changing. It is not the physical appearance, though that has
 changed too, but the values that were the essence of life here.
 Terrorism and random violence have had a profound effect on the
 psyche of its people.

 Recently, while walking in one of the bazaars in the old city, I
 accidently stepped on a discarded empty bag of potato chips.
 With air trapped inside, it burst, making a loud noise and
 causing me and everyone around to jump in panic. People are on
 edge, and any loud noise reminds them of the ever-present
 possibility of bombing, or, worse, a suicide bomber.

 If these shadowy terrorists were anarchists, social radicals,
 or even militant communists, people would have stood up to them.
 But the terrorists speak the language of religion and even
 though most people do not subscribe to their brand of Islam,
 they are afraid to say so in public. Public dissension is the
 quickest way to get in the crosshairs of the Taliban.

 I found most people in my home town to be trapped in that
 warped and distorted logic. And, of course, there are some, a
 minority I must add, who think the Taliban would cure Pakistani
 society of all its ills. They seem to have forgotten what the
 Taliban did in neighboring Afghanistan when they ruled there
 from 1996 through 2002.

 The Taliban systematically destroyed Afghan and specifically
 Pashtun culture by banning music, the arts, and any kind of
 artistic expression.

 Their hand was visible when last month they bombed the tomb of
 the 17th-century Sufi Pashtun poet Rahman Baba just outside the
 city. His devotional and romantic poetry inspired and gave
 spiritual sustenance to many generations of Pashtuns and
 non-Pashtuns.

 Al-Qaeda and the Taliban believe only in the austere and harsh
 Wahhabi Islam and they are committed to destroying anything that
 comes in its way, including the tomb of an ancient poet-saint
 that stood as a symbol of religious tolerance and brotherhood of
 mankind. I wept when I saw the desecrated tomb.

 It used to be delightful to walk the streets of Peshawar at all
 hours of the day and night. It used to be a great feeling to
 walk the crowded streets and to come across a familiar face and
 reminisce for few minutes on the curb, or to accept an impromptu
 invitation for cup of green tea. Not anymore.

 My favorite time of the day is when I walk to the neighborhood
 mosque for early prayer service at dawn. It is always a peaceful
 and spiritual interlude before the start of daily activities. On
 the way back from the mosque, one could smell the aroma of
 freshly baked bread wafting from the bakery, or the sweet and
 aromatic smell of halva - cream of wheat pudding - being cooked
 in a big caldron at the sweet shop.

 A few weeks ago, a man was kidnapped from another mosque.
 Needless to say, I felt vulnerable in my own neighborhood and
 now I do not venture out at that early hour.

 One wishes things were different. For me there is the escape of
 flying home to Toledo. That can't be said about millions of
 people who are being terrorized by these self-appointed,
 self-anointed, uneducated, and uncouth custodians of my faith.

 Dr. S. Amjad Hussain is a retired Toledo surgeon whose column
 appears every other week in The Blade.

 Contact him at: aghaji{at}bex.net

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BOB KLAHN bob.klahn{at}sev.org   http://home.toltbbs.com/bobklahn

... God does play dice with the universe...and the dice are loaded.
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