Tag: Islam

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Iran: Afraid of Americans

Scene: A café in Vancouver. Joe and Sepehr sit across from each other, drinking strong coffee and talking geopolitics.

Joe:
Sepehr, you ever notice something? Croats, Serbs, Bosnians… even after the war, a lot of people from the old Yugoslavia still think the Americans run the world.

Sepehr:
(laughs)
In Iran we think the same thing. But for us it didn’t start with the Balkans. It started with the coup in 1953.

Joe:
Yeah, the one where the CIA overthrew the prime minister.

Sepehr:
Exactly. The U.S. helped remove Mohammad Mosaddegh and put the Shah back in power. After that, many Iranians believed Washington was shaping our destiny from behind the curtain.

Joe:
That’s similar to how people in the Balkans felt during the breakup of Yugoslavia. NATO bombings, Western diplomacy… a lot of people thought the big powers were redesigning the map of the region.

Sepehr:
Because when superpowers intervene, it feels like someone else is writing your history.

Joe:
And then you hear politicians talk about a “New World Order.” Remember when George H. W. Bush used that phrase during the Gulf War?

Sepehr:
Yeah. He meant a new global system after the Cold War—more cooperation between countries and international institutions.

Joe:
But to people who lived through coups, wars, and sanctions, it didn’t sound like cooperation.

Sepehr:
It sounded like control.

Joe:
Exactly. In the Balkans, people said the Americans were redesigning Europe. In Iran, people say America is trying to dominate the Middle East.

Sepehr:
And yet, ordinary people in both places don’t necessarily hate Americans themselves.

Joe:
Right. They just fear the power of the empire.

Sepehr:
(smiles)
History teaches one thing: every empire thinks it’s bringing order. But everyone else wonders whose order it really is.

Joe:
So Yugoslavia and Iran end up asking the same question.

Sepehr:
What question?

Joe:
Is the “New World Order” about peace… or about power?

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A Date With a Muslim

Joe the Janissary met Sophie Ellis-Bextor under a lantern-lit café terrace just after sunset.

“Joe,” Sophie smiled, stirring her tea, “if I were to date a Muslim man, what would that even look like?”

Joe straightened his coat with theatrical seriousness. “Sophie, in traditional Islamic practice, we do not ‘date’ in the Western sense. The idea of casual romance, candlelit ambiguity, and ‘let’s see where it goes’ is… how do I say… structurally inefficient.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Not even a speed date? Five minutes, a handshake, a ‘What’s your favorite color?’”

Joe paused. “Speed… consultation, perhaps.”

“And what about sharing a date after the Ramadan fast?” she teased. “A sweet one. Medjool, maybe.”

Joe sighed. “Sharing a date after Ramadan is acceptable. Sharing a date-date before marriage is where the jurisprudence committee begins sweating.”

Sophie laughed. “So no disco ball? No dramatic entrance? Not even a chaperoned coffee?”

Joe considered this carefully. “There is something called halal courtship. Families aware. Intentions clear. Public settings. Respectful conversation. No vanishing into the night like it’s one of your music videos.”

“So,” she grinned, “less ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ and more ‘Minutes from the Meeting’?”

“Precisely,” Joe nodded. “The objective is clarity, not confusion. In many Muslim cultures, the purpose of meeting is marriage. Not trial subscriptions.”

Sophie leaned forward. “But surely cultures evolve. Muslims live in London, Toronto, Sarajevo… You can’t freeze romance in the 9th century.”

Joe smiled. “True. Many Muslims today adapt. They might meet for coffee, talk privately in public spaces, maintain boundaries. The key principle is modesty and intention — not secrecy or impulsiveness.”

“And you?” she asked.

Joe hesitated dramatically. “I will consult my companions about this Western ritual of ‘taking a woman on a date.’ We may draft a proposal. Perhaps: supervised espresso.”

“With dessert?”

“Only after sunset,” he said solemnly. “And definitely a real date — the fruit — to maintain orthodoxy.”

Sophie laughed again. “Well, Joe, if you ever need a cultural liaison, I’m available for a very respectful, committee-approved coffee.”

Joe bowed slightly. “Then we shall begin with tea. It is less controversial.”

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MOSQUE RENOVATIONS

Joe the Janissary stood up in the East Van community hall — no marble columns, no gold domes, no CGI skyline.

“Brothers and sisters,” he says, adjusting his thrift-store blazer, “we are not building the Death Star. We are not building a palace. We are building a place to breathe.”

He points at a hand-drawn budget on the whiteboard:

  • Wool carpets (so your knees don’t file a complaint)
  • Natural soap (so we leave cleaner than we came)
  • Water filters (because even saints need hydration)

“That’s it,” Joe says. “No crystal chandeliers. No ten-storey minarets. No ‘opening ceremony featuring hologram falcons.’”

Someone in the back yells, “What about that giant mosque prank like in Borat?”

Joe laughs. “Exactly. We are not doing a spectacle. We are not in a mockumentary directed by chaos. We are doing quiet dignity.”

He draws a small rectangle on the board.

“This,” he says, “is the dream mosque. Modest. Warm. Smells faintly of cedar and clean wool. You come in stressed. You leave calm. No ego architecture.”

An elder nods. “So no mega-fundraising gala?”

“Nope,” Joe replies. “Bring a carpet sample. Bring a filter. Bring a bar of olive soap. That’s our luxury.”

A kid asks, “Can we at least have good tea?”

Joe smiles. “Good tea is mandatory. Even the Janissaries would approve.”

The room laughs. Someone passes around a sign-up sheet titled:

East Van Mosque Budget: Practical & Peaceful

Joe finishes:

“We don’t need to impress the skyline. We just need to serve the people. If we stay humble, the building will feel bigger on the inside.”

And for once, nobody argues — because wool carpets, clean water, and humility are surprisingly hard to oppose.

Koran