I’m a white Canadian. But I easily imagine myself as a dark Arabian. A Muslim. There, on the streets with a kufiya on my head. Or there, I’m a Muslim woman with a beautiful, but hidden, face, walking along the beach. I’m just telling you. I mean, what if I was born in, say, Yemen.
We left last time talking about pregnancy and birth and all that, especially at certain universities in Uganda. (Which brings me to this brief conversation between Hannah and Mom at the hospital just before we left Canada recently.) Mom: It was a busy night. We had 11 deliveries. We even had twins. One boy and one girl. [...]
There’s the guilt and fear. There’s the drama and emotion. There’s the conformity and the teaching of “Us versus Them.” Of course, there is also that feeling that you’re not good enough, that you have to somehow work your way into God’s love. These are hallmarks of cults, dangerous but strangely appealing religious groups like [...]