Two signs posted in Lahore, Pakistan instigating Muslims to not associate or shake hands with Ahmadis. The top poster is found in Urdu Bazzar and the bottom poster is found in Punjab Library. |
Source/Credit: Gawaahi.Com | Cross-post
By Muzaffar Ahmad | July 1, 2011
This post was sent to Gawaahi.com through their Submit page in answer to a call for submissions on World Refugee Day on June 20, 2011.
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Friday June 15, 2007 (Risalpur, Pakistan)
It is just another day in NUST, an engineering university, where I am attending lectures. I hear that the Administration is shuffling hostel accommodation, and I find that no one is willing to share a room with me. A peer argues that he cannot share a room with a non-Muslim. They decide that I will not have a roommate, and will live alone as I have been doing for the past three years of my life at the university.
During Friday prayers, I wait in the classroom, as I am not allowed to enter a Muslim mosque for my prayers. After classes, I enter the university cafeteria, and join a few other students for lunch. One of them gets up, and changes his table, leaving me humiliated. Members of the cafeteria staff bring cutlery especially reserved for me, which will be kept separate for my use alone.
Monday July 13, 2009 (Sheikhupura, Pakistan)
I am awarded a handsome scholarship by Australian government to pursue my education in Melbourne. My colleagues, who were, like me, educated in the field of engineering, said, “You got this scholarship because they only offer opportunities to agents of Jews.” Another commented, “Anyone can get this scholarship. All you have to do is change your faith. They don’t invest in Muslims.”
Friday June 03, 2011 (Melbourne, Australia)
This is also another ordinary day. I drive to my office and begin my routine work at an environmental engineering consultancy. Paolo, a colleague, asks, “Hey Zafri! Are you Muslim?” I proudly reply, “Yes.” He calls out, “Hey guys! I’ve got a brother here.” I wonder how it is that I am accepted here and not by my own. Later, another colleague asks me to join him for lunch. I decline, as I go for Friday prayers in a mosque. I recall again how I was deprived of that right in my homeland.
This is just a glimpse into the alienation the minority sect of Ahmadiyya faces in Pakistan. We Ahmadis consider ourselves Muslims, but the Pakistani Constitution declares us to be non-Muslims, and forbids us from performing Islamic rituals including saying something as routine as ‘Asslam-o-Alaikum,’ ironically, an offering of peace. Ahmadis cannot call their place of worship a mosque, and in that ‘place of worship,’ cannot write the kalma.
Having endured all that, I would say that the last six months were some of the worst, as three members of my family were murdered in Mardan. The only reason was that they were Ahmadis, and they refused to change their faith. The murder of successful and prominent Ahmadis is not uncommon, and is fueled by religious hatred while their kidnapping for ransom is a routine matter, as it is known that their security is not a priority for the state. The persecution of an Ahmadi continues even after death. The state seems either unwilling or unable to intervene for the rights of minorities.
I have been forced to become a refugee. Pakistan provides protection to more refugees in the world than any other, and yet, it has failed to secure its own citizens.
-- Courtesy @Kidvai
Read original post here: I am an Ahmadi, I am a refugee | Gawaahi.Com
The Jamat-e-Islami, and rape
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