ZAM ZAM WATER--IS IT UNFIT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION? by Tariq Hussein

We came here again to perform the Umrah, and I am reminded of the wonders of Zam-zam. Let me go back to how it all started. In 1971, an Egyptian doctor wrote to the European Press, a letter saying that Zam-zam water was not fit for drinking purposes. I immediately thought that this was just a form of prejudice against the Muslims and that since his statement was based on the assumption that since the Ka'aba was a shallow place (below sea level) and located in the center of the city of Makkah, the waste water of the city collecting through the drains fell into well holding the water.

Fortunately, the news came to King Faisal's ears who got extremely angry and decided to disprove the Egyptian doctor's provocative statement. He immediately ordered the Ministry of Agriculture and Water Resources to investigate and send samples of Zam-zam water to European laboratories for testing the potability of the water. The ministry then instructed the Jeddah Power and Desalination Plant to carry out this task.

It was here that I was employed as a desalting engineer (chemical engineer) to produce drinking water from sea water). I was chosen to carry out this assignment. At this stage, I remember that I had no idea what the well holding the water looked like. I went to Makkah and reported to the authorities at the Ka'aba explaining my purpose of visit.

They deputed a man to give me whatever help was required. When we reached the well, it was hard for me to believe that a pool of water, more like a small pond, about 18 by 14 feet, was the well that supplied millions of gallons of water every year to hajis ever since it came into existence at the time of Hazrat Ibrahim AS., many, many centuries ago.

I started my investigations and took the dimensions of the well. I asked the man to show me the depth of the well. First he took a shower and descended into the water. Then he straightened his body. I saw that the water level came up to just above his shoulders. His height was around five feet, eight inches. He then started moving from one corner to the other in the well (standing all the while since he was not allowed to dip his head into the water) in search of any inlet or pipeline inside the well to see from where the water came in. However, the man reported that he could not find any inlet or pipeline inside the well.

I thought of another idea. The water could be withdrawn rapidly with the help of a big transfer pump which was installed at the well for the Zam-zam water storage tanks. In this way, the water level would drop enabling us to locate the point of entry of the water.

Surprisingly, nothing was observed during the pumping period, but I knew that this was the only method by which you could find the entrance of the water to the well. So I decided to repeat the process. But this time, I instructed the man to stand still at one place and carefully observe any unusual thing happening inside the well. After a while, he suddenly raised his hands and shouted, "Alhamdollillah! I have found it. The sand is dancing beneath my feet as the water oozes out of the bed of the well."

Then he moved around the well during the pumping period and noticed the same phenomenon everywhere in the well. Actually the flow of water into the well through the bed was equal at every point, thus keeping the level of the water steady. After I finished my observations I took the samples of the water for European laboratories to test. Before I left the Ka'aba, I asked the authorities about the other wells around Makkah.

I was told that these wells were mostly dry. When I reached my office in Jeddah I reported my findings to my boss who listened with great interest but made a very irrational comment that the Zam-zam well could be internally connected to the Red Sea . How was it possible when Makkah is about 75 kilometres away from the sea and the wells located before the city usually remains dry?

The results of the water samples tested by the European laboratories and the one We analyzed in our own laboratory were found to be almost identical.

The difference between Zam-zam water and other water (city water) was in the quantity of calcium and magnesium salts. The content of these was slightly higher in zam-zam water. This may be why this water refreshes tired hajis, but more significantly, the water contains fluorides that have an effective germicidal action. Moreover, the remarks of the European laboratories showed that the water was fit for drinking. Hence the statement made by the Egyptian doctor was proved false.

When this was reported to King Faisal he was extremely pleased and
ordered the contradiction of the report in the European Press. In a way, it was a blessing that this study was undertaken to show the chemical composition of the water. In fact, the more you explore, the more wonders surface and you find yourself believing implicitly in the miracles of this water that Allah bestowed as a gift on the faithful coming from far and wide to the desert land for pilgrimage.

Let me sum up some of the features of Zam-Zam water.

This well has never dried up. On the contrary it has always fulfilled the demand for water. It has always maintained the same salt composition and taste ever since it came into existence. Its potability has always been universally recognised as pilgrims from all over the world visit Ka'aba every year for Hajj and umrah, but have never complained about it. Instead, they have always enjoyed the water that refreshes them. Water tastes different at different places.

Zam-zam water's appeal has always been universal. This water has never been chemically treated or chlorinated as is the case with water pumped into the cities. Biological growth and vegetation usually takes place in most wells.This makes the water unpalatable owing to the growth of algae causing taste and odour problems.But in the case of the Zam-zam water well, there wasn't any sign of biological growth. Centuries ago, Bibi Hajra A.S. searched desperately for water in the hills of Sufwa and Murwa to give to her newly born son Hazrat Ismail A.S. As she ran from one place to another in search of water, her child rubbed his feet against the sand. A pool of water surfaced, and by the grace of Allah, shaped itself into a well which came to be called Zam-zam water.

Saudi Arabia Putting a Cap on Fatwas

Article written by Qusay Fayoumi
I really enjoyed reading this article. He simply hits the nail on the head.

I have to confess, I am not much of a follower of fatwas, but more a follower of P.H.A.T.W.A  LOL...Na just kidding. However, I am happy that Abu Met3ab King Abdullah has stopped fatwas being issued from all corners of the Kingdom by certain religious clerics who have no idea what Islam is all about.This bold step taken by the octogenarian monarch is however a double-edged sword.

One of the problems I hope this decree solves is the clarification that not every word that comes out of a religious person’s mouth is a fatwa, like the so called Mickey mouse fatwa which was not a fatwa at all, or any similar ones, which are too abundant to even start mentioning. People in Saudi are guilty of hanging on to these words, as is the media that is willing to contort and run with any story.

Another problem I hope this solves is that now, the frequency we hear “Saudi Arabia issued a fatwa” saying this or that (eg.breastfeeding the driver or coworker) will now be zero, as this is now a government organized thing, and anyone who has tried to get a little paper signed at any government office anywhere around the world knows that bureaucracy is a staple of government, and so… any fatwa will take a loooooong time to be issued

I can imagine them now, going to the fatwa issuing office on the third floor, taking a number and sitting down, then when their number comes, they talk to a very uninterested employee who tell him he has to fill out form A, and get signatures from two references and put them all in a green folder, and not to forget to attach a passport size photo on top of form A without his glasses on, and include two photocopies of his national ID and university degree with the transcript all of course should be official copies of the original documents notarized by a registered notary public, and of course he should come back in two weeks and when he does come back, they tell him that his papers are still with the head of the department, please come back in another two weeks. (this paragraph is just my imagination running wild, do not take it seriously)

Now why did we not hear of all these fatwas a long time ago? well, now everyone has relatively more freedom to say what they want, including but not limited to people in the religious establishment, and since Saudi has no political parties and no celebrities (except a few soccer players and a few singers, yet it is not enough for a tabloid industry) to keep people debating or talking about this and that, the clerics have the limelight, and some know how to use it better than others.

I do not see this as a form of limiting the freedom of speech of those individuals, it is, in my opinion at least, a form of the government protecting it self from being associated with crazy fatwas that seem to be coming up more often these days then ever before.

Islam, since its early days had so many schools of thought and little branches… those debates will continue until the end of time, and people’s propensity to come up with strange laws in every culture is another never ending story

Source:

http://qusaytoday.com/en/2010/08/saudi-arabia-putting-a-cap-on-fatwas/

Cameroon’s Awful ‘Breast Ironing’ Problem

Like many nations, Cameroon has a teen pregnancy problem that isn't being adequately addressed. The solution many have turned to is utterly horrifying: In an attempt to make their daughters less desirable to boys, mothers are ironing their breasts with hot objects to prevent them from developing.
In a report on the practice that affects one in four girls in Cameroon, CNN interviews Grace Techu, a mother who began ironing her daughter's breasts before school every day when she was nine. Techu used a hot pestle heated in the fire, but others use hot stones or coconut shells to beat at girls' breasts. This is supposed to discourage the growth of breast tissue, but all it does is severly injure girls. According to a State Department human rights report, breast ironing often leaves girls with, "burns, deformities, and psychological problems."

Techu clearly sees breast ironing as a loving act. Mothers do this because they want their girls to be able to stay in school longer, rather than dropping out due to unplanned pregnancy. Girls who start developing at a young age are particularly at risk, and doctors say girls in Cameroon are starting puberty earlier thanks to improved diets.

Thankfully, several charities have launched campaigns in recent years to provide sex education and teach people that breast ironing doesn't prevent pregnancy. In addition to tackling traditional practices, activists have to fight the idea (which goes far beyond Cameroon) that efforts to control sexuality should be taken out on women's bodies.

Source:

http://articles.cnn.com/2011-07-27/world/cameroon.breast.ironing_1_breast-cameroonian-mothers?_s=PM:WORLD

The horrendous driving culture within the Kingdom

The video below reminds me of driving in Saudi Arabia, and some other parts of the world. Even in a world with enforced traffic rules,road rage does happen, especially during the holiday season
But this classic Disney production simply hit the nail on the head in describing the driving culture within the Kingdom.
I also wished to incorporate an excellent article written by a fellow blogger who unfortunately does not write any more. The article quite aptly describes his own driving experiences within the Kingdom.

JAYWALKER

It’s Wednesday evening.  I love Wednesday evenings.  

Most of the rest of the world is marooned on an island as far away from a weekend as it’s possible to be.  I’m lucky.  My weekend begins two days sooner than yours.  With a Wednesday evening comes my Wednesday evening ritual.  

I’m driving the fifty miles back from work.  Everyone is bombing down the highway, faster, more aggressively, more recklessly than usual.  We’re diving in, out and around each other.  You can flash your headlights all you like, my friend, because this heap of junk doesn’t even go over one-thirty.  Finally there’s a gap to my right and I ease over to let the guy whizz past.  There are 3 or 4 behind him, nose-to-tail, shum-shum-shum-shum they go.  I’m so busy looking in the mirrors, trying to get back over to the fast lane that I almost don’t see the guy right up in front of me.  I catch it just in time, and there’s nowhere else to go but lurch round his right side; the sand tails blown across the asphalt by the non-stop wind nearly whip me right off the road.  Ah screw it, it’s Wednesday.  They’re all fast lanes.

We’re all racing in to the city at the same time.  Every day there is at least one amazing sight as the traffic is squashed tighter together.  Yesterday there was an 18-wheeler on its side.  Today there was a sedan with its radiator halfway through its engine.  The remains of blowouts are everywhere.

On to the inner city highway.  Less space, more pace.  Dodging the Dodges, ducking the trucks.  I’m finally back home.  

An hour later and I’m out the door again.  I’m on the way to my favorite coffee shop.  I’m going to drink cappuccino, smoke cigarettes and catch up with friends all night long.  I feel so damn good I might even zip over the bridge early tomorrow morning and spend the day in Bahrain.  But first to my favorite sandwich shop.  I get there and bang!  The door shuts in my face.  It’s maghrib prayer time – the sun has just gone down.  Yallah, ithneen shwarma dajaj, bass…please?  

Five steps to next door, my second choice.  Click.  The door locks.

Driving through the back streets, over to the coffee shop.  Crawling through unmarked intersections every fifty meters.  At the third cross, two young boys sail right in front of me on rollerblades.  They don’t blink.  I’m shaking my head so obviously that one of them notices, does a quarter turn, and offers me a cheeky two-fingered salute from his right temple, and they carry on.  I’m even impressed.  

I park up at the coffee shop – it’s still closed for prayer.  Off with the A/C and the engine so it doesn’t overheat.  Ten minutes later I’m inside, I’ve ordered,  and I’m cooling off.  It is great.  An hour later, the bill is delivered and it’s time for the last prayer of the day.  I leave my laptop downloading and go for a drive down to the beach.  

Just before the bridge to Bahrain there’s a guy behind me flashing his lights again.  I can’t move out of his way – there’s another car to my right.  I’m not trying to slow you down, friend, but what can I do?  I know you can see the car to my right.  I’m out of his way as soon as I can be, but he’s already parallel.  As his trunk passes my hood, he swings it out a little to give me a little scare, and he’s on his way.

The beach is deserted, and anyway by the time I’m there it’s time to head back.  I’m coming up behind a guy who kindly drifts over to the middle lane.  I’m almost parallel.  I’m on his left.  We’re curving left.  Shit, has he seen me? He’s drifting back towards me!  Hit the horn!  He catches it just in time, and I’m away from him.  

At the lights we’re stopped for a while.  From nowhere an oversized teenager on an undersized BMX comes across us at speed, bangs straight over the crosswalk, around the median and disappears up the street, against the traffic, in to the darkness.  The lights change, and I’m in to the back streets again, keeping my eyes open for those two damn kids on rollerblades…

This piece isn’t about me.  It would be pretty boring if it was, wouldn’t it?  In case you didn’t notice, go back and count the number of near collisions I had in less than two hours of driving.  This isn’t even about driving standards.  It’s all been said before.

What this is about, though, is my crazy admiration for people who drive – and in many cases live – like they couldn’t care less whether they live or die.  It’s truly amazing – and I’m not even being sarcastic.  

They’re not stupid.  They know that driving at 180, chipping every car in front off the road, is lunacy.  They’ve all seen the gory consequences.  If there’s one thing that isn’t censored here, it’s blood and brawn smeared over asphalt and aluminium.  

They know that taking 3 or 4 spoons of sugar in their tea is going to give them diabetes sooner or later.

They know that chugging down 40 hardcore smokes a day is going to kill them young.  

They know that staying up all night shatters them for whatever they have to do the next day. 

I’ve said it before and I’m certain I’m going to say it again:

I like the Arabs.  I don’t understand them, but I like them.

Source:

http://shwaybass.wordpress.com/