Not Your Father's Peace Rally: 17 Million Smart-assy Marchers Hip Hopping to Funky Beats Can't Be Wrong

By Jawad Ali
Photos By Liv Leader and Jawad Ali

Drums
"Ya'll know now that I will not be at talim this weekend." The imam of my masjid announced during the Friday khutba. "I need to be at the peace march on Sunday, even if it is just to say two nice words to someone."

Then he broke out into one of those playful characters he plays with such relish during his routine. "But Iiiimam, there may be some crazies out there at the march."

He whined in a new voice. "Hey man, there may be some crazy people right here in this masjid. You know what I am talking about. That did not stop you and me from coming here today." He laughed at the answer to his own question, and a few old timers joined in on some private joke. He then recited a quick list of things that are truly crazy about this world of war and famine. These were the things that his marching feet were planning to protest.

But he had laughed the laugh of a man who was not planning on playing African drums at the march. He is not the one who has to worry about the loonies.

The drums are a deranged idea of my very own. I'll be out there like some giant kook magnet for all those who have lost their minds and faculties in this time of sadness. There was a holocaust being planned. I had no other choice. I brought a djembe, a set of dunduns, a few chairs, some friends and a large bottle of water to the march.

We had the world to heal, and a war to stop. My two words of kindness were going to speak of unity and love in the language of some other long forgotten Islamic empire. The loonies had better bring their dancing shoes.

Madness
The last time my friends and I played West African drum music for a deranged throng of a quarter million was last Halloween in the Castro district.

Did I say just a quarter of a million people? How many did CNN say? 150,000? That's just how many were standing in lines for the porta-poties when it was my turn to go. Maybe that's how "the man" counts his count. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I was there. There were 17 million people at the march. Not 16. Not 18. Our proud little publication can cook the numbers as well as many large corporations. Muslims rejoice everywhere.

We saw the pattern on Halloween. Our deeply spiritual music of the Islamic people speeds up into the stuff of spirit possession and secret society initiations. Other African drummers join our circle, and the sound shifts to wedding and circumcision parties. The funky swinging beats of Mali make way for more driving staccato beats of Guinea. Samba and Salsa kick in. Punk rockers turned grunge musicians join in and shift the sound further towards Hippy Hill and People's Park. This is about the time when the hounds of hell break loose. Parents yank their children out of the dance. Homeless people hear the call of the wild. Young professional looking people experience the ravages of homemade mind bending drugs for the first time.

We play one or three songs too many, and then suddenly feel the need to high tail out of there before the mosh pit had a chance to swallow us. Rumi might argue that it is the sober people who are not ready for music of such depth and power.

Carnival
Halloween, that most sacred of American holidays, had prepared us for this carnage, and much else we had come to experience. We don't have Halloween in Pakistan--at least not as a yearly festival of ha ha. There was probably a time in the United States when good people dressed in scary or ghoulish outfits. But trick has gone the way of the typewriter and carbon paper.

It is all treat now. People dress to showcase their humor, wit and creativity. Smart-ass is the over-riding theme. This brings us full circle back to our lovely peace march. The same people are out in their glorious silliness. Their mission has a sense of nobility, but their mad methods are the same.

This is not your father's peace march. Cold cynical disciples of Homer Simpson have overtaken the dreamy flower children at these gatherings. The sheer absurdities of war, and the mind-bending stupidity of George W Bush, are more within their reach than either the horrors of war or the bliss of peace. The tables were turned in Seattle, I think. For a few short-lived moments in history the smart-asses of America ran amok and thumbed their noses at the foolishness of globalization. That particular genie has not gone back in the bottle yet.

I saw this joyous bravado at the first peace rally only a few days after Mr. Usama's low flying acts horror. I was still in a state of shock, and didn't know what to expect from an American mob, even in San Francisco. I did my best ethnic profiling of the crowd, but there were no other obviously Muslim people there.

Instead I was subjected to the strange spectacle of watching young American women dancing and skipping with homemade paintings of their Muslim sisters. Somewhere an old-school white liberal peacenik lefty was turning in his grave. These tank top wearing, eyebrow piercing, samba dancing free spirits had broken free from the mind control of globalization.

Rabbi Michael Lerner of Tikkun had made a sad attempt to bottle this genie of Seattle on the eve of Sunday's march. Without the benefit of any detailed reasoning, he hop-skipped and jumped the organizers of the rally, from criticism of Israel, to Israel bashing, to outright anti-Semitism. This trick used to work well in the traditional left until very recently. But the children of Seattle have learned how to connect the dots of globalization all on their own. The Israel Inc dot that sits next to dots of Exxon Inc and Lockheed Inc is just too conspicuous for them to ignore. Rabbi Lerner is important because he is one of the most vocal voices amongst progressive Jews, and we intend to extend him a hug some day soon.

Muslims
I still see one or two of those old, hastily painted, corrugated cardboard signs at peace rallies, and they fill my heart with warmth. Mothers, daughters and sisters in chadors and dupattas always look beautiful, innocent and defiant on those posters.

By now real flesh-and-blood Muslims have found their voices and their feet, and they were the most visible at this rally. Sisters in hijab were amongst the most frequent photographers of our drumming madness. There were signs there of more traditional Muslims. A young Muslim man walked by as he played the Tilawat (recitation) of the Quran on a boom box. There were signs telling folks to read the Quran.

A man carrying a big Jesus sign was roundly heckled by people at the bus stop who were not even in the march. Yet these very skeptical people gladly accepted the literature a group of Muslims was handing out. It was very traditional stuff prepared by our Saudi friends at WAMY, but the folks handing it out did not claim membership in any organization. They just wanted to have something to give away, and this was the only material that they could find to distribute. White folks accepted it graciously.

Another group of Muslims was handing out posters of Palestinian and Iraqi children in heart-wrenching jeopardy. These folks did not have an organization or a web site either. It seemed as if three soccer dads had pooled together their cash and talents at the last minute. Hundreds of people carried their posters, and parents were not shy about bringing them to the attention of their own children.

Professor Hatem Bazian of UC Berkeley spoke some awful truths about globalization on the big microphone. May Allah protect him. He was also there at that first rally after 9/11.

We all spoke our two words of kindness. A few great Muslim ancestors of black music spoke a few beats through our humble hands.

"One, two, three, four!" "blah, blah, $&@!, &@%!"

"What do we want?" "blah!"

"When do we want it?" "blah!"

We have been shouting this stuff for a long time now. I think the world is looking towards the Muslims for a few fresh songs.

Djembe Music of West Africa
Djembe music originated amongst the Bamana people of Mali. This music permeates every aspect of people’s lives from birth to funerals. Many members of the crew that played at the rally can be heard on a CD of traditional rhythms. Things sound much better in the recording because there is a true djembe master playing solo. There are MP3 files and video clips for you to down load. Please buy some of this stuff also, and part of the money will go to a good cause in a nice place.