01 December 2006
Residents use pig races to deter building of mosque
K.I.A., that's the Katy Islamic Association, plan to build a mosque here. "It's not an appropriate place to have a mosque or church," said resident Barbara Simpson. It isn't going over real well
As a house of worship, they shouldn't be disturbing the peace and tranquility of 15 homes," said resident John Wetmore.
Neighbors tell us they're concerned about traffic and drainage and a little fear of the unknown. Some of the homeowners even offered to buy the land back for more than a million dollars. The K.I.A. doesn't seem very interested in the offers.
"We're not going anywhere," said Katy Islamic Association member Alvi Muzfar.
So it seems the community at the end of Baker Road has a pretty good fight. But this fight has gone much farther than many between two neighbors. You see in these fights, sometimes neighbors throw mud at one another. In this instance, they're wallowing in it.
Craig Baker owns pigs. He's the guy behind the second big yellow sign on Baker Road. That's the one announcing Friday night pig races.
"What does it matter, I can do whatever I want with my land right," asked landowner Craig Baker.
Sure can. But aren't pigs on the property line racing on a Friday night a little offensive to a Muslim neighbor?
"The meat of a pig is prohibited in the religion of Islam," said Katy Islamic Association member Youssof Allam. "It's looked upon as a dirty creature."
Yeah, there's that and also that Friday night is a Muslim holy day.
"That is definitely a slap in the face," said Allam..
Now before you go thinking Craig Baker is unfair, or full of hate, or somehow racist, hear him out.
Baker has long roots here. His family named the road and when the new neighbors moved in, he tells us, they asked him to move out.
"Basically that I should package up my family and my business and find a place elsewhere," said Baker. "That's ridiculous, they just bought the place one week prior and he's telling me I should think about leaving."
That new owners deny they ever said anything like that, but Baker isn't budging.
Baker admits the pigs are a message he is not leaving.
The 11-acre property is sandwiched between a pricey subdivision and Craig Baker's business.
K.I.A. eventually plans to build a mosque, a gym and a school there. There's no date for the groundbreaking ceremonies, or the first pig race.
(Copyright © 2006, KTRK-TV)
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I was raised in a Roman Catholic family. My parents participated in the church in a low-key way; my mother read from the missal during some services, but aside from that we pretty much stuck to weekly attendance at Sunday services. (None of that “fair-holiday” worship for us.) I was never particularly devout or even attentive. My parents wanted us to follow their lead, though, so they made us attend with them and packed us off to religious instructions classes. That was a joke in itself: the classes were known as CCD, but I doubt whether any of the attendees could have told you what the acronym stood for (“charge-coupled device”, “confirmation of catechismal doctrine”, and “creepin’ crud disease” were all candidates; I preferred the latter). I didn't know what it stood for myself until years later.
Religion was one of the few big disagreements I had with my parents. By the time I was a teenager I knew I was an atheist. It took a long time for my parents to catch up.
CCD was just about as much fun as sitting in a lecture on a subject that you not only don't care about, but that you think is ridiculous. None of it stuck with me at all, except arguing with a nun that a certain gesture had no intrinsic meaning. Rather, any meaning she construed to it was her decision. She didn’t agree. My rhetorical skills weren’t up to arguing for cultural relativism and socially constructed meaning—I hadn’t even heard of Derrida then. Maybe demonstrating my point with a gesture that our culture considered rude was a bad idea. The funny thing was that I was completely serious; my point in making the gesture wasn't to insult her, it was to start a discussion about the sociology of symbols and gestures.
There were other classic moments. Once they made us walk next door to the church, line up, and go to confession one by one. When my turn came, I entered the confessional, said the ritual words, and then made up sins because I couldn’t think of anything I’d done wrong. I suppose I should have added “lying to a priest”, but I didn’t think of it then. Too late now; I've never been back.
When I was in eighth grade, the Catholic students were excused for a day from the public school so that they could attend a religious retreat. I attempted to stay at school, but was almost literally pulled from class by my mother. The highlight of the day was when a brother described in graphic detail the practice of scourging and crucifixion. Remember, boys, pound that nail through the wrist! If you use the palm, the flesh of the hand will rip from the body’s weight. That’s what I remember. I left the room before I got light-headed.
The death knell of my religious education sounded just before confirmation. One night, instead of the usual nun, a priest came to speak—an event unprecedented in years of CCD. I must have been paying attention: he told us that confirmation was a big step, and that we should be sure that it’s what we wanted to do. If we weren’t ready, he said, we could get up and walk right out. So I did.
It’s hazy, but I’m pretty sure that was the end of attending CCD.
Eventually my parents relented and didn’t force me to go to services. Perhaps the fact that I took to sitting alone in a side pew across the church from them, reading books I brought with me instead of participating, finally convinced them of my unwillingness to be there.
Posted by: Catholic Disconnected | 03 December 2006
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