Art and Wilderness Institute

EXPLORER for lovers of Art and Nature!

www.artandwildernessinstitute.com

WILD WILDERNESS COLUMN BY SAMA WAREH, Director of the Art and Wilderness Institute

Art and Wilderness Institute is a community centered Institute focused on getting the community re-connected with Nature.

We are based in Southern CA and believe that by Exploring, Creating, and Connecting, we grow as people and as community.

All of our programs aim at incorporating service-learning in order to give back to our local communities and the world.



To learn more

I could remember the day vividly. It was exactly 3 months after being hired as a Naturalist in Juneau, Alaska. Up until this point, I had known land. Mostly California land. My hiking boots were on their third sole replacement as endless miles of trails continued to fill my soul with the wonderful discoveries of the creations of Allah (swt).

Now, here I was on a boat, pretending to be a semi-expert on humpback whales. I only scratched the surface of these gigantic marine mammals. I couldn't believe I just watched 9 whales bubble-net feed at the same moment. Mostly solitary animals, they occasionally meet up to group hunt and capture hundreds if not thousands of plankton, krill and baby salmon in their net they make out of bubbles, and then fiercely jump out of the water to devour them... ALL AT THE EXACT SAME MOMENT. The communication required to pull that off was on another level. But then it hit me: There was something they could not communicate about. Their mouths did not filter out the tiny balls of styrofoam that I had seen floating on the water. Nor did it distinguish the plastic. It just swallowed and then lapped its baleen with its large tongue, expelling the water from its belly and through its brush-like teeth back into the ocean. Keeping the styrofoam in their bellies.

Before this moment, I had always HATED styrofoam. But now, it was full-on war.

I had remembered all the Chai that was served in Styrofoam at Masjid gatherings. Then I came across this Ayah from the Quran: "...and do not waste. He does not love the wasteful) Surah: 6, Verse: 141.

Then I thought about how styrofoam never decomposes.

DECOMPOSE MEANS IT BECOMES EARTH AGAIN

Styrofoam doesn't, it just sits there and breaks down into little pieces and gets into everything. Contaminating everything.

So. Why do we use it? More importantly, Why do our Masjids use it if we know that in Islam, we should not be wasteful or cause harm to the environment?

Well, its simple. Its cheap. In fact, 70% cheaper than everything else. But.. there is a solution. And guess what? Its actually you! So. For my first column, I boldly invite you to the GREEN UP YOUR MASJID challenge.

AWI POET'S CORNER

THE DANGERS OF STYROFOAM

Fatima Mohammed, Age 10 - Irving, TX - [email protected]



When parties are thrown and people enjoy They have no idea how much they destroy When delicious food is laid on the table People eat as much as they’re able But look at the amount of dishes! People’s stomachs have fulfilled their wishes All the delectable food is great But what is the fate of the bowls and plates? Who will spend all that time To scrub each one until it shines? People had fun The party is done Cleanup is something we’d rather not do So the easy solution? Here’s a clue A great cause of pollution The inevitable idea that seems brilliant at first Is actually in fact one of the worst Plastic and paper plates and cups, thousands and more

Parties have hundreds, a disposable galore But even more drastic Than paper and plastic Styrofoam The reason behind this poem Every year without pause Small styrofoam pieces enter animal jaws After five hundred years taken to decompose Or longer sometimes, which just shows How bad it is for our earth given to us by our Lord When will its true beauty be restored? Hundreds of sea creatures, big and small



Consume small pieces of styrofoam Which kills a bunch, perhaps someday all Of the unfortunate animals that call the ocean home Styrofoam is bad for humans as well Releasing chemicals into their food After eating or drinking from styrofoam You may not feel swell Look it up on Google chrome Styrofoam is dangerous to all We must eliminate the threat before we fall Because slowly yet surely it’s eating away The serenity of night, the beauty of day After a party why does no one see? The disposable items littered carelessly After a joyful festival in the masjid, full of conversation We prepared to leave with a lingering joyous sensation Until my little brother saw with a gasp and a shake of his head Our favorite soccer area was a trash can instead Soda cans and styrofoam, paper, and plastic waste We picked up tons and though we worked in haste We never even finished half With three fast kids working And on the car drive back home Our hearts began hurting The masjid, our second home, our favorite place to pray Trashed so horribly after such a fun day Sometimes we must use disposables, but we can still stay green We can use bamboo and paper plates, and keep our planet clean We all care about the earth, but it’s not yet a priority We must strive to secure a place For the future of humanity Our future relatives, all those to come Will blame us for what we’ve done Or didn’t do It’s up to me, it’s up to you It’s up to all who want a future of joy To stop the item that has the power to destroy Allah gave us this earth, He gave us our minds He bestowed responsibility upon mankind He gave us hands, He gave us unity So let’s call upon our community And together we can do Anything we set our mind to Se let’s join together and take a stand Of styrofoam we must rid the land!

Listen to the Poem



psst... Lets Trash Talk

No Way! Gossiping is Haram! No Silly! She Means Trash. Actual Trash!

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Adventures from the Trail Quest of the Green Afternoon Group By Sumayah Labanieh, age 11

Mentorship is one of my favorite classes. But as I stood in front of the entryway to Mile Square Park’s nature reserve--we’ll call it The Void (My cousin’s idea)--I couldn’t help but feel daunted. It was rather hot, and I was worried that there wouldn’t be much shade. Last class, we’d gone to Carbon Canyon, and we’d come out completely spent, though I must say I enjoyed it. Sister Sama—or was it Miss Sagebrush? I’ll never know—our superhuman teacher, led us inside. She told us that one of her other classes had found something very special, and we might be able to find it. But first, we were ‘sidetracked’, you could say, by some fox tracks! We followed them. We paused for a moment to double-check, and one of my classmates, and a good friend of mine, Aaliyah, asked a very good question: why did the fox tracks zigzag? Sister Sama showed us why. First, she had us line up behind her and walk on the trail in a straight line. Then, we switched to zigzagging, which gave us a much wider range of sight. We could see around the bend and also check out what was going on on either side of the trail. Excited, we followed the tracks, and we found a rabbit den! Right next to it was fox scat, a chewed-up feather, more fox tracks, and lo and behold, a fox den!

Sun beating down upon our backs, we emerged into a little clearing where some paths converged and found tissue paper that had been eaten then vomited up, a small piece of sock in some scat, more scat (we’d entered the bathroom) and a little fox trail where we found the rest of the socks.

We then played a game in which the mountain lion (Sister Sama) tried to creep up on teams of foxes (it was boys vs. girls, naturally), and we had to run to a ‘den’ which both me and Aaliyah could fit in. As we played, I felt my mind drift away to that of a cautious vixen’s. I nibbled daintily at a bush, ears on the alert. Beside me, my friend scratched at the dry, grainy dirt. I heard a crunch. I looked up, and with a terrifying screech, the mountain lion launched itself at me. I yelped and scurried for cover, finding shelter on top of a stump that juuust fit the two of us vixens on it. The mountain lion snarled and stalked away to harass the boys. I sighed in relief. Thank goodness we’d found a good den before the mountain lion attacked.



After this fun game, which the girls of course won, Sister Sama challenged us to go find a bobcat den. There weren’t assigned teams, but Aaliyah and I both wordlessly agreed that we made a good pair. I crept down a small, leaf-strewn slope and ducked under the low-hanging branches of a tree. I heard a rustle, and a dead carcass fell to the ground and almost hit me in the head! At first, I thought there was a bobcat in the tree, but then I came to my senses and scanned the sky in time to see a medium-large bird swoop away. I must have frightened it off. Keeping my voice low, I called, “Sister Sama! Sister Sama! A dead bird!”

Adventures from the Trail Quest of the Green Afternoon Group By Sumayah Labanieh, age 11

I approached it and narrowed my eyes. It was a dove with no head, shoulders, or upper back. Everyone came scurrying down the hillside. “The bird! It fell! Something just flew away!” I babbled. Then, gathering myself, I explained what had happened from start to finish. I turned the dove over with a stick. Quite a gruesome sight met my eyes. I plucked a feather from the tail. Back in the clearing, I peered at the tip and squeezed it. A liquid which I later discovered was a nerve ending flew into my face. I yelped and dropped the feather, scrubbing my face with a sleeve. “Is there blood on my face?” I cried. Sister Sama squinted and shook her head. “No, you’re good.”



One of the boys shouted, “Bobcat scat! Bobscat! Sister Sama, we found a bobscat!” Chuckling at the wordplay, we hurried over. We found ourselves in a bobcat toilet. “Bobscat” was everywhere. Going down the trail, I spotted the den just as Yusuf or Ibrahim yelled, “I found the den! I found the den!” But all attention for the den was quickly diverted as the hawk who’d been eating the poor bird reappeared in a tree.

I used Aaliyah’s binoculars to get a look at the magnificent and stunning raptor. She was a Cooper’s Hawk, all grace and power and speed. A little smaller than I had expected, but still breathtaking. Going over to grab my binoculars, I spotted something on a rotting log. It was a huge spider with dusty-red legs. I called everyone over. “An orb-weaver spider,” Sister Sama declared. She picked it up with a piece of eucalyptus tree bark and started recording. Yusuf offered to hold it but the bark fell. Quickly, I stooped to scoop up Mr. Orb Weaver. He crawled toward my hand but I switched it around. Then he decided to change his plan and began lowering himself down on a barely visible thread, the color of silvery dew. I lifted my arm, but he just kept going, so I lifted it more. He was nearing the ground, and my arm was aching, so I let him go.





Ahmad shouted, “Hey, look!” Then he squinted. “Oh, wait. It’s a leaf...or is it?” He walked towards a tree. A Cooper’s Hawk feather drifted to the ground. He lifted it up to the golden midday sun. It was the very picture of plumy perfection—slate gray, with thick ivory-white stripes. We whipped around. The Cooper’s Hawk was there, imperiously surveying us with piercing amber eyes. Somebody suggested playing Cooper’s Hawk calls to lure her even closer.

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G E T O U T S I D E

& Draw Nature Journaling connects us to Animals & Plants that surround us. It also helps us contemplate the glorious creations of Allah (swt).

Tip #1 Start by drawing the plant or animal. Tip #4 Reme mber Erase that rs you r best friend !