I recently wrote of the stealth mosque going up on a sweet, quiet, tree-lined residential street in Brooklyn. The Muslim Brotherhood's public face, MAS (Muslim American Society), is building a mega-mosque, despite the fierce opposition from the neighborhood and in violation of zoning ordinances and stop work orders.
Voorhies Avenue is a beautiful little street in Sheepshead Bay. Small, pretty, well-cared for homes line the street. There are no stores, churches, synagogues or businesses there. So why would the Muslim Brotherhood want to build a beachhead there? There are no Muslims who live on the street and not many in the neighborhood.
MAS has ignored procedure, flouted the law and violated stop work orders. They respect the sharia (Islamic law), American rule of law? Not so much.
The neighborhood coalition that opposes the mosque wants to keep the street residential and quiet. Hardly unreasonable. The idea of a giant mosque, out of all proportion to the other homes on the street, is offensive. The traffic, congestion, noise, call to prayer change the landscape of this otherwise quiet street. Don't neighborhoods have a say on what can or cannot be built? Don't neighborhoods have a right to preserve the sanctity of their streets and their homes? The MAS Islamic supremacists have been consistently dishonest. Their obfuscation, misrepresentation of the project and morphing mosque design hardly instill confidence that they are being straight about anything. And more to the point:
So why there?
Infidel flight because of harassment, attrition, and hostility.
Media-quest sent me this 2008 article. This pretty well explains everything and what will happen to Voorhies Avenue and Sheepshead Bay in no short order.
Another Tack: A masjid grows in Brooklyn Jul. 3, 2008
Sarah Honig, THE JERUSALEM POST
I was Brooklyn bound - or so I thought. I took the subway to see a fellow alumna of New York's High School of Music and Art (as today's LaGuardia High School for the Arts was then called). I looked forward to the nostalgic reunion. I hadn't been in NYC for ages, and catching up with an old classmate seemed an indispensable component of walking down memory lane.
What's more, Kathy still lives at the same address in the cozy middle-class neighborhood where I sometimes visited her way back then. It was common for the house-proud Irish to keep property in the family, and hence I'd soon reenter the two-story red-brick home in whose wood-paneled rec-room we occasionally whiled away hours.
But when I climbed up the grimy station stairs and surveyed the street, I suspected that some supernatural time-and-space warp had transported me to Islamabad. This couldn't be Brooklyn.
Women strode attired in hijabs and male passersby sported all manner of Muslim headgear and long flowing tunics. Kathy met me at the train and astounded me by pointing out long kurta shirts as distinguished from a salwar kameez. She couldn't help becoming an expert.
She's now a member of a fast-dwindling minority because "people are running away. We're among the last holdouts of our generation. My kids have fled."
Pakistani and Bangladeshi groceries lined the main shopping drag, and everywhere stickers boldly beckoned: "Discover Jesus in the Koran." An unremarkable low-slung building on the corner of Kathy's block was now dominated by an oversized green sign identifying it as Masjid Nur al-Islam (the Light of Islam Mosque) and announcing that "only Allah is worthy of worship and Muhammad is his LAST prophet." Here too Christians were urged to "turn to the Koran" if they were "genuinely faithful to Jesus."
It wasn't hard to identify the remaining non-Muslim residences. Kathy's was typical. A huge American flag fluttered demonstratively in the manicured front yard, accompanied by a large cross on the door and an assortment of patriotic/jingoistic banners.
"We're besieged," she explained. "Making a statement is about all we can do. They aren't delighted to see our flag wave. This is enemy territory."
LEST I judge her paranoid, Kathy began regaling me with what she knew about the mosque a few doors down her street, still as tree-lined as I remember but somehow less pretty and tidy, even vaguely grubby.
Kathy had compiled a bulging dossier of press clippings and computer printouts about the masjid that grew in a once heavily Jewish area. Until the mid-1990s, its imam was the late Egyptian-educated Gulshair el-Shukrijumah, dispatched by the Saudis as a Wahhabi missionary in 1985 and financed by them thereafter. His disciple, Clement Rodney Hampton-El, an explosives specialist, possibly helped assemble the bomb detonated in the '93 World Trade Center attack. He was convicted of plotting to blow up the UN, FBI headquarters and the Holland and Lincoln tunnels. Gulshair acted as interpreter for Omar Abdel-Rahman, the "Blind Sheikh" now serving life for the first WTC bombing, conspiring to use explosives at other NYC landmarks and colluding to assassinate US politicians.
Nabbed operational commander of the 9/11 plot, Khalid Sheikh Muhammad, fingered Gulshair's eldest son Adnan as having been designated by al-Qaida and personally approved by Osama Bin-Laden to lead new terror assaults and serve as successor to Muhammad Atta, with whom Adnan was connected. Adnan received flight training and is dubbed "Jaffar the pilot." He was likewise linked to "dirty bomber" Jose Padilla, Hamas and al-Qaida fund-raiser Adham Hassoun, and terrorist Imran Mandhai (convicted of conspiring to bomb the National Guard armory, South Florida electrical substations, Jewish-owned businesses and community centers, and Mount Rushmore).
Kathy's ex-neighbor is now a fugitive and subject of a worldwide FBI manhunt. Adnan's brother Nabil, incidentally, uploaded to his Web page an image of Jerusalem ablaze with the caption: "Al Kuds, we are coming."
BUT OF more immediate concern to Kathy and the few leftover neighborhood natives is the "in-your-face insolence of the immigrants." For years the mosque had been calling the faithful to prayers via a rooftop loudspeaker five times daily. Police intervention persuaded the imam to omit the pre-dawn sonorous summons. Catholic Kathy knows all about "Allahu akhbar" and how the muezzin intones it.
"I'm not a bigot," she stressed repeatedly. "The Jewish community which once flourished here was so different. This was always a pluralistic live-and-let-live section. The jihadists, however, aren't here to coexist but to conquer. The Jewish community here was so different. They weren't on the offensive. They just wanted to be left alone."
She recalled her brother Eddie, whose best childhood friend was the son of a nearby Orthodox rabbi. During his teens Eddie was regularly recruited by his chum to the minyan until he was roused too early one winter morning and exclaimed: "What do you want from me? I'm not even Jewish!"
"This kind of a relationship," Kathy commented, "just isn't possible these days. Muslims call us infidels and want all infidels out. We're threatened."