|Islamic apologist and writer Ziauddin Sardar|
I'll let you make your own judgements... As for me, it is example of hypocrisy of Islam. They can insult and give name of the founder of our country to a donkey and we can't insult and give name of their prophet to some sheep or goat.Pure hypocrisy.
Here are excepts of this book related to name Genghis.
The sacred city by Ziauddin Sardar.
The following week, on the sixth day of the Islamic month of Dhu al-Hijjah, the month of the Hajj pilgrimage, my small expeditionary party assembled in front of the Hajj Research Centre. My companions in this long walk to Mecca included my friend Zafar Malik, our Yemeni guide Ali, and our prized donkey, who we named Genghis after the great Mongol king, famed for his temper and propensity to lash out and kick people for no rational reason. Genghis, we were soon to discover, intended to live up to his namesake....
Early the following morning we set off again and had walked over fifteen kilometres by the afternoon when Genghis started to misbehave. Ali admitted the beast was growing more and more cantankerous. At which point Zafar spotted an animal standing on top of a small hill in the distance. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘I bet that’s why Genghis is excited.’....
Ali thought it advisable to frighten off the itinerant donkey and, leaving Genghis in our care, he sped off determined to shoo away the interloper, shouting to us: ‘Hold Genghis as tightly as you can.’ But Ali’s efforts seemed to have no effect. He hooted and yelled, threw stones, even tried to catch the beast. All to no avail. Yet he seemed not in the least crestfallen by failure when he returned. ‘It’s all right,’ he announced. ‘That other donkey is a male.’...
Relieved, we loosened our hold on Genghis. The other donkey nonchalantly sauntered a little nearer. Genghis brayed with what sounded like a loud victory declaration, bucked, offloaded his burden, and ran off in ardent pursuit.....
Zafar surveyed the spilled water as it rapidly spread, before evaporating into the sun-baked earth. Genghis meanwhile caught up with the object of his desires, and the two moved closer. Zafar pressed his lower lip between his teeth, looked reproachfully straight at me and said: ‘I think Genghis is making inappropriate physical contact with the other donkey. I suppose,’ he added, ‘that the old Bedouin who sold him didn’t tell you that Genghis is gay.’
It took us more than three hours to track down and catch Genghis. A couple of hours later we arrived at the outer limits (the Miqat) of the holy area, known locally as the haramain.
Genghis proved to be the slowest and most reluctant of climbers. Every few steps, Ali had to intimidate him into movement. At one point Zafar stopped and turned accusingly to Ali: ‘What are you doing? We are supposed to be in ihram. In a state of peace, love and grace. You can’t beat that donkey,’ he told him. Genghis seemed to have caught the drift of this statement and now simply refused to move. He stood motionless. We tried to coax him with nuts and dried fruit. He ate the food but stood his ground. Zafar tried to pat and cajole him. It merely incited Genghis to turn and go into reverse, and he began to descend the mountain. We followed him. Once off the mountain, Genghis started running towards the motorway. We ran after him. The harder we tried to catch him, the faster he ran. Eventually he ran straight into the Mecca Intercontinental Hotel.
Located on the Old Jeddah Road on the outskirts of the city, Mecca Intercontinental was the only five-star hotel in Mecca in those days. It has a theatrical tent-like structure modelled on Bedouin marquees. There was an old well inside the front enclave of the hotel that was preserved as a site of historic interest. Genghis ran straight past the well into the crowded lobby. The staff at five-star hotels is trained to deal with any eventuality: everything from late checkouts to natural disasters. A donkey running wild in the lobby was something quite different. They dropped whatever they were doing and ran after Genghis, trying to catch him, while the guests looked on aghast. Eventually, several porters managed to overpower our rampant beast and proceeded to evict him and us from the hotel. Zafar tried to plead with them. ‘It is the Hajj season, brothers. Time to show friendship and love to all creation,’ he argued.
‘You love the donkey if you want to,’ replied the head porter angrily. ‘But do it outside the hotel.’
We duly removed ourselves from the inside of the hotel and tied Genghis to the ancient well in the courtyard. I knew it was the right moment for us to part company. This latter-day Mongol marauder in donkey guise was slowing us down, caused too many problems and seemed to have no appreciation for the higher purpose of our adventure. Donkeys just don’t do ihram. Ali suggested he should take him to our camp in Mina in a pickup truck. Making a reluctant pact with modernity seemed our only option.
The pickup truck reversed into the hotel. The driver joined Zafar, Ali and myself to install Genghis; but as usual Genghis was having none of this. We pushed. We pulled. We even tried to pick him up. Genghis would not be budged. Then Ali asked all of us to stand back. ‘Hajj or no Hajj, there is only one way to deal with a donkey,’ he announced. He rolled up his sleeves, spat on his hands and rubbed them together. His face a picture of determination, he picked up a large walking stick and made his way to where Genghis stood. Zafar made as if to stop Ali, and then changed his mind. I became the personification of the three monkeys – simultaneously saying, seeing and hearing nothing.
A few minutes later Genghis was standing in the pickup truck. Ali sat next to the driver and waved goodbye. First slowly, and then swiftly, the truck made off towards our research camp in the hills of Mina.
I took a final step, secured a foothold on the flat top of the mountain – and came face to face with Genghis. Even in the darkness, I recognized the derisive smirk on his face.
Genghis was laughing at us."