Life imitates art, or so it would seem when it comes to religious intolerance in the North American heartland. In January, the Canadian Broadcasting Company began airing Little Mosque on the Prairie, an upbeat comedy about a small Muslim community making its way in a rural Saskatchewan town. But in Harris County, Texas, the culture clash is no joke, as outraged residents hope to block the Katy Islamic Association from building its house of worship.

North of the border, the CBC and Little Mosque creator Zarqa Nawaz hope to use humor to ease tensions and dismantle stereotypes in the wake of the 9/11 attacks. While the fictional young imam of the mythical town of Mercy jokes that "Muslims around the world are known for their sense of humor," the local Rush Limbaugh clone warns "If we don't stop them soon, we'll all be speaking Muslim."
"It's just a comedy that happens to have Muslim people in it, and it's meant to make people laugh," said Nawaz, adding "It's about relationships and human interactions and life in a rural setting." Actor Boyd Banks, who portrays a resident ever vigilant towards his new Muslim neighbors, acknowledged the significance of the show:

"It's been a fun role to play, because let's face it, after September 11, we all had racist thoughts. I know I had them, and I'm not proud of that. It would be nice, wouldn't it, if this show could end some of the prejudices that people have about Muslims."

Sadly, that kind of idealism has been mugged by reality in the area around Katy, Texas. As the Daily Show with Jon Stewart highlighted last week, the people have rallied to halt the local Katy Islamic Association from constructing a mosque and community center on land just outside of town. Spearheading the effort is rancher Craig Baker, whose sprawling property essentially surrounds the KIA lot.
Baker, who assured the Daily Show's Rob Riggle that his opposition to the mosque plan has "nothing to do with the Muslim thing," has welcomed his new neighbors with pig races on Fridays, the holy day of the Muslim week. (Muslims, of course, do not eat pork and consider the animals unclean.) Amazingly, Baker told Riggle it would be wrong for his neighbors to call him a racist. "Holler out something like 'you're a bigot,'" he insisted, "that would be correct."

It would seem that Baker is far from alone. One local mosque foe warned of "the terrorist connection." Another explained that "the major fear is that our kids would have to go to school with them." And yet another offered a solution for dealing with those in the Muslim community who claimed the mosque opponents were lying about their true motivation in opposing the KIA, "Get a rope. Find a good tree. There you go."
This is not the first mobilization of the Katy Christian faithful against threats real or imagined. In 2006, a group of parents sued the Katy Independent School District for discrimination against Christians supposedly including such outrages as placing a menorah closer than a Christmas tree to a school door during the winter holidays. But it is KIA mosque proposal which has taken of the trappings of a national crusade, including fake web sites for the Islamic association (here and here). Conservative online watering holes like Free Republic have been predictably supportive.
Mercifully, not all of the good people in Harris County see the mosque controversy in black and white. The Houston Chronicle's Helen Eriksen asked readers if media coverage of the mosque controversy hurts the area's image. KIA's president, Kamel Fotouh, reported that one Friday a man came to the mosque to apologize for his neighbors. "He moved me, really," Fotouh said. "The sense of fairness, the sense of standing by the underdog."
Meanwhile, over 2 million Canadians tuned in for the inaugural episode of the new comedy Little Mosque on the Prairie. But down in Katy, Texas, no one is laughing.