Saturday, 23 November 2019
Memoirs 15: Lake Victoria, Cessnas and jungles.
Part 15 (1971 – 1972)
First: some short notes:
1. I travelled to Lyallpur (Pakistan) to sit in the exams
for M.A in Arabic organised by the Punjab University.
2. My third son was born in Nairobi in October 1971. My
wife told me that it was a Friday when she gave birth to Usama at around one
o’clock when I was on the pulpit delivering the Jumma khutbah.
3. One of the most saddest moment in the history of
Pakistan; the fall of Dhaka and the end of East Pakistan. The only source of
news we had was a small radio with interrupted transmission. I remember
attending a gathering at the house of Aziz family where Pakistan High
Commissioner Mr. Amanullah Khan was honoured as a special guest. I was not
aware that a Pakistani singer, Surraya Multani had to grace this meeting with
her song. However, I was well-equipped with an article on how a great veteran
and supporter of Pakistan, Molvi Farid Ahmad off Bengal was brutally tortured
and killed by the notorious Indian-led Mukti Bahani. I read this article with a
sad tone and tears in the eyes. The gathering was moved and was in tears as
well.
4. In June 1972, My Father, Sheikh Abdul Ghaffar Hasan
came to visit us in Nairobi. There were my colleagues, the delegates from Darul
Ifta of Saudi Arabia and a number of my friends who had been eagerly awaiting
his visit. I took him in my car to Kampala Uganda, 400 miles away towards the
west. We passed by Jinja, the source of the river Nile when our colleague Syyed
Abul Farooq held a ceremony in his honour and asked him to lay the foundation
stone of a mosque amid the campus of the Islamic institute of Jinja. My other
friend Abdul Khaliq Tariq was there as well to show him around his field of
activities
5. Then we continued our journey towards Kampala, a city
of seven hills. Brother Siraj-ur- Rehman Nadawi welcomed him in his Darul
Uloom, a vast complex of Islamic knowledges in the Ugandan capital. A visit to
Kibuli mosque, on the top of the hill, a land mark of the city, was part of our
busy schedule. Not far from Kampala was the shore of Lake Victoria which gave
the Africans amidst the continent a taste of sea but with sweet waters. You can
see the planes flying across the lake and landing at Entebbe, the gateway to
Uganda. Our stay was short and soon came back to Kampala.
6. A day later we were once again on our way heading on a
400 miles journey back to Nairobi. It was amazing to see a leopard somewhere near
Eldoret walking beside the road. Normally even in a Safari Park you have to
struggle to have such a sight. At another spot we have to halt to allow a herd of
giraffes crossing the road. I had the memory of a news item about a bus which
turned over completely after hitting this giant animal on the road. Then we had
to witness a heavenly sign: a very heavy downpour which almost stopped us for a
while.
7. Rain in East Africa had always been an amazing
adventure. On Equator, it becomes pleasant, charming and enjoyable. Back in
Nairobi brother Mutiul-Rahaman had organised for us another adventurous
journey: a flight to remote town of Garissa by a four-seater Cessna plane.
First time in my life, we could fly so close to the earth with a clear view of
pastures, thick jungles and that of wild animals running around.
8. In Garissa Mutiur Rahman was looking after an
orphanage which housed a good number of Somali children. In a vast area, the
newly built buildings had emerged in a plain covered mostly with bushes where
the sight of wondering marabou storks was common. He managed to secure the
supply of water through pipe-line from river Tana which was running at a
distance. It was a privileged project of the YMO (young Muslim organisation) of
Kenya and was well represented by Mr. Abdul Hamid and Farooq, the talented sons
of Mr. Muhammad Luqman, our closest neighbour in Pangani. They saved us from a hazardous journey if we
had to come by road: an unpaved dirt passage which passed through a number of
seasonal rivers crossing without any bridge at all. You are always at the mercy
of the flowing water. You may cross it if it was shallow and may be cut off for
days if it was flowing in full swing.
9. We were back to Nairobi within the daylight. A number
of receptions, in honour of my father by Islamic foundation in Nairobi, Madrasa-tul-Falah
in Mombasa were graced by his presence and his speeches before his journey back
to Madinah.
5. Mr Amanullah Khan
A great ambassador of Pakistan known as High Commissioner due to our membership in the Commonwealth. A very compassionate and friendly person who was kind enough to accept my invitation and honour us with his presence in my house at Pangani. A host of my friends were there to have a cordial chat with him as well. One day I heard the sad news of his accident on the road to Kampala inside Ugandan territories. He was travelling with his family, his wife and two sons on their Mercedes. At one point the driver wanted to overtake a huge truck with a with a long tractor at its back fenceless portion. As soon he was passing by it, the tractor fell on the car crushing completely its left wing. Both Mr. Amanullah and his son sitting in the passenger seats at the left died instantly while his wife suffered injuries on her face. The driver and the son on right side escaped unharmed. “inna lillahi wi inna ilayhi raajioon”. I do not remember which year the terrible accident had happened. We visited, sometime the end of the year, the aggrieved family at their ancestral home in Kirshan Nagar, Lahore, on my annual journey to Pakistan.
6. A doomed flight of Lufthanza
One day the news reached us of a Lufthanza plane which took off from Nairobi airport, just fell down as soon as it lifted upwards. The rear part was torn apart completely. There were some survivors who were rushed to the hospital. Again, it was a terrible sight when we passed by the accident scene the following day.
7. Some of my services In the field of knowledge
(i)
During my stay in
Nairobi, I was able to translate the Urdu book entitled: socialism and Islam by
Moulana Mas’ood Alam Nadawi into Arabic. He himself was a prolific writer In Arabic
but he wrote this particular book in Urdu. Islamic socialism was a popular
brand admired and preached by a number of Muslim rulers, topped by Jamal
Abdul-Nasir of Egypt. It was quite appropriate to present the Arabic version of
this book to the Arab readers.
(ii)
I was much
impressed by the Urdu treatise of Dr Israr Ahmad entitled: “What the Muslims
owe to the Quran.” I started translating into Arabic until I competed it. Both
these translations appeared in instalment on the pages of Arabic monthly “Al-Ba’ath
al-Islami” which used to be an organ of Nadwatul ulama of Lucknow, India.
Later, I was able to print them in Karachi.
(iii)
Qazi Abdullah
al-Farisi of Mombasa was very fond of Maulana Abul A ’la Maududi, especially
because of his enormous work in the field of tafsir. He compiled a poem in
Kiswahili in praise of his work and services to Islam. I rendered this poetic
work into Urdu which later appeared on the pages of Qaumi Digest of Lahore,
Pakistan.
(iv)
I came across a
book on the message of our Prophet Muhammad (SAW) by Alfred Guillaume. It
contained a lot of misconceptions, distortions and misguidance. I started
writing a rebuttal of his deliberations and was able to cover a lot of his
points but, sadly the manuscript was lost in one of my shifting from one house
to the other. Anyhow, that was my first attempt to read and analyse the writing
of an orientalist which helped me later to familiarise myself with more of this
kind of discussion.
8. My activities in the field of teaching and Dawah:
(I)
After the
construction of the boarding house in Eastleigh and an admittance of fifty
lodgers, I used to attend the Madrasa twice daily. To teach the elder students
in the morning till Zuhr time. Then after a break till Asr time, I would come
back to teach the younger children till Maghrib. That had been my routine apart
from the Friday morning which was devoted to the preparation of the Friday
sermon.
(II)
I was invited to
give lectures to the students of a secondary school known as “Istarehe”
situated very near to Madrasa as well. On few occasions I was invited by the Muslim
girls school at Park Road to address some of the girls classes.
(III)
After a short
experience of delivering Friday sermon in the Jami’ mosque (the Central Mosque
near Indian Bazar in Nairobi), I became a regular Friday speaker (Khateeb and
Imam) at Landhies mosque which was manged by the two noble brothers: Sheikh Ismaeel
and Sheikh Yaqoob. I used to deliver a part of sermon in the local language;
Kiswahili which as described previously, I learnt during my stay in Mombasa
with brother Khalid, the German new Muslim.
(IV)
On some weekends
or holidays, I used to take a day trip to visit our Muslim brothers in a
locality around us. I found our colleague in Machakos, Sheikh Mohammad Ibrahim
Arkekonil, a marvellous tutor the way he used to address the gatherings, it was
through dialogue, through questions and answers and not through a constant flow
of speech.
One of our very interesting journeys was the one which took us to the border with Ethiopia and lasted five days and nights. First it ran through hills and pastures covering Thika, Forthall, Nyeri and Nanyuki. Then it turned towards the bushes and jungles visited by wild animals, through the dirt road leading to Isiolo, where we were welcomed by our friend Muhammad Salafi, then through the longest stretch of our adventures travelling to Marsabit, a small town near the border. So difficult and dangerous was the approach to this distant place that it brought a lot of pleasure to its small inhabitants of the Muslim community who could hardly expect some Imam coming a long way to visit them. They gathered in the mosque to show their admiration and joy. One of them said that he had seen some signs of blessings in a dream prior to our arrival. It was already dark when we reached there and with the flood water on the dirt road behind us, we had no choice but to stay in the house, which was more like a hut, after a lively evening in the mosque. It took another day to drive back to Nairobi, dashing through the flood water coming across the herds of gazelles and Giraffes, monkeys, baboons, and the sight of zebras and other wild animals. Once we left Isiolo behind us, the tarmac road from Nanyuki seemed as we had landed on a runway after a very rough and turbulent descent through a layer of thick clouds.
With no phone facilities, our unexpected delay in returning home caused a lot of anxiety to my wife who even took the assistance of the local police to discover our whereabouts. Of course, they had no more information than she had.
Footnotes:
1. Nyeri is the burial place of Baden Powell, the founder
of Scout discipline.
2. Distance: Nairobi to Marsabit: 531km, Isiolo to
Marsabit: 250km
Sunday, 1 September 2019
My Memoirs No. 14 (1970 – 71)
No. 14 (1970 – 71)
A) A hazardous but incomplete journey towards Mombasa:
The year started off with our road journey to Kampala, Uganda, around 400 kilometres away from Nairobi. We wanted to accompany Brother Abdul Hameed Slatch, the son on our dear friend Muhammad Luqman, who was on his way to Uganda for his own wedding. Leaving Nairobi behind we had a precipitous drive into the rift valley, the biggest cleft in the Earth which is said to be 6000 kilometres long, stretching from the Beqaa Valley in Lebanon in the north, going across East Africa and ending in Mozambique in South-eastern Africa.
We had to drive first to the escapement at the beginning of the steep road from where we had a good view of the valley with plush green pastures and herds of wildlife. Once you enter the valley you pass first by Lake Nivasha, a shallow Soda Lake which attracts flamingo in countless numbers each year.
A similar lake lies ahead: Lake Nakuru with a similar flamingo phenomenon. Our exit from the valley was once again to the highest point in Kenya, the town of Eldoret with an altitude of 2100 meters to 2700 metres. This was the highest altitude, throughout the British colonies where the railways had reached.
In Eldoret we passed by the imaginary Equator line; thus, crossing from the southern hemisphere to the northern hemisphere. Then the highway lead us to the Ugandan border where a short break was required to check our passports.
We passed through the town of Jinja, another source of the Nile, as commonly perceived. During this visit, we could only see the amazing flow of water from under the bridge, which paved the way for that great river that flowed through the continent, giving fertile land to Egypt and falling eventually into the Mediterranean ocean.
This was my second visit to Kampala, the city of the seven hills.
In a modest ceremony, Abdul Hameed was joined to his bride and we had to return back to Nairobi, because of the long journey we had to stay overnight at a small bed and breakfast hotel in Eldoret.
A few days later, my second son was born in January 1970. He was given the name Muhammed Abid Hasan as I wanted one of my children to have this blessed name as a part of their identity. Muhammad was born in the famous Nairobi Hospital, run and managed by the Ismaili community in Kenya. It was known to be the best hospital in the capital. It was open to all but offered special privileges to members of the Ismaili Jamat. He was five months old when we faced our first major accident at Tsavo Safari Park. The park is the largest of its kind in Kenya, and also in the whole word. It occurred when my my elder brother Shuaib Hasan, an employee of Saudi Airlines in Jeddah, was visiting us. A part of the itinerary was a visit to the coastal town Mombasa. At the time, I had a saloon Anglia. For this journey, we asked our friend Syyed Fatahuddin Tangal to accompany us with his car, a similar one to mine but with an open boot to accommodate our luggage.
It was a shining bright day when we all set on our journey to Mombasa. Myself, Fatahuddin, my brother and my wife and three kids: Khola, Wohaib and Muhammad. It was a six-hour drive that was to cover three hundred miles to our destination without a break.
I was in the driving seat looking for signs to stop and rest. After two hours, we were fascinated by the sight of a gate leading up to Tsavo National Safari Park, the biggest of its kind in Africa. After purchasing the tickets, we set off on the rough, unpaved roads inside the vast plains without any signs, except the one leading to the lodging in the middle of the park.
Our first stop was at a huge pool of water, a natural reservoir for the animals and beasts to quench their thirsts. We could see a huge body of a single rhinoceros on the opposite side of the pool. I now realise that it had been a sheer blunder to come out of the car at a place which was habitually visited by beasts of prey.
We visited the lodge, a place where tourists used to stay at night, only to have a glimpse of big game like elephants or tigers in the early hours of the morning. They could feel them, at the best of their luck, hovering around outside their campus but easily seen through the windows.
We had no intention to stay overnight. So, we carried on with our driving, on passages, up and down, surrounded by bushes and trees and somewhere by an overgrowth of wild grass, and ideal place for beasts to hide and rest, such as large and small game like deer, gazelles, zebras, wild cows, warthogs, waterbucks, giraffes, buffaloes, hyenas, monkeys and baboons, we saw a lot but our eyes failed to spot a lion or tiger. The Safari Park was showing a sign towards an exit for the highway to Mombasa. It meant that you entered into the Park from the side closer to Nairobi and came out through the other end nearer to Mombasa. The park itself covered an area more than fifty miles long. Mombasa highway was an edge on one side, the jungle of Tanzania on the other.
We had almost spent the hours wandering in the valleys and plains until we came to a passage with corrugation on the path that made the driving difficult. We saw some gazelles jumping ad running before us and it was quite an act of stupidity on my part to start chasing them by accelerating the car. Only an expert driver could control the wheels in such a trickery, slippery terrain. The outcome of my adventure was horrible. At one point the car swerved, them stumbled and then fell by the deep side of the unpaved road. It was about to roll over but it struck by its top, the land once by my side and then from the opposite but it did not overturn completely. It still landed on its four wheels but the windscreen had been thrown out and the side door open aghast. Once the car came to a halt, I discovered my fellow passengers, Syed Fatahuddin thrown out with half his body still in the car. He was unconscious.
I myself and my elder brother escaped with some bruises on our knees. My wife suffered a shock in her neck and the little kid Muhammed, or Hamdi as he is known, a slight fracture in his arm. Our first priority was to attend to my friend, drop some water in his mouth and shout at him, whether he could hear us. We made him lie on his back on the backseat, moving my wife and kids into the open boot whilst my brother took the passenger seat. In a hurry, we just placed the windscreen back in its place, tied the door from the inside with a rope, as it could not close properly. It was almost dark and we had to prepare ourselves to stay in the car all night in a jungle with every variety of animal and beast imaginable.
Thanks to Allah! There were none around. We kept on honking and leaving the headlights on to attract someone in the vicinity. But there were no people either. It was a unique night as we spent it staying in our seats, praying and supplicating to Allah All-Mighty to keep us safe and make a safe exit for us. In the early hours of the morning, we came out to offer our Fajr Prayers. Syyed Fatahuddin had gained consciousness and was wondering why we were stuck in the jungle. He did not recall any of what happened. All of us pushed the car until it ascended to the path. We discovered that water had spilt from the damaged radiators, but the car, once ignited, started moving forward.
We said to Sayyed: “What will happen if an elephant appears before us?”
He said: “I am going to strike him with a hard fist of mine.”
Moments later, we spotted an elephant right in the middle of our way. We had no option but to stop the car. Syyed was much annoyed at the sight of the big animal. With curious eyes, he was looking for a tree nearby to climb and escape.
Once again, we were at a standstill, just waiting for an unseen help. And suddenly it came.
It was a Mercedes, with an English couple in it, who must have spent the night in the motel and were on their exit route after breakfast. With three persons and a child, they no more room except for one more person.
I had to take the ride with them to the exit gate in order to fetch some kind of transport to bring the whole family out of the jungle. I discovered that we were around twenty miles away from the fate. There, they dropped me off as they were heading towards Mombasa.
Standing on the side of the road, I was waving down a lift to each and every vehicle heading towards Nairobi. A cement van picked me up and took me to the nearest point with a petrol pump at Makindu. Luckily, I found, for the first time in my life, an agency of A.A. (Automobile Association) which came to my rescue. They provided me with a jeep and a towing rod. Within two hours I was back in the jungle looking for the stranded members of my family.
The jeep driver and I saw a Volkswagen mini-bus coming towards us. We halted to discover that the wagon, with German tourists, had already picked up my family since they had passed by them. They were generous to offer them the only drink that they had, but it was the only one which could hardly be tasted by a Muslim. However, I brought with me some soft drinks which quenched their thirst.
They took their seats in the jeep and we strolled back to where we left the car. I took to the wheels of my car, with the windscreen removed while the jeep driver towed the car. I had still to steer the car but the dust scattered by the jeep in front made me half blind. I was quite unable to control the steering wheel.
“You are going to overthrow the car once again” the jeep driver shouted, “better to leave the car there to be towed later.”
So, I joined the group and we made our way out of the exit gate. The gate keeper showed his remorse at what had happened. He told us there had always been a night patrol on all major paths inside the Safari Park and it was a pity our path was neglected last night.
We were able to reach Nairobi by the evening by hiring a Peugeot estate car which took us to the nearest village which had a small dispensary with enough to provide soothing balms on our injuries.
Once we were at home, we headed towards the nearest private hospital, operated by Dr. Abdul-Haq, a well-known physician in Pangani; to examine all of us, especially my wife, my child Hamdi and my friend Syyed.
The child received a bandage on his arm, my wife a collar in her neck and Syyed, some plaster on his legs.
All is well that ends well.
We thanked Allah who brought us back safe and alive without any major mishaps.
Some rare photos of my days in Madinah and later in Nairobi:
B) The visitors to the mosque:
1 Peer Habib of Chakwal
A man of great stature, with a white turban on his head and a long staff in his hand, Peer Habib of Chakwal (Pakistan) became almost a regular visitor to our mosque each year. The Pakistani community, being very fond of Saints and Peers did give him a warm welcome. He was of Deobandi faith and traditions and he used to teach the people prayers and supplications, according to the Sunnah. But in the matter of Mukashafat (seeing into the future about destinies) and Muraqabat (going deep into the state of thinking and reflection), he would speak a lot and impress the audience.
What I believe was the essence of Tawheed. The unseen (Al Ghaib) is known to Allah Al Mighty only.
The Prophet of Allah know some of it through the revelation which he passed it over to the Ummah through the Quran and the Sunnah. He also told us that a very tiny part of it could be conveyed to a person through true dreams.
Even that part is so tiny that it could be compared to the 46thpart of the Prophethood. So, there is no place for Mukashafat and Muraqabat in Sharia.
Sheikh Habib was very concerned of the timing of Isha prayer which used to be held at 8pm every night. To him it was not the right time. Nairobi, because it was located very near the Equator, witnesses almost equal length of a day and night. The nightfall (Maghrib) used to be around 6:30pm. In accordance with the opinion of the Hanafi school of thought, the time for Isha does not become due until the white twilight disappears. It means Isha’s timing begins 90 minutes after Maghrib. So how could we call for prayer 15 minutes earlier.
In Kenya, the native Muslim, Sawhili’s or Somali’s, were all the followers of the Shafi’i school of thought. To them the time begins by the disappearance of red twilight which at the most take 60 minutes to fade away completely. So the timing set by their shedules was well within the limits of Sharia’a.
May Allah have mercy on his soul!
2 Muhammad Mahmoud Al-Sawwaf of Iraq
A man of great knowledge, an eloquent speaker in Arabic, a member of Ikhwan movement in Iraq, being exiled during the tyrannical rule of Baath Party to Saudi Arabia.
I used to see him, with his Azhari attire and a red cap with a white surface on the top, sitting in the Haram of Makkah surrounded by his friends, students and well-wishers, during my university days in Saudi Arabia.
It was a great honour for us to receive him in Pangani mosque one evening. His speech was emphatic, encouraging and emotional. I got the privilege to interpret what he said into English for the benefit of the audience.
He was visiting Kenya on behalf of King Faisal. During his short stay, he helped the Muslims to establish a Union of Muslims of Kenya with Esa Kuria, a native Kenyan to be its first president.
Sayyid FD (Fatahuddin) told me later that the Sheikh asked him secretly to bring him a good amount of money as a loan, to assist the newly established organisation as he had already exhausted all what he brought with him from Makkah. Mr Habib Adam noticed his secret talk with the Sheikh.
3. Qari Mahmood Al-Husary of Egypt
The Egyptian government used to send the famous Qurra (reciters of the Quran) to different parts of the world during the month of Ramadan and throughout the year as a token of its Islamic duties toward the ummah. We were blessed to have sheikh Qari mahmood al-Husary for few days in Nairobi. On a Friday, he sat on the pulpit of the Jami Masjid and read Surah al-kahf to the congregation. I had also the honour to interpret for him at various places.
Then there was an interesting incident! My friend, Dr Muhammad Saeed, a reguiualr companion to me in my morning walk after Fajr prayer, took me to Nairobi Safari park at the outskirts of the town. To capture the memory of that visit, especially when we three were together, he took his camera along with him. Throughout our wandering in the vast spacious park, he kept on taking the pictures with its light exposure at each shot.
Later I was expecting an album with our wonderful memorial photographs. But he simply apologised to me saying: sorry I forgot to equip the camera with the film reel required to capture the pictures. Thank Allah! I had at least one picture with him at a different place. It reminds me of my young age and that of sheikh al-Husary who was not very old at that time.
4. Sheikh Imran Khan Nadawi of India
The man was totally concerned with raising funds for the competition of the great mosque in Bhopal, India. Bhopal is famous as a princely state in India which was ruled by a number of ladies from the family of its rulers known as nawabs. The most notable among them was Shahjahan begum who married nawab Siddiq hassan khan, one of the most famous ahl-e-hadiths scholars who combined between rule and knowledge.
In that state was that incomplete mosque which was a remnant of the princely rule. Sheikh Imran Khan used to have a portrait of this mosque in its entirety. Underneath the picture was the caption in Urdu which says : “it would be like this, even if it was built”. I remember him saying after a drink of cool water in a hot summer day: “we say alhamdulillah after each drink but the real “al hamdullialh” only emerges from the depth of our hearts when the water is really cold.
5. Maulana Ihtisham-ul-Haq of Pakistan
A great speaker, with a melodious Quran recitation and a beautiful Urdu accent, maulana Ihtisham-ul-Haq paid a visit to the mosque and honoured us with his speech. During my short stay in Karachi, back in 1962, prior to my voyage to Saudi Arabia to join the university in Madinah, I happened to listen to this eminent scholar in his mosque at Jacob lines, a colony In the old city of Karachi which became a hub for immigrants coming from India in an around 1947, the year Pakistan was established. He was accompanied by one of his young sons who, on a donner table, would say in a humorous style: “we were travelling in Africa when the car of our host stopped because of a mechanical fault. The host, a young man like him, spread a prayer mat for me on the ground indicating to me to sit there and do my Tasbih while he was busy at the bonnet repairing the car.”
What he obviously meant was to point out about the attitude the common people hold towards Maulvis (i.e. the imams). They think that they know nothing about the worldly matters, so they should be left doing tasbih and Dhikr and that is all they can do.
6. Shah Ahmad Nurani of Pakistan
the man with his tall structure and black turban, and his paandan (small box to keep the leaf known as Paan which is normally chewed with Khatta and chuna) which brings redness to the lips of its chewer, was a well-known speaker on islam but with a Barailvi flavour, who frequented some African countries, especially Mauritius a lot with his regular visits. When he came to Nairobi, the family of Ibrahim of Koh-e-Noor jewellers was those to present him to the audience in the Pangani mosque. I had no recollection of attending any of his speeches. Syyed FD told me about his visit as follows:
he said in his speech: Makkah is blessed because it was the birthplace of the prophet SAW. All the previous divine scriptures were lost. The Quran was the only scripture which remained preserved because it contained the name of Muhammad SAW. Syyed FD could not resist asking him after the speech: what about the saying of Allah that the first house ever to be build for worshipping Allah, was the one at bakkah, which was blessed and made a source of guidance for the whole mankind (Surah Al-Imran). And what about the previous scriptures! They used to have the name of Muhammad as well. Why were they not, then preserved? He asked: “who is this fellow?” Syyed FD said: “is it relevant to the question?” they said: he is a Wahabi who came from Saudi Arabia. At that point they showed him the way out from the mosque.
Saturday, 8 June 2019
My Memoirs No 13: 1968-1969
Part 13: 1968-1969
We had to move to a third residence: a two room flat in the upper floor, owned by an old man of Pakistani origin. He was known with a very curious nickname in the community: Gurway in Ki-Swahili meaning a swine. I don’t know why he was given such a name but to us he was kind and helpful. My second child, Wohaib, was born in this flat and we received help and assistance from his wife. There I acquired my first car: a second-hand Peugeot 105. If I had retained that car, it would have been a part of a vintage collection. To start it in the morning, you had to apply a crank handle from outside the engine, then revolve it until the engine bursted on roaring.
My good friend, a barrister by profession, comes to my mind whenever I happen to visualise the impression of this car. He was a good jolly character; he used to talk a lot and boast to have known the whole Quran by heart. Once he happened to join a Tablighi Jamaat group who kept on moving from one mosque to the other. Overwhelmed and bewildered by his constant talk of his knowledge of the Quran, they let him lead them in Maghrib prayer. The man recited in the first Rak’a Surah Al-Fatiha followed by Surah Wannas, the last short Surah of the Quran, then he moved to the position of Ruku (bowing) and Sujud (prostration). He must have thought while he was in his Sajda, what to read in the second Rak’a as he had already read the last Surah of the Quran in the first Rak’a. It had been an embarrassing situation for him; a man who had been portraying himself as a Hafiz of the Quran. The only exit left for him to slip away stealthily from the mosque while the group behind him was still in the state of prostration. Allah knows better how long they waited for him to raise his head by saying ‘Allah-o-Akbar’. They must have realised that to have the knowledge of the Quran is totally different from committing it to memory.
One morning he came to me in a hurry. “Can I borrow your car as I have an urgent appointment to reach somewhere?”. I was hesitant but I had no excuse to deny him. I handed over the car key to him; assisted him to start the engine and with a roar of engine, he left the compound of the big house. A few seconds later, we discovered the car stranded in the street outside the house. The poor fellow had applied the gear with such a force that it had come out of the hook and halted the car right in the middle of the road. Thank God, he had left the key in the ignition point and we were able to push it back home.
I had narrated about my journey with the two Sheikhs from al Riyadh in the previous post. Now I remember another journey which I took with Sheikh Muhammad bin Ibrahim Al-Qa’ood to a small town, Kitui by name through a very difficult mountainous terrain. It was a visit to the place of our Somali delegate Muhammad Hadi who was very keen to see us. We stayed in his mosque for a short while and after addressing the local Muslim community we took the way back to Nairobi. The road was no more than an unpaved passage through the hills and cliffs. A sharp slip at any point could have plunged the car deep into the valley. At one point, Sheikh, sitting next to me on the passenger seat, jumped from his seat to hold the steering wheel in his hands while I was struggling with the driving at my best. Thank God that we arrived safely to our destination.
Mungano Madrasa Ryada Islamia
I turned one of the rooms into a residence for about eight young students who occupied four bunk beds. The deserted small kitchen came to life with an African dish known as Ugali. There were many students, mainly Somali, the denizen of NFD (North frontier district) bordering Somalia, who were keen to join the Madrasa, I discovered that a residential plot was available as an endowment for the Madrasa at Eastleigh, a locality at a walking distance from Pumwani or Majengo.
It took me a year or more to collect enough funds to build a two-storey building with eight rooms. Eventually, the building accommodated around fifty students, with a similar arrangement as that of the Madrasa room. To collect funds was a hard job but to deal with the African contractors was harder. I remember how the poor fellow was once chased by his workers to whom he failed to pay in time. He appeared in front of an angry mob who were shouting at him. Of course, I had to calm them down by coming to the aid of the helpless contractor.
Now the teaching was organised in the morning hours. I was there with Sir Kamaluddin of Sudan and Muhammad Musallam of the East coast. The students were classified as that of a primary level of an Arabic Dar-ul-uloom. The syllabus contained small books in Aqeedah, Hadith, Fiqh, Seerah and Arabic language. I used to print the lessons and test papers on a stencil machine. It was a unique experience of writing with a sharp ended pen on some special blue sheets which were later dressed up on a roller dipped in a special ink. I had to always struggle with the machine which by an excessive amount of ink would destroy a lot of papers before producing a legible reading material. For that small Madrassa I was a teacher, a Head-master, a registrar, a printer and over and above all, a care taker for the benefit of all the boarding students.
For me, the Madrasa was everything. I was there in morning hours till Zuhur. Then I had to come back for the evening Madrasa for local children at Asr time till Maghrib. In between I had my lunch at home and a short siesta before heading once again to the Madrasa.
It was a great joy for me to discover a vast number of books stalked in shelves of the library in the first floor of an annexe to the Gami Mosque in the heart of the city. I took the task of cataloguing the books in my odd visits to the mosque. I discovered many volumes of the weekly magazine of ‘Ahl-e-Hadith’ edited and published by the great Indian scholar Maulana Sanaullah of Amristar. The magazine started its publication in 1903 and remained in circulation till Pakistan came into being in 1947. Its pages stood as a witness to Maulana’s written encounters with the self-appointed prophet of India, Mirza Ghulam Ahmad of Qadian. There were many dialogues, arguments and cross-arguments between the two which ended with the famous public announcement of Mirza of Qadian in which he pleaded to Allah Al-Mighty to let him die during the lifetime of Maulana Amrastari if he was to be a liar and fabricator in his claim of prophethood. That was miraculously proved when he died of cholera on 26thMay 1908 while Maulana survived him by 40 years. He died in 1948 in Sargodha after migrating to Pakistan.
I was curious to know how the copies of this humble paper reached to Nairobi in those remote years. I was told that it was due to an Ahl-e-Hadith Imam, Maulana Abdul Momin who must have subscribed to this magazine while he served the mosque as an Imam or teacher. One day I happily welcomed Shaik Abdullah Al-Farisi, the Grand Qazi of Mombasa who was famous because of his vast knowledge, his contribution to the institution of Islamic judiciary and mostly for his great work of translating the meanings of the Quran to Ki-Swahili, the lingua franca of east Africa. He was delighted to visit the library and go through some of the books of this great valuable collection.
Mr. Habib Adam, a famous businessman from the Memon community and the chair of the mosque trustees was there to facilitate my work at the library. I found him courteous, helpful and an amazing person. He had been a sincere supporter to the work of my two colleagues at Machakus, Syyed Fatahuddin Tangal and Muhammad Ibrahim Malabari. I was a bit disappointed, when I presented to him a set of books printed by my stencil machine, to be a part of a unified syllabus for madrassa education. He received them in a cool manner. I realised my mistake. It should have come through Machakus and not from me directly. May Allah accept his services towards the Islamic cause in general, and in particular his services to the mosque.
Let me mention here that we, the delegates from Dar-ul Ifta in Kenya and Uganda, had agreed to compose a unified curriculum for the Arabic Madrasa. What I had prepared was a manifestation of our agreed deliberations. The course covered six years of primary and two years of middle levels. Ironically, my stay in Nairobi did not last more than nine years; a period that cover these two levels only.
Pangani and Landhi Mosques
Just across the road from my fourth residence, a flat in the first floor of a complex of flats owned by Mehdi Khan of Chakwal, was the famous Pangani Mosque. A small and Indian style built building which served the local community for their daily prayers. For Juma prayers, the people would go either to Eastleigh or the central mosque in the city. I was blessed to start a weekly Arabic class after Isha prayer which was set to be held at 8 p.m. throughout the year. Nairobi, being situated very near to the equator, enjoyed the equatorial weather on one hand and a 12 hours day light and 12 hours night fall. If there was a fluctuation of time, it did not go more than half an hour. So, if the sun set at 6:30, still we were at ease to pray Isha at 8 p.m. It was Pir Habib of Chakwal, a tall heavy-built personality who in one of his visits raised the issue of the timing of Isha. According to him, the white twilight was still on the horizon at 8 p.m. Thus, Isha should be held at a bit later time. Our African Muslims, mostly known as Swahili were known to be raised in following Shaf’i Mad- hab which allowed the performance of isha as soon as red twilight disappeared. Accordingly, we were within the allowed time to offer our prayers.
My weekly Arabic circle was attended by a number of the local residents including a non-Muslim English gentleman who used to take a long journey to reach this area. I had many memories of the event in this mosque and I would keep on narrating what I remembered in these memoirs. After my bitter experience in the Eastleigh Mosque in the beginning, I was allowed to deliver a pre-khutba speech in the central mosque for a few weeks. Later I was approached by Sheikh Mohammad Ismail and Shaikh Muhammad Yaqub, the two brothers from Landhi Mosque to start delivering khutba in their mosque on the other end of the city. The mosque was known as railways Landhi mosque which was started by the dwellers of the railway workers in a tin shed many many years ago. Then it moved to its present site. Like Pangani mosque, it was marked with an Indian style. Its entrance was decorated by Sikh builders. The main building had a dome and a big courtyard as well. Unlike Pangani, it enjoyed a big surrounding area which served as a car park. Both brothers, Sheikh Yaqub, the younger one, in particular used to come all the way from South C, to carry out the activities in the mosque. Maulana Abdul Momin had served there for a long time. This is how they were familiar with Ahle-e-Hadith traditions and were happy to welcome me as a Khateeb of Friday prayer. I developed a close friendship with them. I found them honest and sincere and for first time in my life, I was made aware by Sheikh Yaqub how old postal stamps were preserved in an album. His collection of stamps was colourful and astonishing. I made up my mind to learn Ki-Sawahili to enable me to address the gathering on Fridays in their language.
For this purpose, I had to travel to Mombasa and stay there for a week. My teacher was a young man from Germany, Khalid by name, who after embracing Islam happened to visit East Africa and marry a Swahili woman. He stayed in Mombasa for quite a good time and was able to learn and master the language through many knowledgeable sources including his wife, a native of this country. I was able to cover the whole book, a book of Ki-Swahili grammar with him. I needed more practice and to widen the scope of my vocabulary for which I had plenty of time in the coming months. Soon I was able to address in Ki-Swahili even for a short time during my Friday Khutba.
It is interesting to note that Ki-Swahili is itself an Arabic word (from Sahil: the coast) and it has a vast number of Arabic words rendered into its own structure. For example, note the following Arabic words and how they have been turned into Ki-Swahili by adding a ‘u’ in the end.
Kitab - Kitabu
Qalam - Kalamu
Muallim – Muallimu
Hurriyya (freedom) – Huru
Among the numbers three are Arabic in their origin. This is how they are pronounced:
1 1. Moja 2. Pili 3. Tatu 4. Inne 5. Tano
6. Sitta 7. Sabaa 8. Nane 9. Tisaa 10. Kumi
How Swahili culture is inspired by Arabic is well portrayed by their sense of time. If you ask a Swahili ‘what is the time now?’ he would see his watch and then say to you for example ‘Saa Sitta’ while his watch is displaying 12 noon. It is because they still follow the old Arabic practice of the timing. Their new day starts by the fall of night: the precise time of the setting of the sun which happened to be normally 12 p.m. (Kuminapili in Ki-Swahili) which is 6 p.m. according to GMT. So, the 12 noon will turn into 6 o’clock (Saa- Sitta) with Swahilis. The old books in Ki-Swahili are still found in Arabic script. East Africa, being an occupied territory could not resist adopting the Roman script for its mothers’ tongue.
Before I end this episode, let me have a few more lines about Pangani Mosque. I was honoured to be a member of the Mosque committee. We were looking for a permanent Imam. The man selected for this job was a young imam, Izhar Ahmad Qasimi by name, who was finally chosen for this job and who came all the way from Deoband (India) to join this post in Pangani. Could I have imagined at that time that around forty years later I myself and my wife Umm-e-Wohaib would be invited by his son Rashid Ahmad Qasimi to present some religious programmes on his newly established T.V. channel known as ‘Iqra’ in London?
This is what unseen (Ghaib) which is always known to Allah. It is hidden in a folded scroll which keeps on unfolding its secrets by the passage of time, some in this life, others in the life Hereafter.
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