Memoirs
No.12
Nairobi:
1967-1968
Prior
to my appointment as a delegate to Kenya, I happened to visit Cairo where I
met, in the city of foreign students studying at Al-Azhar, a young man who
introduced himself to me as Syyed Fatahuddin Tangal, a graduate of Al-Azhar, who was also interviewed to
be a delegate to Kenya on behalf of Dar-ul-Ifta of Saudi Arabia.
Three
months later, I was at Nairobi airport to receive him. His colleague Muhammad
Ibrahim Malibari, a new delegate like me at Machacos, a small town at a
distance of one hour’s drive from the capital, was there as well. Our host
Hasan Jaizan brought us back from the airport in his Saab, a very popular car
with him.
I
invited him to be with me at my Madrasa, but his colleague M. Ibrahim persuaded
him to join his Madrasa at Machacos. It was a clear choice for him. They were
both from South India; studied at Al-Azhar, and spoke the same language: Tamil.
That day he was a guest with me. Soon we developed a good friendship which
lasted my nine year stay in Nairobi. Even after leaving Nairobi in 1976, I kept
in touch with him and M. Ibrahim, and there were further opportunities to meet
both of them in Makkah, London and elsewhere. My friendship with Syyed
Fatahuddin was not just, ‘a friend in need is a friend indeed’, but it was more
than that. It was as has been said in Arabic,
رب أخ لك لم تلده أمك.
‘There
are some brothers to you, whom your mothers did not give birth’
Originally,
he did not come from Malabar, but from
Lakkadev, an island facing the shores of Malabar in the Indian Ocean. We, in the course of our Da’wa
work, travelled together to a great many places; we suffered together, as to be
disclosed later, and enjoyed many evenings together in pleasant conversation
and dining. His family joined him two years later, and I had to host them once
again.
A
delegation from Riyadh:
In
1968 a delegation of two people came from Dar-ul-Ifta. They were: Sheikh
Muhammad bin Ibrahim Qa’ūd, the director for Da’wa abroad
and Sheikh Abdullah- Mohsin Al-Turki, the head of the Shari’a college in
Riyadh. These were two promenent Shuyukh with whom I remained attached to a
very long time, especially the latter who held a number of responsible posts in
Saudia Arabia, first as the President of Imam Muhammad bin Saud, then the
Minister of Islamic Affairs and Da’wa and Endowment, then an advisor to the king and finally the secretary general of the Muslim World
League from where he had retired recently. But when he came to visit us he was
just head of the Shari’a College.
Syyed
Fatahuddin told me that Ghulam Hussain Faqih, a trustee of the Grand Mosque in
Nairobi invited Sheikh Muhammad bin Qa’ūd
to lead Jummah prayer there. The local African Imam Sheikh Ramadani was very
reluctant to allow him such a prestigious opportunity. Just prior to the
khutbah, he hastened towards the pulpit. Sheikh Ibn Qa’ūd was well aware of the situation, so he pushed towards
the pulpit before he could step on it. This mosque had been established by a
great Indian Imam Sheikh Abdullah Ghaznawi, who was known to be ‘Shah Sahib’.
The mosque itself was designed according to Indian mosque structure. For wudu
(ablution) it used to have a pool of water in the middle of the courtyard of
the mosque. In the sixties, Habib Adam, a wealthy Memon merchant was the
chairman of the board of Trustees. The appointment of a Kenyan Imam came with
the growing African interest in all local activities after independence. But it
was sad to see such a prejudiced stance
taken by the local imam, who failed to honour the guests.
A
journey within Africa
The
guests from Saudi Arabia asked me to accompany them to a proposed journey to
Uganda and some other countries as an extensive observational tour in the field
of Da’wa.
Uganda
Our
first stop was at Kampala, the capital of Uganda.If Nairobi is a city in the
sun, Kampala is a city in the hills. On each hill, you will find a monument. I
remember the grand mosque as one them. Deep in the valley was the market and
the railway station. It was the British great venture to deploy around 32
thousand Indian labourers, beginning from 1890 to lay down a railway track from
Mombasa on the Eastern
coast of the Indian Ocean to Kampala, a further seven hundred miles away
towards central Africa. Once the job was over, they all left back to India
except 6724 of them who made East Africa their home. Uganda, with an area of
241,038 sq. kilometres, could be compared in size with Romania (237,499 sq. km)
, Ghana (238,533 sq. km.), and U.K. (244,109 sq. km).
A
land which is bordered by five countries, Kenya and Tanzania in the East, Congo
in the West, South Sudan in the North, and Rwanda in the South. It has no sea
around it, but Great Victoria Lake provides it with sweet waters. The source of
the river Nile can be traced in its mountains and you can see it flowing at
Jinja with all its glory and splendour.
It
gained independence from U.K. on 9th October 1962. It was Milton Obote in rule
when we visited Uganda. Our main objective was to visit the seat of knowledge,
where our colleague Sheikh Sirajul Rahman
Nadwi of India was appointed as the first delegate from Dar-Ul-Ifta, of Saudi
Arabia.
Though
the Muslims constitute 14% of the total Christian majority population, one can
see the Muslim marks everywhere in this beautiful country, with lush green
valleys, three more lakes other than Victoria, tea and coffee plantations on
hills and plains, and a great number of wildlife pastures of evergreen land.
We
were hosted by the chief Qadi and escorted by brother Sirajul Rahman to a number of smaller institutions.
It
was a short visit, but more are destined for me during the reign of General Edi Amin, who took over on 25th January 1971 and ruled the
country with an iron hand till the day he was deposed in 1979.
Rwanda
and Burundi
Our
next destination was Kigali, the capital of Rwanda, followed by Bujumbura, then
capital of Burundi.
I
think that was the first time I heard about these two countries, among the
smallest in Africa. But how small they are? Rwanda, an area of 26,330 sq. km
and Burundi 27,834 sq. km could be compared with Macedonia (25,713 sq. km),
Haiti (27,700 sq. km.), Albania (28,749) and Belgium (30,528) . As for
population, both were within a population of 11 million each. I remember the road
with many curves passing through hills and dense forest which took us to the
Muslim quarters in Kigali. I had also a dim memory of their talk about fierce
enmity between the two tribes, Hutu and Tutsi, who populated that part of the
world. But now I can say, after turning the pages of history, how the greed for
land and ambition to rule led to one of the worst genocides which took place in
these two small places. Both were
colonised in 1884 by Germany who had to exchange hands with Belgium in 1916,
after their defeat in the first world war.
Just
after independence, the Hutu revolted against the Tutsi and massacred them.
Later, long after our visit, a civil war broke out in 1990 and most
surprisingly the presidents of both countries became the victim of this war,
when their plane, in which they were both travelling, was shot down in 1994.
It
is estimated that the Tutsi might have killed between half to a million Hutus
in this war. Earlier, Burundi had seen a similar genocide of around 80 to 210
thousand people. This was followed by a second massacre in 1993 which took the
lives of around 300 thousand people. Both tribes go back to Banyarwanda race in
the region, but at daggers drawn to each other because of land and power.
They
were unique in their blood-stained history, just like the mountain gorillas
which was unique in its presence in this land, beside its presence in a neighbouring country.
Both
countries had a majority of Christian (mostly Catholics), with 2% Muslims in
Rwanda and 3% in Burundi.
Our
visit was confined to the main mosques both in Kigali and Bujumbura where we
given a warm welcome by the Muslim imams and leaders. Our Sheikhs were there to
given them a lesson on unity and extended to them their upper hand with some
assistance to improve their places of education.
I
was there to interpret for them, but I do not remember whether I was able to do
that: because they were not English speaking, but they could communicate in
Swahili and Arabic on a small scale.
Like
Majengo, the African quarter of Nairobi, the Muslim locality in both these
places was among the poorest: narrow allies with mud houses and tin roofs. They
were poor, but their mosques were glowing with the light of iman, with the
impression of sujud to Allah Al- Mighty.
Malawi
Our
next destination was Blantyre, the second largest city of Malawi, after the
capital Lilongwe. I remember another name of a locality known as Limbe, which
was visited by us. It may have been the place of Muslim concentration. We had
been led by an Indian Muslim businessman whose name I fail to recall.
There
is not much with me to say about this visit, but there is a lot to say about
Malawi which I had visited as a chairman of Muslim Aid in the middle of the
nineties.
If
you look at the map of Malawi, you can easily trace it beside Lake Malawi,
which is long like a snake but its unique length brought it a unique title:
‘Calendar Lake’. It is 365 miles
long and 52 miles at its widest point. It constitutes one third of the whole of
Malawi in area. Malawi is approximately 118,484 sq. km, with a population of 18
million people.
Islam
preceded the spread of Christianity by 350 years or more in Malawi, but could not make the impact which was
created by the latter. Since the 15th century, the Arabs frequented this land
in their trade adventures which included slaves as well. As many as 20 thousand
slaves were exported through the port of Kilwa, on the Eastern coast.
David
Livingstone, a Scotsman, discovered this amazing Lake in 1859, which was followed
by the Catholic missionaries. Not only did they colonise the country, but they
ruled on their minds and souls as well. It was Nyasaland in the beginning which
turned to ‘Malawi’ after independence on the 6ty July 1964. And such was the
Christian impact, that Muslim school children used to change names as to appear
Christian in order to get through the exams.
I
heard one of the Muslim speakers, Amin Yusuf Sauudi by name, who said how his
brother had to register himself as Johnathan in his school days during the
nineties. It may be because of the influential first president after
independence, Dr Hastings Banda, who ruled as a head of a one-party democratic
system for thirty years.
I
had a second visit later to this country in the mid-nineties
as the head of Muslim Aid, U.K. Here I should pay tribute to a great
man who had left unforgettable marks in the field of Da’wa and charitable work
not only in Malawi in particular, but in around 29 African countries. The man
was Dr Abdul Rahman Al-Sumait of Kuwait. He was a student of medicine during a
period of 6 years from 1974 to 1980, in the U.K. I met him a number of times
and was much impressed by his zeal and tireless efforts to reach the people in
Africa and Southeast Asia with copies of the Quran and books on Islam. His
studies of tropical disease must have led him to explore Africa which won his
heart and soul since his first visit to Malawi in 1981.
What
a great soul who abandoned his very promising medical career in a rich Arab
country, surely to live a very humble life among the impoverished inhabitants
of small villages and places devoid of any modern facilities for living.
For
the next thirty years he devoted himself to invite people to Islam, to reach
them with food and medicine and to provide them roof and shelter. Each year he
used to spend ten months in Africa, only to see his family in Kuwait for the
remaining two months. Then he introduced his family to Africa directly. Let
them stay with him during summer vacations and share with him a life of camping
in the jungles, travelling their paths in hills, valleys and mountains.
He could not resist crossing stagnant pools of water, filled with bacteria and
bitting insects, if there was no other way to reach the other side, where
people were in need of physical aid and spiritual nourishment. Through his own
charity, Direct Aid Society, he managed to provide assistance everywhere. Looking at his achievements in brief:
Countries
visited : 29
Mosques
established : 7500
Wells
in rural areas : 9500
Orphans
taken care of : 9500
Schools
established : 860
Universities
initiated : 4
Students
sponsored for
education
at secondary level : 95000
Those
who entered into Islam : Around 5
million
Copies
of the Quran distributed : Around 50 million
Such
a person should have been a target of enemies within and without. Those who
wanted to snatch from him, the bread and butter for the poor and needy, and
those who could not tolerate a preacher among them. A number of attempts to
assassinate him were carried out in Somalia, Mozambique and some other places
where he had to escape narrowly. For a short while he tasted prison life in
Iraq as well. He was deservingly awarded the King Faisal Prize in 1996. Apart
from his Da’wa and charitable work, he wrote a number of articles on tropical diseases, cancer, the tribes of Africa and their tongues. A very harsh and
troublesome life in the African jungles impacted his health. He suffered from
high blood pressure, diabetes, malaria and the like. He remained
under treatment in Germany, and then in Kuwait he breathed his last on 15th
August 2013 at an age of 66 years. May Allah bless his soul and elevate his
ranks in the highest paradise.
Rhodesia
(present day Zimbabwe)
Next,
we landed at Salisbury, the capital of Rhodesia. What I knew about this country
was its unique political nature: a white minority (8% of the population) ruling
the black majority country. I will touch on its history later on. First, a few
personal observations. We were received by an Indian Muslim leader, who took us
around. We visited an evening Madrassa, where I was shocked to see young boys
and girls sitting on the floor, reclining on the wall, studying
together.
My
best memory is that of my visit to the Grand Mosque in Harare, the African quarter
of that divided town. My Arab colleagues were taken to another mosque for
Jummah prayer, but I had to lead the Africa Muslims in Jummah prayer. I
delivered the Khutba, both in Arabic and English and led them in prayer. As
soon as I finished the prayer, they asked me to lead them in Zuhur prayer. This
was a big shock to me. I had never ever been confronted with such a situation.
I knew according to the Shafi’i madh’hab, if the congregation is less than 40 people, they will add an extra Zuhur prayer lest
their Jummah prayer was not valid. But here it was a big crowd and in no way
this opinion could hold water. ‘Why do you want to pray Zuhur, when you have
already prayed Jummah?’, I asked. They replied, ‘We do not know whether our
Jummah was accepted by Allah or not.
So we always add Zuhur prayer to
Jumuah salah’ as a
precaution . I declined, giving them the
principle which governed such a situation: you cannot do Tayamūm
(dry ablution) as long as water is available for Wūdū (ablution). It means, if
an original is available,
you do not need to replace it with a substitute. Similarly, on a Friday, Jummah
is the main prayer instead of Zuhur, So, you do not need to have a substitute
after it. That day, the additional Zuhur was not offered on my advice. Allah
knows better what happened in the coming weeks.
Our
host had a surprise for us. They took us in the evening to a flood- lit arena,
where a wrestling competition had been going on among white wrestlers.
Spectators were mostly white, who had been seated on the grass around the
arena. I don’t know whether they had been more amused by the wrestling or by
sighting a group of Arabs with white ‘Jallabia’ (long shirts) entering into that arena to share with them their pleasure and recreation. They giggled
and they mocked, only to let us taste what apartheid meant in a white- led
country.
For
me, going out for a walk in the surrounding streets of our hotel was a pleasant
experience. The streets were well lit with shop windows displaying good in
western style. After Nairobi, Salisbury (present day Harare) seemed to be a
clean organised town.
I
do not remember all the centres, mosques and madrassas visited by us during
this journey. What I remember, is that I was the mouth for my two Arab
superiors who used to deliver their speeches in Arabic and I had interpreted
them in English.
The
time had come to part. They had still to carry on travelling southwards, but I
had to return back to Nairobi.
Before
returning, I took an internal journey by road towards Kwekwe and Bulawayo in
the south and then turning west towards Zambia to have a sighting of the great
Victoria Falls, which got its name from the Scottish explorer David
Livingstone, who was the first European to sight this amazing phenomenon of
nature on 16th November 1855. It was a wonderful sight!
The
river Zambezi brings that huge amount of water which falls at a height of 355
feet (double that of Niagara) with a width of, at its base, 5,604 feet (double
that of Horseshoe Falls). This point is
shared by both Zimbabwe and and Zambia. But Zambia still remembers it with its
African name: Mosi-oa-Tunya (the smoke that thunders).
I
with my host, a young Asian Muslim, were bewildered with the unique scene which
projected before us.
The
smoke, the steam, the vapour, whatever you call it, was rising towards the sky
as high as 1300 feet. Then that constant thunder and uproar which showed the
might of the falling water. If you look downwards, deep in the valley was that
great pool of water which made its way through the steep.
Apart
from the thundering noise, there were not many human beings around. Quietness
of the jungle around, the presence of many unknown beasts behind the bushes and
the trees, created an atmosphere of awe and fear. It is said that Victoria
Falls could only be compared with Iguazu Falls in South America.
On
my way backs, I remember addressing a Muslim gathering in a school either at
Kwekwe or Bulawayo.
In
my speech, I quoted the story of Rip Van Winkle, a narrative by Washington
Irving. Why I quoted this story? I am now puzzled as to why I did mention it but now I think
about it. It was an imaginary story of a Dutch American, who was lazy and tried
to escape from the constant nagging of his wife, who kept asking him to work.
This escape came when he went to the mountains with his dog, near his home town
in New York. Then he helped an old weird man to carry his barrel to a stream.
There were many weird people, like the man who asked for his help. Rip van
Winkle joined them in a drink which the barrel contained. He was fast asleep
after three cups. It was the evening when he woke up. To him it was about a
day’s sleep, but he did not realise that he had slept for twenty years. His dog
was gone. He had come by himself, only to discover that everything had changed.
There seemed no person to recognise him, especially when had grown a beard one
foot long. He enquired about his friends. The reply was a surprise for him. No
one was left. Some of them, including his wife, were dead, and some had left.
In the end, he was able to convince one young woman, that he was her father,
the very same Rip van Winkle who disappeared twenty years ago.
This
story was set at a time of the American revolution during 1775 to 1783. The man
because of his long sleep had missed all the amazing events of the war which
ended British rule and gave birth to the U.S.A. The moral was: time never
stops. It goes on and brings changes.
By
narrating this story to my audience did I mean the same moral in the
context of Rhodesia’s political conditions or not? I am still bewildered what I
meant by it. I must be explaining the ‘swift passage of time’ in the context of
Surah Al- Asr:
By
the time, Indeed man is in loss,
Except
those who believe,
Those
who do good deeds,
Those
who instruct each other to stand by truth,
And
those who instruct each other to have patience
Now
I am about to end writing about my visit to Rhodesia, let me summarise a bit of
its past.
It
was named after Cecil Rhodes, who was the first European to help colonise the
southern part of it in 1889 under the flag of British South African Company. It
was under a charter until 1923, then became a self-governing colony. In 1953,
the county turned into a federation which covered North Rhodesia and Nyasaland
as well. The federation was short lived and came to an end in 1963.
The
country was ready for independence and a black majority rule. The white
minority was not prepared for this unexpected undesirable change. Its leader
Ian Smith was apt to declare the UDI (Unilateral Declaration of Independence)
on 11th November 1965 severing its link with Britain. Supported vehemently by
the Portuguese, in neighbouring Mozambique with its many ports, good for import
and export, Ian Smith had not much to lose even if he had to face sanctions
from Britain. That is what Harold Wilson, the British Prime Minister did. He couldn’t
do more than declaring Rhodesia’s stand as an open act of
rebellion. The country’s exports of chrome, tobacco, steel was not blocked due
to the generosity of the Portuguese, who had bitterly swallowed the capture of
Goa by India in 1961.
It
took another fourteen years for Rhodesia to adopt multi-party rule, which
eventually led to majority black rule and Muzorewa as prime minister in 1979. A
year later, in April 1980, the country acquired its African name, Republic of
Zimbabwe with Harare (formerly Salisbury) as its capital. Rhodesia was lost in
the annals of history.
Now
it was time for me to leave Salisbury, back home to Nairobi. It was a pleasure
for me to enjoy a good time with both Shuyukh. Though one of them was my boss
and the other, a big name to shine in coming days, they treated me well, and
tolerated my moments of displeasure, at one time when I felt I was the ‘weakest
link’ in the trio. I always thought that I was the main link between them and
the people whom we visited :those who were not able to communicate to them except
through me.
