MEMOIRS NO 16; MY FIRST VISIT TO BRITAIN.

Blog No. 16: (1973-1974)

1. Mohammad Salafi

I previously mentioned my journey to Marsabit via Isiolo where we met our friend Mohammad Salafi. Let me talk a little more about him.

After graduating from Madinah two years after me, he was employed first in Agades, Niger, where he stayed for three years, and was later moved to Nigeria. I was in touch with him through post and often encouraged him to persuade the office in Riyadh to let him serve in Kenya. In March/April 1972 he was able to secure his transfer to Kenya. An orphanage in the small town of Isiolo, run by the Islamic Foundation of Nairobi, welcomed him as a pioneer in this remote part of Kenya. He told me about Sheikh Muhammad Mahmood Al-Sawwaf's visit to Nigeria in 1971 following his visit to Kenya as well. His services in turning that primitive orphanage into a great institution are to be remembered for many years to come. We had an interesting evening with him and his family in one of my social visits to Isiolo. In two cars we left for a remote spring of water in the jungle surrounding the area. The water of the spring ran through a small passage which eventually turned into a big pool where we enjoyed, with our children, a couple of hours bathing and swimming. It was in the evening that we were warned by a lone wanderer that this spring was often visited by an alligator, which had in the past injured a child there with his family. The news fell on us like a thunderstorm. We left the spring, rushed to our cars and sped back to our dwellings in Isiolo. Later we learnt some more details of this incident; how the poor child was taken from the alligator's jaws and how a helicopter had to be dispatched to move the child to either Nanyuki or Nyeri where first aid facilities were available. Muhammad Salafi at present (in 2020) runs a major Islamic seat of knowledge, known as Jamia Sattariya, in Karachi. Despite leaving Isiolo for good in 1986, he maintains very close contact with Isiolo through regular visits to Kenya.

Since we have mentioned the Islamic Foundation, let me record short notes on its founding members in Kenya. It was an offshoot of the mother organisation established by Professor Khurshid Ahmed in Leicester, England.

2. Mr Bashir Diwan

Despite being a businessman dealing in meat, he was a well-known Islamic worker. As a chairman of the organisation he played an active role in establishing the Quran House and bringing the translation of the meanings of the Quran into Ki-Swahili, a great task accomplished by Sheikh Abdullah Al-Farisi of Mombasa.

Among his children, Munir Diowan was very close to me. He followed his father's legacy in joining the Young Muslim Association, which were the pioneers of the famous orphanage in Garrisa. Because of some commercial issues, motivated by political reasons, he had to leave Nairobi around 1971 and made London his permanent home.

3. Abdul Rahman Bazmi

A great scholarly person, a poet of deep rooted eloquence, meaning, and a great proponent of Maulana

Mudoodi's thoughts on teachings. Though he was brought up in Africa, a continent far away from the seats of knowledge, especially in the Urdu language, he was in constant touch with the literary circles of Pakistan and India. I could see in his house the copies of weekly 'Sidq' and 'Sidq-e-Jadid' of Maulana Abdul Majid Darya Abadi. His sitting room was always a meeting place whenever he hosted scholars. In his old Volkswagen he was always ready to serve his guests from around the globe. I knew him as a man of letters but he was a civil engineer by profession. I first saw the copies of 'Impact' of London with him. It was a bi-monthly journal of Islamic thought and vision on modern lines, produced by a great ardent Islamic activist, Hāshir Farooqi, who like Khurshid Ahmad, made London his home in the seventies. He graced me with a visit several times, especially when my father came to visit Kenya and at a special dinner in honour of Mr. Amanullah Khan, the Pakistan High Commissioner at Nairobi. Bazmi, like Bashir Diwan, had to leave Nairobi in either late 1972 or early 1973.

Once I was visited by Mr. Bazmi when I was ill. By that time, I had a good number of poems rhymed by myself in my notebook. Very hesitantly I showed him my contribution to a field of which he was the champion. He measured these lines of poetry by the yard of the poetical standard; Fa'ilatan, Fa’ilatun, Faa'ilāt, and so on. He was not satisfied with the results, so, his advice was not to enter into a field full of thorns. I accepted his advice for the time being and closed the notebook with a sigh of relief.

4. Abdul Halim Butt

He was one of my closest neighbours in Pangani where I seldom visited him. He showed me how he worked in lithographic printing. In those days the articles were composed in lithographs i.e. by placing all letters of the English alphabet, primarily made of metals like zinc, either small or capital, by hand in a frame which then had to go through a printing machine. He moved to London as well. It was due to a time limit set by the British government for all British "D" passport holders, mainly of Asian origin, to enter the U.K without a visa.

5. Muhammad Luqman

He was my immediate neighbour once I moved from the upper storey flat in the complex of Mr. Mahdi Khan of Chakwal to one of the two flats owned by the Pangani mosque on the ground level. His family remained a source of great support and strength for me and my family during my days of need and turmoil, when I used to travel within the country or abroad. His two eldest sons, Abdul Hamid Slatch and Farooq, were well known to me because of their active involvement in the Young Muslim Association. Z'ia was the youngest and was still in education. Mr. Luqman was a quiet person, always busy in his work as an optician.

6. Dr. Muhammad Saeed

A man of sober character and vast knowledge, with thoughtful conversation. For quite a long time he would leave his house in Westland, a locality far away from Pangani, in the early hours of the morning only to pray Fajr at our mosque. Then he would leave his car and walk with me to the nearest park with lots of trees, where monkeys would jump and stroll freely. We would talk about various issues; religious, social, political and much more. By the time we would come back, the sun would already be up in the sky and it would be time for me to take my children to school.

At his surgery in Eastleigh, another locality populated mainly by Asians, he was known for his kindness and gentle behaviour. I used to visit him at his house and was always fascinated by his vast collection of books both in Urdu and English.

My visit to the land of the English:

Was I fascinated by the land of the English? Yes, to some extent. There were glimpses of English history; the Wars of the Roses, the poetic verses of 'All in the valley of Death, Rode the six hundred', the historic masterpieces of Charles Dickens, especially the adventures of Oliver Twist on 'his road to Dover', the oblivious philanthropic character in Great Expectations. All these were from my secondary school and my first year reading at the college in Lyallpur, Pakistan. Then there was England's reputation for higher education; its great universities and seats of knowledge which prompted me to explore how I could benefit from them to pursue research work leading to higher degrees, such as M.A's and Ph. D's.

It must have been the summer of 1973, when I embarked on my journey to the U.K on a Sabina flight to Brussels, Belgium. In four hours we landed at Cairo airport and after a short stay the plane took another four hours to land in Brussels. Our journey to London was planned through land and air. First they took us to Ostend, a seaport in Belgium, by coach. From there to Southend, the British coastal city, by a small plane. Another coach was waiting for us, the tourists from Africa, to bring us to Victoria bus station in the heart of London. For me it was an adventurous journey full of excitement, taking me to foreign lands with amazing sites and wonderful scenery. Once in Victoria, I phoned two of my friends; Abdul Rahman Bazmi and Bashir Diwan to let them know of my arrival, not knowing that one of them was in the far end of the south of the city and the other in the far end of the north (Walthamstow). An hour later, Mr. Diwan arrived to take me in his car to his house in Walthamstow. Mr. Bazmi came a long way only to miss me at Victoria, I could only imagine how frustrated he would have been to find out later that I had already left for North London. Both these fellows had preceded me to come to the U.K and settle there. Mr. Diwan even wrote a letter to me with a cutting of an English tabloid; a picture of some nudists and their specific club, saying: "Maulana! Here Da'wa is needed more than Africa'.

The following day after Fajr prayer in a small mosque, within a house, I took a stroll through Floe Street. The summer morning was bright, the cool air pleasant, the street clean and tidy. For me London appeared to be a nice place to live and work.

Mr. Diwan was still struggling with his new business in leather bags and similar products. He took me to the famous Brick Lane in Whitechapel, where he had set up his office. My dear friend Absar Ahmad, the younger brother of Dr. Israr Ahmed, one of my students at the Quran Hostel in Montgomery, Pakistan, was at Reading University in those days. He came all the way from Reading to show me around this big, cosmopolitan city. In his company I visited many places including Piccadilly, Oxford Street and Regent Lodge, the very old building which housed the Islamic Cultural Centre very near Baker Street. It was there that I met a young Azhari Sheikh, Imam Mutawalli Syyed Al-Darsh, with whom I would develop a great bond of friendship and company in the years to come.

Later I visited Bazmi at his place and apologized to him for my unintentional irritating act which led him to take a futile journey to Victoria, the day of my arrival, whilst I had already left with Mr. Diwan. We

revived the memories of our days in Nairobi. For him, it was a past which had culminated. For me, it was still the "present" and thriving with activities. At his home in Nairobi, I had seen the copies of the bi-monthly magazine "Impact" since its inception, so I took a trip to visit its editor Hāshir Farooqi, in Finsbury Park. In an old two storey house he was at his table surrounded by heaps of books, papers and magazines. Some on his table, others on the floor and mostly scattered everywhere in ready-made shelves in cabinets that filled every inch of his office. It was an honour to have an audience with a great thinker, prolific writer in English and a bold Islamic activist.

Nearby, in Strowed Green Road, I also visited the office of the Muslim Education Trust represented by its chair, Fazal-ur-Rahman and its director Ghulam Sarwar. It must have been a Friday, because we were guided to someone's flat on Fonthill Road who, through removing sofas and chairs, turned his drawing room into a Musallah where a limited number of people could offer their Juma prayer. It meant that there had been no Masjid in that part of North London.

The following four days I had to visit various places in the North. On my way to Manchester, I paid a visit to the city of Leceister. I wanted to meet Professor Khurshid Ahmad, the economist and prolific writer both in Urdu and English. Very recently he had established the Islamic Foundation, located in an old building in a factory in an Asian populated area. The receptionist was an English lady who welcomed us and took us to his office. As expected, I found him sitting at his desk surrounded by books and journals. I was not a stranger to him; he knew me through my father, who was known to be one of the mentors for students who after graduation used to join the ranks of Jamiat al-Talaba in Pakistan. Jamiat used to invite scholars both from Jamaat Islami and others to address their camps of Islamic Tarbiya and awareness. At one time Khurshid Ahmad held the post Nazim A'ala (the Secretary General) of Jamiat as well. He spoke about his work, his mission and his ambitions in the field of Da'wa in the West. He was heralded as a beacon of light for many, especially those associated with the U.K. Islamic Mission, one of the pioneers to raise the flag of Islam in Britain.

The evening train took me to my next stop: Manchester. One of my good old friends Master Tufail Hashmi's family had now already settled down in the suburb of Chorlton-cum-Hardy. His wife Āpa Bilqis and his younger brother Rauf preceded him to the U.K.

My wife told me about how Master Hashmi used to take my children in his car to school while I was travelling abroad, and how his wife used to prepare her a nutritious diet during her post-birth days of weakness and dire need. Master Hashmi was a regular visitor to Pangomi mosque. With a stick in hand in the early hours of the morning he would come for Fajr prayer and often raise the call for prayer.

The man had been a school teacher throughout his life. He and his wife, Āpa Bilqis, had been a great source of help and inspiration for me and my family in Nairobi during the trials and tribulations I faced of confrontation and hostility from the evildoers around me. I used to visit him a lot and they used to care for us a lot.

After visiting the family for a short while, I headed towards Rochdale, a small town adjacent to Manchester where I hoped to meet Syyed Ali Naqi at Neeli Masjid. He was a great teacher, of many generations. By seeing him, my memories went back to my teenager years when twice our family stayed

in Ichra, Lahore, the seat and centre of Jamaat Islami with which my father was associated right after our emigration to Lahore in 1948 and later in 1956-1957, the year I passed my secondary school examinations. I also remember visiting his house with my mother and borrowing one of Nasim Hijazi's historical novels from his library, who was the most inspiring prolific writer who through his novels made Islamic history a subject of passion and prudence for young and elderly minds alike. Mr. Naqi Ali was the creator and headmaster of Naya Madrasa in Ichra as well. Though I was not blessed with studying there, my younger brother Khubaib benefitted a lot from his guidance.

Neeli Masjid was at that time located in a two-storey ordinary building and was being renovated. Mr Naqi Ali took me to the nearest chapel. We were walking on the pavement around the church building, and the pavement itself was made of stone plates with grave markings. He told me that these plates were really a mark of the graves under them. This came as a shock to me. We, according to Islamic teachings, were advised to pass by graves in a cemetery but not to trespass on them, as a sign of respect and reverence for those who were buried therein.

My next stop was Stockton-On-Tees, a remote town in the North where I had to visit another old friend from Nairobi, Mr. Bashir Rajput, who like many others moved to Britain well before the visa restrictions were imposed on the British colonial residents. He used to live in Pangani, near that small beautiful mosque where I also dwelled. I remember visiting him the day he invited the Pakistani hockey team over which was touring Kenya at the time. We went for a stroll in the park on a long summer day. It was easier for me while I was in that part of northern England to visit Durham, a town near Newcastle, known because of its historic cathedral and renowned university. I had been corresponding with this university with the aim of being admitted to pursue a higher degree by way of distant learning, but I was informed that this was not possible. However a visit to the premises was still of great value to me of course.

After a two week stay in the U.K, I returned to Nairobi with a splendid vision of Britain.

Bright and long shining summer days, evergreen pastures with abounding thick forests, three lane motorways with hard shoulders beside them, small, pleasant looking two-storey symmetrical houses in most places, neat and clean streets with pavements for passers-by, and lots more to see and admire. London was fascinating and wonderful. Its gorgeous buildings, museums of all kinds, its historic railway stations and its unique labyrinth of underground railways. A pioneering effort demonstrated the skill and engineering ingenuity of the English people. A hundred years ago they started it, the first in the whole world, as an overground transport system with iron wheels running on rails and soon after they took it to the depth of the ground, below the towering structures of London.

Heathrow airport was not yet connected to the underground but they had been working on the project somewhere quietly. For me everything was fine, except for the cultural shock. For the first time in my life I could see people hugging and kissing each other in public, boys and girls like hands in gloves, making merry in parks, not to mention those that would lay on the grass embracing each other, totally unmindful of those passing them by in Hyde Park, the famous landmark in the English capital.

Was it a rebellion towards Victorian culture, a manifestation of a growing permissive society, or just an

expression of freedom? If it is the latter, then it was best demonstrated in the other corner of Hyde Park where you find hordes of tourists wandering around, listening to various speakers. Each speaker stands on a stool, or elevated object, totally free to speak on any topic of their choice; religion, politics, social mannerisms, sex etc. as long as they do not touch the sanctity of the monarch, the Queen in our times.

I wish someone could speak about Islam like that in an eloquent, lucid way. What a great opportunity to convey the message of the last Prophet of Allah, Muhammad, may the peace and blessings of Allah be upon him.

Photos from the 1970s

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

 

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 46^thpart 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. He was curious to know if it was something beneficial. Qari Syyed told him about his request, he straight away went to the bank and brought him the money. Syyed FD asked him why he did that, to which he replied: I wanted him to know that the delegates, who were engaged in Da’wah work in Kenya on behalf of the Darul Iftah of Saudi Arabia enjoy our good respect by the local people and dignitaries. Sheikh al-Sawwaf renowned his promise by paying back this amount to Syyed FD on his visit to Makkah later.

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.