Beauty often reaches one’s eye, but sometimes it goes further, deeper, touching
one’s heart.
|
|
Sheikh
Deedat’s simple home in the old town of Verulum sits on a
beautiful green hill. Unlike other homes nearby, there is no
security system and there is no surrounding barbed wire, which are
the usual additions in an area with a high crime rate. As we got out
of the car, we could see an open door waiting for us, leading
directly to the sheikh’s room, a door, we later learned, that was
always open to welcome visitors.
On
my first step into the room, I could smell the calming musky air.
Waiting for us with a smile was the sheikh’s wife, Hawwa, his son,
Yusuf, and there, on his bed, was Sheikh Ahmad Deedat.
By
the time of our visit, the sheikh had been bedridden for six years
after suffering a massive stroke in 1996. His body was still, with
no movement except for his head (in one direction) and his eyes.
With rapid movements of his eyelids, he welcomed us to his home.
Communicating with us through his son, Yusuf, the sheikh showered us
with questions about IslamOnline.net and whether or not we, as
individuals, were doing enough to deliver the true message of Islam
in our home countries.
From
missionaries calling him to Christianity so that the Lord would
forgive him and grant him back his health, to international media
men and women questioning him about the events of September 11, we
learned that the sheikh’s visitors came to him from different
walks of life and from all over the world with varying purposes. And
in each corner in the room, I could see how a whole life could be
dedicated to serving Allah, with no barriers, no obstacles being
allowed to stand in the way—a television set directly before the
sheikh’s bed, books, newspapers, and eyeglasses. With the same
vigor and steadfastness, Sheikh Deedat continued his mission in the
cause of Islam from his bed.
The
Backbone
Beauty
often reaches one’s eye, but sometimes it goes further, deeper,
touching one’s heart.
Sheikh
Deedat’s lifetime companion, mother Hawwa (now 84), whom he liked
to call “my backbone,” was a kind simple woman with a warm smile
that transcended the language barrier. Despite her age, she was the
sheikh’s primary nurse, devoting herself to his well being, making
sure he was always comfortable in his uneasy condition. Through her
son Yusuf’s translation, she explained to my companion and friend
Dalia how she took care of the sheikh. “I open the curtains in the
morning, I arrange the pillows, I clean the sheets, I turn the
sheikh to his side so he does not get hurt (referring to bed sores,
which were successfully avoided), I prepare his favorite biryani
(fed to him through a tube).” Through simple words, that strong
woman taught us a deep lesson on love and endless giving.
Asked
if she had a last word to say to her husband, what it would be, she
responded, “I want him to forgive me if I ever did him wrong,”
and her eyes filled with tears.
“And
They Have Not Changed in the Least”
|
|
An unforgettable moment in my life
|
A
few days ago, my friend Abedah spoke to me in grief, “I admire the
pious and I am not one of them.” I did not know what to tell her.
I stared into the distance and we both fell silent.
Faith
has a special magic; it plays on those who are lucky to have it. It
can transform you dramatically; changing your perception of things,
your priorities, and certainly your life. With some people, it
becomes one with their soul, it reflects on everything they say and
do, like a ray of light that reaches out to others. And as they get
older, sincerity in the path of Allah protects their faith even as
it fluctuates, rooting it further deep in their hearts.
As
I looked at the candies mother Hawwa—in a grandmother's
tradition—placed in my hand before I left, I could only think of
the real prize I had won from this short yet far-reaching visit. I
walked out of Sheikh Deedat's home with a whole new dimension on the
true meaning of a Muslim's life revealing itself to me. I was
blessed to feel Allah's words "Say. Surely my prayer and my
sacrifice and my life and my death are (all) for Allah, the Lord of
the worlds” (Al-An`am 6:162). Suddenly, hardship and
sacrifice—endured with the simple spirit of the Prophet and his
Companions—was displayed before me, teaching me a lesson on living
a life of strength and endurance that should only grow with time.
And
when they pass away, you feel helpless, orphaned.
|
|
And
time does not just pass by, as is often said. It leaves its mark on
you. As you venture out into the “real” world, you start
learning from what you go through, not only what you see or hear.
And, more than anything, you feel the need to really understand what
it means to believe that the true strength of a Muslim lies in his
patience and perseverance: that the secret lies in an ongoing inner
jihad in the face of life's many hardships.
And
as vulnerable and weak as you can get in the most difficult of
times, there is a yearning for the company of those on whom time has
left its mark, carving its way through their souls and enriching
them with experience, wisdom and strength. You long for the warmth
you get from the serene smiles that carry all of that and send it to
your heart through a child-pure glow in their eyes. And when they
pass away, you feel helpless, orphaned.
In
just one week, the Muslim world lost two precious people who had
left their own marks on time. Our loss is not only of Sheikh Ahmad
Deedat, but also of Egyptian scholar and activist Zeinab Al-Ghazali,
from whom Alzheimer took everything except her comprehensive
knowledge of the Qur'an and Hadith. I was not blessed enough, as my
friend Abedah was, to be in her company during her lifetime. But I
was honored to attend her funeral, thinking how the time has finally
come for her reward after the sacrifice and physical torture she
suffered in her path.
A
fenceless home with an open door in the midst of a high-crime area,
a fluent recitation of the Qur'an and sharp memory of Hadith in an
advanced stage of Alzheimer, what kind of people were they? Such
were people who were vulnerable only to the will of their Creator.
They were people from whom evil and sickness walked away in shame.
Thinking about them, I cannot help but recall the words of the
Prophet (peace and blessings be upon him) to his Companion Omar Ibn
Al-Khattab, “By Him in Whose hands my life is, whenever Satan sees
you taking a path, he follows a path other than yours”þ
(Al-Bukhari).
Such
were the people who kept their promise to Allah. They endured
through time and they remained the same. They did not change in the
least.
**
Arwa Mahmoud is
editor of the Muslim Affairs section of IslamOnline.net. A Political
Science graduate of the American University in Cairo, she holds an
International Relations diploma with special focus on foreign policy
analysis. You can reach her at arwasm1@yahoo.com
