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September
11th and My Jihad
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Al-Azhar
mosque, Cairo, Egypt
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When
I embraced Islam in June of 2001 at Al-Azhar in Cairo, Egypt, I had
discovered a sense of humanity, community and tranquillity that I
had never known or had ever experienced until that point in my life.
Members
of the Cairene Ummah, who are now lifelong brothers
and sisters, were instrumental in guiding me to the right path. I
was never pushed, never forced and always encouraged to inquire. My
experience in Cairo, a flourishing Islamic center, made it difficult
for me to think about the difficulties that I would face when I
arrived back home in Buffalo, New York. During my last week in Cairo
in August, I focused intently on hearing the adhan
(call for prayer). Hearing the adhan echo from a thousand masjids at
once is one of the most moving experiences I have ever encountered.
After I prayed my last Asr prayer with my friend and
brother Tarek, I said: “I know you have heard the adhan your whole
life echoing in these streets, but I beg you to never take it for
granted, nor the community around you.”
When
I arrived in Buffalo, New York on September 1, 2001, I arrived in a
hostile place. Gone was the echo of the adhan, gone were the
minarets of the local masjid, gone were those who had been there to
guide me. As I informed “friends” and family of my decision, I
could see the disappointment on their collective faces. I was no
longer surrounded by Muslims. I could not pray comfortably. The only
solace for the jihad that I was facing, and was about to face, came
from my fiancee in New Zealand, Charlotte, my grandparents and my
brothers in Cairo.
The
real jihad in my life began with the events that took place on
September 11, 2001. I experienced jihad in two respects: in my self
and my emotions and in a struggle with those around me. I watched
the events unfold on that infamous morning from my living room in
Buffalo, New York. I watched in utter horror as the second plane hit
the second tower. A sense of numbness overcame me. Almost
instantaneously, I knew what happened. I was not shocked, nor
surprised. I had previously at times thought that something like
this could happen in the United States.
What
had shocked me however was the emotions that I had felt. Although,
at the time immediately following the blast, I had felt sorrow for
the victims. I had also felt a sense of solidarity for the many,
many civilians (Muslim and non-Muslim) who had been killed by
American foreign policy. I immediately pictured, in my mind, the
massive death toll of Iraqi civilians stemming from US military
action, the deaths of Palestinian civilians by weapons provided by
the United States, the deaths of many under the Iranian puppet the
Shah as well as other acts of aggression against the Muslim and
non-Muslim world.
When
I expressed these sentiments to one of my brothers in Cairo, I was
met with an angry response. He reminded me of the humanity of Islam
and that the killing of one innocent person is like killing all of
humanity. This friend told me that he believed that if the Prophet
Muhammed (Salla Allahi Wa Salaam) were alive, he would have tears in
his eyes for the victims of September 11th. I felt shame.
This was the struggle within myself coming to bear. On the one hand,
I may have felt a sense of vindication for those wronged by the
United States, the reality however is that Islam is a religion of
mercy and peace. It was anti-Islamic to feel any sort of vindication
for the loss of humanity. I made du’a for myself and the victims
of September 11th. That initial feeling of vindication is
something that I will always live with; a mark on my soul, may Allah
have mercy on me.
The
second prong of my struggle was against others after September 11th.
Many in the United States prior to the events, did not have a
favorable perception of Islam. The events that took place caused a
catastrophic blow to Muslim and non-Muslim relations in the United
States. Because of my European descent, I do not appear to be Arab
or Muslim. It is a common belief in the United States that, in order
to be Muslim, you must be a pure Arab.
Everyone
that I came in contact with, who did not know of my conversion,
automatically assumed that I was Christian. In the period
immediately following September 11th I had witnessed a
massive backlash toward Muslims and Arabs. On one particular day, a
veiled Muslim woman was walking down the street in downtown Buffalo.
Because she was fully veiled, she attracted a crowd of onlookers who
began hurling an array of insults at her. I intervened immediately,
and attempted to ward off the verbal assault. One ignorant man
looked at me and said: “What do you care? You are not one of
them?” I grabbed him and told him that I was Muslim. This turned
into a physical confrontation, at which I was called a terrorist.
In
October of 2001, I left to Cairo for a conference affiliated with my
university. It was a wonderful opportunity to return to Cairo and
spend time with my brothers and find a sense of renewal. Those two
weeks helped me focus on the importance of being a Muslim –
without being afraid of being one. While in Cairo, the United States
began its baseless revenge campaign on Afghanistan. I knew that when
I returned to Buffalo, I had to find other Muslims in the community.
Unity would be the only thing that could protect the community from
harassment and discrimination.
On
my last night in Cairo, Egypt, I was approached by a man
representing himself as the Chief African correspondent from the The
Washington Post. He said he wanted to write a piece about
the sentiments of American Muslims regarding September 11th
and the bombing campaign on Afghanistan. Speaking to this man was a
mistake. I stated that the events were horrific, but that the United
States could learn from the attacks.
Apparently,
he saw my comments as a justification, despite informing him that
from an Islamic and human perspective that the attacks were
reprehensible. As I returned to JFK Airport from Cairo I was
temporarily apprehended by agents who asked me about my comments,
and my purpose for being in Cairo. I was humiliated.
From
my return from Cairo to the present I have been witness to the
campaign of disinformation being spread by the American media about
the face of Islam. I have witnessed more acts of discrimination and
violence to Islam in the last year than I could bear. But I believe
that this is a test from Allah. A test to see how we as Muslims deal
with such a crisis. I believe that Allah wants us to deal with this
not by violence, but by showing the truth about Islam, the humanity
of Islam.
To
be sure, the events of September 11th did equal, if not
more, damage to Muslim Americans as they did to non-Muslim
Americans. Muslim Americans not only have to deal with the horrors
of what took place, but also by an accusing finger of non-Muslim
Americans who believe that all Muslims are responsible.
I have not recovered
from those events. My religion, my way of life, my Islam has been
slandered and defamed by those who use the Qur’an to justify
unspeakable crimes against humanity. It has been a mission of mine
to convince those non-Muslims that Islam is not the enemy. In
several respects I have been successful, for I have convinced people
such as my grandparents, fervent Christians, that Islam is a
religion of peace and justice, not terror. They have even gone so
far as to defend Islam to their friends and colleagues. Certainly,
this is a small victory, but with each person that I reach I am
coming closer and closer to fulfilling my jihad. I will continue to
try and foster better relations between Muslims and non-Muslims,
because that is the very essence of the message of peace that Islam
brought to the world.
Thomas
J. Haidon is an American attorney and activist residing in
Wellington, New Zealand. He received a Jurisdoctorate (J.D.) with a
certificate of international law from the University at Buffalo
School of Law and a Bachelor of Arts in Political Science from
Niagara University. He has studied at the American University in
Cairo and Birzeit University, Palestine. He is currently pursuing an
L.L.M. in international law. You can reach him at thaidon@justice.com
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