A monthly digest of key developments in Palestine showcasing powerful images by photojournalists.

The gunman’s ‘militancy and excitement’ increased as Australian far-right groups grew bolder, a new book suggests

Terrified children hid in the corners of their classrooms at the Islamic Center of San Diego, as they had been trained to do, after the shooting began.

The center’s longtime security guard, Amin Abdullah, prevented two teenage gunmen from entering the building and reaching the school inside but he was shot and killed. The pair killed two others: another staff member and a man whose wife worked in the kindergarten.

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Detained doctor Hussam Abu Safiya, director of Kamal Adwan Hospital, was transferred to solitary confinement in Israeli prison.

The Israeli “yellow line” has subsumed my neighborhood in eastern Khan Younis.

Both Andy Burnham and Wes Streeting have close ties to Britain’s pro-Israel establishment.

Pro-Israel groups treat opposition to Zionism as a hate crime.

Ahmed Al-Najjar reports from Gaza. Also, Hizballah uses night-vision equipped drones to strike Israelis at night and the UN confirms rapes of Palestinians by Israelis.

No matter the object, Israel’s military occupation permeates every aspect of life in the West Bank.

For three years running, Israel has prevented Muslims in Gaza from traveling to Mecca for the annual pilgrimage.

As global opinion turns sharply against Tel Aviv, its lobby and government are pouring record sums into propaganda. But will it work?

From the moment that the first ayah of the Qur’an was revealed – “Iqra!” – reading has been a foundational part of the Islamic tradition. The Qur’an was the first book established by the Muslim community, heralding the beginning of a long, rich literary tradition. The early Abbasid era marked a true love affair between Muslims and books, which in turn led to the establishment of public and private libraries across the Muslim world (pg 8-9, on the love of books in the Islamic tradition). The Great Library of Baghdad, housed in Bayt al-Hikmah, was one of the world’s largest public libraries and its destruction by the Mongols remains the source of much grief. That was then – but what about now?

Libraries continue to play a deeply important role in society. Reading remains a signifier of emotional intelligence as well as intellectual knowledge. Unfortunately, we find that many Muslims discount the value of reading, especially fiction, without understanding that even fiction exists in our historic tradition. Not all fiction is “haram”! At the same time, Muslim parents, especially in the West, often bemoan that their children are always on screens, or consuming unIslamic content. Admittedly, the cost of books has gone up (along with groceries, gas, and everything else!)… So where are we supposed to get halal Muslim books from without bankrupting ourselves? 

Cue the concept of a local Muslim library. Imagine a resource where books by Muslims, for Muslims, can be found in one place, free of cost for patrons! While this sounds amazing, someone has to actually put one together. AlHamdulillah, more and more Muslim communities are taking on the responsibility of establishing libraries in our communal spaces. As one of those who took on this project in my own community, I’ll be sharing an outline of what you need to know before you go about creating a Muslim library of your very own.

Intention/ Purpose

What kind of library do you want to establish? This might sound like a silly question, but the truth is that there’s a world of difference between an Islamic library and what I call a “Muslamic” library. Islamic libraries are focused on Islamic content; that is, Islamic knowledge across various genres, maintaining a strict adherence to solely what is Islamically correct. This has incredible value of its own, and is a fantastic resource for parents wanting to share knowledge with their children, with laypeople seeking to increase their own knowledge of Islam, and for students of knowledge or scholars who need access to Islamic texts that may be difficult or unaffordable to purchase on their own.

A “Muslamic” library, on the other hand, will contain fiction, including novels that involve Muslim characters, but – as fiction often does – include stories, events, and characters which reference or engage in things that aren’t strictly “halal.” That doesn’t mean those novels are encouraging haram things, but that they present actions or situations in the context of a character’s development, or simply referencing things that do happen in real life. This can also include genres such as fantasy, which aren’t teaching about Islamic beliefs around the ghayb, but are flights of imagination and whimsy. And yes, we’ve already talked about whether Harry Potter is haram! Muslamic libraries have the benefit of presenting diverse characters and situations that readers can experience through storytelling, providing emotional depth and insight. As for determining what’s “halal enough” to include in a Muslamic library, this will be covered in the section on how to select books for your library.

As you consider what kind of library you want to build, think about who your target audience is. Is it children or adults? Students at a serious madrasah, or just kids who yearn for stories where they can see themselves reflected? Parents who need stories to tell their kids at bedtime, or Muslim homeschoolers and educators? Students of knowledge and scholars, or the average Muslim? The answers to these questions will help you refine the process of building your library and determine what your priorities should be in terms of choosing the right kinds of books to include. 

Location and Pitching the Project

Do you have a location for your library? Where will you start this project? Will it be a religious space, like a masjid or Islamic center, or be part of a Muslim school, or will it exist in an entirely separate third space? Do you have authority within the space, or do you need to seek the approval of a masjid/ organization board? Who has final say over the books chosen?

All of these factors will impact how your library is set up, and the extent of flexibility you will have in curating the library, as well as accessibility to the library itself. Often, you will have to pitch the idea of the library to multiple organizations/ masaajid, as not everyone is interested in the idea of a public library (or the potential liabilities involved). Ensure that you have a thoughtful, detailed pitch to present! Demonstrate that you’ve thought this through, have done your research, and have an action plan for implementation and maintenance. 

Selecting Books

Great, you have a place to set up shop! Now, how are you going to choose the books to include in your library? The first point to remember is who your target audience is – that will immediately narrow down the types of books that you’ll be acquiring to start the library. For an Islamic library, are you a subject matter expert? If not, ensure that you have at least one or two people who are, as this will require filtering out work that is passed off as “Islamic” but may in fact be deeply problematic. Along these lines, what are the affiliations of the location your library will be located in? If it’s a masjid, do they have strict rules around the types of content that they will host? For example, if it’s a Salafi masjid, will they allow works by non-Salafi scholars? Books on tasawwuf? Books on fiqh based on specific madhaahib? On the flip side, is it a masjid that is completely anti-Salafi, or stringently adhering to one madh’hab? Your book selection will be thus constrained by the organization that you’re dependent on for location.

If you’ve got more flexibility around choosing books, especially if you’re able to have a “Muslamic” library instead, you still need to think about how you’ll be selecting books and determining what’s acceptable and what’s not. Not every book written by someone with a “Muslim” name is okay! There are many books (including kids’ books!) out there that explicitly promote haram relationships, belittle the Shari’ah, have internalized Islamophobia, or other problematic elements. On the other hand, there are many books that will mention these things without promoting them, but as part of the context/ setting/ plot/ character development, with characters who will then change for the better. There are also books which may not exactly promote the haraam, but simply incorporate them as part of the story without passing a value judgement on them.

You will need to consider different genres, age groups (e.g. toddler books, picture books, early reader, middle grade, young adult etc.), your own community’s culture and approach to literature, and what to do if a library patron complains! However, you don’t need to start from scratch – one very valuable resource to turn to are Muslim book reviewers, who do the hard work of going through lots of different books and sharing their reviews of craft and halal-ness. Specific accounts (and websites) that are dedicated to this purpose include The Islamic School Librarian, MuslimKidsBookNook, and my own book reviewing account, as well as Goodreads.com, where you can see reviews from readers around the world. There are also many others involved in the “Muslim bookstagram” space online, so it’s worth doing your research to ensure that you’re getting a full picture of each book selected. And yes… you will need a lot of time for this part!

Funding/ Getting books

You’ve gotten approval, you’ve even decided your criteria for selecting books… Now how are you going to actually get the books you want? Most libraries have a combination of streams: donations (in the form of people donating books – which you’ll need to check for appropriateness and physical state – or money given specifically for the library); an allowance provided by the masjid/ Islamic organization to purchase books and other associated library expenses (bookshelves, software etc.); paying out of pocket by yourself (this gets VERY expensive, very fast!); and the final option – applying for grants! Depending on the country/ city/ locale you live in, there may be government or non-profit grants offered towards “arts and culture” programming. It’s absolutely worth applying for these! AlHamdulillah, my own Islamic center’s library received a local arts and culture grant that paid for our library software as well as a fair bit set aside for books. Regular funding is extremely important in order to continue buying new books, as well as replacing lost or damaged books (which happens a lot). 

As you think about how you’ll pay for books, you’ll also need to create a budget based on the funding that you have available. How many books do you want to start with in order to launch the library? Do you have a monthly allowance that you can use to purchase a certain number of books each month? Or can you splurge and buy a hundred books right off the bat? A budget will be important in order to keep track of ongoing expenses as well, and being able to determine how much you’ll need on a monthly or annual basis to maintain the library.

When purchasing books, be creative and look for various options. You don’t have to buy everything new, or from Amazon! Websites such as BookOutlet, BookDepot, ThriftBooks, and AbeBooks are all valuable resources for purchasing heavily discounted books. Don’t disregard your local thrift store, library sales, or used bookstores either – you’ll be surprised at what kinds of Muslamic books you can find there. You may also find it valuable to create a relationship with a local Muslim bookstore and get discounts. 

Systems and Maintenance

You’re almost there! What else do you need to know for setting up your local Muslim library? This is where things get boring but important: the nitty gritty details. How is your library going to operate? When will the library be accessible to the public? What days/ times will the library be open? Who is going to physically be present to oversee the library’s operations? How will you keep track of the books? There’s a lot of questions, and only you will be able to answer most of them.

One of the most commonly asked questions that I can help answer is about library systems. You will need a way of keeping track of the books, and the most efficient way to do that is through a library software of some type. 

The Handy Library app is suitable for personal libraries or fairly small ones, and allows you to scan the barcodes on physical books to add them to your account’s database. For a one-time fee, you can add an unlimited number of books to your account, and keep track of people borrowing the book (which is information that you’ll have to input yourself). 

ResourceMate is a more expensive, but much more expansive library software program that connects to multiple other library databases around the world. You also have the option of purchasing custom barcodes and library cards for your library, which means that you can then operate like any other public library! There are many other options that you can research online as well and determine which is most suitable for your particular library, budget, and other constraints. 

Whatever software or system you choose, however, somebody will need to be responsible for maintaining the library itself. This means that there will need to be at least one designated person willing to show up in person, input each book into inventory, ensure that patrons are registered, keep track of books being borrowed, follow up on late returns (and contend with damaged and lost books!), and of course… dealing with library patron complaints (which are inevitable). 

All of this means that you’ll need to develop a library policy as well. What information is required for someone to register as a patron of the library? How will you be able to communicate with them for book returns? How will you hold them accountable for late fees or replacing lost and damaged items? Do parents need to sign an agreement that they, and only they, are responsible for the types of books their kids borrow? 

Building Upwards

Libraries aren’t just physical locations filled with books… they’re also a place of community and growth. Libraries often serve multiple purposes, especially in terms of providing community programming around literacy, life skills, and more. Don’t let your library remain stagnant – once you’re able to establish the library itself, consider how else you can utilize this space and community to benefit your community. Host Muslim authors for meet-and-greets, set up a book fair, organize monthly storytimes, and encourage kids to write their very own stories and share them with the community in the form of spoken word or open mic events. The potential is endless! And if you still have questions, consider booking a library consult with the MBR team!

A Final Word

The one piece of advice I want to leave you with is the importance of sincerity and of commitment. Always ensure that your intention is truly for the Sake of Allah, no matter what drama you have to deal with or challenges come your way. Don’t let people sour you off from work done for Allah’s Sake! Commitment goes hand-in-hand with sincerity. Don’t start a project just to lose interest and walk away from it; this creates a lack of trust in the community around being able to have long-lasting, meaningful projects. Of course, if life circumstances are such that you have no choice but to abandon the library, then so be it – but make sure you take the necessary steps to find a replacement who will take this project very seriously. Great projects don’t last without effort and commitment, and a library should ideally play a very special role in every Muslim community.

And… that’s it! 

Congratulations, you’ve done it! You’ve established a Muslim library of your very own! May Allah grant you barakah and tawfeeq in your efforts, and count it as a sadaqah jaariyah for all involved.

What questions do you still have about setting up a community library? What did I miss? What experiences do you have to share about your own library? What success stories can we learn from?

Related:

From The MuslimMatters Bookshelf

From The MuslimMatters Bookshelf: Palestinian Literature For All Ages

The post How to Build a (Muslamic) Library appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

A promising new life with Five Star brings friendship and the beginnings of prosperity, but the job exacts a bloody price.

Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

* * *

Books and Lessons

Seeing Zihan Ma shook me and almost made me question the path I was now on – but not quite. Still, it reminded me of all he had taught me: medicine, calligraphy, and deen. I knew in my heart that these things were treasures I should not lose. So I bought an old acupuncture text. The diagrams fascinated me. Sometimes I copied the meridian charts repeatedly onto scrap paper while trying to remember Zihan Ma’s lessons.

Other nights I practiced calligraphy by lantern light. My handwriting remained clumsy, but slowly improved.

In a secondhand Islamic bookstore near the grand masjid, run by an ancient scholar with a bent back and a beard that hung to his waist, I spent a considerable amount of money to buy two books I had seen on Zihan Ma’s bookshelf: the Forty Hadith by Imam Nawawi, and Tianfang Dianli (Laws and Rituals of Islam) by Liu Zhi. Some nights I would sit in the masjid from Maghreb to Ishaa, reading one of these books.

Three days after Zihan Ma visited me, a courier arrived at my room shortly before noon.

He wore the dark blue sash of Five Stars and carried himself with the stiff posture of a minor functionary who enjoyed the importance of his duties a bit too much.

“Darius Lee?” he asked.

I nodded.

“You are invited to lunch with Shah Suliman at the Golden Lotus Pavilion. Immediately.” He handed me a folded note bearing Suliman’s seal and departed without another word.

I stared at the note for some time after he left, wondering what Suliman might want with me. Had I done something wrong? Was I to be reprimanded? Was I in danger?

Respectable

The Golden Lotus Pavilion was one of the most expensive restaurants in Deep Harbor. I had never set foot inside it, though I had passed it many times, and seen the nobles and merchants entering and dining on the upper balcony, which overlooked the river.

I washed quickly, combed my hair and put on my best clothing, which consisted of dark trousers, a wool tunic, and my least worn cloak. I strapped my dao to my back – I never went anywhere without it. For footwear I had only the kung fu shoes and my regular traveling boots. Moving quickly, I cleaned the road dust from the boots with a damp cloth, rubbed a mixture of tallow and beeswax into the leather, then hurriedly buffed them with an old rag until they gleamed. I still looked like a caravan guard, but a respectable one.

Of course, “respectable” might mean something very different to the people who ate at the Golden Lotus. But my father had taught me never to think of myself as beneath anyone else. In their hearts and souls, not to mention when squatting on the chamber pot, the rich were no different than the poor, and were often worse in character.

Two men in embroidered jackets stepped forward the instant I reached the entrance stairs. One was as tall and wide as a door, while the other was fairly ordinary looking.

“This establishment is private,” the big one said.

“I’m meeting Shah Suliman.”

He looked me up and down openly. “And I’m having an affair with the Emperor’s daughter.”

“You’d better keep that to yourself.”

He clucked his tongue. “Get lost.”

“I’m serious,” I insisted. “Suliman sent for me.”

“Then he should have come to collect you personally. Enough.” He put a huge hand on my shoulder.

Anger rose inside me. I worked for Five Stars, I bled for them. Not to mention, I was a member of the Shah family, though no one but Suliman seemed to know that. For the first time I felt a sense of resentment that Suliman was honored, while I was treated like streetside trash because I wore travel boots and a worn cloak. Why should that be?

“Get your hand off of me,” I said flatly. “Unless you want to lose it. It won’t be the first arm I’ve taken.” I touched a hand to the hilt of my dao. “You might have heard of me. They call me Bridge Boy.”

Internally I cringed. I never thought I would use that stupid nickname to my advantage. But I could not leave Suliman thinking I had failed to show up for this meeting.

The big man flinched and yanked his hand back as if he’d touched fire. He reached for the baton he carried at his hip. But the other one stayed his hand. “I’ll go check it out,” he said.

Routine Questions

A few minutes later, during which time me and door-wide stared each other down, Suliman came down personally,

“I’m so sorry, Darius,” he said. “These men -” he snarled the world – “had instructions to let you through.”

“This kid is your lunch companion?” the big man said incredulously.

Suliman’s face went hard. “Know your place,” he said flatly. He turned to me. “Let’s go upstairs.”

My eyes moved from one person to the next. “I lost my appetite.”

Suliman nodded. “I understand. How about if we walk and talk?”

We walked back toward the canal district, and when Suliman gestured toward a cramped working-class noodle shop, I nodded. Inside, steam clouded the windows. Laborers crowded shoulder to shoulder at rough wooden tables while harried but nimble servers carried bowls back and forth with astonishing speed.

Suliman seemed comfortable. We ordered beef noodles, pickled vegetables and tea.

He asked me a series of fairly ordinary questions:

How were the routes?

Which guards worked well together?

Had Karim trained us well?

Did I prefer horseback escort or wagon duty?

I answered cautiously.

Finally he set down his chopsticks and said, “You’ve done well so far.”

“Thank you.”

“The reports on you are excellent.”

“You get reports on everyone?”

“Reports are written on everyone. I don’t read them all personally.”

“But you read mine.”

“We have investigated you thoroughly.”

Father’s Footsteps

I sat back, digesting this. “What do you mean?”

“My men followed your father’s footsteps. They went to the town where he raised you. They even saw your mother’s grave. We have confirmed that you are Shah Nur’s son.”

I crossed my arms and pursed my lips. “I don’t need anyone to confirm what I already know. And I don’t care what you or anyone else thinks.”

“Are you sure?”

I ignored that, as curiosity had overcome me. “Your men saw her grave? How does it look? And the farm? And Lady Two?”

“Your father’s farm has been incorporated into a larger company farm owned by a wealthy businessman. Your father’s house is gone, but the grave is well tended. I don’t know who Lady Two is.”

I wondered if the “wealthy businessman” was the Mayor. A strange hollow feeling opened inside my chest. I was happy that whoever had bought the farm had enough respect to maintain my mother’s grave. But I hadn’t thought of her much lately, and I felt my heart stutter with guilt. She was the only person in my life who had ever truly loved me, and I was forgetting her. I needed to go back there, to sit by her side and talk to her.

“I hear,” Suliman said, “that Zihan Ma came to see you. What did he want?”

I stiffened. “You know about that?”

“I know many things.”

I took a bite of food. “Not that it’s any of your business, but he wanted me to return to live with him.”

“Are you considering it?”

I frowned. “No. Not really.”

He stirred his tea slowly. “Perhaps you should.”

“Why?”

He met my eyes, and I sensed genuine unease beneath his calm demeanor.

“It may be better for you in the long run.”

“Why?”

“Well.” He stood, leaving a large sum of money on the table – a lot more than was needed in this establishment. “May Allah protect us all.”

“You’re leaving? What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Everything we just talked about. You’re doing well. Consider Zihan Ma’s request.”

With that, he left me sitting there with more questions than answers. I pocketed the wad of money and finished my food.

Scut Work

Five Star began sending me on longer routes, which paid better. Sometimes I was accompanied by one or two of the other rookies I’d trained with, and occasionally by all. Because we were rookies, we were given the scut work.

Veteran guards rode at the front and rear of the caravan where the danger was greatest and the prestige highest. We rookies spent our days doing everything else.

We tended the horses, cleaned tack, inspected hooves for stones and cracks, hauled water, unloaded wagons, set up camp, dug latrines, and stood the least desirable watches. If a merchant wanted help erecting a tent, we were summoned. If a wheel broke, we repaired it. If a horse threw a shoe, we chased it down and held it while the farrier worked.

Worst of all, whenever wealthy merchants needed to relieve themselves along the road, a guard was expected to accompany them into the bushes to ensure they were not attacked by bandits, wolves, or overly curious travelers.

I spent many hours standing awkwardly among trees while pretending not to notice what was happening a few paces away.

“It is an honorable profession,” Ahmed informed me solemnly one evening.

I threw a pebble at him.

Even so, I found myself enjoying caravan life.

The roads carried us through mountains, forests, villages, farms and bustling market towns. Every journey revealed something new. Sometimes Longwei pointed out distant kingdoms or trading routes. Sometimes Ahmed told stories from the war. Sometimes Meilin complained so loudly and continuously that everyone else rode faster simply to escape her.

Unexpectedly Cheerful

I found myself unexpectedly cheerful whenever Deng Weili was in my caravan. I told myself it was only because she was such a good shot, so having her around made us all safer.

Once she found me studying the acupuncture text after we’d made camp for the night.

“You study medicine?” she asked skeptically.

“A little.”

“And hurt people professionally?”

“I don’t think of it that way.”

She shook her head slowly. “You are a strange person, Darius Lee.”

There came a time when I started wondering about her. Where was she from? Where were her parents? What else did she like besides archery? What did she think about during the long days on the road?

I didn’t know why I wanted to know these things.

Ambush

The longer routes brought greater danger.

One autumn afternoon we were escorting a shipment of medicines and dyed textiles through a wooded valley north of Deep Harbor. The road wound between steep hills thick with pine trees, and as we entered the narrow pass, a feeling of unease settled over me. The place felt wrong somehow. There were no farmers working nearby fields, no travelers moving in either direction, and not even the sound of birds. The only noises were the creaking of wagon wheels, the clatter of harnesses, and the occasional snort of a horse.

Ahmed seemed to sense it too. He guided his horse alongside mine and scanned the ridgelines.

“Too quiet,” he muttered.

I nodded. I was about to ride forward and speak with one of the veteran guards when the attack came.

Arrows burst from the trees without warning. One struck the side of a wagon with a heavy thump. Another buried itself in the neck of a horse, causing the animal to rear and scream. Merchants shouted in panic as guards scrambled into position. Before the echoes of the first volley had faded, armed men came rushing down the slopes carrying spears, axes and crude swords.

Training took over before conscious thought could catch up.

The veteran guards moved immediately, forming a defensive line around the merchants and wagons. Ahmed was already shouting orders. Kuangren had an arrow nocked and flying before I had even drawn my dao. Somewhere behind us, Meilin charged forward with a double-headed sword she sometimes carried, screaming insults so colorful that several merchants later adopted them into their foul-language repertoires.

I remember glimpses more than a coherent battle: Deng Weili standing atop a wagon, loosing arrows with terrifying speed and accuracy; Longwei dragging a wounded merchant to safety; frightened horses straining against their reins; the smell of dust, sweat and blood mixing in the autumn air.

Then one of the attackers came for me.

He was older than I expected, perhaps forty years old, with a graying beard and the gaunt appearance of a man who had not eaten properly in months. He carried a wood axe and wore patched clothing that hung loosely from his frame. For a brief instant he looked less like a bandit than a desperate farmer.

Then he jabbed at my chest with the axe. It was a halfhearted attack, as if he were testing the strength of a river’s current

Wielding my dao, I knocked the weapon aside and slapped him in the face with the flat of the blade. I don’t know why I did that. Five Star policy was to kill bandits. Yet in the moment I chose to simply stun him. He staggered backward, shaking his head, but instead of retreating he tightened his grip and attacked again.

This time I struck his weapon arm hard with the spine of the blade, and heard his arm break. Remarkably, he did not drop the weapon. He groaned in pain and transferred the axe to his other hand.

“What’s the matter with you?” I shouted. “Don’t make me kill you! Just run away.”

Fear flashed across his features, then shame, only to be replaced with grim desperation.

“No choice,” he said.

He took a step forward and I knew that either he would die or I would.

As he swung the axe at my neck with all his strength, I stepped inside the radius of the swing, seized his weapon arm with my left hand, and drove my dao all the way through his torso. His eyes widened in shock and bewilderment, and his face went white. He stumbled backward and fell, taking my dao with him, pulling it free from my hand. That had never happened to me. I leaped forward, put my foot on the man’s thin chest, and with two hands pulled the dao free from his dead body.

A Little Too Well

I stood there with my dao hanging at my side, dripping blood, as the battle raged around me. What was the matter with this stupid old father? Why was he even here? I bent over him and shouted, “Why did you do that?”

My shout attracted another of the bandits, who came at me.

I went a little crazy then. I fell into River Flow, and moved from one bandit to the next, cutting, slashing and thrusting. I felt no fear. It was an exercise, a training session beneath the stars. When there were no more opponents I moved in a circle, dao ready, my eyes sliding over everything like those of a man who sees either nothing or everything. Men stood in a wide circle around me, but they were Five Star guards.

“Darius!” one of them shouted. “Snap out of it!”

It was Ahmed. I let River Flow go and stood up straight. There was a trail of dead bodies behind me. I looked from one to the next. I had killed six men.

“Darius,” Ahmed said again. “Sheath your weapon.”

I gave the dao a flick to clear the blood, took a rag from my pocket and gave it a quick wipe, and sheathed it.

The circle around me dissolved. The surviving bandits had fled into the hills, leaving their dead and wounded behind. The merchants celebrated their survival. The guards congratulated one another. Someone clapped me on the shoulder and called me a hero.

I did not weep or vomit. I felt empty. I sat beside a wagon, and Ahmed handed me a waterskin. His expression was solemn, not celebratory.

“You did the job,” he said quietly. “Maybe a little too well, but it’s what they pay us for.”

That night, I tossed and turned, and shouted in my sleep.

Cat Toy

The next day the caravan passed through a market town, and we guards were allowed to go shopping in shifts. I went to the market with Weili. She bought bootlaces, a silken cord for her hair, a comb made from buffalo horn, and tea.

I bought warm gloves, a sesame sweet, and a small bag of spiced nuts. When we passed a vendor who sold cat combs and toys, I found it funny. Would people really spend money on such things? I picked up a toy that consisted of a thin stick with a string and a little toy bird on the end. The bird had real feathers, and I dangled it, making it dance. With a smile, I wondered what Far Away would think of it. Would he turn up his nose, or go crazy for it? And Haaris, he would probably laugh his head off.

Suddenly my hands began to shake. I put the toy down and turned away, and before I could take a step, I burst into tears. I walked to a corner where the marketplace wall met the wall of a vendor’s stall, and slid down with my back against the wall. I covered my face with my arms as I shook and moaned. An arm went around my shoulders and Weili said, “It’s okay. Tomorrow’s a new day. Take it one day at a time.”

“What do you know about it?” I finally managed to ask.

She gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Too much.”

My life took a turn then. I found myself praying less. Ahmed would call us for salat and sometimes I’d join, but often I’d make an excuse. I tucked the Islamic books away under my bed back in Deep Harbor and stopped reading them.

I didn’t want to be this way. I looked back at the naive, eager young man who had spent his time reading Islamic books, and wanted to be that man again. Truly I did. But the blood that had flowed from the edge of my sword told the truth about me.

I was promoted from scut work to proper guard duty, up front with the veterans. I was the youngest one there. But no one questioned my age when robbers came screaming from the hills with blades in their hands, and I was in the front lines, fighting like a man who didn’t care if he lived or died. No one told me to choose between healing and violence when my sword saved those around me from murder.

The merchants respected me because I was useful. The guards respected me because I fought well and never boasted. Even Kuangren, who disliked nearly everyone, stopped mocking me after I pulled him off his horse during an ambush moments before a spear would have taken him through the chest.

At Ishaa time I listened to Ahmed reciting the Quran and he led the Muslims in salat. Tomorrow’s a new day, I would think to myself. I repeated the thought like a mantra as I fell into night after night of troubled sleep.

* * *

Come back next week for Part 17 – The Old Man

Reader comments and constructive criticism are important to me, so please comment!

 

See the Story Index for Wael Abdelgawad’s other stories on this website.

Wael Abdelgawad’s novels – including Pieces of a Dream, The Repeaters and Zaid Karim Private Investigator – are available in ebook and print form on his author page at Amazon.com.

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The post Far Away [Part 16] – Five Star Trading Company appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

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What if certain famous moments from the seerah have been misunderstood? A closer reading reveals a Prophet ﷺ of greater dignity and compassion than we sometimes give him credit for.

When Popular Retellings Go Wrong

Many Muslims first encounter the Seerah (the biography of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ) through khutbahs, lectures, short reminders, and simplified retellings. These stories are often told with sincere intentions. Speakers want to make the Seerah vivid, emotional, and memorable. Over time, however, subtle embellishments can accumulate. Tone gets added where the narrations themselves are silent, and sometimes it’s the wrong tone. Motivations are assumed where they don’t exist in the text. Personalities become exaggerated and flattened at the same time. The Prophet ﷺ and his Companions slowly begin to resemble sermon archetypes rather than real human beings.

But Prophets are people too, and so were the Sahabah, and their actions were often more nuanced, compassionate, and reasoned than we give them credit for.

This is most certainly not to accuse scholars or speakers of dishonesty. Most are simply retelling the stories as they themselves inherited them. One popular lecture might say that the Prophet ﷺ was angry at a particular moment, and that gets repeated until it becomes an assumed part of the story. Yet when we return carefully to the original narrations, we often discover something richer, subtler, and more profoundly human than the popular retelling.

The real Seerah does not become less beautiful when stripped of exaggeration. It becomes more believable. More textured. More emotionally intelligent. The Prophet ﷺ does not need theatrical embellishment to inspire awe.

Let’s look at four case studies from the Seerah that illustrate how misinterpretation of emotion or motivations risks flattening the character of the Prophet ﷺand those around him:

1. Khabbab ibn al-Aratt and the “Angry Rebuke.”

Khabbab ibn al-Aratt was among the early Muslims who were tortured in Makkah. He was a slave, employed as a swordsmith. His “owners” pressed red-hot steel bars to his back until his flesh melted and ran. Later, hot iron was applied to his head. His screams could be heard throughout the neighborhood.

He was a teenager. Some say 16 or so, alone with no family.

Yet even with that, he found time to learn and teach the Quran, as evidenced by the famous story in which Umar ibn Al-Khattab was on his way to kill the Prophet ﷺ, and was informed that his own sister was Muslim. He stormed to her house, and learned that indeed she was Muslim – and, after quieting down and opening his mind, met the young man who had been teaching the Quran to his sister and her husband. This was none other than Khabbab. SubhanAllah! This young man had the courage and heart of a thousand men.

Yet the torture began to get to him, until he and others of the Sahabah came to the Prophet ﷺ to beg for relief.

In an authentic narration recorded in Sahih al-Bukhari, Khabbab himself relates:

We complained to the Messenger of Allah ﷺ while he was reclining in the shade of the Ka’bah, resting on a cloak of his. We said, “Will you not seek help for us? Will you not supplicate to Allah for us?”

He said:

“Among those who came before you, a man would be seized, and a pit dug for him in the ground. He would be placed in it, then a saw would be brought and placed upon his head, and he would be cut into two pieces, yet that would not turn him away from his religion. Iron combs would rake through his flesh and bones, yet that would not turn him away from his religion.

By Allah, Allah will complete this matter until a rider travels from Sana’a to Hadramawt, fearing none but Allah and the wolf for his sheep. But you are being hasty.”

Today, this incident is often retold as though the Prophet ﷺ became angry with Khabbab. I have heard this many times: “The Prophet became angry and stood.” Or, “The Prophet became angry and raised his voice.” One frequently hears dramatic descriptions of him sitting upright in irritation, sharply rebuking the Companions for their impatience, or sternly scolding Khabbab despite his suffering.

Astaghfirullah. La hawla wa la quwwata illa billah. Consider the character of the Messenger of Allah ﷺ. He was a deeply compassionate man – a mercy to the worlds. He was moved and touched by the plight of his Companions and used to make dua for them. Does it seem believable that he would become angry with a young, powerless man, a boy, who is being tortured in a way that would break 99.99% of human beings?

Step Back and Read More Carefully

Go back to the narration. It does not state that the Prophet ﷺ became angry. Nor does it say that his face changed color. It does not describe a harsh tone, nor any severe rebuke. Those details are supplied later by storytellers and speakers, perhaps unintentionally, in order to heighten the emotional intensity of the moment.

When we step back and read the narration carefully, another interpretation emerges, one more consistent with the Prophet’s known character: he was comforting and strengthening his followers.

If you think of it in these terms, it falls into place. Imagine, perhaps, the Prophet ﷺ taking Khabbab’s hand gently, and saying, essentially:

I get it. You are suffering badly. Take comfort in the fact that you are not the first. Worse was done to those before you, and they remained steadfast. But don’t worry, I assure you that Islam will prevail. There will come a time when we control all of this peninsula, and safety will reign. You will not have to endure this forever.

And when he said, “You are being hasty,” this is a gentle correction born from compassion and perspective. There is a difference between correcting someone and becoming angry.

I’m not saying it happened exactly that way. Rather, I’m offering a more plausible way to interpret the mood of the moment.

Read the narration again now. The emotional movement points toward reassurance rather than rebuke. The Prophet ﷺ does not belittle Khabbab’s pain. He does not tell him to stop complaining. He does not accuse him of weak faith. Instead, he gives him historical perspective, spiritual meaning, and hope.

Sometimes, without realizing it, speakers import harshness into the Seerah where the texts themselves are measured and dignified. The Prophet was a compassionate man who loved his followers. Let’s keep that in mind in our readings.

2. The Dumping of Refuse on the Prophet’s Back

Among the most painful incidents of the Makkan period is the famous narration in which the Prophet ﷺ was praying near the Ka’bah when some of the Quraysh decided to humiliate him publicly.

In the authentic narration recorded in Sahih al-Bukhari, Abdullah ibn Mas’ud relates that while the Prophet ﷺ was in prostration in front of the Ka’bah, Uqbah ibn Abi Mu’ayt – responding to a challenge by Abu Jahl – brought the entrails and filth of a slaughtered camel and dumped it on the Prophet’s back and shoulders while the Quraysh laughed among themselves.

Ibn Mas’ud watched the scene unfold, but he – as a person of low social status, without any tribal support in Makkah – was powerless to intervene. Someone went to fetch the Prophet’s daughter Fatimah , who was roughly ten years old at the time. She came rushing to remove the filth from her father.

At that point, the Prophet ﷺ stood and supplicated against seven of the leading men of Quraysh who had participated in the abuse, naming them one by one, which instilled great fear in them. (Ibn Mas’ud comments that he later witnessed every one of those men killed at the battle of Badr).

This incident is often retold today with additional dramatic details. One frequently hears that the refuse was so heavy that the Prophet ﷺ was physically unable to rise from prostration, trapped helplessly beneath the weight until Fatimah arrived to rescue him.

Yes? Have you heard this? “The refuse was so heavy that he could not stand up.”

What? Says who? The narration itself does not say this. It says only that the Prophet ﷺ remained in prostration until Fatimah came and removed the filth.

The Prophet ﷺ was not physically frail. The Seerah repeatedly describes his strength, endurance, and resilience. He wrestled the famous strongman Rukanah and defeated him. During the digging of the trench at Khandaq, he worked alongside the companions with his own hands under brutal conditions of hunger and exhaustion. When Salman al-Farisi sought to purchase his freedom, the Prophet ﷺ personally participated in planting the palm trees required for his emancipation. This was not a man unaccustomed to physical hardship or exertion.

Are these speakers saying that Uqbah was strong enough to carry the entrails, and ten-year-old Fatimah was strong enough to remove it, but the Prophet ﷺ was not strong enough to shrug it off if he wished?

Then why didn’t he do so?

What Actually Makes Sense

A more natural explanation emerges directly from the character of the Prophet ﷺ: he chose to remain calmly in prayer despite the abuse, rather than abruptly reacting to the humiliation his enemies intended to provoke. He was a dignified man, not shaken by insult or mockery. In prayer, his connection with Allah was absolute. Do you really think he would have broken his prayer and jumped up, outraged?

When we understand that he chose to remain in prayer, the moment takes on a completely different emotional tone. Instead of a scene of helpless panic, it becomes a scene of extraordinary composure. The Quraysh attempt to degrade him publicly, yet he remains focused upon his worship until the prayer is complete, or until his young daughter arrives, pushing her way through the onlookers, upset but undaunted; at which point he stands to show her the proper way to respond to such insults: by invoking Allah . He thereby complements her strength with his own, as is fitting, considering that Aishah bint Abi Bakr later said:

“I have not seen anyone more closely resemble the disposition, mannerism, and characteristics of the Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, than his daughter Fatimah, may Allah honor her countenance. If she entered his home, the Prophet would stand for her, take her by the hand, kiss her, and seat her in his place. If the Prophet entered her home, she would stand for him, take him by the hand, kiss him, and seat him in her place.” – Sunan Abī Dāwūd 5217, Sahih by Al-Albani

I did not witness these events any more than the modern speakers I have criticized. My interpretation is just that: another interpretation. Yet it is one that – I would argue – is more consistent with the character and dignity of the Prophet ﷺ. If we understand him as having chosen to remain in prayer, the suffering he experienced is still real. The humiliation is real. But the Prophet ﷺ does not appear as humiliated by the cruelty of Quraysh. Even in moments of public abuse, he is a man of immense self-control and inner strength, as befitting the final Prophet and Messenger ﷺ to humanity.

 

[Come back next week for Part 2 – The Old Woman Who Could Not Enter Jannah]

* * *

 

Reader comments and constructive criticism are important to me, so please comment!

See the Story Index for Wael Abdelgawad’s other stories on this website.

Wael Abdelgawad’s novels – including Pieces of a Dream, The Repeaters and Zaid Karim Private Investigator – are available in ebook and print form on his author page at Amazon.com.

 

Related:

Reconstructing Our Understanding of the Sīrah

Rethinking How We Teach The Topic Of Sīrah In K-12 Settings

 

The post Prophets Are People: Rethinking Misinterpreted Events From The Seerah [Part 1 of 2] appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

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