Blogs

A Sullying Burp Dar es Salaam – Dubai – Dhaka – Cox’s Bazar – CAI’s Rohingya day school (by car 5 hours roundtrip) – Dhaka – Colombo – Mumbai – Kolkata – New Delhi – Sirsi (by car 6 hours) – Sikanderpur, Halwana, UP (by car 19 hours roundtrip) – New Delhi (by car 5…

A Journey To Rohingya Orphans In Cox’s Bazar I’m heading to meet the 120 Rohingya (from Burma) orphaned children in Cox’s Bazar, Bangladesh. CAI donors pay for their daily upkeep, but more importantly, provide an opportunity for quality education. The kids attend a day school 6 days a week where they start with a nutritious…

A Journey For Iftaar With The Orphans Of Syria I’m heading to Syria once more. My recent visit to aid the victims of the earthquake in February 2023 exposed me to the precarious plight of orphans in the country. Sohail Abdullah, senior CAI Trustee, and I have made a determined decision to put more effort…

Ramadhan In Sanford The holy month starts while I am in Sanford, which has balmy spring weather. As usual, Allah bestows His mercy and tranquility settles on my fasting; the hunger pangs and thirst are easily endured, even when I hit the gym in the afternoons; I feel very little pain or discomfort. Wonderful. Masjid…

Air Travels I’m traveling from New York to Minneapolis on a raw day. While it is 45°F in New York, it is forecasted to be about 7°F in the Twin Cities. So, this weather is the core subject of discussion with almost all the passengers within earshot. A nervous-looking lady approaches my row, inspects me…

Manakara We have a grand opening of Al Mahdi School in Manakara, Madagascar on Valentine’s day, a proud BCT / CAI undertaking. A wonderful day for about 300 girls who will have an opportunity to quality education for the first time in their lives. Manakara is a poor town south of the island, and difficult…

Mullah Mjanja / A New Novel Mullah Mjanja I had known Mjanja (an alias, naturally) almost fifty years ago, from my time growing up in Tanga in the seventies. Mjanja means shrewd in Kiswahili. This is a title our friends gave him because he used to be cunning with his teachers, friends, and foes, getting…

Haazar. Chashm. Agreed. The blessed month of Rajab is here. There is a deluge of Facebook posts, WhatsApp forwards, and emails extolling me to become more pious and Allah-conscious this month. Our respected and revered aalims, too, are all fired up – recite this and that dua they extoll in sermons, recite ziyaarats, pray these…

Kisukaali, I want to die. These words are from Mullah Mchungu as I sit alongside his bed. I feel safe, as the menacing walking stick that he sometimes brandishes is nowhere in sight. He is ailing again. At just over eighty years old, I’d expect his human engine to have ups and downs, and aches…

Slipping And Sliding Working and traveling for CAI takes me to numerous hot spots in this world and although most of them are dicey, uncomfortable, and sometimes outright dangerous, a recent trip to commission a completely renovated CAI donor-funded school in a remote village in Tanzania is one that I will cherish – for the…

Pakistani Dairy I purchase an Emirates ticket to fly me to Multan, Punjab, Pakistan. Emirates gives me a seat on their partner airline, Flydubai because they do not fly to Multan. Flydubai reassigns my seat to a vague airline, Smartwings, an airline based in the Czech. Rather confusing but here I am flying in a…

A Pudgy Flight, A Dicey Ride, And Babul Ki Dua A visit to the chaotic town of Gorakhpur and a drive to the village of Hallour in UP is not for the faint of heart. But nothing that I cannot handle, except the early morning flight from Mumbai, is packed and the fellow beside me…

A Jungle School After the depressing trip to Pakistan where Sohail and I oversee the logistics of administering the purchase and distribution of 10,000 blankets and 7,000 tents to the victims of the devastating floods in September and October, we head to Manila, Philippines. Manila is a replica of any metropolis in Southeast Asia. Crowded…

It seems the Pakistani government is finally convinced I am harmless since they issue me a one-year multiple-entry visa for the first time and I find myself at Karachi airport. The arrival hall is jampacked and it’ll take me at least an hour or more to clear immigration but a sympathetic officer pulls me aside…

There is very little joy in Amna Naqvi’s (alias) tender life of eight years so far. All she knows as the daughter of a peasant farmer is an arduous and dreary existence; a daily routine of early mornings, before sunup, drawing water from the backyard well, sweeping dirt floors, washing clothes, and shaping stinking, still…