Blogs

Mullah Mchungu, my elderly occasional comrade and frequent nemesis is visiting Sanford, Florida once more. I feel his arresting hand grip my shoulder after Thursday program at Sanford Husseini Islamic Center. Kisukaali, says his quivering voice, surely you can say sallam to an old man, where are your manners? Sallam Mullah! I exclaim happily, I…

Allah (S) is extra benevolent to us folks in Sanford, FL, especially this Ramadhan. Frankly I dread the oncoming month of mercy; long sizzling days of summer, endless lethargic afternoons where the stomach growls and grumbles endlessly, hallucinating thoughts of colluding, conspiring time pieces moving extra slow, being on a short fuse as the sun…

Day One: Middle East Airlines takes off from chilly London on time, headed for Beirut, where I am headed to render aid to Syrian refugees on behalf of Comfort Aid International donors. Next to me sits a burly Lebanese man with a massive gut who fidgets impatiently for the seat belt sign to come off,…

Monrovia Liberia, on the coast of West Africa is an exceedingly dreary city; dismay sets in at first sight. Murtaza Bhimani, my colleague, friend and CAI representative for Africa is with me; we are here for due diligence on a school project for poor Muslim children. It is a twelve-hour flight from Dar to Nairobi…

…continued from Afghanistan Once Again – Part One: Back to Nili airport and off to Yakawlang! The unholy hour of 3:30 strikes again! Our alarm clock is none other than Yusufali himself. Somehow he is always first awake and manages to find a place between snoring heads to place a jaanamaaz! We take turns to…

I am in a terrible mood. Really. You would be as well, if you went through a colonoscopy and stepped on shit. I am in Mumbai, India, taking a breather after a grueling week in Afghanistan and few days in UP, India. My doctor advises it would be a good idea to have a complete…

Visiting Afghanistan is always a challenge; security jitters, uncertainties about almost everything, inordinate security checks, senseless laws, rural and remote areas horrendous logistics, and the weather can and does play havoc on visitors, especially NGO’s like CAI. Even more frustrating, to me, is the protocol of pretense so prevalent in Afghan culture; why, what a…

The terrible Boston Marathon bombing instantly gives me bad jitters; here we go. Again. Lunatics perhaps, probably from a Salafist country in the Middle East bringing their deviant loco beliefs of killings and mayhem so very close to home. Or, it could be homegrown extremists, who bloody know? But I pray hard nevertheless, wishing the…

I love elderly people; they relate wonderful tales of yore. They are also mirrors, in whose eyes I see my reflection not too distant away; I am, after all, over the fifty hump and rapidly accelerating down. They can also be crabby and vicious at times, some of them. Take Mullah Mchungu for example, who…

Tanzania in general, the people of Dar es Sallam, worldwide Khoja Shias, but especially the Dar es Salaam Khoja community is struck with terrible calamity on March 29 2013 when a sixteen floor building under construction adjacent to the Khoja mosque complex comes tumbling down like a deck of cards. Thirty-six people lose lives that…

Dear Mr. President, Salutations and peace to you and your family. My name is Ali Yusufali; it may interest you I was born not too far from your father’s birthplace of Kenya, in Arusha, Tanzania, where I grew up and became an adult. Aspirations for a quality education, better economic opportunities and awe for the…

Oh. My. Gawd, you are such an uncool Dad! Why can’t you, like, be like other Dads? Exclaims my twelve-year-old daughter Maaha Zainab once more, rolling eyes to the heavens. I have heard her use this expression several times now, consequence of middle school peer influence obviously, but it never fails to irk me to…

    I sit at my desk, minding my own business, at peace with the world and, for a change, the world at peace with me. There are no bombs exploding down the street, no lunatics with Kalashnikovs wondering the street taking potshots at everything that moves, no delayed aircrafts with silly excuses of late incoming…

Most of today is a wait in anticipation of what is to come. Karachi streets are empty, young kids play cricket instead, on roads that are usually crammed with traffic and people. Rows and rows of shops and businesses are shuttered shut. I visit a protest rally near Mehfil e Khorasaan where women and men…