If an ailment affects your body, head for the hospital
Likewise If an ailment affects your soul, head to the masjid.
May Allah increase us in khayr and with barakah.
Started with the above quote in the first part of this series on the (the blind man), used it as a wrap up in part two (the partially paralyzed man). Here in the final installment, it got a start.
The call to prayer (Azaan) is crucial for us as Muslims. The call is as important as the caller (Muazzin - Arabic / Laadan - Hausa). The call is a service of notice to the faithful, that prayer time is near and a second version when it's time to offer the prayer.
Praying together (Jam'i) is a means of bonding as much as it eliminates all considerations that seek to class us outside prayer - age, colour, status, tribe, nationality etc. Except for gender where it's clear each must stay in a specific place.
So the man who call to prayer (Muezzin) is a revered man - for his voice and for the task he thus discharges. Over in Congo Pointe Noire, our mosque is a two-storey building, the main microphone used for the azaan is stationed on the first floor.
I'd come to know three distinct voices associated with the call - but never bothered about the faces. For all it was worth, I knew those guys accrued loads of good for their deeds.
One day, as I was about to ascend the stairs, I saw a man helping another to put his footwear in a bag meant for the purpose. No one is allowed to wear their footwear whiles within the mosque.
The owner of the footwear took the sack in the same hand that was clutching a book - may be a Quran. I eventually went ahead to the second floor and waited. Before long this same man took a stand behind the microphone - he was the caller to prayer.
Normally, the callers cover both ears with their hands while at it. Curiously, this man hand one hand and his long-sleeved left hand was tucked into his pocket. It wasn't after he had finished and was standing that it dawned on me that he had one hand - the right hand. He was an amputee.
He was afflicted, rather. He was in the class of the partially paralyzed and the other blind man but had a tremendously admirable commitment on the face of what I saw. I pray that Allah continually strengthens him, the others and us all in all things good. Ameeen.
These stories have taught me commitment in the midst of affliction. I've been around for roughly two years, it shouldn't be surprising if someone has been there longer but has not bothered to observe this keenly. Again, it wouldn't be - at all surprising if someone else has superior observations than me.
Long and short of it: when you find yourself around people look out for those that you are "better" than health wise and in other areas - and ceaselessly thank Allah for who you are, how you are and what you have. Al hamdu lil Laah = All praise and thanks is due to Allah.
Until I show up with another episode from my second home, French-speaking Central African country of Republic of Congo, au revoir and a bientôt.
Likewise If an ailment affects your soul, head to the masjid.
May Allah increase us in khayr and with barakah.
Started with the above quote in the first part of this series on the (the blind man), used it as a wrap up in part two (the partially paralyzed man). Here in the final installment, it got a start.
The call to prayer (Azaan) is crucial for us as Muslims. The call is as important as the caller (Muazzin - Arabic / Laadan - Hausa). The call is a service of notice to the faithful, that prayer time is near and a second version when it's time to offer the prayer.
Praying together (Jam'i) is a means of bonding as much as it eliminates all considerations that seek to class us outside prayer - age, colour, status, tribe, nationality etc. Except for gender where it's clear each must stay in a specific place.
So the man who call to prayer (Muezzin) is a revered man - for his voice and for the task he thus discharges. Over in Congo Pointe Noire, our mosque is a two-storey building, the main microphone used for the azaan is stationed on the first floor.
I'd come to know three distinct voices associated with the call - but never bothered about the faces. For all it was worth, I knew those guys accrued loads of good for their deeds.
One day, as I was about to ascend the stairs, I saw a man helping another to put his footwear in a bag meant for the purpose. No one is allowed to wear their footwear whiles within the mosque.
The owner of the footwear took the sack in the same hand that was clutching a book - may be a Quran. I eventually went ahead to the second floor and waited. Before long this same man took a stand behind the microphone - he was the caller to prayer.
Normally, the callers cover both ears with their hands while at it. Curiously, this man hand one hand and his long-sleeved left hand was tucked into his pocket. It wasn't after he had finished and was standing that it dawned on me that he had one hand - the right hand. He was an amputee.
He was afflicted, rather. He was in the class of the partially paralyzed and the other blind man but had a tremendously admirable commitment on the face of what I saw. I pray that Allah continually strengthens him, the others and us all in all things good. Ameeen.
These stories have taught me commitment in the midst of affliction. I've been around for roughly two years, it shouldn't be surprising if someone has been there longer but has not bothered to observe this keenly. Again, it wouldn't be - at all surprising if someone else has superior observations than me.
Long and short of it: when you find yourself around people look out for those that you are "better" than health wise and in other areas - and ceaselessly thank Allah for who you are, how you are and what you have. Al hamdu lil Laah = All praise and thanks is due to Allah.
Until I show up with another episode from my second home, French-speaking Central African country of Republic of Congo, au revoir and a bientôt.
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