The Plea Bargain!

The Plea Bargain!

My first encounter with the

 American Legal System

 

W

hen I first came to America, I was so excited to be coming to a place known for justice. Unfortunately many countries, including the one I migrated from, Syria, were not known for the honesty of their court systems and for an average person to get justice was often very difficult and expensive.  But here in the States, my new home, I would not have to worry about corruption and lying in the courts.  Here people said you could be honest and the system was fair.  I lived here for several years comfortably, before I had an occasion to experience the justice system for myself.

One day, in late afternoon, on January 4, 1994, I was driving about 20 mile per hour south down Olentangy River Road, normally a 45 mph zone. It was snowing heavily. The visibility was reduced to about 20 feet. The roads were covered with snow so thick you couldn’t see the pavement. When I was about to enter the intersection of Olentangy and Ackerman, the traffic lights became yellow. There was no way to break and stop before the lights because of the slippery snow on the ground. So it was a judgment call. Fearing to slip and keeping my eye on the few cars around, I proceeded with caution and turned east onto W. Dodridge.

  A few seconds later, I barely noticed a police car’s light bars flashing behind me. I did not know where the car came from; certainly it was not behind me on Olentangy. I knew later that it came from Ackerman. I thought it was flashing for someone else, but then he put on the siren and over the loud speakers ordered me to pull over.

 I pulled over and got out my driver’s license and the car registration. It was close to sunset and getting dark. The officer came to my side; I lowered the window and asked him why he stopped me.

 “Sir, you went through a red light.”

 “I disagree, officer, I did not. It was a yellow light.”

 “In addition to going through a red light, your license plate is covered with snow and I could not read it; which is in violation of the law”.

 “Do you want me to pull over every 15 minutes to clean the plate in this storm?”

 “Sir, you can tell that to the judge if you wish, anything you say here could be used against you in a court of law! Just hand me the driver’s license and car registration!”

 I was polite and respectful to him. I did not argue anymore. It wouldn’t have been wise to irritate an officer especially with my foreign accent. He left with my license and registration.While waiting for my ticket, I was thinking to myself how it would be nice to have heating wires going behind the license plate to keep it warm to prevent snow from staying on it.

Some weeks later, at the appointed time and date, I went to the courthouse on South High. In one of the courtrooms, Room A, the Bailiff, whose name was Jennifer Scott, greeted me and asked, “How may I help you?”

“I have this traffic ticket,” I answered.

She looked at it and asked, “What are we pleading today?”

 “We? I don’t know about you!” I wanted to say but did not. “I plead not guilty to all charges,” I replied. She frowned, looked at me and said, “Wait for me; don’t go away, I’ll be back in a minute”. She left to a back room.

Fifteen minutes later, she came back with a smile on her face, “I have great news for you, Mr. Tarazi!” she said. “I checked you out and you have a clean driving record and you never had any traffic violations otherwise. We are willing to reduce the charges to a non moving violation; to a ‘Noisy Muffler’ violation. You pay a $25 fine (my current fine was $80) and leave with 0-point violation.”

In legal jargon this is called a “Plea Bargain”. Basically you plead to a lesser charges and in return you get a reduced sentence – Life in prison without parole instead of death sentence for example -. This practice, I learned later, is widely used in an effort to reduce the number of cases, and thus the cost associated, that end up in courtrooms.

But my muffler was almost new! In fact I had it replaced a month prior to the ticket. If I pleaded guilty to a muffler violation I would have been lying! “I plead ‘no contest’ to the new charge,” I said. I thought ‘no contest’ would be the closest to not lying.  The Bailiff, now angry, shook her head and scowled at me “Mr. Tarazi! You cannot plead ‘no contest’ to the muffler violation. You need to plead guilty or the deal is off the table!”

“Then I will see you in front of the judge,” I said and left.

On my way out of the courthouse building I ran into a friend, Abdulla, a used tire store owner. When he saw me he greeted me, “Wassup brother?” I told him my story and how I refused the plea bargain. He stared at me, shook his head and yelled, “Are you crazy? It ain’t worth fightin’ man. You ain’t gonna win nothin’. You’ll end up payin’ the fine and court cost. Give ’em twenty-some bucks and get outta here!”

I knew I was innocent and I didn’t want to lie. Now I was left with no choice but to fight this to the end. I did not have money to hire an attorney. I had to prepare my defense on my own. I relied on the ‘legal advice’ from friends (as the saying go, a friend in need is a friend indeed). When it comes to giving legal advises, there are no shortage of friends willing to help. Mr. Google Esq. was not in business in 1994 and could not be reached.

In the morning, the day of the trial, I put on my three-piece charcoal suit, a light gray dress shirt, a striped navy blue tie with a tie clip, and wore a shiny black pair of shoes. I prepared my burgundy leather briefcase with golden hinges and locks, an imitation of French Cartier. In it I placed the traffic ticket, the court summons, some notes I’d prepared, a legal pad and few pens. I did my prayer, grabbed my black dress overcoat and headed to the court.

On my way, I continued to pray for the officer not show up in court, which would cause the case to be dismissed automatically. I arrived at the courthouse ten minutes before nine. On the second floor, I needed to report to courtroom A. In the hallway there were so many people waiting for all sort of reasons. Some were defendants going to trials, some were witnesses, and others were supporters. I noticed the presence of several police officers, but I did not recognize the officer who cited me, Officer Taylor, whose name was on my ticket. After all it had been almost two months since I last saw him on the dark street. 

I entered courtroom A and Bailiff Scott was there at her table. “Good Morning Mrs. Scott” I said. She looked at me and recognized me

“Good Morning Mr. Tarazi!, How have you been?”

“Fine thank you Mrs. Scott, and you?”

“Great thank you!” She added in a last minute maneuver, “Mr. Tarazi!  Do you really still want to go through this? You can still accept the plea bargain.”

I suspected that Officer Taylor did not show up and that Mrs. Scott wanted a last minute deal short of having the case dismissed.

“I appreciate the offer Mrs. Scott, but I would like to go through the trial.”

She walked me around the courtroom, showed me the defense and plaintiff tables, the jury box, the judge’s bench, and instructed me to sit at the defense table. I put my briefcase on the table, opened it and left it open, took out my legal pad, a pen and placed them on the table. I took off my overcoat and placed it neatly around the back of a nearby chair and fixed my tie.  While waiting for the trial to get started, I was going over in my head my defense strategy, but still was hoping for Officer Taylor not to show up.

It was around 9:15 a.m. when a big man entered the courtroom. He ignored me. He chatted with the Bailiff and both laughed. Then he sat at the prosecution table. Later I knew he was the assistant prosecutor in charge of my case.

The back door opened and an older distinguished man, with hair turning white, wearing long black robe, came through. “All rise” the Bailiff shouted. We all stood up. It was Judge Smith; he went behind the bench, sat down, and ordered, “Please be seated!” He started going through a stack of files on top of his desk, and then called “Mrs. Scott!” She stood up and addressed “Your Honor, before you, case number 1994 TR D 00078, The State of Ohio, Plaintiff versus M. Nabih Tarazi, Defendant.”

“Thank you Mrs. Scott, and now to you Mr. Martinez!”

The assistant prosecutor, Mr. Martinez, stood up, cleared his throat, and said ”Your Honor, on January 4, 1994, the defendant, Mr. Tarazi, failed to stop at the red lights at the intersection of Olentangy and Ackerman. He was spotted by an officer on duty. He was pulled over as he was going east on W. Dodridge. He was driving with an unclear plate. Those were clear violations of the law and the officer cited him for both. We ask the court to find him guilty of both charges, order him to pay the fees and the court cost. Thank you your Honor!”

The Judge looked at me and asked me, “Mr. Tarazi! What do you say of these charges?”

I stood up, cleared my throat and answered “Good Morning your Honor, I did not go through red lights. In fact, they became yellow as I was preparing to enter the intersection and turn left on West  Dodridge. As for the so-called unclear plate, Mr. Martinez failed to inform the court that the plate was partially obstructed by the falling snow. Your Honor! On January 4, 1994, I was stopped and cited during an ongoing snow storm. Therefore, I respectfully ask the court to dismiss all charges. Thank you your honor”

“Mr. Martinez! Do you have your witness?”  The judge asked.

My heart started pounding, I needed to hear “No”, “Hasn’t show up yet”, “Running a bit late” or “On his way”, which would have disturbed the judge and the case would’ve been dismissed.

“Yes your honor, he is outside waiting!” replied Mr. Martinez.

“Then call in your witness,” Judge Smith ordered.

Officer Taylor was escorted inside the courtroom. Before sitting at the lectern he was sworn in by Mrs. Scott. Mr. Martinez asked him to identify himself for the court. Then he asked him to tell the court what happen on the evening of January 4, 1994. He said that I went through a red light and my plate was covered with snow and he couldn’t read it. Then Mr. Martinez asked him if I said anything during the stop. He answered that I denied going through red lights and that I told him,

“Do you expect me to pull over every few minutes to wipe up my plate from the snow?” Officer Taylor added, at that time, I advised him “anything you say will be used against you in court”. Mr. Martinez thanked him and thanked the judge.

“Mr. Tarazi!” Judge Smith called on me “It’s your turn to cross-examine the witness.”

I cleared my throat and started “Thank you Your Honor.” I studied my notes “Mr. Taylor, how long have you been in the police service?”

“Five years next month,” he replied.

“Do you consider yourself an expert witness?”

He hesitated, “Yes”

“What qualifications do you have?” I asked.

“High school diploma,” he answered.

 “Were you behind me when I, as you alleged, went through the red lights?”

“No.” He said.

I did some scribbling on my legal pad as if important information is being recorded. I glanced at the judge, and he seemed amused with the show. This was probably his first time presiding over such a ridiculous case. 

“Could you state your position, when you saw me go through red lights, as you’d claimed?”

“I was on Ackerman, at the traffic lights, at the intersection of Ackerman and Olentangy, going east.” Taylor said.

“And I was going south on Olentangy, is that correct?”

“Yes” Taylor replied.

“Olentangy meets Ackerman at about 45 degrees angle, is that correct”

“I don’t know, Maybe”

“Mr. Taylor! From your position, at Ackerman, could you see the lights that I went through?”

He realized that he could not have seen my lights from his position. He said “No Sir.”

“So you did not see me go through red lights?”

“When my light turned green, I saw you still in the intersection heading east on West Dodridge.” Taylor said.

“Is that a No answer?” I asked.

“Yes Sir.”

“If my light turned yellow when I was about to enter the intersection, don’t I need to proceed and get out of the intersection?”

“Yes”

More scribbling! I had learned from one of my friends -Legal advisor, if I can call him that way, that the best defense strategy is to discredit the witnesses’ credibility. I retrieved the traffic ticket from my briefcase, studied it, cleared my throat and asked, “How was the pavement at the time of the incident?”

He paused and said, “Dry.”

“Mr. Taylor! On my ticket you marked ‘snow’ for the pavement.

What about the visibility?”

“Clear.”

“Mr. Taylor! On my ticket you marked ‘cloudy’ for the visibility”

“What about the weather?”

“Snow.”

“Mr. Taylor! With the pavement being covered with snow, there was no way you could be sure, from your position, where I was with respect to the solid white lines delineating the intersection.”

Without giving him chance to comment, I quickly asked him, “At 30 miles per hour, how long does it take for a car to come to a full stop, in such a condition of weather and pavement?”

He shrugged “I don’t know, Sir.” 

At this point, even though the judge looked very amused, I needed to end this cross-examination. I did not want to irritate him. I looked at my pad, turned towards the judge and said

“Your Honor, I did not go through red lights. I’m not going to lie just to avoid paying a fee of eighty dollars. It is a matter of principle for me.” I cleared my throat. “Your Honor, Thou Shalt Not Lie!” I wanted to add but I did not. Instead I concluded, “Your Honor! They even wanted me to lie about my muffler in order to drop the charges, I refused and ….” The judge cut me off.  I thought he was fed up with me by then.

“Okay! Okay! Mr. Tarazi. They sometimes offer such plea bargains to reduce the load on the courts.” Then he addressed the assistant prosecutor, “Mr. Martinez! The State failed to convince me beyond a reasonable doubt of the guilt of Mr. Tarazi. In fact I have many doubts. Therefore, the case is dismissed.”

He looked at me and said “Mr. Tarazi, feel free to leave.”

I thanked him and picked up my briefcase and my overcoat and left.

                                                     Justice served.

[This is the story as I recall it.  I made up the names of the people for their privacy and also because I forgot their names.]

Celebrating the Birth of Prophet Muhammad (SAAWS)

Celebrating the Birth of Prophet Muhammad (SAAWS)

Sara and Abdullah have been married for a little more than four years. They have a son, Khaled, who became two last week and they are expecting a girl any day now.

 Abdullah is an engineer. He came with Sara from Syria several years ago. After the death of his father, four years ago, he brought his mother to live with them.

Yesterday, Sara, with the help of grandma, (called TaiTai in Syria), prepared a nice dinner for the family; kubbeh, mutabal, humus, tabuleh, chicken and rice. Of course Sara did not forget the lentil soup. Abdullah used to say, “Kubbeh without lentil soup is like Rome without the Pope.”

Abdullah came home from work; they all sat around the dining table. Khaled sat in his high chair with a bib, embroidered with the phrase, “I love Taitai,”­­ fastened under his chin.

 “Abdullah! I heard on the news this morning that today is the birthday of Prophet Muhammad. Could we spend some time talking about him?” Sara asked. Abdullah reached out and took a round kubbeh, took a bite of it, and said, “Mom, Sara, Jazakumullahu khayran, this is a great kubbeh.”

 Abdullah was very happy to celebrate this occasion by remembering this wonderful man Muhammad, the like of whom never walked on this earth, the like of whom mothers failed to give birth to.

“Oh yeah Sara! I did forget. Today is the 12^th of Rabi al Awal, the birth day of Prophet Muhammad. I will start bringing up some of his special attributes mentioned in the holy Quran.

Almighty Allah called him a ‘Light’ and ‘Lamp Spreading Light,’ to guide people out of darknesses:

‘There has come to you from Allah a New Light’

‘Oh Prophet! Truly We have sent you as a witness, as a Bearer of Glad news, as a warner, as one who invites to Allah’s grace, by His leave, and as a lamp spreading light.’”

Sara looked at Abdullah and said, “I remember one verse, where Allah asks his Messenger, ‘Have We not raised high your fame?’ Every time we say ‘La Ilaha Illallah’, we say ‘Muhammadun Rasulullah.’”  

“Exactly! You see how Muhammad’s name is part of the shahada (declaration of faith),” Abdullah said.

Taitai joined in, “I love what Allah said, addressing his Prophet, ‘Indeed you have the highest morals.’”

“Mom, it’s all about morals. The Prophet said it himself. He was sent but to complete the code of morals,” said Abdullah.

Sara admired how the Prophet treated children and mentioned that once he came to the mosque for the night prayer, carrying his grandson on his shoulders. Then he seated him close by and led the prayer. He spent an unusually long time prostrating during the prayer, which worried some of his followers. Others thought he was receiving a revelation. After the prayer, he explained to them that his grandson mounted on his back and he waited for him to get down. Taitai added, “He also used to carry his granddaughter Umama while praying. When he prostrated he’d put her down and when he stood up he’d carry her.”

Abdullah said, “I find this story fascinating; one time the Prophet was in a big gathering.  To his right was a young boy and to his left were the great Abu Baker and Omar. The Prophet was offered a drink from a pitcher. He drank a little bit and asked the boy ‘Do you permit me to pass the drink to Abu Baker and Omar?’ The boy said ‘No way!’” (Muslims usually pass things to the right. That is why the Prophet wanted the permission of the boy to pass it to the left. The boy refused, he wanted the blessing of drinking right after the Prophet. Maybe he thought, by the time it comes around nothing would be left for him or maybe he wanted to receive a drink directly from the prophet.)

Taitai reminded them of the woman who was cleaning the prophet’s mosque. She was dark skinned and from people who were not considered important in Medina’s traditional clan society. One time he noticed she was not at the mosque. When he inquired about her, he was told that she’d passed away. He asked where she was buried and gathered his companions and offered a funeral prayer for her. How well he respected people, no matter their social status in the general community.

Sara added teasingly, “He was so nice to his wives. He never laid his hand on anyone of them (he never hit anyone of them).”

“Abdullah! Did you hear that?” Taitai asked.

“Mom! I would never ever hurt Sara!” replied Abdullah.

Taitai and Sara laughed. They remembered how Abdullah had stood up to his best friend and scolded him when he shoved his wife in front of them.

Taitai then said, “I remember a hadith (narration), I’d like to share with you. When rasulullah (The Messenger of Allah) read what Abraham supplicated, ‘He who follows me is one of me and he who disobeys me (is going astray) - But You are indeed oft-Forgiving, Most Merciful’. And what Jesus prayed, ‘If you punish them, they are your servants, and if you forgive them, verily You, only You are the All-Mighty, the All-wise’

He, Muhammad, understood that the two great messengers, Abraham and Jesus, were asking forgiveness even for those who chose not to follow them. He then raised his hands, cried and pleaded, ‘My nation, My nation’. Then Allah sent Angel Gabriel to comfort him and assure him that Allah would be pleased with him and with his nation.”

Abdullah said “Mom! That shows how much he loves us, how much he loves his ummah (nation).” Then he added “Don’t forget that every prophet was given a special wish and every prophet used his wish except Muhammad. He saved his wish as a shafa’a  (intercession) for his ummah on the Day of Judgment. It will be honored for everyone who dies without associating anything with Allah.”

 “Abdullah! Remind us of shafa’a,” Sara demanded.

Abdullah explained, “On the Day of Resurrection, all mankind will be brought in one gigantic plain area. The sun will get very close to them. They will be sweating, scared and waiting for the grand trial. They wish to know their fate and get it done with it. We don’t know how long they will stay like that in a state of uncertainty. They will form a delegation. This delegation goes to Adam, then Noah, then Abraham, then Moses, then Jesus. They will plead for their intercession. Each one will say, ‘Myself, myself, I’m worried about myself’, and will refer them to the others. Then finally they go to see Muhammad. He will respond ‘I’m for it, I’m for it.’

Muhammad goes under the throne, prostrates, praises Allah and waits. Then he will be ordered, ‘Oh Muhammad!  Raise up your head. Ask! You will be given. And intercede! Your intercession will be accepted.’    

His intercession will help those whose good deeds are equal to their bad deeds to enter Paradise. People ordered to go to the Hell will be pardoned, by his intercession, before even entering Hell. Those who end up in Hell will be released to go to Paradise, as a result of his continued intercession.”

Sara then asked, “With all of what the Prophet did for us, and is willing to do for us in the Day of Judgment, how can we thank him?”

Abdullah thought about it for a few seconds and before he answered, Taitai started, “In fact he asked us to do only one thing for him; he said, when you hear the athan (Muslim call for prayer) repeat after him then at the end of the athan, he told us to pray for him. For every blessing we ask Allah for him, we get, in return, ten blessings from Allah. What a bargain! Then he asked us to ask Allah to grant him ‘AlWaseela’, a place in Paradise reserved for one person and he wishes it to be for him. He promised that he who asks for ‘Alwaseela’ for him will earn his intercession.”

As they were finishing dinner the call for magrib prayer came from the computer and they all in unison repeated after him. After it, they invoked blessing upon Muhammad. Then supplicated, "Allahumma Rabba hathihid-Daawatit tammah, wassalatil Qa imah ati Muhammadan al waseelata wal fadeelah, wa ib'ath-hu maqaman mahmoodan allathee wa'ad-tah, innaka laa tukhliful-me'aad."

 (This translates to"Oh Allah, Owner of this perfect call and Owner of this prayer to be performed, grant Muhammad al waseelah (a place in Paradise) and al fadeelah (a rank above the rest of creation) and send him upon a raised platform which you have promised him. Verily, You never fail in Your promise.")

Taitai, Sara and Abdullah agreed that there was so much more to say about the Prophet. This was a wonderful way to celebrate the birth of Prophet Muhammad.

(Peace and Blessing of Allah upon prophets Muhammad, Abraham, Noah, Moses, Jesus and all other prophets.)

Happy Birthday Jesus!

Happy Birthday Jesus!

Anna was a righteous woman married to Imran, a great man from the children of Israel. Almighty Allah has blessed and chosen the House of Imran as He did for Adam, Noah and the House of Abraham above all people.

Anna was barren and she wished so much to have children of her own. So one time she vowed that if she ever got pregnant, she would put the child in the service of the Temple of Jerusalem. Soon after her prayer, Allah listened to her and miraculously allowed her to conceive. When she first felt that, she turned to Allah and prayed:

“Oh my Lord! I have dedicated to you what is in my womb for your special service. So accept this from me! For you hear and know all things.”

A few months later she delivered her child and to her surprise it was a girl. She turned to Allah and said:

“Oh my Lord! Behold! I have delivered a girl (and Allah knew very well what she had delivered). And the male is not like the female. As it is I have named her Mary and I commend her and her offspring to Your protection from Satan the rejected.”

Anna wanted a boy to put him to the service of the Temple. It was hard work that was customarily done by men. But she ended up having a girl. Of course she did not know then that this same girl was going to be the mother of a great messenger of Allah, one of the five most important messengers of all times.

Mary grew up healthy and strong. Then after the death of her father, Mary was placed in the care of her relative, Zachariah, an important priest in the Temple in Jerusalem and a prophet of Allah himself.

Mary withdrew from her family and her people to a private place in the Temple and she screened herself from them for prayer and devotion. It is in this state of purity and devotion that, one day, God sent her Angel Gabriel in the shape of a man. She was terrified and cried, “I seek refuge from you to Allah Most Gracious. Don’t come near if you fear Allah”.

Gabriel, comforting her, said, “No, I am only a messenger from your Lord to announce to you the gift of a pure son.” Then he added “Oh Mary! Allah has chosen you and purified you. He has chosen you above the women of all nations”. Gabriel then explained to her what kind of a son she was going to have. “Oh Mary! Allah gives you good news of a word from Him. His name will be Messiah Isa (Christ Jesus), the son of Mary, held in honor in this world and in the Hereafter and in the company of those nearest to Allah.”

Mary, in disbelieve, wondered “How will I have a son, seeing that no man has ever touched me?” Gabriel replied “So it will be, your Lord says, ‘It is easy for me and We wish to appoint him a sign for men and a mercy from Us’. It is a matter so decreed.”

She miraculously conceived him and tried to hide the pregnancy from her family. Later she decided to run away. She went to Bethlehem, 6 miles south of Jerusalem. The pains of childbirth drove her to the trunk of a palm-tree.

Virgin Mary was alone, scared, anguished.  She gave birth to a remarkable baby, Jesus. Realizing what had happened to her she cried, “I wish I had died before this and been a thing forgotten.”

Virgin Mary was certain of her innocence and was assured by Gabriel that she would be giving birth to a great man, one of the greatest of all times. She should have been very happy and excited, so why did she wish she was dead and forgotten? She was certainly weak to face her people and she must have thought that she will be accused of adultery by some; others, if they believed her story, might end up worshipping her and or her son. 

We should remember too, the difficulty for a woman to give birth alone, her first experience with labor.  A story from hadith gives us some perspective on the difficulty of labor.  A man carried his old mother around the Ka’ba for hajj and thought that he paid her back for all that she’s done for him and that he did not owe her anything. He came and proudly told Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him, what he did for his mother and asked him if he paid her back. The prophet looked at him and said not even for one of the labor pains.

So Mary had just been through a very difficult ordeal of labor alone and fearful of her future.  Baby Jesus cried to his mom “Don’t grieve, your Lord had provided a stream near you. And shake the trunk of the palm-tree; it will let fall fresh ripe dates for you. So eat and drink and cool your eyes.”

Obviously Mary was very tired after her first experience with labor and yet she was asked to shake the palm-tree to get the dates! Isn’t this shaking almost impossible to cause dates to fall?  After all of these miracles that happened to Mary, Allah could’ve made an extra small miracle to cause the dates to fall for her without her efforts! In fact Allah wants to teach us an important lesson in life. It is as if Allah is saying to you ‘My servant, you start the work and I will help you finish it.’

Shortly after birth, baby Jesus and Virgin Mary headed back home. On the way home, Baby Jesus instructed his mom, “If you see anyone, just say I have vowed a fast to Allah, Most Gracious and this day I will not talk to anybody”.

At length, she brought the baby to her people. Not surprisingly, they accused her, “Oh Mary! This is a horrible sin that you have committed. Shame on you, you are a descendent of Aaron; neither your father was a man of evil nor your mother an immoral woman”. As instructed, she pointed to the baby, as if to say talk to him. They angrily said, “How can we talk to one who is a child in the cradle?”

Baby Jesus then spoke in defense of his mom, saying,

“I’m indeed a servant of God.

 He has given me a revelation and made me a prophet.

 He has made me blessed wherever I may be.

 He has enjoined on me prayer and the giving of charity as long as I live.

And He has made me kind to my mother, Mary, and not arrogant or miserable”.

Then he concluded with these beautiful words:

              “So peace is on me the day I was born,

                      the day that I will die and

                        the day that I shall be raised up to life again”.

Happy Birthday Jesus!

[Quotes in this story are from the Quran, Surahs House of Imran and Mariam.]

My name is Bobby-A journey to Islam

My name is Bobby!

A journey to Islam

 "Takbeer!,” someone sitting next to me on the floor of the mosque shouted. It was so loud that I nearly jumped off the floor.

Everybody in the mosque and I happily yelled in unison "Allahuakbar" (God is the greatest)

"Takbeer," a second person shouted louder from behind me.

"Allahuakbar," we all repeated.

Then a third brother screamed even more loudly, for the third time "Takbeer" 

We all loudly repeated "Allahuakbar."   

Several months ago, over Thanksgiving break, my wife and I went to visit her family in San Francisco California. One evening there, after dinner my brother-in-law, Hassan, took us all to the local mosque for Isha (night) prayer and a short halaqa (study circle). Right before leading the prayer, Imam Abdullah asked us to stay after the prayer to witness Bobby taking the shahada (declaration of faith).

They started with the traditional 3 "takabeers", to celebrate the conversion of Bobby to Islam.  Of course, the isolated sisters, at a back room packed with screaming-at-each-other and running-everywhere children, participated in this happy moment, (as my wife told me later that night). At this mosque, I was told that the sisters were only allowed to hear what was happening at the brothers’ side through the use of modern technology. Although they could see through one-way glass, they could not be seen or heard.

 During the prayer, two little boys - escapees from the sisters’ back room, were chasing each other, yelling, and giggling and having fun. One of them would shout, “On your mark, get set, go” and they raced across the mosque. They were certainly disturbing our “khushou’” (spiritual concentration). As I was in my prostration posture, I was making plans to protect my head if I heard these boys charging in my direction.

 As soon as the prayer leader, Imam Abdullah, announced the end of the prayer, “assalamu alukum wa rahmatullah, assalamu alukum wa rahmatullah”, the two boys did, guess what? They miraculously disappeared.

After the prayer, a nice looking young man, in his mid twenties, dressed in suite and tie with a neat haircut and light beard, came from the back and sat near the Imam. He had a nice smile on his face but looked nervous and shy.

Imam Abdullah, smiling, said “Welcome, welcome, what is your name brother?"

The man replied, “My name is Bobby"

"You're here to become Muslim? What a wonderful thing!"   

Bobby, nodded: "Yes, sir"

Imam Abdullah: "No, please, please, don't call me sir. Call me Imam Abdullah. Tell us what made you like Islam to a point that you’re willing to become Muslim?"

Bobby, looking more calm, started "Well Imam, its simplicity! Islam is an easy religion to understand. Islam is the religion of all prophets from Adam to Muhammad ("sallallahu alyhi wa sallam" –peace and blessing be with them, the Imam and many of us interjected in unison). Islam means submission to the will of Almighty God. Allah (the Arabic name of God) He himself introduced Islam in a few words and …. ”.  

Imam Abdullah (surprised at Bobby's answer, as we all were, cut him off.) "Few words, only few words!, what do you mean?”

 “Well ,Imam” Bobby continued “when Allah spoke to Moses in Mount Sinai He told him:

‘Indeed, I am Allah. There is no deity except Me, so worship Me and establish prayer for My remembrance. Indeed, the Hour is coming - I almost conceal it - so that every soul may be recompensed according to that for which it strives.  So do not let one avert you from it, one who does not believe in it and follows his desire, for you [then] would perish. ‘”

Imam Abdullah (even more surprised) said “Mashaallah!, Mashaallah! Mashaallah!  (Whatever Allah wills, It is used in occasions where there is surprise in someone’ good deeds or achievements), did anyone make Da’wa to you, I mean preach you?”

Bobby, shook his head: "No Imam, I did some study, I read the Quran and God has opened my heart”.   

The two little boys appeared again charging at each other, screaming from row to row. Their respective fathers sat still, ignoring them as if they did not know to whom these kids belonged. The Imam had to intervene to stop these boys so we could hear the Shahada.

After Bobby took the Shahada, we responded to the calls for the 3 takbirs. Then we all lined up and started hugging him and tapping on his back and arms one after the other. Some practically crushed him in bear hugs, so strongly, I was scared that he’d suffocate.

That night, soon after the Halaqa was over, everybody left the Mosque and Bobby was left behind alone, or was he left alone?

Almost a year later, I met Hassan during a national Islamic conference in Washington, DC. As we were having dinner together, I remembered Bobby and asked:

“How’s Bobby doing?”

“Who Bobby?” he replied as if he’d never heard of this name before! 

“The young man who took the Shahada last year during Thanksgiving’s break”

“Oh yeah! I remember now, Bobby became, Abdulshakur Abdultawwab Mujahid  Alislam”, he replied. “Shortly after Bobby took his Shahada, he was completely neglected by the majority of people of the mosque, except for few. These few brothers are nice people and are blessed with a lot of time to spend in and around the mosque. They are self declared ‘muftis’ (scholars in Islamic jurisprudence). They managed to cause some changes to Bobby’s life. Starting by forcing him to take what they called an ’Islamic name’!” and to dress ‘Islamicly’.

As Hassan was talking, I thought to myself, wondering, out of the 1.6 billion Muslims worldwide, what are the odds that two people exist with the name Abdulshakur,Abdultawwab Mujahid Alislam?.

Certainly Bobby’s new name is so beautiful; Abdulshakur means the servant of The Appreciative. Abdultawwab is the servant of The Acceptor of Repentance and Mujahid Alislam is the one who is ready to struggle to serve Islam. The Appreciative and The Acceptor of Repentance are two of the 99 beautiful names of Allah. Of course with such a unique name Bobby does not have to anymore worry to become a victim of identity theft!

Hassan added, “Bobby quit his college since he could no longer, according to his new muftis, accept student interest-bearing loans nor could he work for non Muslims.(Of course these muftis were not willing to financially support Bobby through his college  because they could barely support themselves!). He cut off his relation with his family, he left his hair grow to his shoulders, he’s wearing kufiya (head cover) and a dishdasha (an-ankle-length garment). He’s spending most of his time in and around the mosque living off small odd jobs and charity.”

Bobby, like many converts, felt like he needed to “prove himself” as a good Muslim. He thought, wrongly, that he needed to give up his heritage and reject his society in order to “fit” and hence he became a soft target.  All of these changes he did to fit in were not things any regular person born Muslim would think of doing.  No Muslim should cut relationships with his family, even if they are not Muslim.  Many Muslims get student loans and even more work with and for non-Muslims.  Kufiya and dishdasha are cultural clothing for some ethnic groups of Muslims, but they are a minority in the Muslim world and they usually wear American style clothes when they stay in the States. 

Sadly, for Bobby and the like, many Islamic institutions are too busy with inner fighting. In most cases fighting is over leadership. Sometimes we don’t even know what the fighting is about. Valuable time and money are vainly spent on dispute upon dispute upon dispute, and in protracted costly law suits.

Where are the regular Muslims to open their arms to people like Bobby? We leave Bobby to take care of our own things, and spend our time with our own friends, people like us from our own ethnic backgrounds.  We leave Bobby alone because he doesn’t fit in to our little cliques.  But those who practice extreme interpretations of Islam, those who ignore moderation in affairs, they focus their time to attend to Bobby and teach him their version of Islam.

Meanwhile Bobby will never “fit”, or will he? Where will he feel at home among brothers?
 

Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this piece are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.