The Schaapkraal Diaries: Blessed are those who offer water to the thirsty wanderer.

In the name of Allah, most gracious, most merciful.

Peruvian Lillies

31 January 2015.

Eh, Schaapkraal is always filled with drama. Electricity outages, burst water pipes, stolen bicycles, loud machinery on the pavement and cat drama. I was thinking. Everyday people stand at the gate for water; this includes the workers on the pavement. We fill a bottle and then they go their merry way. They must have been walking or working for a long time without anything to drink so they are really thirsty.

Clay water pots in Sudan
Pic: http://www.thisotherworld.co.uk/sudan2

In the Sudan in every road there are clay pots filled with clean cool water and a steel mug tied to it specifically for passers-by. I thought it wonderful and warm-hearted. It has its own filtration system and one would swear that the water comes from a spring of sweet clear waters. When anyone wants to make sadaqah and they can afford it, they set up a little stall with two clay pots for passers-by. Even on behalf of relatives who have passed – a wonderful Sadaqah tul jaria. Sudan can really be hot sometimes 48 degrees in the shade, but that water is always cold and delicious to drink, even better that the best bottled water.

Would it not be swell if we could set up a stall with cool water outside so passersby can drink their fill especially in this crazy heat. But hey this is Cape Town and unless one can glue it to the spot it will probably be pinched just like our refuse bins time and time again. Maybe they will sommer cart it away in a refuse bin. Not funny.

I had an interesting conversation with one of the teachers at the school, who with a friend over December time, goes to Cordoba in Argentina to teach Islam. Their journey to South America was inspired by a lecture given by Ml Taha Karaan entitled "importance of maintaining Muslim identity” and how Arabs who settled in South America lost their Muslim identity. He, the teacher was taken aback by this information finding it impossible to fathom this could happen living in an era of advanced communication and technology. It was through this lecture that curiosity drove them to go to Argentina, to visit and to ascertain the situation of Muslims living under these conditions. They end up going every year.

One Youmul Jumuah in Cordoba, they went down to mosque, finding the area abuzz with activity, food aromas filled the air, children were playing and people were gathering. Patiently they sat in the mosque waiting for the saf to fill and the khutbah to begin. 1 o clock had come and gone. It was 1.30, then 2.00 and then 2.30. They were really worried. Maybe the community had gathered at another mosque, what was happening?

Then they approached the caretaker of the mosque to inquire about the Jumuah prayer. “No”, said the caretaker “there has not been an Imam here in a very very long time.” “So why do people still gather?” “We know this is the day of gathering thus we bring our families and we celebrate the day. Are you an Imam by chance?” “Yes”, said he and he preceded with his interactive jumuah talk, filled with questions. 4 o clock came and went, as did 4.30 and the Imam still stood on the mimbar. Finally it ended at 5.30.

This was the generation of the community of Cordoba whose parents and grandparents had arrived as exiles from Muslim countries, that had been assimilated into the dominant ideology and remnants of memories of rituals and belief of Islam of their parents and grandparents were still visible. It was visible in the calligraphic art in subways and in the graveyards and on the mesangs (tombstones) and in their names. One woman over 80 years old remembers her mother fasting 40 consecutive days – probably 30 days of Ramadhan and 10 days of Shawwal. But practice was absent in their lives. Subhanallah, it brought tears to my eyes to think that they knew on Fridays they needed to gather and even without a more knowledgeable other to lead the salah and khutbah they made an effort and their reward was these two young men coming to visit, coming to share, coming to educate and enlighten and answer pertinent questions.

Hundreds of people came to learn everyday – how to make istinjaa and wudhu and ghusl and salah and how to wash and shroud and bury their dead. Until they were still on the airport these two young men were still marrying couples who wanted to have a halal union. Such dedication I admire, is Allah not great. In fact they found a copy of the Qur’an written by hand 200 years ago. (I’ll insert some photographs taken in Cordoba later inshaAllah).

clean lettuce and strawberries

I walk around the garden and look at the Inca lillies blooming or some may call it Peruvian lillies, they are pretty pink. I also remember that I have some clean lettuce seed that came from Mexico in fact from the Chiapas Mountain area, that we planted in beds on their own and also as companions to the strawberries, ja ne, the garden has some things from South America too.

New IPSA leaders

This week our courses started off with much energy, some really good interaction with new students on the Global Leadership course. Not a shy group, some confident young men and women who are excited to be at IPSA for the year. I am sommer upbeat!

And then I spy some recycled boxes that Sheikh Ighsaan set up in the foyer and my day was made.

registration, chats and tea.

We have had a protracted registration process for our IHYA course what with school boards having to make decisions and teachers having to settle in first but we were patient. It was well worth the wait, what a wonderful group of participants. Some from Muslim primary schools, Madrasa and Tahfith schools. This morning our Orientation session was wonderfully stimulating and we look forward to the year ahead. In the week I was busy preparing readings for the IHYA course and I came upon a wonderful story that was posted by the group called Education Alive .

The article is called, Looking for Ms. Katy: A Search to Express Gratitude to My Teacher by Omid Safi (@ostadjaan), weekly columnist. I am so going to make copies and tell this story so that we can elicit those moments when teachers in our lives leave an indelible mark on us. I particularly liked this paragraph:

We set up a meeting, and I finally had a chance to see Ms. Katy after some 25 years. We both joked about getting older. I did convey my gratitude in person, but there was more. As the years have passed — and I have the vantage point of years — I could see that what Ms. Katy had done for me did not just change my life. Through the love of my parents and the mentorship of Ms. Katy, my own life got turned out, and, because of that, my children now have opportunities to pursue their dreams. Ms. Katy had an impact on a whole generation of us. That’s what teachers do: they transform the lives of generations.

I mentioned this to Ms. Katy. She humbly passed it off, saying that any teacher would have done the same, and it was just my own hard work. But having been a teacher now for some 22 years myself, I know better.

I am who I am now because of her.

Plant food, give water to passers-by and remember the Ms Katy in your life.

Yasmine