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 Diary >> Affan Chowdhry The New Statesman suffers from historical amnesia The Height of Opulence in Abu Dhabi Where the wine flows like lassi Q in the News Iran's mystery DJ Women slipping thru’ the gaps >> Samira Ahmed The Rock Star and the Mullah >> Fareena Alam "A modern day hippie in search of love" >> Abdul-Rehman Malik Handing Victory to the Terrorists >> Shami Chakrabarti and Megan Addis Who is Sania Mirza? >> Siraj Wahab Democracy Inside Out: The Case of Egypt >> Louay Safi Turks: A Journey of a Thousand Years >> Isla Rosser-Owen Raising Aspirations >> Raihan Alfaradhi Bleedin' Islamophobia >> Yakoub Islam Disappeared in America The Muslim Blogosphere >> Shahed Amanullah Blogger's Manifesto >> Haroon Moghul The politics of common purpose >> Ian McCartney Waking up to Progressive Muslims >> Nazim Baksh The Shariah Firestorm in Canada >> Faisal Kutty Renewing Our Faith in Common Ground >> James Abdulaziz Brown Hafiz Gulammohammed Bora >> Fuad Nahdi Chicken Soup for the Muslim Soul >> Sana Khatib Mourning the Unknown >> Abu Anon Youssou N'Dour wins world music award Fun times for Oxbridge Muslim Alumni Deenport Mania Book views |
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Classic Q: Mourning the Unknown Page 7 It could be argued, of course, that singers and the like do not tell people to take them seriously, but we rarely hear of any ‘great’ personality telling people to ignore him/her completely. So their silence on the matter is a tacit encouragement for others to literally devote their lives to following this singer or that band or whatever. Who can say when it will be our turn to die? Nothing is as certain in life as death. In fact, it is one thing that we do not need to say insh’Allah about, because it is a certainty. The futility of seeing death, but not coming to terms with its reality, and changing our own lives accordingly before our own demise was brought closer to home less than 24 hours after hearing about Cobain’s death. Our local Imam asked us to make dua for a young sister who had died. She was just 17 years old and this set me thinking; how could someone of my age die? When I found out the next day that the sister in question was the daughter of a man I know, and the sister of a boy who attends my old secondary school who I also know I was shocked. How dumb I felt when I discovered that honest and sincere Mr Hamid actually had a daughter. In the sixth-form centre a day or so later, I overheard someone asking if we had heard about Aisha Hamid. Someone replied, “Yeah, she died of an asthma attack; her dad looked… can’t say.” At this I butted in. “Did this Aisha’s dad own a store in Finsbury Park?” Confirmation that this was indeed the case made me kick myself. Not only did I know her father and brother, but she also attended my school. What a small world! Details about this sister came out throughout the day: how she was a good person; how she chose to wear hijab while others rejected it; how her family was distraught and how a particular aunt of hers was hysterical at the news. The whole Muslim community in the school, and some non-Muslims, felt the loss with great sadness. The fact that most, like myself, never even knew the sister personally and had not heard about her until her death was irrelevant. What moved me especially was the fact that Aisha’s death was the catalyst that changed some people. One brother I met (who was a bit of a gangster) knew her and was going to attend the funeral. He was adamant that the age at which she had died had convinced him that he ‘ain’t gonna mess up no longer’, or words to that effect. Only time will tell. But maybe that is the reason why deaths like this occur. Instead of bemoaning the early loss of a loved one (although, of course, it is natural to feel that way) we should reflect on their life and take their death as a warning to us that death respects neither age, wealth nor sex. Why am I writing this? Am I babbling on to the whole world to please my ego? Hardly, hence my anonymity. The reason is that the shock of death, indeed death itself, is something which we human beings try to ignore; Muslims are unconsciously sanitizing death and taking it out of public discussion. In this we are no different to the wider community in Britain. I did not attend Aisha’s funeral, even though the noble Prophet (peace be upon him) encouraged us to attend funerals of those we know and those we don’t know as they are a reminder of our own fast-approaching death. I feel bad about the fact that I did not go to this particular funeral. If I get through the Day of Judgment on the right side (and I pray this is the case!) I hope that I get the opportunity to apologise to Aisha, the girl I did not know but who has affected my thinking so much. Abu Anon in Q-News, Vol: 3 No. 4, 22-29 April 1994 |