Way down here in Macon, GA, USA, it isn’t unusual to hear voices raised in songs of praise any night of the week, on any of a hundred street corners. On any given evening, one can, if one chooses to do so, attend one of the many engineered “revivals.” No one complains of the noise and many join their voices.
Many years ago, there lived two woodcutters, Rahim and Rahman, in a village. They would go out every morning to the nearby Bandipur forest to cut firewood and sell it in the nearby town. They earned barely enough to survive. After they had cut wood, they would sit on the bank of the river and eat their lunch from their tiffin boxes. Next they would sell the firewood till the end of the day in the marketplace before going home.
I grew up in the Texas Panhandle. I had a boring childhood, I should mention, again. I spent over half my life in two small towns, Turkey and Quitaque. Turkey was named after Turkey Creek. Turkeys first newspaper was called the Turkey Gobbler. Quitaque was named after an Indian name which means horse manure. I sometimes joke that I am uncultured as a result. The population of both towns is less than 600 and shrinking. In 1972, the Turkey and Quitaque schools consolidated creating Valley School halfway between the two towns. I attended Valley School and have fond memories of life as a Valley Patriot. One day I would like to speak at Valley School about Islam. I am not certain why I would have such a desire. I could reach a larger audience anywhere else in Texas. Perhaps because Valley School, Turkey, and Quitaque are still what I call home. I returned to the Texas Panhandle last month to visit my family in Pampa.
After reading the Urdu newspapers, Khan Sahib put them down in disgust. He had only just recently returned from America, where he spent the past 27 years working as a taxicab driver. Many years back, when his children were still young, Khan Sahib had decided to return to Pakistan when he had enough money to retire. Almost three decades of 15 hour workdays later he fulfilled that aim, going back to the land he grew up in, teenage children, and American wife in tow.
Yahya related to me from Malik that he heard that Luqman al-Hakim made his will and counselled his son, saying, "My son! Sit with the learned men and keep close to them. Allah gives life to the hearts with the light of wisdom as Allah gives life to the dead earth with the abundant rain of the sky." (Malik’s Muwatta)
The child sat calmly in her little red chair, oblivious to the chaos around her. This was life. Mom and Dad were always arguing with each other. It was just the natural way of things. Then it came again,… the silence; the deadly silence.
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