In creature comforts of the West; I ponder.
     As my heart strays eastward.
           My star in the East?

"If there be a God..."
       He must be capable of entering men's hearts,
             they in turn bear witness to human suffering.

If this is so.
    How can our brothers in Syria be suffering?
             Why have they been forsaken?

"If there be a God?"
       If there be a God.
           If there be a God.
                              Allah?

Ramadan 2017 in Sarajevo, Bosnia                      

The first day and the second

What a blessing!!!

Brothers and Sisters in the Old Town speaking the words Salamu Alaikum

Sisters wearing veils with colors like in the bright rainbow appearing before me and my two new friends from Bosnia in a sky above a bussling bazaar, there a smaller group of humans watching and a larger group of tourists capturing a rare moment in Sarajevo on photo

Many brothers wearing kufis and many brothers with trendy hair styles paired with Western outfits gathering in the courtyard of Gazi Husrev-Bey Mosque, the largest in Bosnia and sixteen centuries old. Tourists from Africa, America, Europe, and other landscapes and many locals exchanging words and gestures in a month better than a thousand

Families spending time together at the Grand Mosque and at smaller mosques and in other places surrounded by picturesque hills and green plush trees

A father, a mother, their toddler son...he practicing walking on a masjid's cobblestone, and their young daughter...she smiling at her father as he walks by. Each family member physically at a distance from each other. Each family member at a cell's distance in communion with each other.

In the mid afternoon on a Ramadan's day, a sister from Munich and I having met for the first time at Bey Mosque ride together in a taxi up a steep hill to see a guest house she knows

A smell of lingering cigarette smoke permeating the air within the house so thick beckons me to leave politely and quickly. Unaware of the smell's degree, the owner learns of its' offensiveness as I disclose my sensitivity to & the dislike of the smell of cigarette smoke, both acutely heightened while fasting

Careful steps back down the steep hill to the city center, me avoiding stumbling on a large rock or being runover by a speeding automobile, interestingly instead I stumble upon a beautiful grave yard of uniquely shaped white gravestones and a charming mosque with a high minaret

At the bottom of the hill sits a crafts and artistry shop, one of many in Sarajevo's Old Town. Upon entering and a brief conversation with the owner, a piece of generosity is handed to me, a square shape piece of wood with Ayat tul Kursi in hand calligraphy

During the late afternoon hours, a time for reading Quran by many at mosques in the city. Sisters and brothers sitting on carpeted floors, some with backs supported by mosque walls, some with bodies sitting in chairs, fasters occupied with the most perfected Divine Scripture

A brief leisurely stroll with my two new friends Dzenita and her sister Amina through part of the Bazaar, they sharing opinions of their favorite restaurants, best eating experiences, and other things

In the early evening, a time to buy food to prepare for the Iftar meal. Showing me how it's done in Sarajevo, Dzenita and Amina invite me to join them on an excursion up a hill to buy Somun, a Bosnian flatbread topped with black seeds from the city's famous bread maker. Standing in a line longer than Georgetown Cupcake, Dzenita surprises me with a gift of Somun for myself

Two dates, one cube of Bosnian delight, and one cup of water to break our fast with at the Bey Mosque. A canon bomb sounds off to announce the time for Magrib prayer and Iftar, customary in Sarajevo during Ramadan

Startled and alerted by the bomb's depth and volume, I stand up to join the congregation for communion with God, The God Most Gracious, Most High

Out of nowhere I'm invited to Iftar at a shop nearby the Grand Mosque, about 8 of us guests being served by the warm owner, she offering a meal for Iftar at her shop every night during Ramadan, a big-hearted tradition of hers

Cevapi, Cevapi, Cevapi...I'll say it once more, Cevapi -- sold in Bosnian restaurants, cafes, bazaars, and made in many homes, eaten happily by many fasters at Iftar. Served with freshly chopped onions, some served with a soft white cheese, some with a red peppery sauce, many served with Somun, all ways tried by me and tasting as scrumptious as my first experience with Cevapi in Germany, then falling in love with it

Cold winds at night from the surrounding mountains, a refreshing air yet taking my breath and power away from the chill of it, completely disappearing with my start of Isha prayer with other Muslims and the declaration "Allah hu Akbar"

9 Muftis with impeccable Tajweed each taking turns to recite the words of our Grand Lord before sunrise, me weeping from God's messages, the reality of His greatness, my servitude to Him, and a recognition of sounds similar to that of my Mumin Father's, those familiar to me since birth

Three dear sisters, university students from Turkey and I journey together on foot after Fajr from the Old Mosque to a street train, along the way stopping by a community center, our destination - their home an hour or so away to rest, the four of us coming to know each other and each others' thoughts with every step. Contempleting my desire to spend more time in the city over sleep, the three sisters showing great generosity and I embrace and exchange Salams at a stop near the main station, the three walking with me to an open place before continuing on

In the land of a marriage between the East and the West and where newspaper is used to clean a cafe window, on the list of to-dos -- shopping for gifts for family and for souvenirs, window shopping done along the way, asking myself Shall I buy a Dzezva, a hand-made Bosnian coffee set, or a vintage wood Sarajevo box, or a woven wallet, or Bosnian sweets.

In a bazaar walkway, Maher Zain's song "Ramadan" playing loudly. At another moment, lyrics about a month of devotion and sacrifice from Sami Yusuf echoeing. Shop owners in Old Town with dispositions of calm and quiet grace greeting me and others cordially and respectfully. Shopping a few hours more until near sunset for post cards with a real version of the Grand Mosque, finding only less than satisfactory versions. Time running out for shopping, another reason now to return to Bosnia, God-Willing

Magrib prayer a second night at the Gazi Husrev-Bey Mosque. Observing the crowd, a striking occurrence taking place, a teenage boy walking a small length behind a man on to the mosque carpet. There the boy approaches an older man giving him a respectful hand shake. After prayer, a native of Sarajevo shares with me in wholesome conversation, "You are known in the town not by what you have. You are known by how well you behave."

Another invitation, this time for a cup of a tea at a cafe. Overflowing with people mostly young adults, men and women sitting at tightly packed small tables inside and a few outside, conversations merging into each other with a loud volume flowing throughout, Shisha being smoked by some, cigarettes by some, smoke in the air and the temperature inside melting away heavy make-up on sisters' faces. "This is Ramadan in Sarajevo." Madia says. "One aspect of it." says I. Not having a good feeling right away when walking in and not wanting to stay, the two of us leave quickly.

My two new friends Dzenita and Amina aka angels of hospitality and kindness reciprocating my gift to them of Milka chocolate give me a gift before departing the next day. "Tespih!!" A burnt red and yellow colored set with sparkingly gold thinly cut wrapping paper looking stripes purchased at the Gazi Husrev-Bey Mosque gift shop. Not knowing then I collect Tesbih, their gift is now my most favorite of my Tesbih collection

Husbands and wives, men and women both young and old, well-groomed and well-dressed, some holding hands as they stroll through narrow pathways in the Old Town on a Ramadan's night. Families talking and eating at restaurants, friends in groups sharing laughs, so much to see, so much to experience. At a cafe where baked goods, ice cream, and other sweets are sold, a lady sitting with a group of others initiates speaking to me, stopping me in my tracks. Bidding me farewell, she extends me a gracious compliment

Ramadan 2017 in Sarajevo, Bosnia to Remember

The first day and the second

What a blessing!!!

by Najwa Kareem

pukul empat sore tadi
seorang pria tua penuh keriput diwajahnya
pergi melangkahkan kaki rentanya
keluar dari pondok jati tempat semalam ia terlelap
lengkap dengan pakaian rapih kebesarannya, sepatu boot dan tak lupa topi baret miliknya

diambilnya sepeda jengki bercat kusam
dengan sedikit bercak karat pada besi besinya
yang disandarkan oleh empunya pada pagar kayu depan pondok

digiringlah sang sepeda jengki menuju jalan sambil melangkah
menuju tempat tujuannya
selang beberapa saat, ia tunggangi sepeda jengki itu
ia kayuh sambil berpeluh pada dahi sampai ke tubuh
berbulir menetes tak ada ragu

lirih ia dendangkan lagu
yang telah ia hafal selama hidupnya
saat ia masih muda
yang dapat memacu semangatnya dulu
saat akan hendak pergi berperang bersama kawan-kawannya dulu

sesampainya ia di Jalan Kusumanegara
di depan taman berpagar tembok putih
di-remnya sepeda jengki kusam itu
tepat di tepi seorang wanita yang sudah terduduk rapi menggelar dagangannya

"Saya beli kembangmu, cukup lima ribu saja." itu katanya
sang wanita penjual lekas membungkuskan permintaannya dengan senyum dibibir

sembari memberikan bungkusan kembang kepada pria bersepeda jengki itu, ia lalu bertanya "Kalau boleh saya tahu, untuk siapa kembang ini Bapak beli?" ujarnya santun hormat

sang pria bersepeda jengki terdiam, ia lalu tertawa kecil
tawa khas seorang di usia senjanya

"Saya mau jenguk kawan seperjuangan saya, hari ini 20 Desember, tepatnya 68 tahun yang lalu, ia berpamitan ingin menuju dunia Qadim milikNya saat kami sedang berjuang untuk Negara" jawabnya

Pria bersepeda jengki itu lalu undur diri, dititipkannya sepeda tua miliknya
pada sang wanita penjual kembang, ia lalu berjalan kaki
memasuki gerbang tembok bercat putih
bertuliskan Taman Makam Pahlawan Kusumanegara
Daerah Istimewa Yogyakarta
dengan langkah mantap dan juga senyum mengembang di wajah keriputnya

" Assalamu'alaikum, Aku njaluk sepuro yo Di Mas, Kepriye kabarmu? Ayo gek tak ceritani kabar Indonesia saiki! "

Zebra-striped cushion covers on soft-white chairs,
cream topped calorie delights, inviting -
this patisserie in Nairobi:
"you're welcome" the smartly outfitted
African girl spoke in flawlessly accented English
as I pore over the menu - a posh girl
dressed in haute denim and a sleeved top
walks in and spoke French in pouted lips
as she found her corner spot, reading;
an Asian couple walk in, wife in hijab
and baby in tow, as the man sneers at me and
answers 'assalamu alaikum' on phone
as I ponder on identity when
the French matron in Yoga tops walks in
saying namaste to me, and calls out for Henry -
her outfitted and bespectacled pomeranian
oh don't we all want to be someone else

Abraham's Youth


I'm white,
and Jewish,
and American,
but I,
refuse to,
be scared again,

let's let the truth be our teacher,
for I don't want war either,

and they say Jews and Arabs,
have been fighting each other,
for thousands of years,
but we are all brothers,
we bleed the same blood,
share the same father,
we both want a future of peace,
for our daughters,

I doubt Abraham,
would've wanted it this way,
for his children,
to fight instead of play,

our Father,
would surely be upset,
if he was looking,
down from up there,
so I don't buy,
the propaganda they're selling,
for if true,
history is to be telling,
Jews and Arabs,
lived in harmony,
underneath,
the shade of olive trees,
In Jerusalem,
kids studied together,
good books,
academic endeavors,
for,
hundreds of years,
without,
hate or fear,
only,
love in our hearts,
until,
politics tore us apart…

In 1948,
the U.N. stepped in,
with their laws,
imperial rule and nuclear weapons,
divide and conquer,
Western Machiavellian,
tactics,
let me ask this,
is Damascas the axis,
where Abraham's *******,
practice black magic withcraft?

The fact is,
the Baptist,
the false profit priest,
praying to the beast,
left the light,
then mixed up the good book,
to make wrong seem right,
left to right,
they rewrote the Bible backwards,
they subtracted good,
and added bad words,
they say it's prayer,
but it's really evil practice,
fkcn sorcerer magicians,
rabbit in a hat tricks,
but instead of a rabbit,
they pull out a dove,
"Look,
we've capitalized off love!",
or at least,
the thought of it,
"here, buy lots of it!"
"Don't worry you'll be fine!"

I don't feel fine,
I feel like I'm,
losing touch,
with divine…

So I shout with my heart, W
here Is The LOVE!
Come here my Brothers,
give me a hug!
Put down the guns,
let us embrace,
let us pray together,
let us have some faith,

Isaac,
Ishmael,
we are one family,
let us,
bless us,
all of us actually,
let us,
break bread,
and have peace,
from the,
West Coast,
to The Middle East,
this is,
a New World,
in The Old City,
We've had,
enough war,
we need some peace,

As-Salaam Alaikum,
Wa-Alaikum Salaam,
Words of the Torah,
and the Koran,
Shalom,
Salaam,
open heart,
open palms,
from out of the dark ages,
we are the New Dawn,
rising above,
with hope,
and with love,
let there,
be peace,
let there,
be peace...

∆aron L∆ Lux ∆

I huddled into my collars and looked to the sky,
The day was overcast with yesterday’s lies,
The wind ripped through the streets and sang pain in my ears,
The clouds above heavily pregnant with tears,
On such a dark and cold day...
My eyes beheld a sight full of radiating rays.

Striding down the street in a landscape very urban
was a youth dressed in a gentle green turban,
His white salwar and kameez caressed by the air,
His fresh face beaming shining and clear,
And upon his lips and around his chin
curled a beard neatly combed and oiled from top to rim.

He walked with the confidence of a vibrant caliph,
I did for a moment in my mind stop and marvel at his belief,
This young man was such a contrast to the dark day,
He displayed brilliance and integrity and trod upon truth’s way,
He seemed one who was at ease with God and his deeds,
What a wonderful ambassador for all races and creeds.

As we two passed I offered up a greeting,
“Asalaam Alaikum”.

His eyebrows rippled and coiled like twin cobras lacking intelligence,
He replied to me with the surly silence of arrogance,
He ignored my universal humanity,
He ignored my peaceful charity,
He ignored my friendship and camaraderie,
He ignored God’s solemn word so rich and full of love’s clarity...

This young man...Who was he?
What did he think himself to be?
He was a stranger to me
and a stranger to himself. Could he not see?
He was a stranger even unto God Almighty Himself,
This self-assured man condemned his soul and lost touch with life itself.



©Rangzeb Hussain

Nasser and Aliyah met each other for the first time at a picnic hosted by a mutual friend. Aliyah impressed by Nasser's acts of helpfulness and altruism, she asked her friend Nasreen who is the guy with a willingness to bend.
Too soon did Aliyah know, Nasser was more than altruistic, his way with words whispered into her ears. Salamu Alaikum, would you like some pink lemonade or ice tea? I don't serve alcoholic beers.
Nasser was confident, self assured. He thinking to himself, What do I have to fear. Aliyah contemplating at that moment, Is it possible that Nasser and I might be a couple to be and me his dear.
Aliyah's fantasy didn't last long. The picnic on a sunny day ended with she and Nasser in a courtship that couldn't go wrong.
Their coming to know each other for marriage was effortless. Together Nasser and Aliyah went to different places and they talked about many things - from where they would live if they married and moved to how they would raise children so they wouldn't be rude.
Nasser and Aliyah's courtship was taken seriously and their days were fun. They laughed at each other and felt happy eating ice cream while sitting under the sun.
Their families pleased, both set of parents consenting to Nasser and Aliyah's decision to wed, reminded the couple who were also committed to courtship rules to wait until after their wedding day before making love in bed.
A year after their first encounter, Nasser and Aliyah's big day appeared. The couple was thrilled, so were their family members and friends. It was an intimate and joyful occasion, Nasser in a tux with a well groomed beard.
Nasser and Aliyah's wedding day brought happiness and contentment to their hearts. As they held hands at the alter and hugged each other close, they vowed never a day they would be apart.
Smiles shining on the two couples faces bright, Aliyah says to her husband before he gives her a bite,
You look splendid. You look handsome.
You look debonair.
And whispers into his ear, "And I go home with you tonight."

Lodestone, lovesouls, the boundaries of my blue blooded lover
Gentle mother with a fresh razor cut, do you know how much you hurt me?
Chocolate and candy on the table of the mental ward, mental *******
Figuring out what works, our ways, our quarks, or muons and gluons
Milk chocolate dissolving on your tongue, not bitten, forbidden, bitte fraulein
Gloria, gloria, shalom, assalamu alaikum, hands out, shake 'em
Pull the sword from the stone, water matters, patterns carved in bone
Love is lone, dove, rain from above, mud, life is not crud, maybe

I think the Propher Mohammed was bipolar.

The suras of the Koran are like poems, he experienced terror when the Koranic voice first came to him and believed he was being spoken to by the angel Gabriel.  He also tried to resist it but could not (his wife Khadija was of great comfort to him).  He was also tempted to commit suicide because of the anguish and terror of the experience.
As a Turkish psychiatrist once told me:  bipolar disorder is good for society but bad for the person who has it.

The Prophet Mohammed:  Peace be Upon him.

in sunshine meeting Ram
    still I miss my mom
        alaikum salaam ...

              waiting.

afghan traditions
not hard to find
their hospitality is like no other
the food, crisp and light
or fluffy and melting
you know it will be good

assalamu alaikum!
wa alaikum assalaam
you say
it is a greeting of sorts
a way to say hello!

islam
is their religion
belief in the oneness of god
beleif in all

afghanistan

O, my eternal Beloved,
Let my invaded nation heal,

They came with greed and rage,
Leaving behind fire and blood,

No more imperial armies,
May my sacred borders run free,

End the apocalyptic division,
We are one in life and hope,

See us, hear us, know us,
Understand our words of love,

Salaam Alaikum,
Peace be upon you.