The Journey

of a Toiler

Abbas Al Humaid

The Journey of a Toiler (Novel)

All rights reserved by the author

– Abbas Ali Mahmood –

First edition–April, 2017

ISBN: 978-1-912275-00-7

OTHER PUBLICATIONS BY THIS AUTHOR:

1. Islamic Strategy – How to Participate in the Development of

the Muslim Nation

2. Your Career Path - Develop your Business Portfolio

3. Introduction to Shi’a Islam - The Islamic Vision of Life

4. The Tranquil Soul - Practical Steps to Achieve Happiness and

Success

CONTACT THE AUTHOR

www.alhumaid.org

mailto:abbas.alhumaid@gmail.comhttp://www.alhumaid.org/mailto:abbas.alhumaid@gmail.comhttp://www.facebook.com/alhumaid.abbas

Contents

Prologue ............................................................................... 4

Lost ....................................................................................... 9

Tough Situations ............................................................... 47

The Story of Life ............................................................... 82

The Perpetual Spiral of Life .......................................... 109

Love Makes Miracles ..................................................... 147

The Bitterness of Estrangement .................................... 185

The Conspiracy ............................................................... 211

Descending to the Abyss ............................................... 235

And Life Continues ........................................................ 270

Abut the Author ............................................................. 307

4

Prologue

I am not a scholar in religion, nor am I specialized

in the Islamic doctrines. I am not a novelist or an

author. I do not claim any of these roles. I am just an

ordinary person sailing along the course of life with his

small family, in pursuit of a good life, security, truth

and Allah’s blessing. Like anyone else, life confronts

me with all of its might and complexities, as if meaning

to challenge me; yet I do not panic or retreat, but go

forward defending my survival, dignity and values.

My armor consists of patience, will and contemplation.

I find relief in what my humble understanding can

comprehend of the wonderful values, concepts, and

practices of Islam that are embedded in the Islamic

texts and embodied in our Islamic doctrines. At times I

have been thrilled by victory; at others, I have sipped

on the bitterness of defeat. I have occasionally

overexerted myself, and often felt powerless - but each

time I have felt weak, I have sensed the presence of the

divine hand extending towards me. Throughout all

this, I have wondered at the pressing mysteries and

dilemmas of life, existence and the universe. But

Prologue

5

although I these mysteries have challenged me, at some

point, I began tackling them one by one and integrating

the jigsaw pieces into the bigger, fascinating picture of

creation by the divine hand.

This novel is allegorical because the concepts and

techniques in it are real. I have tried and practiced

them myself, time after time, in situations even tougher

than those experienced by the protagonist of the novel.

These concepts and techniques have enabled me to

enjoy happiness and peace of mind in a life in which, it

seems, the stronger you prove yourself to be, the

rougher and harsher it becomes.

The questions that have disturbed me about life and

existence are many. I am certain they disturb many

others, too; but like many things in life, it is often easier

for us just to avoid them. Since my childhood, I have

chosen to confront these questions and not to believe in

anything just because I am told to do so. When I

believed in Allah and recognized his beauty and might

– to as great an extent as my limited mind would allow

- I realized how massive the secrets and facts of the

universe really are.

1- Does God (Allah) really exist, or is He merely

fiction? Why must there be a creator? Why can’t

the creator have a creator? Can there be a co-

creator? How do we know that Allah is generous

Prologue

6

and honest in his promises to us? How do we

know that He has all the attributes of perfection as

described by Him? What is Allah? Will we be able,

one day, to see Him?

2- Does Allah really love us and have mercy on us?

Why, then, did He create ailments and diseases?

Why does He allow people to starve and die of

sickness? Why did He create criminals, germs and

beasts? Why did He make some of us smarter and

wealthier while others are poorer, less healthy or

less smart? Why did He not create us directly in the

heavens instead of on Earth where we suffer

torments, err and then are subject to His wrath?

3- Why did Allah create us? What does He want from

us in this life? Is it to reconstruct the Earth? But

then why? Does He need us to reconstruct the

Earth? Is the Earth more important than humans?

Why did He create the Earth in the first place? Did

He create us to worship Him? But then - why? He

does not need our worship; it does not add

anything to Him.

4- Is death indignity and torment? How could it not

be; we hear that those who die suffer the severest

of torment, right from the moment of their dying to

their compression in the grave, their torture in Al

Prologue

7

Barzakh (1) at the hands of ‘Monker and Nakeer’

(2) and their final destiny, hell. But do they not say

that death is the ascension to Allah? How, then,

could the ascension to Allah be torture and misery?

5- Why would He torture us in hell? What is it to Him

if we commit a few sins without meaning to

challenge His authority? We do it only out of our

whims of lust, weakness, and ignorance. Why are

we punished for temporary sins - like listening to

songs - for periods of time that are

disproportionate to our sins by a scale of millions?

Would we not consider it unjust to burn someone

who is cursing us? Why, then, do we consider the

burning of cursers in hell a just punishment? Is it

because it came from Allah? Is it because He is

stronger than us?

6- Why did Allah insist that we pray to Him and ask

Him about our needs? If He already knows our

desires and needs, and He can fulfill them, then

why would He make it a condition that we pray to

Him? Does He need the prayers?

1 „Al Barzakh‟ is an Arabic word meaning an “isthmus” or separation. In Islamic

literature, it denotes the intermediate life between this life and the final life. It

begins with death and ends with resurrection at the judgment day. (Translator)

2 Monker and Nakeer are the names, in Islamic literature, of the two angels who

undertake the initial questioning of people immediately after their death.

(Translator)

Prologue

8

7- Did Allah not create us to worship Him? Why,

then, did he allow Satan to seduce us, exploiting

our lusts and weaknesses and leading to misery in

the afterlife? Why did Allah answer the request of

Satan to live long enough to seduce us? Is it

because Satan provoked Him, highly exalted be He

above this? Or is it that Allah hates us? Is this not a

great injustice? Is this not contradicting the

purpose of creation to begin with?

This novel attempts to deal with all these questions

and many more in a manner that is simple yet relatable

to day-to-day life. I have tried to make the allegory

palatable to the tastes of the general public and to

human instinct. I have certainly attempted to abide by

the religious texts as well as to take into account the life

situation in which we find ourselves, and hope that this

will make the narrative vibrant and resonant with

happiness.

9

Chapter I

Lost

Lost

10

July 1996 Muttrah, Sultanate of Oman

With the grief in my heart gripping my chest and

seizing my entire being, my feet could barely carry me.

I was frustrated like never before; my feelings painted

everything around me in dark colors. The skies above

me roared with violence; dark clouds overshadowed

the sun with gloom and sorrow; rain poured in heavily.

I was walking on the seaside street known as the

Corniche, heading to no particular destination. My

burning hot tears mingled with the cold raindrops. My

body shivered with chills in the cold air - or perhaps

this was my sense of helplessness.

A reel of bitter memories played slowly in my

mind, uprooting what small remnants of peace

remained inside. Questions stormed around me,

casting me into hellish doubt.

‚Why me?‛ I wondered. ‚Why does fate insist on

fighting me? I don’t ask for much. Why should I be

deprived of the little that everyone else has? I work

harder than others. Why?‛

I lived a poor life, yet never complained. Instead, I

studied hard and made up for my poverty with

excellence at school. Father always told me that our

poverty was a blessing from Allah, as it made us push

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11

ourselves to excel and be rewarded in the afterlife. The

rich, on the other hand, have no such motivation.

Where are you, Father? I need you so much. I miss

you so much. Why did you leave me? With whom have

you left me? This is my fate. How horrible it is for

moments of peace and happiness to be turned to

disasters! How harsh it is! Woe to it. I do not want to be

an unbeliever, but I cannot take it anymore. Why, God?

Why?

My Father told me you love us, that you created us

to make us happy and that you reward those who

thank you with good and abundance. Why, then, make

me miserable when you know that I love you? I was

regular with my prayers. I prayed with all my heart. I

trusted you without limits. You were good with me

and kept on telling me that you would support me. I

never forgot your support of me, through all the

hardships in my life. So why give up on me now? What

did I do to deserve this punishment? You know well

that I do not disobey you on purpose. Could it be that

you are angry at me because I had moments of

weakness and listened to songs in private? I swear to

you I did not do it in disregard of you, but only

because of my frail will, and I repented every time. Is it

possible that you are punishing me for my

disobedience? But you are not like that. You love us

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12

and know how weak we are; that’s what my Father

always told me. Was he wrong? O God, what is

happening to me? I started to become an unbeliever. I

couldn’t go on thinking.

Father, where are you? I loved your passionate,

warm smile. I loved your inspiring, encouraging looks.

I loved your hand caressing my head with love. I loved

talking and playing with you. You were my friend, my

idol; you inspired my strength. Looking at you, I used

to find my bearings and feel like I owned the whole

world. I never imagined that one day, you would leave

me. I never thought I could survive without you. You

let me down, O Father. But no, you didn’t: you were

made to leave me, it was our fate. You left me alone

when I was in most need of you, in my high school

year, the pivotal year that would determine my future

and fate. Why, Father? Why?

Father, remember when one day you came home

with an elegant table as a gift for me for being accepted

to high school? It was the first piece of new furniture

we had at home, and it made everyone’s day. Despite

being small, it occupied a lot of space; but everyone

was happy, since it made studying easier for me in that

critical year. The goal was clear – I should attain first

place amongst all the students in Oman.

Lost

13

The home was put on special alert: everyone was

prepared to serve me and work together for my

comfort. My younger twin sisters, born after a long

time of waiting, stopped pestering me and understood

the situation despite their young age. My grandmother

never stopped praying for me. My mother made me

her sole and highest priority. Everything was so

wonderful for one month – a month of happiness like

never before. But a month was all it was.

Happy things don’t last. On that gloomy day, fate

declared war against me; a reckless driver took

everything from me. My father was dead, and all my

dreams with him. It was an unbearable pain and

sorrow: a feeling of loneliness mixed with fear. My

father was gone. I wished I had gone with him. My

whole life long, I had never wanted anything other

than him. I wished I could understand this cruel life.

Oh God, I am so lost.

Days went by slowly and bitterly, as if taking

delight in my torment, and increasing my sorrow and

depression. I was helpless and gave in. I lost my desire

for life and wished for death - the death that I hated for

taking away my father. It wasn’t getting used to the

pain that brought me back to life; instead, I mustered

the remnants of strength from the depths of my heart. I

had another nightmare to consider: my mother, who

Lost

14

was mourning my father silently. I had to take care of

my family, for whom I felt obliged to provide.

I went back to school after several weeks of absence

and tried to catch up on what I had missed. I had to

make my late father proud of me. Initially, that seemed

impossible. I started taking on the role of my father,

providing comfort for my family. Every now and then I

became trapped in deep sorrow and had lapses of

control over my feelings, but I was always able to

recompose myself - or more precisely speaking,

whatever pieces were left of me.

The days of my final exams came, and I was

prepared for them. The target was to get a grade that

would entitle me to enroll at Sultan Qaboos University

– the best university in the country, or at least the best

of the government technical colleges. I was all set, and

felt confident, even without my father beside me. I felt

that Allah would never let me down. My father had

told me time and again that Allah gives more of his

blessings to those who thank him. He told me Allah

never disappoints those who seek His help and believe

in Him. No doubt I was one of them. I prayed, trusted

and loved Him. I loved Him even more than I loved

my own father. He was my God. He couldn’t let me

down, not when I had made such huge efforts and

showed such supreme will.

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15

I attended the exams one by one, and did well –

great, even - until the last one: math. I don’t know what

happened to me on that day. I dipped back into intense

grief and lost my grip; my eyes welled with tears, and I

couldn’t focus on the paper. I prayed to Allah to help

me calm down. I tried my best. Minutes ticked by

slowly until my time was up. I walked out not

knowing how I had done, but I kept my faith in God.

He surely knew that I was the only hope for my family

now that my father was gone. He knew that there was

no way I could provide for my small family unless I

got into college. He would never abandon me - if not

for my sake, and probably because I listened to songs

sometimes, then at least for the sake of my believing

and faithful family.

I wish I had not trusted Him. O God, forgive me for

saying this - but had I not raised my hopes, I would not

have exhausted myself in vain. I wish I knew why?

Why, God? I only needed a few more marks to get into

the college, just a few more. It was easy, O God, so why

didn’t you help me? I was asking but for a little. Why

did you do this to me? Why? I couldn’t understand

you. Why give up on me when I need you most and

when what I was asking was so easy for you? Did you

not create us? Are you not in charge of us? Are you not

the absolute almighty? Did you not say in the Quran,

‛Call upon Me, I will answer you?‛ Well, I called upon

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16

you so many times, so where was your answer? Do

you really love us? Did you hear me? Do you even

care? Will you help me? Are you really there, or are

you just an illusion in my mind? If you are there, how

should I know that you are capable of everything, that

you will live up to your word, and that you love us?

Indeed, if you are perfect, then why create us? Is it to

make us happy, as they keep saying? How could I

believe that when you abandoned me and didn’t help

me get the grade I needed to get into college, despite

my love for you since childhood and my faith and

prayers?

The rain became heavier and the skies got darker.

The thunder rumbled louder, roaring in anger at what I

was thinking. Were my thoughts that of the

unbeliever? Were you angry at me? I love you and

have no one but you. O God, if you leave me, I shall

perish. Please help me. I am lost and helpless.

My feet led me to Riyam Park, the place I used to

play soccer with my father. I laid down on the grass,

exhausted, and surrendered to fate. I closed my eyes

and fell into a deep sleep. I woke up to the sound of my

mother, weeping as she embraced me in horror.

‚Mom? What are you doing here in this weather?

You’ll get sick!‛

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17

‚Come on, son. Let’s go home.‛ And she burst into

tears.

I embraced my mother, holding her hand, and

walked with her towards our home. All I could think of

at that moment was her, my poor mother, who had a

lot more to worry about than me. She had to keep her

bearings for the sake of the family.

The road back from Riyam Park to our home, at Sur

Al Lawatia (3), was long and scary in the stormy

weather. I felt we might be blown away by the wind or

dragged down by the high tide. I felt even sorrier when

I saw my grandmother and two sisters waiting on the

doorstep, praying and crying in fear.

It was warm in the house and a few minutes later, I

had changed my clothes. I quickly checked on my

mother, flung myself over my cotton mattress, covered

myself with the blanket and fell back into deep sleep. I

woke up feeling feverish and hot: I was exhausted and

sick after the cold rain. But I felt better when I realized

that my mother was fine.

3 Sur Al Lawatia is a residential area near the Corniche street in Muttrah city,

Muscat. It was the stronghold of Al Lawatia tribe before they scattered across the

rest of the capital in the 1980s. It is still inhabited by some elderly people (around

60 houses of the total 240 houses in the area). It remains a rendezvous point for

many of the tribe‟s social and religious functions.

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18

I suppose my sickness was a sort of punishment for

my stupid behavior the day before, when I had dashed

outside with the feeling that I could outrun my destiny

and leave behind my mother and family. The real

punishment was not in my sickness, but in the fact that

my mother had to bring a doctor to the home to have a

look at me. This cost us money, and we had to buy the

medicines as well. At that point, I vowed never to lose

control of myself again. Losing control meant more

suffering for my family, and they had had enough of

that already.

# # # # #

Days went by and I fought the fever. Gradually, I

felt better and my head became clearer. One day I

woke up and found my mother sewing the ‘kumma’ (4)

to try to cover our increasing financial demands. I

thought of my family’s situation and of the available

options. My father’s 229-riyal (5) pension was barely

enough. Luckily, the installments for the car had been

taken over by the insurance company after his death,

and the rent for our small house in Sur Al Lawatia was

inexpensive - but even despite these things, his pension

4 Kumma is a hat made of fabric and is a local Omani custom. It takes around a

month to sew and is sold for around 100 USD.

5 Around 600 USD

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19

scarcely enabled us to eat, especially with the growing

cost of living.

I don’t know; maybe this was why Allah didn’t

help me to get into college. Maybe my purpose was to

work, to take some of the burden off my mother’s

shoulders and help provide for my sisters - but who

would hire a high school graduate? And for what

salary? Maybe I should look for a sales representative

post in one of the departmental stores, I thought.

‚Mom, I will go out looking for a job.‛

‚Good morning, sweetheart,‛ she said with a sweet,

warm smile. ‛Don’t worry about that right now. Allah

will figure things out for us, and you will complete

your college degree and become the best doctor in the

world.‛

A bitter smile mixed with sadness imprinted itself

on my face. It was the wish of the whole family that I

become a renowned doctor. But these were only

dreams. Fate hated and opposed me. I had no strength

to fight the circumstances. I had to be realistic and

relinquish those sweet dreams to the wealthy ones.

‚Mom, do you still trust in Allah after all that He

has done to us?‛ I asked.

‚I ask forgiveness of Allah. Dear son, please do not

say that. Allah has done only good to us,‛ she said.

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20

‚I wish I had your faith, Mom. How do you keep

your faith?‛

‚Sweetheart, your father did not die. He is only

waiting for us in the world of Al Barzakh. We shall

meet him there one day. It is a world of no pain, where

we are guests of Allah and He shall be generous to us.‛

‚If Allah is so generous, then why does He not be

generous right now? Why does He torture us in this

world?‛

This must have provoked my mother. Her voice

became louder. Adopting a decisive tone, she replied,

‚Allah is not torturing us. He is not unkind. Don’t ever

say that again. I can’t bear hearing this nonsense about

Allah. Sweetheart, listen well. Allah was able not to

create me, but He did, and He does not want anything

from me. He gave me you and your sisters, your

grandma, and your dad. When your dad went to

paradise, I knew there would be something awaiting

us, and that we would all go there and be together. But

for now and until we meet Allah, it is enough to be

happy with you. I love Allah because He loves us back

and bestows His graces on us, even if we do not know

how. Allah says in the Quran, “and it maybe that

you dislike a thing while it is good for you,

and it maybe that you love a thing while it is

evil for you, and Allah knows, while you do not

know.”

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21

The zealous answer of my mother and her defense

and trust of Allah were inspirational. Was it the faith of

the elderly? I wished I had it, but my mother was not

elderly; she was just sixteen years older than me. She

was in her mid-thirties. While it was true that she did

not complete a college degree, she remained well-read -

even if after my father had passed, she restricted her

reading to the Quran and prayers. Anyway, this was

one of the rare occasions on which I had seen her

become so intense.

‚I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to offend you,‛ I

apologized, tenderly kissing her blessed hand.

‚I’m sorry, sweetheart, for my reaction. Why don’t

you discuss this matter with your Uncle Issa? He was a

student in the religious school, long ago.‛ Her calm

tone had returned.

‚I’ll go to him right now. I need to talk to him about

a job, too,‛ I said.

She hesitated to allow me out, as I wasn’t fully

recovered, but she was also concerned about the bad

ideas I had about God, so she let me go. I changed my

clothes and set out immediately to my uncle’s office. I

wasn’t sure if he would be there or if he would have

time to see me, but I had to try. Our phone line had

been disconnected two months after my father’s death

for unpaid dues, so I couldn’t call him to set an

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22

appointment. Anyway, I was prepared to wait for

hours to see him if I had to. It just couldn’t wait.

My uncle was a wonderful person, full of passion

and good. He worked as a Human Resources Director

in one of the oil companies. He was educated and

smart. He conversed well with others and was a

religious person. His personality inspired feelings of

peace and comfort. He was the closest of my uncles to

me, perhaps because he was the youngest (he was two

years younger than my mother), or perhaps because of

the way he dealt with people.

# # # # #

Like any other summer day in the Arabian

Peninsula, it was hot and sunny. You wouldn’t believe

that it had been raining cats and dogs just a few days

beforehand. After fifteen minutes of walking, I was

knocking on the door of my uncle’s office. He was on

his way out. I apologized for coming without an

appointment, but he was happy to see me.

‚I can spare 10 minutes for a cup of tea while you

tell me the reason for this pleasant visit. Then I’ll leave

you for an hour, until the lunch break. We can go out

for lunch. What do you think?‛

‚That sounds great.‛

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23

‚I’ll put the tea on while you talk.‛

‚Uncle< I don’t even know how to start, but I have

a problem. Please hear me out and advise me, but don’t

be angry at me.‛

‚Sure. Go on.‛

‚You know all the problems we have been through

lately: my father died, we have financial issues and I

got a grade that was 1% less than what I needed to get

into college.‛

‚I know, nephew,‛ he said, in a low, sad tone.

‚Right now, I have to look for a job. I have to

shoulder some of my mother’s burden. I need you to

help me with this.‛

‚Sure, but tell me: don’t you want to finish your

college degree first?‛

‚Of course I do, but those dreams are not for the

poor ones. Fate hates me,‛ I said, calmly but sadly.

My eyes welled with tears. I had planned to hold

back my feelings of sadness, but I couldn’t. My uncle

got up from his chair, sat next to me and held my hand.

‚This is my second problem: I have lost faith in

Allah. I know this is blasphemy of a sort, God forbid,

but it is out of my hands, and I can’t think away the

doubt. I do believe in Allah and I am a Muslim, but I

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24

can’t reconcile in my mind that Allah is there and that

He loves us, is not unjust with us, and is omnipotent.‛ I

spat it all out.

‚You feel Allah abandoned you when your father

passed away and because you couldn’t get good

enough grades to get into college, despite your hard

work,‛ he said. He was trying to put things into

perspective.

‚We never stopped praying, but He did not help us.

He let me down. He let my whole family down, despite

the fact that we all love Him so much. If He were there,

or if He had the goodness of any ordinary human, He

wouldn’t have abandoned us after our faith and trust

in Him.‛

‚What if I proved to you the contrary: that your

prayers were answered and that you were prevented

from making the big mistake you would have made if

you had got the grades to enroll in college? And that

He did this knowing you would be happy and thankful

if He let you onto the wrong path, yet feel disavowed if

He acted in your best interest? Maybe this by itself is a

lesson to learn.‛

‚I don’t quite understand.‛

‚That’s because I haven’t explained it fully yet.

Listen, I have to leave now, but I’ll be back in an hour. I

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25

will explain to you how, when Allah didn’t allow you

to get the required grades for the scholarship, He

actually protected you and answered your prayers and

paved the way for you to complete college for a

brighter future.‛

‚That doesn’t make any sense. But anyway, you go

now and I will wait.‛

‚Feel at home here; nobody will disturb you. You

can pray over there when it’s time for noon prayer. Call

Auntie Safia, your mother’s neighbor, so she can tell

her that you will stay with me till Maghreb prayer.

And when you finish prayer, use this computer to

search the internet for ‚career path planning‛. See you

later!‛

‚Okay.‛

He left the office, but his words stayed with me and

were like a fine thread of light in my dark situation.

Was he right in what he said? Had I been hasty in my

judgment of Allah? ‚Forgive me, God. Are you angry

with me now? I love you despite what I say and feel. I

am lost. Please God, if you love me, then make me

understand and don’t leave me in my confusion. After

that, do whatever you want with me. I need you; will

you abandon me while I pray for you?‛

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26

Once more, my eyes welled with tears - only this

time, I let go. I found my hand extending towards my

uncle’s desk to grab the copy of the Quran that was

lying there. I opened it to a random page and read

inside. A deep chill struck me when I read the verse:

“…and (as for) those who strive hard for Us, We

will most certainly guide them in our ways;

and Allah is most surely with the doers of

good”. I couldn’t contain myself and started sobbing

loudly, but this time in gratitude and appreciation,

though I still not didn’t understand why.

I prayed and called our neighbor Safia. I was in no

mood to search the internet, so I laid down on the

comfy couch in the office and shut my eyes to rest.

I woke up when my uncle’s hand touched my

shoulder. ‚Seems you are still tired and ill. Want me to

take you home and postpone the lunch for later?‛

‚Not a chance, not after I’ve found hope. I’m fine -

and by the way, how is Tamer?‛ Tamer was his nine-

year-old son.

‚He mentions you a lot. He likes playing soccer

with you on the ‘Nintendo’ (6). By the way, I took the

rest of the day off so that we can enjoy ourselves like

the good old days.‛

6 An electronic game that was popular before the days of PlayStation.

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27

We left the office and got into his car. I was waiting

for him to start talking. After few minutes of silence, he

finally spoke.

‚Tell me, if you had passengers you wanted to take

from one place to another, would you use a luxury

BMW car or a minibus?‛

‚A BMW,‛ I answered.

‚And your answer is incorrect. If the number of

passengers is more than four, you will have to divide

them over two trips, and in this case a minibus would

be a lot better than the BMW. If, however, they are less

than four, then the BMW would be the best choice. Isn’t

that right?‛

‚Indeed it is. I didn’t think of the number of

passengers.‛

‚And you would have made the same mistake if

you were to be admitted to the Sultan Qaboos

University or to any other college. Allah protected you

and made you get a slightly lower grade that kept you

from this mistake. Perhaps the slightly lower grade

denotes his care for you and is his way of making you

wonder about the reason, as you indeed did.‛

‚I fail to see how my admission to the college

would have been a mistake, when I wanted to be in

college!‛

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‚Let’s say you had got into the college. In a few

months, your sisters will get into the school and your

living costs will rise. It is possible that your mother will

get tired of sewing kumma. You and your mother

absolutely refuse our help. Tell me how you would

have continued to attend college without enough

income for your family to live from day to day.‛

I pondered his words for a few moments. ‚So what

is the solution?‛

‚The minibus.‛

‚Meaning?‛

‚Meaning you work at a day job to add to your

family’s income and get some experience to help you

succeed in your career. In the evening you can study at

a private college, which will cost you part of your

salary.‛

‚Sounds reasonable.‛

‚But it is difficult to work and study at the same

time.‛

‚No doubt it is, but I am not worried about that. I

don’t know how I didn’t think of this solution.‛

‚Because we are used to doing what others do and

don’t plan for our lives individually. Anyway, if you

like this solution, then I have some career advice for

you. We’ll discuss that at home.‛

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I had a nice time at my uncle’s house, where we

enjoyed lunch in a cozy atmosphere and continued to

talk. We discussed my career targets. My plan would

involve working in a public relations job and studying

for a professional qualification in management

accounting, like the CME. This part of the plan was

expected to last for about a year, after which I would

look for a job in accounting with a bigger salary. At the

same time, I would start my college studies in the

evenings and pay for them using my own funds. If

things went as planned, in five years from now, I

would have a degree and five years’ experience, four of

which would be in accounting. I would also have an

international fellowship in management accounting

from the United States. As a result, I’d be far better off

than my colleagues who had gone to college right after

high school.

# # # # #

I felt very happy that night, curled up in my bed

and covered by a heavy blanket. It was a small room,

and the air conditioning unit was right in front of me.

My grandma and twin sisters were asleep; my mother,

as usual, was praying with devotion and crying

silently.

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I hadn’t felt that comfortable since the death of my

father. The last few weeks had been like being in a boat

in a thunderous storm, tossed by high surf. But now I

felt as if the storm had washed me up on a beautiful

island, an island that held an unimaginable treasure —

a solution to our financial problems, a bright future

and a faith I had almost lost in Allah.

The fact that I had been through this tempest

haunted me and muddied my happiness. I didn’t want

to suffer the same loss of faith again, so I agreed to see

Uncle Issa after the Friday prayer for a longer talk to

reexamine the foundations of my faith.

# # # # #

It was one of the hottest days of the summer. As we

walked to Uncle Issa’s luxurious car, I tried to arrange

my thoughts and questions in my mind. The car had

leather seats, and while this was a sign of luxury in

vehicles, it had the adverse effect of making them very

hot in sunny weather.

‚Sorry, I forgot to cover the windscreen.‛

‚No problem.‛

‚You seemed to accept the fact that the seat was

very hot. Why?‛

‚Isn’t it natural? The weather is very hot.‛

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‚What if it was a winter day? Would you have

thought the seat was very hot?‛

‚Of course not. The seat wouldn’t be hot in winter.‛

‚Why?‛

‚There is no reason for it to be hot. What is your

point?‛

‚Bear with me. Would you accept that fire is hot,

even in winter?‛

‚Yes, sure.‛

‚So what is the difference between the seat and the

fire with regards to being hot? Why would you accept

the fire being hot in winter, but not the seat?‛

‚Fire is fire, and can never be anything other than

hot, while the temperature of the seat depends on the

temperature of air around it.‛

‚Let me rephrase your statement. You believe that

heat cannot be separated from fire because heat is

inherent to fire, while other things can be separated

from heat and be hot or cold depending on the outside

temperature. Therefore, the temperature of these things

is contingent upon the outside temperature.‛

‚Yes, you could say so.‛

The streets became lighter as the heat mounted, and

it didn’t take us long to reach Kargeen restaurant at

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Madinat Qaboos. Uncle Issa invited me to dine with

him. He parked his car beside the restaurant, reclined

his seat and looked at me.

‚Okay, good. Note that even some degree of heat

can be attributed to the chair regardless of its

temperature, right?‛

‚True; the outside heat, as you expressed, is an

accidental factor. That much is clear, but how do we

distinguish between inherent and accidental

attributes?‛ I asked.

‚You said it in the beginning. If you can separate

the attribute from the object it is attributed to, then it is

accidental; otherwise, it is inherent. This separation

need not be external or physical; it can be mental also.

Let me ask you this: Is tall stature inherent or

accidental to man?‛

‚Obviously, it is accidental. Can you now tell me

what all of this has to do with our topic?‛

‚Don’t rush it, and tell me: what about the liquidity

in liquid water?‛

‚Inherent.‛

‚So you see; if the attribute is accidental, you would

naturally ask about the reason it is there, whereas if it

is inherent, you would not. If the paper is wet, you

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would ask why, but you need not ask why water is

wet; it would not be a smart question, would it?‛

‚Right.‛

‚So is existence an inherent feature of you or an

accidental one? Is your existence mentally separable

from you or not?‛

‚It is accidental, because there was a time I did not

exist as I am and there will be a time when I die.‛

‚Right, and what about the other things around

you? Is existence inherent in them or accidental to

them?’

‘By the same token, because they could have been

non-existent, existence is accidental to them.‛

‚Very well. If existence is accidental and not

inherent to them, they must be lacking existence at

their core, and therefore existence must have been

given to them. Isn’t this so? And this, in turn, means

there must be another being as a source for being.‛

I pondered his words for some time. ‚Yes, indeed.‛

‚This source of being is rich in existence and

existence is inherent to it and inseparable from it. You

can say it emanates existence, or let’s say it is The

Existence, which we call Allah.‛

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‚Uncle, this is a clear proof for the being of Allah,

but can I speak honestly?‛

‚Of course you can.‛

‚I acknowledge that this proves the presence of a

creator, but it doesn’t say anything about Him being

benevolent and omnipotent and kind to us, or that He

does not try to fool us or do injustice to us, or that He is

not incomplete.‛

‚Yes, it does. Didn’t you agree that existence is

accidental to all other beings? What criteria did we use

to decide if it was accidental or inherent?‛

‚Refresh my memory, please.‛

‚We said that if the attribute is mentally or

physically separable from the object it is attributed to,

then it is accidental to it; otherwise, it is inherent to it.‛

‚So why do you think existence is accidental to

these beings?‛

‚Because all of these things can be imagined

without really being there.‛

‚And that implies there is an aspect of deficiency to

their existence, because to imagine something is to

have a mental boundary for it, and if something has a

boundary, it has a deficiency beyond that limit. Do you

agree?‛

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I thought about it for some time. ‚Yes. I suppose it

does.‛

‚And therefore, the source of existence cannot be

imagined without really being there. It cannot be

imagined at all, or it would fall in the same group as

these contingent creatures.‛

‚Right.‛

‚This means it has no limits, for if it had limits, it

would have a boundary and we would be able to

imagine it in our minds. In other words, it has no limits

or boundaries in its existence. This also implies that it

is one simple, non-compound being with no parts or

separable attributes. Compound things can be

imagined by imagining their parts, and limited things

can be defined. Isn’t that how we define things - by

their limits and boundaries?‛

‚Oh my, it is so simple, yet so complicated.‛

‚This proves that Allah has attributes of completion

and perfect existence. It also proves that He is

incapable of any deficiency.‛

‚It seems clear, yet I need to spend some time

thinking it over .‛

‚Now think about this: what could be simple, one,

unlimited, and a source of existence? In other words,

existence emanates from it?‛

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‚Oh, my God,‛ I said loudly, ‚it is The Existence.

How many times have I heard that Allah is pure

existence - but I never understood it in this way.‛

‚Yes. That is right. As there is nothing out there but

existence, and there is no such thing as nothingness,

then all that is out there is existence, pure existence;

and this must be limitless existence, because what

could the boundary of existence be if there is nothing

else out there?‛

‚This is getting complicated.‛

‚I will stop at this point to let you contemplate at

length, but before that, I need to clarify one more point.

Pure existence is simple, not compound, and has no

parts, as I just mentioned. This means the attributes of

existence are nothing but existence itself. What I mean

is that there is no separability of the attribute and the

attributable. It is just one thing: the attribute and the

attributable.‛

‚This is really big.‛

Silence fell for few moments, then I said, ‚Now I

can relate to the words of Imam Ali in one of his

sermons: “Praise is due to Allah…. Whom the

height of intellectual courage cannot

appreciate, and the divings of understanding

cannot reach; He for whose description no

limit has been laid down, no eulogy exists…

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the foremost in religion is the

acknowledgement of Him, the perfection of

acknowledging Him is to testify Him, the

perfection of testifying Him is to believe in His

Oneness, the perfection of believing in His

Oneness is to regard Him Pure, and the

perfection of His purity is to deny Him

attributes, because every attribute is a proof

that it is different from that to which it is

attributed and everything to which something

is attributed is different from the attribute.

Thus whoever attaches attributes to Allah

recognizes His like…and who pointed at Him

admitted limitations for Him; and who

admitted limitations for Him numbered

Him…” ‛

Uncle Issa smiled in satisfaction. I also enjoyed

understanding. I felt a chill, as if a divine energy was

moving throughout my entire body and soul. I had

never felt this peaceful; it was a beautiful feeling. We

got out of the car, but said nothing. I was deep in my

thoughts, turning the new concepts over and over. I

was lost, but now I had more certainty. My uncle left

me alone in my silence. We settled at a table in the

restaurant.

‚Why don’t they teach us these wonderful things in

the mosque? Why do none of the scholars at the

mosque present this in their sermons?‛

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‚We shall think on that after we order our lunch.‛

‚I’m not familiar with this place. You do the

ordering.‛

By the time the food came, we were still silent. I

was digesting the new concepts. ‚Uncle. By this notion,

we can also prove monotheism, can’t we?‛

‚I agree, but you tell me how.‛

‚If there were other gods, then each would be

limited by the other, as the second would begin where

the first ends, and vice versa, and that would make

both of them limited, which would make their

existence accidental instead of inherent.‛

‚Excellent, you got it right.‛

‚But then, don’t we set the boundaries for Allah? I

mean, Allah can’t be wherever I am - no two things can

occupy the same place.‛

‚Our existence, as real as it is, is not the same as the

existence of Allah because that – as you implied –

would set limits to Allah and defeat this whole concept

of proof, won’t it?‛

I was trying to find an answer to the riddle. How

could our existence be real and at the same time not the

same as Allah’s existence? What did that mean?

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‚Let me make it easier for you. Do you know of

anywhere in the universe where there is absolutely

nothing else, meaning that Allah could be there?‛

‚What I know from physics in school is that there is

no such thing as absolute vacuum; there is always

something everywhere. Are you trying to say there is

no place for Allah to be?‛

‚That can’t be true, can it? In the Quran and

Hadeeth, you can find ample references to the fact that

there is no place free of Allah. “We are nearer to

him than his life-vein”, so how could Allah be less

near to man than man is to himself?‛

‚That’s right, I never thought about it before.‛

‚Although we and other things really exist, our

existence is merely an emanation for the divine

existence. This is much like light and heat being

emanations of the sun. Neither of them is the sun, nor

do they compete with the sun for space.‛

‚That reminds me of Imam Ali’s description of

Allah: “He is with everything but not in

physical nearness. He is different from

everything but not in physical separation” - but

I still can’t imagine how we are emanations of Allah

and yet not part of Him, and still have a real existence.‛

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‚You can’t. Because imagination requires fully

comprehending Him and we know that full

comprehension of Allah is not possible.‛

# # # # #

That evening, Uncle Issa dropped me home. I was

utterly thrilled by happiness as I walked home through

the narrow, intricate alleys of Sur Al Lawatia. I was

eager to see my mother and grandmother and to play

with my sisters. I felt I had been too busy with myself

for too long when they needed me. I had been selfish,

and it was time for me to make it up to them.

When I got home, I greeted everyone as if I had

come from a long and bitter trip away. I told my

mother about the discussion with Uncle Issa. My

mother listened attentively, smiling every now and

then. She felt happy for me. Grandma, however, was

frowning, and felt unhappy about the topics I had

discussed with my uncle.

I felt sleepless that night. I got up and sat on my

bed, mulling over Hadith quotes from the Prophet and

the Imams and the texts of prayers that related to the

concepts of Uncle Issa’s discussion. I felt like someone

who had returned to his beloved after a long time

away. Everyone else was asleep. I sneaked out of the

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bed, ablated (7) and started praying the night prayer. I

felt deep reverence of Allah throughout every part of

my being and every corner of my heart. There was

nothing that could express the strength of my feeling

towards Allah. I took the book of prayers, but this time,

I was browsing it with new ideas and concepts in my

mind. I was scarcely aware of the time passing until I

heard the call for dawn prayer (8). I prayed the dawn

prayer, went back to bed and slept deeply.

I don’t know how long I had been sleeping, but I

woke up with a part of Imam Hussain’s prayer in my

mind. It was part of his prayer on the day of Arafa (9):

“How can You be figured out through that

whose existence relies on You? Can anything

other than You hold a (kind of) manifestation

that You lack and thus it may act as an

appearance for You? When have You ever been

absent so that You may need something to

point to You? When have You ever been far-off

so that traces may lead to You?” I reflected on

the subject: when there is heat, we spontaneously and

without further thought know that there must be a self-

generating source for that heat, even before we

7 The Islamic procedure for washing parts of the body using water, typically in

preparation for formal prayers (Translator). 8 Al Fujr, or the dawn prayer, is the first of the five daily prayers offered by

practising Muslims (Translator). 9 The day of Arafa is the 9th day of the 12th month in the Arabic calendar. It is one

of the days of the pilgrimage of Muslims to Mecca (Translator).

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Salahhttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muslim

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discover it for ourselves. This is what this prayer tries

to highlight: that existence in itself, irrespective of the

various things that exist, is proof for an inherent source

of existence or ‚pure existence‛, which is God. As such,

we need no further proof of God’s existence. How

could we be so stupid as to demand such a thing? Later

on, I would find out that the proof I was talking about

is called the ‚proof of the righteous‛.

# # # # #

The weather was temperate that night and the sky,

as usual, was clear. Moonlight shone over the horizon.

It was beautiful, and I felt as calm as the waves of the

beach on Saih Al Maleh. I touched the soft, cold sand.

The sounds of the sea were inspiring, like divine

chanting coming out in clear whispers and revealing

things you didn’t know about yourself.

A year full of sadness, despair and frustration had

passed; I had suffered beyond description. I had lost

faith in everything around me. But now it was over,

with nothing left but bitter memories, as if it had never

happened. My father had died, and I could still feel the

loss stabbing my heart. But this ordeal had helped me

grow and mature. I felt as if I had grown up decades in

age. I had realized things I wouldn’t have otherwise.

My potential had expanded and my self-confidence

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was enhanced. I was not the small child I had been a

year ago; I wouldn’t have planned my future in this

wonderful way if I had had no problems. Before I

reached the truth of knowing Allah with certainty, my

suffering had made me doubt Him. What happened to

me was like being vaccinated with a weak virus that

gives you temporary flu, but long-lasting immunity.

This experience rooted my faith and confidence in

Allah. It made me love Him with every part of myself.

It allowed me to talk to him easily at every moment of

every day. It made me appreciate and thank Him for

all His graces and ask Him for help in tough times,

even if I could not see His answers to my prayers.

Could this be why Allah had made me suffer? Was this

why my father had died? Maybe - but then what had

been the fault committed by my father, two sisters,

mother and grandmother?

Why was I thinking of death as if it was indignation

and torture? But how could it not be so, when we hear

that those who die suffer the severest of agony? We

hear about the agony of dying and the compression of

the grave, the torture in Al Barzakh at the hands of

Monker and Nakeer and the final destiny of hell. How

can they say that death is ascension to Allah, when in

fact it is misery?

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But then, why do I assume that Allah is the reason

for my misery and the death of my father? Is it Allah

who moves things around us in the universe, or is it us

who does that? The driver who killed my father did

that because he was reckless, not because Allah asked

him to. This is why he deserves to be punished. But if it

is so, then why do we pray and ask things of Allah?

Who are we? Why does Allah care about us so

much? Who am I? Am I so important that Allah

watches me closely every moment of my life and

involves Himself in my interests? Does Allah do that

for all things? Why, then, He did not create us directly

in heaven instead of Earth, where we suffer day after

day and make mistakes for which we are punished?

Why does He punish us in hell? What is it to Him if

we commit a few sins with which we don’t mean to

challenge Him? We simply lose control due to our

bodily urges, and fall into these forbidden acts. The

time we spend commiting sins - like listening to songs -

is short, so why does He torture us for periods of time

that are longer by a scale of millions? We would say

that burning someone who curses us is a hideous act,

so how come Allah burns those who utter profanities?

Is it because He is stronger than us?

Why did Allah create us? What does He want us to

do in this life? I remember once asking my teacher of

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Islamic studies in school this question. His answer was

‚to construct and civilize the Earth‛, but then why?

Does God need us to do that for this planet? Is this

planet more important than us? Why did He create the

Earth in the first place? Another teacher said, ‚to

worship God.‛ Well, I can’t reject this answer; the

Quran stated it clearly in the verse “and I have not

created the jinn and the men except that they

should worship Me”, but I do not understand this

verse. Allah does not need our worship at all.

More and more questions stormed my mind, with

no answers on the horizon. In my earlier days, I had

liked riddles, but now I hated them. I felt restless in my

confusion. I was sure there were good answers for

these questions, because now I knew, as a general rule,

that Allah is wise and kind to us, and that He does not

act without very good reasons for whatever He does.

There must be many secrets to this universe and this

life. There must be wonderful things we don’t know

about. Maybe if we knew these things, our lives would

be much different. I knew how much my life had

changed when I learned new things about the way

Allah brings about events in my life. But then, how

would I get to know more such secrets? Must I get into

more difficulties in order to discover them? Was this

what they call learning by practising? God, help me

find the truth. I remembered the verse in the Quran

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that says “And (as for) those who strive hard for

Us, We will most certainly guide them in Our

ways; and Allah is most surely with the doers

of good.”

47

Chapter II

Tough Situations

Tough Situations

48

I continued my endeavor ardently, with a fiery will

inside me. What’s more, I was anxious of an unknown

future. I knew my path was not paved with gold, and

at times, I doubted if I could change my reality, but I

had nothing to lose. I dearly wished that I could excel

and make my father proud of me, wherever he was.

My first mission was to get a public relations officer

job with a reasonable salary (at least 250 Omani riyals

plus a car and fuel), preferably in a big firm. At the

same time, I aimed to prepare for the CMA certification

through distance learning with a US university.

With his wide network of contacts, Uncle Issa

managed to arrange a number of interviews in some

companies looking for a good PRO.

My first interview was on Wednesday at 1pm, at a

local firm that worked with the stock market and

business investments. It was located in Commercial

Street, Muttrah. I was apprehensive, as all my hopes

were tied to this job. I couldn’t go back to sleep after

dawn prayer. I was scared of disappointment and of

lost opportunities.

In the bag where I kept my clothes and other stuff,

there were only two dishdashas, and both of them

were dirtied. I picked the better of the two and asked

by mother to iron it for me. The iron was broken, so I

took it to my Aunt Safia’s house and she did it for me.

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49

I didn’t have money to put gas in my father’s car, so

I went to the Corniche to take public transport. It was

very hot, and I was drenched in sweat. It took longer

than I expected to find a minibus taxi to take me to Al

Wadi Al Kabir area, near the company.

By now, it was almost 1 pm, and I was running late.

O God, please help me - I need this job. The traffic was

heavy where I was going. It felt as if the clock was

ticking faster than usual, intent on adding to my

burden.

It was 1:19 pm when I got to the company’s block,

and I had to ask for their exact location. By the time I

finally arrived, it was almost 1:30. Someone was at the

door getting ready to leave. I asked him where to find

Mohammed Attiya, the director of the company’s

administrative affairs. Lo and behold, it was him. I was

panting and sweaty. Thanks to this and my stained

clothing, I looked like a homeless vagabond. I told the

man that I was the one he was supposed to interview.

He looked at me with disgust, admonished me for

being late and told me I was not suitable for the job.

Then he walked out.

I was struck by a kind of lightning. Humiliated, I

froze on the spot. My chest hurt with fury and blood

boiled in my arteries. I ran out of the place. Everything

was wrong. I was filled with despair and frustration.

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50

With no fare, I walked back five kilometers home in the

hot weather. I felt like smashing the windows of these

rich people’s fancy cars, but I restrained myself.

One hour in the simmering heat, and my anger

turned to depression and exhaustion. I arrived home

feeling utterly devastated. I couldn’t say a word. I

switched on the air conditioner and fell onto the

mattress in a curled fetal position. ‚I’m tired. I’m going

to lie down ‘til I die,‛ I told my mother. She kept

crying, which only added to my pain and anger.

‚Enough!‛ I shouted at her. ‚If you don’t stop

crying, I’ll run out and never come back!‛ It was the

first time I had raised my voice at my mother. She was

dumbfounded and scared, and moved backwards.

The demons were dancing around me, but a thin

thread kept me tied to Allah. I kept praying for His

help as I fell into a deep sleep. I woke up later, at night,

to hear the voice of Uncle Issa. ‚I am sorry, it is entirely

my fault,‛ he was saying softly.

The sleep had helped to calm me down and my

uncle’s presence soothed me. Indeed, I needed to see

him.

‚Uncle!‛

‚After your mother called me, I called Mohammed

Attiya, and I found out how things had gone. I

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51

apologized on your behalf for you being late and asked

him to give you another chance.‛

‚No, Uncle. I can’t work in that company after what

happened. It was my fault,‛ I said, raising myself up to

a seated position.

‚Ok, but there are many other places you can work.

It was not your fault, but mine. I’ll stay with you until

you calm down. I’m sorry.‛

‚Please Uncle, don’t apologize, you’ve done enough

for me.‛

‚Listen, my love, we both know you can’t send a

soldier to battle without sufficient preparation. In the

same way, you can’t go to interviews without having

prepared. You need good clothes and other accessories,

like sandals, a watch, a good kumma and some cash to

be able to use the car.‛

To that, I couldn’t respond. He knew we couldn’t

afford all that, and I could not accept any money from

him. I would never do that.

‚I borrowed some money for you from the youth

fund in the community. You can pay it back later,

when you get hired,‛ he said.

That sounded good. The youth fund was a

voluntary venture by some in the community to help

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52

young people like me get back on their feet, and I was

eligible for it.

‚Thank you, Uncle. I am up for that, but the loan

has to be in my name and you my guarantor.‛

‚Deal.‛

# # # # #

I was not skilled at job interviews, but with each

one I got better and better. Thanks to my good

command of English and my ability to write letters, I

had something of an edge in the interviews. It was not

long before I ended up with three job offers, the best of

which was from an English company, for a job as a

driver and a PRO. The company offered a salary of 450

riyals, including expenses for the car. It was good

enough for me. It allowed me enough spare time to

study in the office, and I also studied during the time I

spent waiting in the long queues of government

institutions to carry out the company’s administrative

tasks.

A comfortable and busy year passed by—our

financial situation improved, we paid all our family

debts and we moved to a bigger house in the same

neighborhood. The only challenge I had during this

year was my struggle with preparing for the American

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53

Management Accounting exam (CMA). It was next to

impossible and caused me deep frustration to begin

with, but with the gradual improvement of my English

skills and my hard work, I managed to progress. I

failed the examinations several times, but finally

passed all four modules. It was not just any success; it

was THE success for me. I wished my father had been

beside me at these moments so that he could have

shared in my happiness. Was he aware of my success ?

Was he proud of me? Or did my achievements make

no difference to him, in the world where he was now? I

missed him.

# # # # #

My next mission was a challenge of a different kind,

but was a reward for my success in the previous one: I

needed to find a job in accounting with a better salary

than my current one. At the same time, I had to enroll

for a graduate degree in business at one of the private

colleges during evenings.

One might say I was lucky, but the way I saw it was

that I was being cared for by Allah. The day after I

passed the exam, I went to see the regional manager of

my company. Over the last year, I had managed to

build a good rapport with everyone at the company

with whom I had come into contact, including this

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54

regional manager — several times, I had helped him

tend to his personal business.

Andro - his name - was bent under the desk as

usual, looking for a pen that had fallen on the floor,

and I waited until he had got up. Moments later, he

settled on his fine chair and peered at me above his

slim spectacles.

‚Mohammed, how can I help you?‛

‚I passed my CMA, sir.‛

‚You did? Congratulations, you earned it. So, what

next?‛

‚To find a job in accounting and complete a

graduate degree in business.‛

‚Obviously you have planned your career well.

Would you like to move to our accounting

department?‛

That was indeed surprising. I was not used to

things going my way so easily. I immediately agreed.

‚Good, then you must find us an excellent PRO to

replace you, and once you’ve done this, you can make

the move. Will two months suffice to get it done?‛ he

smiled, encouragingly.

‚One month will do. I promise the new PRO will be

excellent.‛

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55

‚Fantastic. Take care!‛

‚Thank you, sir.‛

It wasn’t so hard to find a replacement PRO; our

company paid good salaries, and during my work, I

had come to know several talented PROs.

# # # # #

The job took the best part of my time and effort — I

had to work nights and weekends to get things done,

particularly at the end of the month, but this did not

stop me enrolling in evening classes at the College of

Commerce. I returned home exhausted every night,

dragging my feet towards the table to eat my mother’s

delicious dinner, savor a cup of tea and spend some

time with my family. It was my time out from this busy

world.

Despite my fatigue, I felt very enthused when I saw

my mother sitting and knitting a beautiful kumma for

me.

As the days passed, my responsibilities and

burdens increased. I slept only four hours each night. I

had perpetual headaches and I used painkillers all the

time. My body felt like it weighed a ton, and I was

always heavy-eyed, especially while driving. Finally,

my performance at work and in my studies

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56

plummeted, and my mistakes increased. I suffered

nervousness and stress, and if it was not for the twenty

minutes of solitude I made sure I had every night, I

might have had a nervous breakdown.

I had no other choice. I had to continue until I could

go on no longer. I kept telling myself that the years

would soon pass; I would graduate and enjoy a

comfortable life. I was always praying to Allah to help

and I asked my mother to pray for me, but deep down,

I doubted there was any way out of my dilemma

without a miracle from Allah.

One day, while I was praying in the evening, a

strange idea flashed through my mind. I remembered

faking sickness in my early days of school in order to

get a day or two off. I had to convince my parents in

order to make it work, so I first convinced myself that I

was not feeling well, and then guess what? I made

myself sick enough to at least convince my mother.

And it worked the other way round as well: Once it

was safe enough, I reversed the process to be able to

play outside with other kids in the neighborhood.

Now, I thought that maybe if I talked myself into

feeling good and rested enough with only four hours of

sleep, I would do well as a result. It was a funny idea,

but I tried it anyway. The results were spectacularly

prompt. I felt much better and my performance was

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57

enhanced, though I still had trouble driving for long

distances.

I was thrilled at this achievement - not only because

my work and study improved, but also because I

enjoyed life more. I felt this was Allah’s answer to my

prayers. He had made me recognize my true potential

and harvest it. This auto-suggestion helped me get rid

of insomnia, and I also used it to enhance other

potentials I hadn’t yet fulfilled.

# # # # #

The prayer room at the college was small and

deserted. Few people used it, and the lighting was dim.

I felt uncomfortable in the beginning, but over time I

got used to it and felt comfortable in it. I felt more

reverence in my prayer without attracting any

unwanted attention.

On one occasion, however, I was praying in the

evening and pleading for the will to stop listening to

songs when one of my colleagues entered the prayer

room. I immediately wiped my tears away. I was

anxious that he might have seen me crying, perhaps

because it was unusual for people to cry while they

pray, or perhaps because I was scared to be thought of

as a zealot and thus to become the object of my

classmates’ cynicism. I was already seen as ‚different‛

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58

because I did not mingle with or shake hands with

women, and because I refused to listen to songs. Well,

at least in the presence of others; I did so in my private

moments. But I had been caught, and in no time at all,

the other students started making fun of my adherence

to religious doctrines. They did so in a very improper

way. The blood simmered in my veins, but I managed

to remain composed in appearance. I felt like

responding to them harshly, but I couldn’t. I had never

lashed out harshly at anyone in my life. I gripped the

chair beside me hard and wanted to break it over their

heads. I might have given into the desire, had it not

been for me remembering the patience of the Prophet

in response to some people’s intensive malice. I

decided to follow the Prophet’s example.

I calmed down. I put on a confident smile and felt a

chill as I reflected on a verse of the Quran: “And not

equal are the good deed and the bad. Repel

[evil] by that [deed] which is better; and

thereupon the one whom between you and him

is enmity [will become] as though he was a

devoted friend (34) But none is granted it

except those who are patient, and none is

granted it except one having a great portion

[of good] (35).” This made me feel peaceful and calm.

I decided to hear them out and try to understand the

way they think. I noted that despite their cynical

commentary, some of their words demonstrated

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59

respect for me and my adherence to religion. I think

they were simply not used to the way I saw things.

It would have been forgotten, but Amer, the one

who had seen me crying in the prayer room, would not

let it go. He was not wicked. He had been very

religious in the past, and we had previously spent long

hours on the Corniche discussing various religious and

social issues. We were mature for our ages. But he was

deeply shocked when his ‚religious‛ father left his

family and his mother got cancer. He lost his faith in

Allah and turned 360 degrees. His good financial

status, sharp mind, handsome looks and absence of

parental supervision aided this transition.

‚Mohammed, since you read so much about

religion, maybe you can help me. I have some

questions about these doctrines, and I can’t figure out

the answers by myself.‛ The challenging tone was

obvious in his words. I knew his questions were meant

to embarrass me, but I accepted the challenge. I looked

at him with a smile.

‚I am simply someone who is trying to learn. I only

know a little, but please go ahead and ask. If I don’t

know the answer, I will ask and find it out for you,‛ I

replied, in a strong and confident voice.

‚The question that puzzles me is that if Allah loves

us and is merciful, then why did He create ailments

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60

and diseases? Why does He let people starve and die of

diseases? Why did He create criminals and germs and

monsters? Why did He make some of us smart, rich

and healthy while others are poor, sick and dumb?‛

Amer shot his questions at me in rapid succession, and

it caused an uneasy feeling amongst the rest of the

guys. These were taboo issues in our common culture,

and I did not have a detailed and satisfying answer.

However, I could not afford to let them go unanswered

completely.

‚We don’t know many things about this universe.

Allah says, “And mankind have not been given

of knowledge except a little” - what we don’t

doubt is that Allah is omnipotent and omniscient. He

loves us and is merciful on us. Our minds can’t

comprehend his wisdom regarding some of the issues

we face, including those questions you asked. That

does not mean He does not love us. He said in the

Quran, “Indeed Allah is, to the people, Kind

and Merciful.” ‛

‚But

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61

you to do things you didn’t like. He watched you

getting beaten up over and over again in the practice.

Well, do you still think he didn’t love you? Or was it

that he loved you and wanted to make you strong?

You couldn’t have realized that at that time.‛

‚That does not answer my question,‛ Amer said,

but before he could go on, Salim, another guy,

interjected:

‚Honestly, Amer, your question is improper. We

were just kidding, and you made it serious. It was

improper to second guess Allah’s wisdom. Mohammed

is trying to answer you and you don’t want to listen.‛

‚No, Salim, I didn’t mean to second guess Allah’s

love for us.‛

"Yes, you did. Anyway, let’s drop it. If you have

any further questions, go to the scholars and they will

answer you, but don’t just throw them at another

student.‛

The debate continued amongst a group of them, but

I was done with it. I thanked Allah for inspiring my

answer. I had not been prepared for the debate.

Honestly, what I said, though partially true, was

evading the real answer. Why did Allah create evils?

Why is there so much discrepancy in the distribution of

wealth between people? Puzzling questions with no

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62

easy answer. The example of Amer’s father was not

sufficient. Amer’s father could not achieve his

objectives without forcing his son to train in combat,

but Allah does not need means to achieve what He

wants. Allah said, “His command is only when He

intends a thing that He says to it, "Be," and it

is.”

I don’t understand why Allah didn’t create us in

heaven directly instead of creating us on Earth and

letting us suffer so much and commit sins that lead us

to hell.

They say that Allah created Prophet Adam in

heaven, but when he ate of the forbidden tree, Allah

took him down to Earth as a sort of punishment. Why

did Allah create that tree? Why did He make it

accessible to Adam? Why didn’t He stop him from

doing wrong? Why did He allow Satan to fool Prophet

Adam? If Adam deserved that punishment, then what

is the fault that causes us to remain on Earth?

These questions buzzed in my head with no

reprieve. No doubt that Allah was wise and merciful,

but I didn’t know the answers to these riddles, and my

heart was telling me there were deep secrets behind

them.

# # # # #

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63

In the lecture hall, just before the lecture in

marketing, a hot debate was still raging between Amer

and Salim. Other students had gathered around. Their

voices were loud and the scene was conspicuous. It

was unusual to see such an exchange. The lecturer

entered the room and everyone took their seats;

everyone except our group, which carried on

uninterrupted. The lecturer asked us to be seated, then

listened to a brief account of what was going on. He

proposed to make this discussion a formal one as part

of the class activities. Some people tried to object, for

this was a specialized issue and required a religious

scholar, but the lecturer was persuasive and the vote

was in favor of the debate. It was scheduled one month

from now so that each side could prepare effectively.

Most of the members of my team - and ironically,

most of the members of the other team, led by Amer -

were confident of my ability to prevail and reveal the

truth. I did not share in this confidence. It was no

longer a matter of a few questions in my mind: The

faith of dozens of students depended on my ability to

come up with satisfactory answers for Amer’s

questions and many more unforeseen ones. I knew

Allah would not abandon me, but I had no idea where

and how I could get my answers. If Uncle Issa had

been there, I would have sought his help, but he was

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64

on a trip to Germany for treatment, and he would not

be back for some time. I went to some religious

scholars, but I was shocked to find that none of these

had any better answer than what I had already given

Amer that day. It was no good. If I probed them for

deeper answers, their response was to get upset and

warn me against delving into these issues. But I could

not take any of their warnings seriously. I persisted in

my search, particularly in the face of this new challenge

of public debate and a fierce opponent in the form of

Amer.

The days passed by quickly, and the date of debate

drew near. My uncle was only a few days out of

surgery, and I felt I shouldn’t call him for such matters,

but the stakes were high. I picked up the phone and

dialed the number. His voice was weak. I asked how he

was doing, and he spoke heavily. I relayed the short

version of what had happened and asked for his help.

He told me that he did not have full answers for these

questions and advised me to go to his house and check

his library for a book titled The Divine Justice by

Sheikh Murtadha Mutahari.

I spent days reading the book, especially the second

chapter, which was entitled ‚The Solution‛. I read it

over and over again, but didn’t feel I understood it

properly.

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65

The day of the debate dawned. I was very anxious.

The answer was in the book in front of me, but I

couldn’t digest it in a way that would allow me to

present it easily. I thought of all those who had waited

to get the answers and would be disappointed. I dozed

after the dawn prayer with tearful eyes. I prayed from

the depths of my heart and asked Him, for the sake of

the Prophet and his household, to help me. I knew He

could inspire me with the answer.

I woke up - and the answer was clear in my mind.

O God, it was so simple. I didn’t know why I hadn’t

seen it before. I thanked Allah and hopped out of bed,

grabbed the book and skimmed the second chapter

once more. This time, I understood.

# # # # #

That evening, the lecture hall looked like a busy

market. Everyone had made sure to attend and see this

long-awaited debate. Some of them patted my shoulder

on their way to their seats and uttered words of

encouragement and support. I was too preoccupied to

pay attention to that. My forehead sweated and my

hands shook. It was supposed to be a simple discussion

between two groups, but the issue had become a

personal conflict between me and Amer. My team

members gathered around me.

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66

The supervisor asked for Amer to start his motion

and then for me to give my reply. I asked the

supervisor if I could have longer to respond, as the

issue I was to explain was intricate and required some

introduction. He approved no longer than fifteen

minutes.

‚I used to feel that this was a very complex issue

indeed,‛ I said, to break the ice ‚But then, when I

realized the answer, I found it easy and clear. I want to

start by asking Amer a question, if I may.‛

‚Go ahead,‛ the supervisor said, and Amer

approved too.

‚Thank you. You wonder why Allah gave you the

facial features you have right now, don’t you?‛

‚You could say that as an example, yes.‛

‚If your father took you to a plastic surgeon and

had you change the way you look, would you still

wonder why Allah gave you this new look?‛

‚No, but then I would ask my father and the

surgeon why they gave me that new look.‛

‚Exactly!‛ My agreement surprised Amer. He had

expected a different answer.

‚Are you implying that we, humans, created these

evils, not Allah? Because then I would ask why Allah

created evils in the first place.‛

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67

‚Don’t rush me. Let me finish my answer, and then

you can object as you like,‛ I said, with all the

confidence I could muster. ‚I need to clarify two issues

before I give the answer. First, whatever potential and

attributes we may have - like intelligence, strength,

height, and skin color - are the same as our existence.

They are nothing outside our own existence. Our

existence is nothing but the sum of our potential and

attributes. The same is true for everything else, like the

rocks, oceans, stars, jellyfish and all other creatures.

Their existence is the sum of their potential and

attributes. Your facial features, for example, are

nothing but the limits and attributes of the face. The

body is nothing the spatial extension, volume, mass

and all the other physical attributes it has. Does anyone

disagree so far?‛ I looked around the audience, but no

one spoke a word. What I was saying seemed so true.

The supervisor gestured to me to go on.

‚The attributes and potential of each being in this

universe interacts with the attributes and potential of

all the other beings around it, and this makes up the

motion of the universe. Take, for example, the

interaction of the nature of tissue paper with the nature

of liquid water. The tissue paper gets wet if falls into

the water. Another example is our human physical

nature, which interacts with the nature of Earth. We

can walk, run, and jump, but we can’t fly like birds or

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68

breathe in water like fish or crawl like reptiles, because

we have different natures.‛

‚Mohammed.‛ The supervisor interrupted me.

‚Would you explain this issue further for the

audience?‛

‚Sure, professor. What I am saying is that all

creatures and beings with their vast diversity,

including humans, animals, and even angels and

demons, interact with each other by means of whatever

attributes and pote