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Please note that I moved the ending of the previous chapter to this chapter, and made a few small changes.

* * *

An Incredibly Decent Man

Most nights, once the caravan was secured for the night, I found Weili, and we sat and talked. But sometimes she could not be found. She had her moods, and some nights a kind of darkness would come over her, when all she could see was what she had lost, and what she didn’t have. On such nights she wanted to be alone. She’d sleep in one of the cargo wagons, or even lay her bedroll in the trees far from camp. I’d told her that the latter was unsafe, but she persisted.

On such nights I might find Ahmed’s campfire. There was always a circle of brothers sitting with him as he talked about the meaning of a Quranic surah, or told the life story of one of the sahabah. The number of his followers had grown steadily, and some nights there were fifty men sitting around his fire. Many of the guards were Hui Muslims from non-practicing families, with little knowledge of Islam, who had never attended any Islamic services beyond Eid prayers or the occasional janazah when a relative died. Now, however, many were praying regularly, and memorizing the Quran with Ahmed.

It wasn’t just his knowledge, or the stories he told. Ahmed was a fortyish, compact man of medium height who carried himself with a quiet dignity. I was an observer of people, and I’d seen many things. When a man was overcome with depression at being so far from his family, and sat alone in the darkness, feeling as if no one in the world cared, Ahmed would show up to sit with him and put a hand on his shoulder. When a mule was overloaded and struggling, Ahmed would whisper a word to Sergeant Karim, who would redistribute the load.

Once, when we passed through a town near Samarkand, I followed Ahmed from a distance as he rode off alone. He went to the local market and spent what must have been a month’s salary to buy dozens of pairs of shoes, which he distributed to barefoot children who had likely never owned such a thing. Their smiles and squeals of delight touched me, and I almost cried. Ahmed never told anyone in the caravan about that or his other acts of charity, and I never mentioned it either. But people knew what an incredibly decent man he was, and they loved him.

Other nights I might find Longwei, who had his own group of fans who enjoyed his raucous tall tales.

Yet other nights I practiced Five Animals, and that drew a crowd of its own. I ran through my empty hand forms, then spear and finally the dao. Many of my watchers had never seen a classically trained martial artist, and even if they had, likely not one of my caliber. That sounds vain, but it’s true. People gasped and applauded. Occasionally some shouted derisive comments:

“You’re very good at massacring imaginary opponents, Bridge Killer!”

“I think you missed the jinn on your right, farm boy!”

Yet I knew that behind their derision was envy, for they had seen how I fought. Sergeant Karim sometimes paid bonuses to guards who fought especially well in defense of the caravan, and three times I had received such bonuses. So no matter the comments, I walked away from my practice sessions with my head high – maybe too high.

Orange Bellbird

One night, however, I was tired. My horse Belly had been giving me a hard time all day, balking at bridges, shying away from odd-shaped sticks or stones, and at times simply stopping for no discernible reason. Weili could not be found, I was not in the mood for Longwei’s travel tales, and while I always enjoyed Ahmed’s lectures, on that night I wasn’t in the mood. So I made camp, read my medical textbook for a while, then doused the fire and prepared to sleep.

I had just closed my eyes when a voice I knew well said, “Have you considered my poem?”

I opened my eyes and looked up at Longwei’s tall, powerful form standing over me, his pot belly bulging over his belt.

“Which one?”

He regarded me solemnly. “Never mind the poem. In the forests of Southeast Asia there is a bird called an orange bellbird. It’s small, but sings more beautifully than any lute or harp. When you hear it, you are reminded of Allah’s angels. You feel that the world is beautiful, and that everything is possible. Yet if you catch it and cage it, you will be disappointed, for it will sit silently, and will soon die. You can never own an orange bellbird. You can only appreciate it from a distance.”

I made a helpless gesture. “Are we talking about flowers or birds?”

Longwei pursed his lips. “Neither.” He walked away, and I fell asleep and dreamed that I fell into a hole and found myself in a cave, and when I emerged I was on the other side of a mountain range from the caravan, and could not find my way back.

Safe Harbor

For two weeks we passed through unrelenting mountains. We traveled roads that hugged the sides of cliffs, where a single wrong step would send a man to his death. Strangely, my horse Belly, who was normally so willful and independent minded, took every step carefully, and obeyed my every command.

We crossed mountain passes where we layered our clothing and put blankets on the animals. We shivered through the nights, even with fires burning. Anyone who was not on guard duty slept inside the covered wagons, crammed in among the goods we transported.

One particularly cold night I found a group of guards huddled around a blazing fire, listening to Memdooh. He was a young man in his early twenties, thin with a scraggly beard. A decent fighter, but not spectacular. He engaged in a unique art form in which he created poetry that he made up on the fly. It was always boastful and sometimes funny. Sometimes I found him annoying, but one night I was passing his campfire, and the applause from the watchers drew me in, so I paused to listen. It was a long, arrogant rhyme about his fighting ability, which I did not care for. But one stanza made me smile:

I ride from a northern land
curved sword in my hand.
I’m young but I’m hard
for I’m a caravan guard!

I remembered those lines. Later I turned them into a little song that I would sing to myself as I rode.

A few days later we crossed a pass and in the distance saw a wide valley filled with green orchards and blue streams. Far in the distance was a city. My heart soared to see it, and my grin nearly split my face.

Sergeant Karim called everyone together.

“This region,” he announced, “is part of the Khanate of Bukhara, but the city you see ahead is a Tajik city called Mazar, and it is a safe harbor for Five Stars. We have a relationship with them. We bring them goods from other lands, we buy their glassware and woodworks, and they host us. They are friends.

“Tomorrow is Yawm Arafah. I know many of you will be fasting. We will roll on tonight until we reach the walls of Mazar, and there we will camp. Though you may be fasting, there is a lot of work to be done. We will remain in Mazar for the three days of Eid ul-Adha, and you will have the time off to relax and enjoy as the merchants conduct their trade.”

A loud cheer went up at this.

“After Mazar,” Karim continued, “we will enter Afghanistan. It is a wild, lawless land, and you will have to be on guard. I will need you at your best. After Afghanistan, we will be in Persia.”

Again the audience applauded.

“Back to your stations,” Karim concluded. “Mazar awaits. Oh, and by the way -” He looked around for Weili. “Mazar always has a huge archery competition on Eid.”

We traveled all night long, and shortly before dawn pitched camp a short distance outside the walls of Mazar. We prayed Fajr, and then nearly all of us – with the exception of a handful of guards – slept the sleep of the dead.

Yawm Arafah

The following day proved that a stationary caravan was no idle caravan. If anything, there was more work than usual. Nearly all the Hui guards were fasting, largely due to Ahmed’s influence.

Wagons that had groaned and rattled over thousands of miles were finally inspected properly. Wheels were removed, axles cleaned and greased, loose iron bands hammered back into place, cracked planks replaced, ropes re-tied, canvas repaired, and inventories checked against the merchants’ ledgers.

The horses required even more attention. Their hooves were cleaned and trimmed. Shoes were replaced where necessary. Harnesses were mended, saddles repaired, manes combed free of burrs and tangled hair. A few animals had rubbed sores beneath their tack, requiring medicine and several days’ rest. Others were bathed in the nearby river until their coats shone once again.

We did all this while fasting. There we were, in sight of the walls of a safe and friendly city, and we spent the entire day working on empty stomachs. By the end of the day my stomach ached with a deep hunger of a kind that I had not felt since I was a child living alone on the farm while my father was in prison. But I knew that it was ‘ibadah, and that the hunger was its own kind of barakah. I wasn’t hungry because I’d been abandoned and forgotten, but because I had chosen to make a sacrifice in service to Allah. That made all the difference.

As a result, neither I nor anyone else complained about the work. We were too immersed in the spiritual state of the fast, and the introspective thoughts that came with such a state.

As the sun dipped below the horizon that day, Ahmed called us together. A large group of townspeople had come out to greet us, bringing with them dates, roasted mutton, fresh bread and yogurt. We broke our fast with them, and I felt content. Only then did I understand Sergeant Karim’s strategy. He had also somehow managed to have an entire caravan repaired from axle to harness without anyone complaining very much. I suspected he had planned it that way from the beginning.

As we ate, Weili peppered the townspeople with questions about tomorrow’s archery competition. All these peoples of Central Asia spoke some variation of Turkic – so Longwei said – and many of us guards had picked up the common words. So some level of communication was possible.

Every time Weili asked about the competition, however, the locals slid their eyes over her recurve bow, smiled, and shook their heads. Weili gave me a puzzled glance, and I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe they don’t let women compete?” I offered.

“I don’t think that’s it. It’s my bow they’re looking at, not me.”

Salat Al-Eid

The following morning, before sunrise, the town came alive. Streams of people flowed toward the great field where Salat Al-Eid would be held. This field was in fact outside the city walls, and within a long arrow shot of our caravan.

Families walked together carrying prayer rugs beneath their arms. Children skipped ahead in new clothes, and old men embraced.

I had never seen so many Muslims gathered in one place.  Nor had I ever seen such beautiful clothing.

The men wore embroidered robes in deep blues, greens and reds, with woven belts and elaborately wrapped turbans. The women seemed to have gathered every color Allah had placed in the world. Flowing dresses shimmered with intricate embroidery, and silver jewelry caught the morning sun.

The people themselves seemed remarkably handsome, and I found myself wondering whether the mountain air or the clear water somehow made them that way.

“Don’t stare at the women,” Ahmed murmured beside me.

“I wasn’t,” I said indignantly.

“You were.”

“I was observing the people.”

I noticed a boy no older than twelve weaving quietly through the crowd. His eyes never lifted higher than the waists of the worshippers around him. I watched him slip two fingers toward the purse hanging from an elderly man’s belt.

I reached out and caught his wrist. He froze.

I looked him in the eye. “Not today, kid.”

His face turned crimson. After a moment he nodded sheepishly, and I released him. Without another word he disappeared into the crowd.

The prayer itself was unlike anything I had experienced before. Row after row stretched across the field until they seemed almost to merge with the horizon. Ahmed stood somewhere among the worshippers, yet from where I stood I could no longer pick him out.

The imam delivered the khutbah in the local language. I understood very little beyond the occasional Arabic verse from the Qur’an. It was something about the Muhajireen and the Ansar. Something about the generosity of the Ansar? I wasn’t sure. I wondered if it might be about us, the caravan. Were we the Muhajireen, and the locals the Ansar?

Thousands of voices answered the takbirs together. Thousands made ruku’ and sajdah. I was reminded that I belonged to an ummah larger than any city or nation.

After the prayer workers immediately began setting up in the same field for the archery competition. Meanwhile, people embraced one another. Children compared sweets and toys. Merchants hurried to construct and open stalls that offered grilled meat, fresh bread and sweet pastries drifted through the air.

I purchased two skewers of roasted lamb wrapped in warm flatbread, along with a small paper cone of honey-coated almonds. I thought about the last Eid I had spent with my uncle, aunt and cousin, and something suddenly occurred to me. Excited, I went looking for Weili.

A Realization

I eventually found her sitting alone beneath a broad tree at the edge of the field, watching families celebrate in the distance.

“There you are,” I said, dropping down beside her. She and I had grown very close by this point. We spent a lot of our free time together, though always in public. Our relationship was not physical, but I found myself dreaming about her occasionally. Even though Kuangren’s wedding had been a fiasco held at swordpoint, I thought about it a lot. Kuangren’s bride was no older than Weili. Yet whenever I considered the prospect of marrying Weili, my mouth became dry, and sweat broke out on my forehead. I knew that Weili liked me, but beyond that I was not sure of anything.

She smiled.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“I just realized something.” I could not keep the grin from my face.

“What?”

“I’m sixteen.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I turned sixteen. A few months back, actually. It hadn’t occurred to me until today.”

“Oh.” She looked at me for a long moment. “Are you serious? You’re only sixteen?”

I laughed. “What do you mean, only sixteen? Yes, I am sixteen! I feel like I’m saying the word sixteen a lot.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

She tilted her head.

“I thought you were older.”

“What do you mean? Why?”

“You carry yourself like someone older. You take your duties seriously, you’re literate, you study. And your fighting ability…” She trailed off, still looking faintly puzzled. “I just assumed.”

I laughed. “Well, now you know.”

She smiled politely, but there was something thoughtful behind her eyes that I couldn’t quite read.

“You know that I’m nineteen, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I know that.”

She lapsed into silence. I noticed she wasn’t watching the festivities at all. Her gaze remained fixed somewhere beyond the crowds.

“Why are you sitting here by yourself anyway?” I asked.

She was quiet for a while before answering.

“Eid always makes me think about my parents.”

“I’m sorry.”

She nodded absently. “It’s alright.”

Another silence settled between us.

Then, almost as though speaking to herself rather than to me, she added, “You’re too young to really understand.”

I frowned. It struck me as a bizarre thing to say. I had outlived both of my parents. I had seen men die, and had killed them myself. I supported myself and worked hard. What did age have to do with anything? Yes, she was three years older than me, but three years was nothing.

These words rose to my lips, but I swallowed them.

Instead I simply sat beside her beneath the tree while the laughter and scents of the festival drifted toward us on the warm afternoon breeze.

Tournament Rules

Within a few hours, the field had been transformed. Banners hung from rooftops and fences. People continued to arrive. Families rode in on carts and horseback. Musicians played, and there was hardly a space to stand. Apparently competitors traveled from throughout the region to participate in the archery competition, and the winner received not only a substantial prize but considerable prestige.

Even Kuangren came along to the competition, accompanied by his wife Gulnur, which I thought was a singularly strange name, though in light of her beauty, who really cared? Kuangren walked with a cane, and leaned on Gulnur for support.

He hadn’t been the same since the lashing. He walked bent over like an old man, and didn’t like for anyone to touch him. He still had not been able to resume his duties. Yet Sergeant Karim continued to pay Kuangren’s salary, and to give him and his wife a wagon of their own. I wasn’t sure I would ever understand Karim.

When I’d first beheld Gulnur, riding hard at her father’s side with a knife on her hip and a bow on her back, her long chestnut hair streaming behind her, I’d thought her a wild thing. I imagined the wars that would rage between her and Kuangren as he continued his scandalous ways, and she tried to reform him.

There had been no wars, however. Maybe it was just Kuangren’s physical incapacity, but he seemed different. For all his protests at the wedding, I saw the way he looked at his wife now, as if she were the brightest star in the sky. I never would have expected it. SubhanAllah. Allah could change anyone by means of anyone.

Weili came out of her funk and grew excited, bombarding the locals with questions about the competition, the rules, the bows and the previous champions. Her excitement was infectious, and I was excited for her.

Unlike the tournaments I had known, this gathering was divided into three separate contests. They were all archery contests, but there were categories based on skill level or strength. In the first, the targets stood at perhaps sixty paces. In the second category the targets were twice that distance away, while the third row of targets seemed so impossibly distant that I wondered whether anyone could strike them at all. Each contest required its own entry fee and offered its own prize, with the greatest reward reserved for the archers bold enough to attempt the longest shot.

Each archer would get only three shots.

I watched Weili, curious to see her reaction. She had, after all, won the archery contest back in Deep Harbor. That’s why she had been hired by Five Stars. And her skill wasn’t just theoretical. I had seen her shoot men down in combat, drawing her arrows as fast as a man might fling pebbles, one after another, with people screaming in rage or fear, horses whinnying and enemy arrows flying past her. I’d even seen her shoot from horseback, on the move, firing while she controlled the horse with her knees.

To my surprise, it was not the targets that captured Weili’s attention. It was the bows. She wandered over to a group of competitors preparing for the contests and stopped short. The bows they carried were enormous. Even unstrung, many stood taller than the men themselves. The bows were thick and powerful, built not merely to shoot arrows but to hurl them extraordinary distances.

Now I understood why the villagers had been giggling at Weili’s bow.

“I’ve never seen anything like these,” she murmured.

One of the local archers, a thick-bodied young man with a bald head and a lazy smile, grinned at her curiosity and, with a friendly gesture, offered her his bow. He tapped his chest. “Arslan.”

Weili gave her name, and accepted the bow with both hands, then laughed aloud.

“It weighs as much as a child.”

I took the bow from her, planted my feet, and attempted to draw it. I got the string halfway to my chin. Several nearby spectators chuckled good-naturedly.

“You see?” Weili said with a grin.

“I think these people must have grown up lifting yaks over their heads.”

One of the older men clapped me on the shoulder approvingly. I had no idea if he’d actually understood me. Some of these people, especially the merchants, did speak our language.

Arslan

A man stood on a podium and made an announcement.

“Did he just say,” I wondered, “that you can only enter if your name is rainbow?”

Weili punched me in the shoulder. She had learned more of these languages than me. “He says last call to enter, and you must bring your own bow.” She flashed me a smile. “I’m signing up for the middle one.”

“You aren’t serious,” I said.

“I am.”

“These people have probably been shooting since they could walk.”

“So have I.”

She paid a few silver coins and entered the middle competition.

There were a number of women in the short-distance competition, but Weili was the only woman in the middle range category. The local archers regarded her slender recurve bow with open amusement. Beside their towering longbows it looked like a child’s toy. A few exchanged smiles, and one elderly competitor shrugged as though indulging an enthusiastic foreigner.

Then the shooting began.

One after another the contestants loosed their arrows. Most struck the target somewhere upon its face. A handful found the center.

Then Weili stepped forward.

She inhaled slowly, raised her bow high to account for the distance – it looked like she was aiming at the sky rather than the target – and drew the string with smooth confidence.

The arrow flew high and clean, arced down and struck almost dead center.

The murmuring stopped.

Her second arrow landed scarcely a hand’s breadth from the first, and the third split the edge of one of her earlier shafts. It was an unparalleled, stunning performance. Of course I had seen her shoot many times, but never like this.

When the scores were announced, there could be no doubt. The foreign woman had won the middle-distance category.

The applause was warm and genuine. Smiling broadly, Weili accepted an embroidered riding cloak, a small purse of silver, and a carved wooden plaque bearing the seal of the local archery guild. She bowed awkwardly to the crowd, provoking another round of cheerful laughter.

As she stepped away from the field, the broad-shouldered young bald man – Arslan – approached her. He looked perhaps twenty years of age, with sun-darkened skin, powerful forearms and the easy confidence of someone who had spent his entire life with a bow in his hands.

“You win,” he said. “Very good.”

Weili grinned and bowed with a flourish.

Arslan pointed toward the farthest range, then mimed drawing a bow. “I shoot. You come?”

Weili nodded enthusiastically and we joined the crowd watching the long distance competition. It proved astonishing. Several competitors failed even to reach the distant targets. Others managed only glancing hits upon the outer rings. Then Arslan stepped forward carrying his immense longbow.

He drew it as effortlessly as I might have drawn my dao. The bow bent into a graceful arc, the string sang, and the arrow flew straight and true, with only a slight arc. It struck on the middle ring of the target, not at the center but close. The second landed closer, and the third buried itself squarely in the heart.

The field erupted in cheers.

Children chased after him while older men embraced him proudly. Even the competitors he had defeated smiled and applauded.

Weili applauded as enthusiastically as anyone.

“I’ve never seen anyone shoot like that,” she said quietly.

I hadn’t either.

Eventually Arslan made his way over to us, still surrounded by admirers. Spotting Weili, he smiled and approached. They attempted a conversation using little more than gestures, smiles and the occasional borrowed word supplied by passing merchants who knew fragments of both languages.

Watching them, I found myself smiling as well. At that moment there was no jealousy in me. Only admiration for remarkable skill, and amusement at two strangers trying so earnestly to understand one another.

Belly

The camp had grown quiet by the time I wandered back among the wagons. Here and there a few low conversations drifted through the darkness, punctuated by an occasional laugh, but most of the caravan had already turned in. Tomorrow the festivities would continue, and after that we would leave Mazar behind and enter Afghanistan.

Belly lifted his head as I approached. Moonlight gleamed faintly upon his black coat. He gave a soft whicker that might have been a greeting, or might simply have meant he hoped I had brought him something to eat.

“I know,” I said, smiling. “You always think I have an apple hidden somewhere.”

He stretched his nose toward my pockets anyway.

“And guess what?” I said grinning. “I do. You think I’d forget you on Eid?” I took a large, juicy green apple out of one pocket and fed it to him. He chewed noisily, head tipped back, dripping juice.

I laughed quietly and fetched the brush.

“You were a good horse today. Better than yesterday, anyway. Remember when you refused to go over the mountain pass the night before last because you couldn’t see what was on the other side? At least today you didn’t decide a stick was a snake, or that a perfectly ordinary rock was secretly a tiger.”

He flicked one ear back at me but otherwise ignored the criticism.

As I worked the brush through his thick coat, he gradually relaxed. His head lowered, and one hind leg cocked comfortably beneath him.

“You know,” I said after a while, “looks like Weili’s made a new friend.”

Belly twitched an ear.

“Good for her.” I wasn’t sure whether I really meant it. Maybe I did.

For a time I brushed him in silence, then another thought returned to me.

“Isn’t it funny that I forgot my own birthday?”

Belly breathed warmly through his nostrils.

“My birthday is sometime in the summer, when the cicadas are loud. I don’t know the day. So Zihan Ma decided that from now on it would be the fifteenth day of the eighth month.” I smiled to myself. “Seems as good a day as any.”

I paused, running the brush slowly down his neck.

“What’s wrong with being sixteen anyway?”

Belly seemed to consider the matter deeply before turning his head to investigate my pockets once again.

“No more apples, sorry.”

He snorted.

“You wouldn’t know this,” I continued, “but last year Zihan Ma gave me a white kufi cap and a sandalwood sabhah for my birthday.”

My throat tightened unexpectedly.

“No one ever gave me birthday presents before.”

The brush slowed in my hand.

“Of course…” I swallowed. “No one gave me anything this year.”

The words hung in the cool night air. To my embarrassment I felt my eyes begin to sting.

“But…” I said softly, “…that’s alright.”

I rested my forehead against Belly’s neck. He smelled of leather, clean hair, and the faint sweetness of hay.

“I have a lot, don’t I?”

He answered by nudging my shoulder insistently.

I laughed despite myself. “No, I still don’t have an apple.”

He searched my pockets one last time, unwilling to believe me. I scratched him behind the ears.

“Afghanistan next,” I murmured. “Let’s hope you’re a little less stubborn over there.”

Belly merely snorted, as if making no promises at all.

* * *

As-salamu alaykum dear readers. I was stuck for a bit. I needed to get to the heart of the story. After a conversation with my daughter, I figured it out, alhamdulillah.

Come back next week for Part 20 – Bloody Afghanistan

Reader comments and constructive criticism are important to me, so please comment!

See the Story Index for Wael Abdelgawad’s other stories on this website.

Wael Abdelgawad’s novels – including Pieces of a Dream, The Repeaters and Zaid Karim Private Investigator – are available in ebook and print form on his author page at Amazon.com.

Related:

Pieces of a Dream | Part 1: The Cabbie and the Muslim Woman

Trust Fund And A Yellow Lamborghini: A Short Story

The post Far Away [Part 19] – An Apple For Belly appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

By Dr. Bekim Belica

With love.

The Key That Opens Hearts

There is a quiet wisdom in the belief that good speech opens what force cannot. A heart rarely yields to command, pressure, or display. It opens when language carries sincerity, restraint, and mercy. In this sense, speech is not merely a tool of communication. It is an ethical act. It can protect dignity, guide conscience, and awaken responsibility.

The tradition of spiritual counsel has long understood this. A word spoken with humility can correct without humiliating. A word spoken with love can reveal a truth that power might otherwise resist. The human heart has its own lock, and good speech, when rooted in sincerity, becomes one of its keys. Praise be to Allah; the hearts of people are not opened by harshness alone, but often through the gentleness of a word placed at the right moment.

A Sultan Seeks Spiritual Counsel

A story is told of Sultan Mehmed II who approached Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa after learning that many seekers had been welcomed into the lodge, while he himself had not been accepted among them. The question could have been asked with royal authority, but he asked it with humility.

“Honored Friend of Allah, you accepted everyone at your door. Why did you not accept us? Did we make a mistake? Did we do something wrong? Did we neglect something?”

Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa did not answer as one trying to flatter a ruler. Nor did he answer as one trying to distance himself from worldly power in order to appear pure. His response carried a more difficult wisdom. He recognized that the palace and the lodge were not identical spaces, and that each carried its own form of accountability.

“My Sultan,” Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa replied, “you are entrusted with justice, leadership, and the protection of the people, while we are entrusted with supplication. Each of us must remain in our appointed place.”

The answer did not diminish Sultan Mehmed II’s spiritual capacity. Rather, it placed his political responsibility within a moral and sacred frame. To govern justly was not presented as a lesser path, nor as a distraction from devotion. It was a form of service with consequences that extended beyond the ruler’s private soul.

Justice as an Act of Worship

Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa then said something that unsettled any simple hierarchy between the spiritual life and public duty.

“My Sultan, one day that you spend ruling with justice is better than a thousand days that we spend in remembrance of Allah.”

Such a statement is not a dismissal of remembrance. It is a reminder that worship cannot be reduced to the visible gestures of devotion. A person entrusted with authority serves Allah not only by withdrawing into prayer, but by preventing oppression, protecting the vulnerable, and judging without favoritism. Justice, when sincerely upheld, becomes a form of remembrance enacted in the world.

Sultan Mehmed II, hearing this, wondered aloud whether he was being judged unfit for the path of supplication. Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa answered with tenderness.

“No, my Sultan. Your heart is softer than ours.”

The response is striking because it reverses expectation. Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa does not accuse the ruler of hardness. He does not suggest that political life has made him spiritually incapable. Instead, he identifies softness as both a gift and a danger. A heart deeply moved by divine love may long to leave behind the weight of office. Yet not every longing, even when noble, should be followed without discernment.

The Weight of Leadership

Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa explained that if Sultan Mehmed II entered the lodge and tasted the sweetness of spiritual absorption, he might not return to the duties of governance. The concern was not that the sultan would become worse, but that he might become absent from a responsibility only he could fulfill. Love, when it is not disciplined by duty, can become a form of escape. The path to Allah does not always lead a person away from the world. Sometimes it sends him back into it, carrying a heavier awareness of what has been entrusted to him.

“The ruler of the empire and the nation of Muhammad is a trust placed in your hands, my Sultan,” Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa said. “If you neglect your responsibility, harm will come to the people. The consequences of that neglect will weigh heavily upon both you and us.”

Here Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa offers a political theology of responsibility. Leadership is not treated as privilege. It is treated as amanah, a trust. The ruler does not possess the people. He is answerable for them. His authority is morally legitimate only insofar as it serves justice. If he abandons that trust, the damage is not private. It enters homes, courts, markets, families, and the vulnerable places where ordinary people experience the decisions of those above them.

Guarding Hearts from Dependence

Sultan Mehmed II understood, yet another question remained in his heart.

“I wish you had at least come with your disciples, the seekers who gather in your lodge,” he said. “Why did you deprive us of your kind words?”

Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa’s answer again revealed the subtlety of spiritual leadership.

“I feared that the disciples might see your generosity and begin to rely upon your kindness rather than Allah’s kindness.”

This was not ingratitude toward Sultan Mehmed II. It was a protection of the seekers. Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa knew that spiritual communities can be tested not only by hardship, but also by patronage. Generosity from the powerful can relieve material need, but it can also shift the inward gaze from the Provider to the benefactor. The danger is not wealth itself, but attachment. A heart may claim to trust Allah while quietly becoming dependent on the favor of people.

Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa was therefore guarding both sides. He was protecting Sultan Mehmed II from abandoning governance in the name of spiritual longing, and he was protecting the disciples from confusing royal generosity with divine provision. His restraint was not coldness. It was love governed by insight.

Then he said to Sultan Mehmed II:

“We are always here for you, my Sultan. Your heart beats within our hearts.”

This sentence carries the emotional center of the story. Distance did not mean rejection. The closed door was not a denial of love. It was an act of care shaped by knowledge of station, capacity, and consequence. Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa did not need Sultan Mehmed II to become a disciple in order to honor him. He needed him to become more fully accountable as a ruler.

The Foundation of Just Rule

Sultan Mehmed II, moved by this exchange, asked whether there was anything Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa desired from him. Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa’s request was simple, but it held the whole meaning of the conversation.

“Judge fairly, my Sultan. Judge justly, so that we may remain loyal to this blessed city of Constantinople, a city opened to receive the glad tidings of our Noble Messenger.”

Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa asked for no wealth, no title, no estate, and no personal advantage. His concern was justice. This is important because justice is the public face of mercy. Without it, devotion becomes sentimental and authority becomes dangerous. A society may admire piety, celebrate heritage, and speak beautifully of sacred ideals, but if judgment is corrupted, the moral order begins to fracture.

The request also reveals that love for a city is not sustained by nostalgia alone. Constantinople, in this telling, is not merely a place of conquest or memory. It is a trust that must be honored through fairness. A city opened with sacred hope must not be governed through negligence, arrogance, or favoritism. Its spiritual meaning must be renewed through the conduct of those who rule and those who pray.

Good Speech and Sacred Responsibility

The story should not be read as a rejection of public life in favor of private devotion, nor as a romantic elevation of power. Its deeper teaching is that each station has its own adab, its own discipline. Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa serves through counsel, prayer, restraint, and purification of intention. Sultan Mehmed II serves through justice, protection, judgment, and responsibility. Neither station is complete without humility, and neither is safe without accountability.

Good speech is the thread that holds the encounter together. Sultan Mehmed II asks without pride. Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa answers without fear. Correction is given without insult. Authority listens without defensiveness. Spiritual insight does not humiliate political responsibility, and political authority does not demand spiritual submission. Their exchange becomes possible because both men speak from recognition rather than ego.

This is why the opening claim matters. The secret of creation is good speech, not because words alone build worlds, but because speech reveals the condition of the heart from which action proceeds. A just command can protect a people. A merciful correction can redirect a life. A sincere word can prevent a ruler from mistaking escape for holiness, and can prevent a seeker from mistaking patronage for reliance upon Allah.

Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa’s wisdom lies in knowing that love is not always expressed by bringing someone closer. At times, love returns a person to the place where his duty awaits him. It says: your longing is real, but so is your trust. Your heart may wish for retreat, but your people need justice. Your tears may belong to the lodge, but your accountability belongs to the court, the city, and the lives affected by your rule.

A Timeless Lesson

In an age that often separates spirituality from governance, and private feeling from public responsibility, this story offers a more demanding vision. It asks whether devotion can shape power without being consumed by it. It asks whether rulers can receive counsel without resentment. It asks whether spiritual people can speak to authority without seeking its favor. It asks whether good speech can still open the locked doors of the heart.

The answer is not found in ornamented language alone. It is found when speech becomes truthful, measured, and merciful. It is found when justice is treated as worship. It is found when leadership is understood as trust rather than possession. It is found when the people of prayer and the people of authority recognize that both will answer to Allah for what was placed in their hands.

May Allah grant us speech that heals without flattering, corrects without wounding, and guides without pride. May He grant those in authority the courage to judge fairly, and those who counsel them the sincerity to seek nothing but truth. May He keep our hearts attached to Him alone, while making our actions a mercy for His creation.

Ameen.

Related:

Practical Spirituality Part 1: The Inaugural Address of the Prophet

The Spirituality Of Gratitude

The post Good Speech and Sacred Trust: Lessons from Sultan Mehmed II and Shaykh Abu’l-Wafa appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Japan has never declared itself a country of immigration.

Through successive revisions of its immigration laws, the government has maintained that it “does not adopt an immigration policy.” It has absorbed foreign workers through the Technical Intern Training Program, drawn international students into its labor market, and refused to call any of it immigration. By the end of 2023, the number of registered foreign residents reached approximately 3.4 million¹. Yet the majority remain institutionally precarious — suspended between economic necessity and legal exclusion.

Scholar Hidenori Sakanaka, a former director of the Tokyo Immigration Bureau, has long argued that Japan operates as a de facto country of immigration while refusing to officially call it one — absorbing foreign labor through side-door channels even as it denies any shift in national policy. The vacuum this creates is filled by religious communities, ethnic networks, and mosques.

A young girl pauses during Quran study at Masjid Istiqlal Osaka, in Nishinari Ward’s Kamagasaki district.

In Nishinari Ward, Osaka — in the district known as Kamagasaki — stands Masjid Istiqlal Osaka. “Istiqlal” means independence in Indonesian. True to its name, this mosque has built a network of mutual aid that operates independently of state institutions. Muslims from Indonesia, Malaysia, Bangladesh, Pakistan, and elsewhere gather here to pray, study, celebrate, and sustain one another. Children learn the Quran alongside their Japanese homework; young couples marry under Islamic rites; newborns are held in aging hands.

Children sit on the floor of the mosque’s community hall during a weekend lesson.

A teacher guides a student through her Quran writing exercises, sharing a smile mid-lesson.

One of those newborns is called Minami — “south” in Japanese — because she was born in the south of Osaka. Her father is a diplomat, and the family will soon leave again. “She was born here,” her mother said quietly. “So this is part of her.”

A grandmother holds her grandchild at the mosque — the newest generation of a family built far from home.

A child holds a handmade paper basket, decorated with drawings of Indonesian sweets, during a community gathering.

A student looks up from her notebook during Quran study.

But the mosque’s function extends far beyond the rhythms of ordinary life. When the 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake struck, Masjid Istiqlal opened its doors to displaced people — stocking halal food, opening its prayer space, and providing bedding. Japan’s official evacuation plans had made no provision for halal dietary requirements, prayer schedules, or language barriers. During COVID-19, the mosque distributed food to those who had lost income and facilitated vaccination for foreign nationals facing linguistic barriers to public health services. These are not acts of charity. They are acts of infrastructure.

Children sit together on the prayer hall floor between lessons.

Boys laugh together at the mosque — the next generation growing up in Kamagasaki.

Kamagasaki was built by Japan’s postwar economic miracle as a reservoir of day labor. As that generation disappears, young Muslim migrants are putting down roots in the same streets. Among them: a man from Indonesia who works at an elderly care facility in rural Wakayama, who recently brought his bride from home. “When we have children,” he said, “we will have to move — somewhere outside Osaka, where the schools are better.”

A bride signs the marriage certificate at Masjid Istiqlal Osaka, witnesses looking on.

A groom places a ring on his bride’s finger during their Islamic wedding ceremony at the mosque.

Japan did not decide to receive these people. Yet they are already here — raising the next generation, building community, putting down roots. The country is changing without having decided to change.

Related:

– Ramadan In India’s Capital: A Photo Essay

– Ramadan At The Uyghur Mosque: Community, Prayers, And Grief

The post Undecided Nation: How A Mosque In Kamagasaki Fills Japan’s Immigration Gap – A Photo Story appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Allah Is Al-Ḥakīm

As human beings, one of the greatest challenges we face is trusting Allah’s wisdom when we cannot yet see the wisdom behind His decree. We often struggle to understand why events unfold as they do, particularly when circumstances seem contrary to our hopes and expectations. Yet Allah is Al-Ḥakīm — the One whose wisdom is perfect, whose decree is precise, and whose knowledge encompasses the past, the present, and what is yet to come. This reality is reflected throughout the Seerah, with the Treaty of Hudaybiyyah serving as one of the most compelling examples.

A Dream That Inspired Hope

Six years after the Hijrah, the Prophet ﷺ had a dream in which he and his followers entered Makkah to complete the ʿUmrah pilgrimage. Certain that this dream was a divine message from Allah, he shared the news with his Companions and arranged to travel to the Holy Sanctuary. Allah later revealed:

“Certainly has Allah shown to His Messenger the vision in truth: you will surely enter al-Masjid al-Ḥarām, if Allah wills, in safety, with your heads shaved or hair shortened, not fearing [anyone].”  (Qur’an 48:27)

For the Muslims, this journey was of profound significance. Years earlier, they had been forced to leave Makkah, abandoning their homes and families for the sake of Allah. Returning to their birthplace and the Kaʿbah filled them with hope and anticipation. The Prophet ﷺ, accompanied by approximately 1,400 of his Companions, entered the ritual state of iḥrām. Entering iḥrām with sacrificial animals demonstrated that their purpose was purely spiritual, and not military.

When Expectations Meet Reality

As the Muslims approached Makkah, they were looking forward to the opportunity to perform ʿUmrah. However, the Quraysh suddenly thwarted their hopes by denying them entry into the city. What started as a pilgrimage fueled by faith and optimism unexpectedly turned into uncertainty.

The Muslims made camp. As negotiations began and envoys were sent back and forth, the prospect of reaching Makkah became increasingly unlikely. Many of the Prophet’s companions felt a deep sense of disappointment; having left Madinah specifically to perform the Umrah, they now found their path blocked.

The atmosphere at Hudaybiyyah became significantly tense; as a result, the Prophet ﷺ dispatched ʿUthmān ibn ʿAffān to Makkah. He was tasked with negotiating with the Quraysh to reassure them that the Muslims had come exclusively for the pilgrimage and not for warfare. ʿUthmān was an ideal choice for this role because of his high standing and strong tribal connections within the Quraysh leadership.

Confusion and anxiety soon spread among the Muslims after reports circulated that ʿUthmān had been killed. As tensions mounted, it was difficult to imagine that these very events would become the prelude to one of the greatest victories in Islamic history.

Little did they know that Allah, Al-Ḥakīm, the All-Wise, was subtly guiding every unfolding event towards a reality the Muslims could not yet perceive.

The Treaty That Felt Like a Defeat

Ultimately, discussions between the Muslims and the Quraysh led to a peace treaty, later known as the Treaty of Hudaybiyyah. However, several conditions seemed very unfavourable. One of these conditions was that the Muslims had to return to Madinah without completing their ʿUmrah pilgrimage. Having travelled with the expectation of entering Makkah, many found the outcome difficult to accept.

Among those who struggled most was ʿUmar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb. Troubled by the terms of the treaty, he asked the Prophet ﷺ, “Are you not truly the Messenger of Allah?” The Prophet ﷺ replied, “Indeed, I am the Messenger of Allah, and I do not disobey Him, and He will never forsake me” (Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī).

At that moment, ʿUmar could see only the apparent setback before him, while the Prophet ﷺ remained steadfast in his trust in Allah. His questions reflected not a lack of faith, but the struggle of a sincere believer seeking to understand what had not yet become clear.

Years later, he recalled that day with deep regret, devoting himself to prayer, fasting, charity, and other acts of worship to seek Allah’s forgiveness. His response powerfully reminds us that sincere believers may, at times, struggle to understand Allah’s decree. Nevertheless, true faith involves being humble before Allah and trusting in His wisdom even when it is not immediately apparent.

Amid the sorrow, another remarkable lesson emerged. Seeing the Muslims consumed by distress and confusion, the Prophet ﷺ consulted his wife, Umm Salamah. She suggested that he lead by example, performing the rituals himself in silence. When the Prophet ﷺ acted on her counsel, the Companions promptly joined him in performing the rites.

Umm Salamah’s wisdom resolved a difficult moment at Hudaybiyyah. The incident reflects the Prophet ﷺ’s noble character. Despite being the recipient of divine revelation, he deeply valued consultation, actively sought the counsel of others, and embraced wisdom wherever Allah placed it.

A Clear Victory

As the Muslims returned to Madinah, many struggled to accept the outcome of Hudaybiyyah. Their entry into Makkah had been denied, the terms of the treaty seemed unfavourable, and the long-awaited ʿUmrah pilgrimage had been deferred.

It was during this very journey that Allah revealed:

“Indeed, We have granted you a clear victory.” (Qur’an 48:1)

The revelation dramatically reshaped the narrative of Hudaybiyyah. How could an event marked by disappointment be described as a clear victory? This was the wisdom of Al-Ḥakīm, unfolding in a manner the Muslims could not yet comprehend.

The treaty ushered in a period of peace that paved the way for Islam to grow. In the years that followed, more people entered the faith than ever before.

Spiritual Insights for Muslims Today

Hudaybiyyah offers many timeless lessons for Muslims navigating uncertainty, disappointment, and delay. Among the most prominent are the following:

1. We Judge by the Present; Yet Allah Sees the Future

Many of us have experienced situations that initially seemed disappointing, only to realise later that Allah had placed goodness within them. The Companions could see only the disappointment of Hudaybiyyah. They had set out hoping to enter Makkah and complete their pilgrimage, yet found themselves returning home without fulfilling the purpose for which they had travelled. Allah, however, saw the victories that would unfold through the treaty. We all experience moments when life unfolds differently from what we had hoped. We may desperately want a particular job, hope for a certain opportunity, or make plans that seem entirely right to us, only for the door to remain closed.

Hudaybiyyah reminds us that we often evaluate events according to what we have lost, whereas Allah’s wisdom encompasses what those very events may yet bring about.

2. Faith Requires Obedience Before Understanding

The Treaty of Hudaybiyyah demonstrates the Companions’ profound love for the Prophet ﷺ and their commitment to Islam. Despite their dashed hopes, they followed his example, shaving their heads and completing the rites, trusting his judgement even when the wisdom of the treaty was not yet clear. There are times when we know what Allah requires of us, yet we struggle to see the wisdom behind it. Whether it is maintaining family ties after being hurt, persevering in prayer during hardship, or remaining patient when a duʿāʾ seems unanswered, as Muslims, we are called to trust Allah before we fully understand His decree.

Hudaybiyyah reminds us that obedience often precedes understanding.

3. The Perfection of Allah’s Wisdom

The reaction of ʿUmar ibn al-Khaṭṭāb at Hudaybiyyah is a powerful reminder of the perfection of Allah’s wisdom and the constraints of human judgment. ʿUmar was not an ordinary believer; he was among the greatest of the Companions. The Prophet ﷺ praised his insight and virtues, and even said that if there were to be a prophet after him, it would have been ʿUmar. Yet despite his sincerity, wisdom, and faith, he struggled to comprehend the wisdom behind the treaty.

How often do we become convinced that a particular outcome is best for us, only to discover later that our perspective was incomplete? We may think that a particular opportunity, relationship, or plan will bring us happiness, yet Allah knows what we do not know. The example of ʿUmar reminds us that even the most sincere and insightful believers are limited in their wisdom, whereas Allah’s wisdom is perfect and all-encompassing.

If ʿUmar could not fully perceive Allah’s wisdom in that moment, how much more limited is our own understanding? Hudaybiyyah reminds us to approach Allah’s decree with humility, accepting that His wisdom is perfect and transcends our knowledge.

4. Women’s Contributions to the Prophetic Community

The role of Umm Salamah at Hudaybiyyah reminds us that women were active contributors to the Prophetic community and that the flourishing of the early Muslim community was shaped by the efforts of both men and women. Her wisdom helped guide the Muslims through a moment of profound difficulty and uncertainty.

How often do we benefit from the advice of a parent, friend, or teacher after initially overlooking their perspective? Umm Salamah’s role at Hudaybiyyah reminds us of the importance of listening to wise counsel and recognising the value that others can bring to our lives and communities.

The incident also reflects the esteem and high regard in which the Prophet ﷺ held women. Despite being the recipient of divine revelation, he sought and accepted Umm Salamah’s counsel, appreciating the wisdom of her advice. Hudaybiyyah also reminds us that insight and sound judgment are qualities that Allah bestows upon whomever He wills.

5. Allah’s Wisdom Often Becomes Clear Only with Time

The hidden virtues of Hudaybiyyah were not immediately apparent to the Companions. Only with the passing of time did they witness the peace, growth, and victories that flowed from the treaty. The incident reminds us to be cautious about judging Allah’s decree too quickly, for some of His greatest blessings only become apparent in hindsight. How often do we look back on a difficult period in our lives and become aware of blessings that we were unable to see at the time?

Conclusion

The incident at Hudaybiyyah stands as one of the clearest manifestations of Allah as Al-Ḥakīm, the All-Wise. What appeared to many of the Companions as a setback was, in reality, the beginning of one of the greatest victories in Islamic history.

The Companions saw the delay; Allah saw the victory.

They saw the obstacle; Allah saw the opening.

And they saw what was before them, while Al-Ḥakīm saw what was yet to come.

And therein lies a timeless lesson for every believer living through the uncertainties of life: trust in the wisdom of Al-Ḥakīm, even when it has not yet become clear.

Related:

Reconstructing Our Understanding of the Sīrah

Prophetic Guidance For An Exemplary Ramadan

The post Trusting Allah: Lessons from Hudaybiyyah appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

When Expectations Collide

Khadija, a 26 year old woman living in New York, has been searching for a marriage partner for a few years now and finally met someone she thought could marry. Her courtship with Khalid went really well for a month. She adored the fact that he was quite an ambitious man focused on serving the community with most of his free time.

Her own work as a teacher was a modest one, but she lived with her father so her own expenses were almost nothing, affording her a comfortable lifestyle. As they got closer to the marriage date, both of them began to realise that there were major differences in the way they were approaching life itself when they began to discuss the wedding ceremony.

She wanted to have the Nikah at the mosque, with a grand reception in a rented garden afterward.

He, on the other hand,  wanted something more modest, with a reception at his house with a total of 45 guests, as he preferred to spend the money on a down payment for a new house, which was not something he had consulted her about.

Neither person was acting in bad faith. The relationship ended because they had never taken the time to understand each other’s expectations. The disagreements were short but impactful and the two of them decided sorrowfully to end the courtship and what could potentially have been a wonderful marriage for the two of them.

The above is one among the many different stories that make up the Muslim marriage crisis that is swiftly proliferating the Ummah (especially in the West).  Many Muslim leaders, counselors, and researchers have expressed concern that divorce has become increasingly common among American Muslims (although comprehensive national data remain limited).

The reasons for this are many and cannot be limited to one issue alone. But what we do know is that money is among the biggest factors that lead to relationship/courtship breakdown.

Financial Incompatibilities and the Marriage Crisis

While statistics on this issue are difficult to come by,  estimates suggest that financial problems contribute to roughly 20–40% of divorces in the United States, making money one of the leading sources of marital conflict.  Estimates for the UK hover around the 30% mark.

To be clear, this is not due to the main earner of the house earning insufficiently (though that certainly contributes). Rather, it stems from a lack of communication around money in a relationship context that many of us are guilty of doing.

This is both an individual and a societal issue that we face. Many Muslim-majority cultures (South Asian, Arab etc.) are not fully comfortable with speaking about money (barring certain exceptions). This leads to people often avoiding this conversation (consciously or not) within their own marital contexts too. The justification at times that is given (especially by the God-conscious) is that marriage comes with its own Rizq and that we should have tawakkul regarding money matters.

However, while Tawakkul is an important attitude to have, it is not enough if it’s not supplemented by other steps. Tawakkul in Islam has never meant abandoning planning or difficult conversations. The Prophet ﷺ tied trust in Allah to taking the appropriate steps toward success. And no, this does not mean just working harder/smarter (which is also important).

Communicating Expectations

The most significant issue here is communication between the spouses. Aspiring couples should discuss finances at various stages of their courtship. They should begin with broader discussions about principles and values. As they move toward marriage, they should discuss their specific circumstances, expectations, and plans for the nikah and their first year together. Even after marriage, they should continue reviewing their financial situation and expectations regularly.

The details of this are something we discuss in a pre-Nikah guide that we at AML Finance developed.

These discussions are paramount to setting up a healthy marriage because of a key principle that many of us are often not taught: strong and collaborative marriages are built to last when couples can have hard conversations with each other.

Let’s say that again: marriages become strong when couples are not afraid to have honest and frank conversations about difficult subjects.

Struggling With Guilt and Shame

Conversations about money often trigger and bring out emotions such as guilt, shame and fear. Men especially struggle with not feeling adequate and having it all together (due to our expected role as providers) and are often coasting through marriages with their wives not understanding the financial health of their household.

The illusion of comfort and safety only breaks when circumstances change (sudden financial expenses like a new car, medical expenses etc.). This inevitably brings about much negativity and causes the couple to fight and lose trust in the other.

Our own parents are not always able to teach us how to have these conversations. Many of our parents entered marriage under very different economic and social circumstances. As a result, they may not have had to navigate some of the financial realities younger Muslim couples face today.

Issues like the rise of women working, higher levels of integration among younger generations in the West, a cost of living crisis and smaller families, among many others, are new and not something they know how to deal with easily, despite these having an impact on our financial stories.

Our Work and Introducing the Series

At AML Finance, we help people understand their financial backgrounds and navigate financial conversations during the courtship period. Through workshops and training—primarily in the UK—we work with couples from a variety of backgrounds. While our focus is on serving the Muslim community, we believe these principles can benefit families more broadly.

This article is the first in a series exploring the intersection of money and marriage. Future articles will address topics such as personal financial stories, the expectations men and women bring into marriage, modern realities like dual-income households and government-registered versus nikah marriages, and the often-overlooked issue of financial abuse.

Our hope is to encourage healthier conversations around money, helping couples protect their marriages from the whispers of Shaytaan and build stronger relationships rooted in trust, communication, and mutual understanding.

Related:

3 Urgent Financial Questions to Ask A Potential Spouse

Meaningful Money: How Financial Literacy Amplifies Your Giving

The post When Tawakkul Isn’t Enough: Why Financial Silence Hurts Marriages appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

We live in a world saturated with images. Every screen, every advertisement, every social media feed, every streaming platform, and every public space competes for our attention. We are constantly being invited to look, stare, admire, desire, and consume. Modern society has transformed the human gaze into a commodity. The eyes have become gateways through which entire industries profit. For a Muslim trying to hold on to faith, modesty, and God-consciousness, this creates a unique challenge.

As believers, it is essential that we hold firmly to our beliefs, values, morals, ethics, and principles. We should never feel shy, embarrassed, apologetic, or hesitant about any teaching of Islam. Allah ﷻ, the Lord, Creator, Sustainer, and Provider of the heavens and the earth, has gifted us the most perfect way of life through revelation. The Quran and the teachings of the Prophet ﷺ provide guidance that transcends time, culture, and social trends.

We do not measure morality according to popular opinion. We do not determine right and wrong based on what society accepts or normalizes. We measure everything against Divine Guidance. Even when an entire society embraces something that revelation identifies as harmful, immodest, or immoral, the believer remains firm. The believer understands that truth is not determined by numbers, trends, or cultural acceptance.

Among the areas where this principle is especially important is our interaction with the opposite gender.

Islam Recognizes Human Nature

Islam is a religion grounded in reality. It recognizes that attraction between men and women is natural. It is one of the most powerful instincts Allah has placed within human beings. Islam does not deny this attraction, nor does it demand that we pretend it does not exist.

At the same time, Islam does not leave these desires unrestricted. Rather, it teaches us how to regulate them. Islam guides us toward creating an upright, ethical, God-conscious, and chaste society. It provides practical guidelines that help preserve individual dignity and collective morality. These guidelines are not intended to make life difficult. They are intended to protect us.

One of the most important of these guidelines is the command to lower the gaze. Allah ﷻ says in Sūrah al-Nūr:

“Tell the believing men to lower their gaze and guard their private parts. That is purer for them. Surely Allah is All-Aware of what they do.” [Surah An-Nur; 24:30]

This remarkable verse contains two commands and an entire philosophy of moral conduct. 

First, Allah commands believing men to lower their gaze. Second, He commands them to guard their chastity. The sequence is significant. Allah ﷻ begins with the eyes before mentioning the private parts because major sins often begin with seemingly insignificant actions. The road to sin rarely starts with the sin itself. It starts with a glance.

The First Step Toward Temptation

The Quran teaches us that moral failure often begins long before the actual act. An illicit relationship does not begin with physical contact. It begins with a look. A forbidden attachment begins with a look. An inappropriate fantasy begins with a look. A spiritual disease often enters through the eyes before it settles in the heart.

This is one of the reasons why Allah ﷻ says elsewhere: “Do not even go near zina.” [Surah Al-Isra; 17:32] Notice that Allah ﷻ does not merely prohibit zina itself. He prohibits approaching it. Anything that serves as a pathway toward it becomes dangerous, and the gaze is often the first step.

The Prophet ﷺ emphasized this reality when he said: “Indeed, the glance is one of the poisoned arrows of Satan. Whoever abandons it out of fear of Me, I will replace it with a faith whose sweetness he will find in his heart.” This is one of the most profound descriptions of the spiritual impact of the gaze. A poisoned arrow does not immediately destroy a person. It enters quietly and then spreads. Likewise, a lustful glance may seem insignificant, but its effects penetrate the heart, influence thoughts, and alter spiritual perception.

The reward for resisting it is equally profound. Allah ﷻ replaces that sacrifice with the sweetness of faith. A person experiences tranquility, contentment, and spiritual satisfaction that cannot be purchased and cannot be replicated through worldly pleasures.

The First Glance and the Second Glance

Islam is realistic. Allah ﷻ does not burden us with what is beyond our ability. The Prophet ﷺ explained that an accidental glance is excused. He ﷺ said: “Do not let one glance follow another. The first is for you, but the second is against you.” Similarly, when Jarīr ibn ʿAbdullāh asked about an unexpected glance, the Prophet ﷺ instructed him to turn his eyes away. This distinction is important. No one can completely avoid seeing something inappropriate in today’s world. A person walking across campus, sitting in a lecture hall, or riding public transportation will inevitably encounter situations they did not seek out. The issue is not the first glance. The issue is the second glance, the lingering glance, and the intentional glance. The glance that feeds desire rather than suppresses it, and that is where the struggle begins.

Lowering the Gaze Is Not Just About Looking

Many people reduce lowering the gaze to a simple physical action. In reality, it is much deeper. Lowering the gaze is an act of spiritual discipline and an exercise in self-control. It is a declaration that the believer refuses to be controlled by every impulse and desire. The Prophet ﷺ even included lowering the gaze among a collection of actions that guarantee Paradise. Abū Umāmah narrates that the Messenger of Allah ﷺ said: “Guarantee me six things, and I will guarantee you Paradise: speak truthfully, fulfill trusts, keep your promises, lower your gaze, restrain your hands, and guard your chastity.”

Notice how lowering the gaze appears alongside honesty, trustworthiness, and fulfilling promises. This teaches us that controlling our eyes is not a minor matter. It is part of moral excellence, spiritual integrity, and part of the path to Paradise.

The Spiritual Harms of Unrestrained Looking

The scholars of the past paid close attention to the effects of the gaze. Among the most insightful discussions is that of Ibn al-Qayyim رحمه الله, who outlines numerous spiritual harms resulting from lustful glances. He explains that such glances:

• Constitute an act of disobedience.
• Allow the poisoned arrows of Satan to penetrate the heart.
• Bring darkness to the heart.
• Create distance between the servant and Allah ﷻ.
• Weaken faith.
• Deprive a person of spiritual insight and wisdom.
• Erode willpower and self-respect.
• Open doors for Satanic influence.
• Allow lustful thoughts to dominate the mind.
• Remove the protective barrier between the heart and temptation.

These consequences may not be immediately visible, but over time they accumulate. Many people wonder why they struggle to concentrate in prayer, why the Quran feels less impactful, why spiritual motivation declines, and why sins become easier. Sometimes the answer lies in what they allow their eyes to consume.

“That Is Purer for Them”

After commanding believers to lower their gaze and guard their chastity, Allah ﷻ tells us the wisdom behind these commands: “That is purer for them.” It is purer for the heart, the soul, the mind, one’s character, one’s relationships, and one’s faith. The command is not meant to deprive us. Rather, it is meant to elevate us.

The scholars often mentioned that whoever guards their eyes is gifted a special light in their heart and understanding. Conversely, whoever allows their gaze to wander carelessly often finds confusion, distraction, and spiritual darkness. The eyes and the heart are deeply connected. What enters through the eyes eventually settles in the heart.

Campus Life and the Struggle of the Gaze

For Muslim university students, this struggle is particularly challenging. College campuses are often environments where modesty is not prioritized. Students interact constantly in classrooms, libraries, cafeterias, residence halls, student organizations, and social events.

In addition to the physical environment, students carry entire digital worlds in their pockets. Temptation is no longer limited to public spaces. It follows us into our dorm rooms, bedrooms, and private moments through our phones. This reality makes lowering the gaze one of the most important acts of worship for Muslim students today.

This is not because students are uniquely weak. But because the challenge is uniquely intense. The Prophet ﷺ said: “I have not left behind me a trial more harmful for men than women.” [Bukhari & Muslim] If this was true fourteen centuries ago, then the challenge is undoubtedly greater in a hyper-sexualized culture where temptation is constantly marketed and normalized.

Practical Steps for Lowering the Gaze on Campus

The command to lower the gaze is easy to understand but difficult to practice. Like every act of worship, it requires effort, planning, and consistency. Here are several practical strategies for Muslim students:

1. Begin Every Morning With Intention – Before leaving for class, remind yourself that lowering your gaze is an act of worship. You are not merely avoiding temptation, but you are obeying Allah ﷻ. When an action becomes worship, perseverance becomes easier.
2. Control Your Digital Environment – Many students struggle more online than they do in person. Unfollow accounts that regularly post immodest content. Use content filters when necessary. Reduce mindless scrolling. Guarding your gaze begins with guarding your feed.
3. Master the Art of the Quick Redirect – You will inevitably encounter situations where your eyes fall upon something inappropriate. Train yourself to look away immediately. The goal is not perfection. The goal is response. The faster the redirect, the easier the struggle becomes.
4. Stay Busy With Purpose – An idle mind often becomes a vulnerable mind. Fill your schedule with meaningful pursuits: classes, Quran, exercise, volunteering, campus organizations, study circles, and beneficial friendships. Purpose weakens temptation.
5. Walk With Awareness – Many students move through campus completely absorbed in their surroundings. Develop a sense of intentionality. Know where you are going. Walk with purpose. Avoid aimless wandering.
6. Keep Righteous Company – Friends influence standards. If your social circle normalizes inappropriate conversations, objectification, or immodesty, lowering the gaze becomes much harder. Choose companions who remind you of Allah ﷻ.
7. Strengthen Your Connection With the Quran – The Quran purifies the heart. A purified heart naturally resists temptation more effectively. Consistent recitation and reflection strengthen the soul’s ability to resist desires.
8. Remember That Allah ﷻ Sees You – The verse concludes with a powerful reminder: “Surely Allah is All-Aware of what they do.” Allah ﷻ knows every glance, every struggle, every victory, and every moment we look away for His sake. Allah ﷻ also says: “He knows the treachery of the eyes and what the hearts conceal.” [Surah Ghafir; 40:19] The believer’s greatest motivation is not fear of people. It is awareness of Allah ﷻ.

May Allah ﷻ grant us the strength to guard our eyes, purify our hearts, protect our chastity, and bless us with the sweetness of faith. Āmīn.

Related:

There Once was a Lad who Couldn’t Lower His Gaze

Male Lust, The Female Form, And The Forbidden Gaze

The post From The Chaplain’s Desk – Custody Of The Eyes: Lowering The Gaze In A Hyper-Visual World appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

This article is not intended to be a detailed examination of the complex Islamic rules of inheritance – such a task is beyond the scope of any one article. The components of inheritance in Islam, its conditions, its causes, impediments, categories, types and allocated shares, require many years of deep study and examination under a qualified and competent teacher and within the parameters of one of the legal schools¹ (at least in the first instance). 

Rather, the purpose of this article is to explore the reasons why it is important to both study the rules of Islamic inheritance as well as seek professional advice (from a qualified scholar or fatwa council, as well as legal professionals) in order to draft a Will that can meet the requirements of Islamic law and be officially recognised by the law of England & Wales.  

I intend to combine over two decades of studies in fiqh (Islamic Jurisprudence) with my knowledge of the law of England and Wales to provide both a brief overview of selected categories of heirs of Islamic inheritance – primarily from the perspective of the Hanbali Madhab (school of Islamic Jurisprudence), and to outline practical steps Muslims can take to plan how their wealth and assets can be administered upon death in accordance to Islamic jurisprudence while complying with UK domestic family law.   

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Introduction

Most Muslims in the UK appear to be living in slightly less favourable economic circumstances when compared to the overall population. For example, a census report in 2021 conducted by the Office for National Statistics found that: Muslims were nearly four times more likely to live in overcrowded homes than the overall population of England and Wales; 45.6% of Muslims lived owner-occupied (compared with 62.8% of the overall population); 26.6% lived in social rented accommodation housing (compared to 16.6% of the overall population); and Muslims had the lowest percentage of people aged 16 to 64 years in employment (51.4% compared with 70.9% of the overall population)².

However, despite this bleak picture, many Muslims in the UK are far from being poor. A groundbreaking report, ‘The Economic Contribution of British Muslims to the UK’s Growth and Prosperity, and the Risk of Exodus’³, published in 2024, found the following:

1. British Muslims generate at least £70 billion annually for the UK economy.
2. The British Muslim workforce contributes £42 billion, Muslim-owned businesses add between £16.3 billion and £24.7 billion, and charitable donations and volunteer time contribute an additional £2.4 billion.
3. British Muslims are vital in public sectors such as the NHS, where they hold over 46,000 roles, making critical contributions to healthcare, transport, and education.
4. The UK has emerged as the Islamic finance capital of the West, with UK-based Islamic banks controlling 85% of the total European Islamic financial assets, valued at £7.5 billion.
5. However, the report also reveals that British Muslims are 50% more likely to consider emigration than the average Briton and affluent British Muslims, earning over £62,000 pa, are 75% more likely to contemplate leaving the UK.

This report highlights the immense economic contributions made by British Muslims and the potential economic risks posed by immigration due to rising religious discrimination and dissatisfaction. The report also, when compared to the Census report of 2021, sheds light on the fact that there are huge economic disparities within the Muslim community in the UK. 

Therefore, regarding Muslims who have been blessed with wealth, it is important to ensure that this wealth is not lost and is adequately utilised to strengthen the Ummah first by ensuring that religious obligations regarding wealth are discharged. This includes fulfilling individual obligations like Zakat, which should be paid on time and to institutions that can distribute it properly; communal obligations like building masjids and madrasahs and ensuring that these are consistently provided for; and that recommended charity is paid as and when needs arise. And finally, that the rules of Islamic inheritance are strictly adhered to if one has any wealth to bequeath in his or her final act of justice in this life before returning safely back to Allah , the Creator. 

In this article, I want to explore the following topics before concluding with recommendations: 

1. Bequests and Wills; 
2. Categories of Heirs in Islamic rules of inheritance; 
3. Sharia vs UK law regarding inheritance; and 
4. Other matters that may hinder the application of the Islamic rules of Inheritance in the UK. 

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SECTION I: BEQUESTS & WILLS 

Waṣiyah is a verbal noun used to refer both to the act of bequeathing and to the bequeathed property itself⁴. It describes the declaration a person makes while they are still alive regarding their property. It also deals with the arrangements according to Islamic law to be carried out after their death. This is akin to a “will” in English law. Laws around inheritance in Islam are derived from instructions in the Qur’an and through the Sunnah of the Prophet Muhammad . 

Allah commands us in the Noble Qur’an to take care of our inheritance:

“It is prescribed that when death approaches any of you—if they leave something of value—a will should be made in favour of parents and immediate family with fairness⁵. ˹This is˺ an obligation on those who are mindful ˹of Allah˺.” [Surah Al-Baqarah: 2;180]

Furthermore, Ibn Umar reported Allah’s Messenger as saying:

“It is the duty of a Muslim who has anything to bequeath, not to let two nights pass without writing a will about it.” [Muslim]

Moreover, we learn from the Quran and Sunnah that when a person dies, they will be called to account for every major and minor action they did in this world, whether it was good or bad. They will be rewarded for their good deeds and punished for their bad actions. 

The first stage of that reckoning is in the grave. In the grave, the first thing we will be asked is: Who was your Lord? What is your religion? Who is this man who was sent amongst you?⁶

Then on the Day of Resurrection, we will be brought to account for every major and minor deed. The first thing for which we will be brought to account for then, will be our prayer⁷. 

On the Day of Resurrection, we will also be asked about other matters, including our wealth – how we earned it and how we disposed of it⁸.

So, the wise person should be keen to save themselves and prepare acceptable answers to these questions. 

Rulings of Bequests

Scholars of all four of the schools of Islamic jurisprudence have opined that it is wajib (mandatory) for someone with wealth (i.e. property, savings, investments, pensions, etc.) and liabilities (e.g. debts) to write a will detailing them. In addition to the rights of people, some scholars state that the rights of Allah that have not been fulfilled should also be added, such as unpaid zakat, vows and expiations, as well as Hajj if the deceased did not perform the mandatory Hajj⁹. 

However, they have argued that bequests are not recommended for those who have little or no money (and no liabilities). Despite this, those who have little wealth and have heirs who are poor, should not bequeath any portion of their estate because the heirs have a superior claim to it¹⁰.

The scholars also state that if someone has a significant estate and no liabilities, bequeathing is mustaḥabb (recommended)¹¹. 

Some scholars, on the other hand, including az-Zuhri, held that it is wajib on all people. They cited the Prophet’s saying:

“It is not permissible for any Muslim who has something to will to stay for two nights without having his last will and testament written and kept ready with him.” [Bukhari]

They also said that at first, it was agreed that the waṣiyah was obligatory, based on Allah’s saying: 

“It is prescribed that when death approaches any of you—if they leave something of value—a will should be made in favour of parents and immediate family with fairness. ˹This is˺ an obligation on those who are mindful ˹of Allah˺.” [Surah AlBaqarah: 2;180]

They argued that the obligation that was abrogated only concerned bequeathing to heirs who were later given fixed shares by Allah , not to those relatives who do not inherit¹².

The majority of scholars argued that some of the Companions did not have a will, and the others did not blame them for this¹³. 

What Is The Best Amount to Bequeath?

Sa’d reported: The Prophet , visited me while I was ill in Mecca. I said, “I have some wealth. May I donate all of it?” The Prophet said, “No.” I said, “Half of it?” The Prophet said, “No.” I said, “A third of it?” The Prophet said, “Yes, a third, but this is still too much. That you leave your inheritors wealthy is better than leaving them dependent, begging for what people have. Whatever you spend on them is charity for you, even the morsel you feed to your wife.” [Bukhari]

This Hadith reported by Sa‘d indicates that the amount of a bequest is limited to 1/3 (one-third) of the entire estate. Scholars have all agreed on this as the maximum limit; however, they disagreed over the best amount: 1/3, 1/4, and 1/5 were all mentioned. The chosen position in the Hanbali school is 1/5 – this was reported in Sunan al-Bayhaqi to be the position of Abu Bakr and Ali , albeit with a controversial transmission. Ibn Qudâmah (rh) added in al-Mughni¹⁴ that this was the position of most of the Salaf (the earliest generations of the righteous followers of Islam)¹⁵.

A person should also appoint any sane, trustworthy Muslim man or woman as an executor (of the bequest) to perform acts that are within the scope of the legal capacity of the testator (the person who has made a will or given a bequest), such as: paying his debts, distributing his bequest, and looking after his children’s interests¹⁶.

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SECTION II: ISLAMIC RULES OF INHERITANCE

The subject matter of this knowledge, ‘ilm al-farâ’iḍ or ‘ilm al-mawâreeth (the science of inheritance), relates to the estate of the deceased. It is a division of fiqh (Islamic jurisprudence) that also requires an understanding of mathematics. For this reason, it is usually mentioned as a separate discipline by itself, and mastery of it is rare, even among scholars. Learning this science in order to accurately distribute the estate of the deceased justly among the heirs as prescribed by Allah is a farḍ kifayah (communal obligation)¹⁷.

It goes without saying that learning this extremely important science must be done under the guidance and supervision of competent and qualified scholars. Understanding the Islamic laws of inheritance must be combined with a study of the philosophical foundation of family in Islam and the distribution of rights and obligations, because exploring this topic in isolation will lead to a distorted understanding. For example, giving daughters half the share of the sons may sound unfair; however, when one considers the obligation upon men to be responsible for providing for women in the Muslim family, one will appreciate the overall fairness and justice when things are examined holistically¹⁸. 

Do Islamic Inheritance Laws Favour Men Over Women? 

This myth is due to a misconception derived from a misunderstanding of a part of a verse from the Qur’an where Allah says: 

“Allah commands you regarding your children: the share of the male will be twice that of the female…” [Surah An-Nisa: 4;11]

However, this verse does not mean that men always receive more than women. Islamic inheritance laws are based on a wider, complex framework of Islamic finance grounded in financial responsibility. In this system, sometimes women receive less than men; however, there are also multiple cases where women inherit equal to¹⁹ or even more than²⁰ men. All instances where there is a discrepancy between male or female heirs are when there is a difference in proximity between the heir and the deceased, or there is more of a responsibility of one party to provide for the other (e.g. men are obligated to financially support family members).

The objective behind the distribution of inheritance was to equalise all the recipients amongst the deceased’s family and treat women with justice and dignity²¹. So the idea that men always inherit more is an oversimplification; the reality is more nuanced, especially since there are several cases where women receive equal or greater shares of inheritance than men.

Islam was actually the first religion to assign women inheritance rights based on her responsibilities, and not her gender, as Allah said:

“For men there is a share in what their parents and close relatives leave, and for women there is a share in what their parents and close relatives leave—whether it is little or much. ˹These are˺ obligatory shares.” [Surah An-Nisa: 4;7]

It is for these reasons that Professor Almaric Rumsey (1825-1899) of King’s College, London, who was the author of many works on the subject of the Muslim law of inheritance, said: “The Moohummudan law of inheritance comprises beyond question the most refined and elaborate system of rules for the devolution of property that is known to the civilized world, and its beauty and symmetry are such that it is worthy to be studied, not only by lawyers with a view to its practical application, but for its own sake, and by those who have no other object in view than their intellectual culture and gratification.²²” 

The heirs will inherit both the liabilities and assets of the deceased, but they are not required to pay off liabilities if they are more than the assets can cover, although it is recommended because the Prophet said²³: 

“A believer’s soul remains suspended (from joining his befitting station) by his debt until it is settled or paid off on his behalf.” [At-Tirmidhi]

Thus, accurate distribution of wealth through the Islamic rules of inheritance is from amongst the most important matters in Islam. This is why the Prophet encouraged Muslims to learn the rules of inheritance and teach them to others. He ) said: 

“Learn about the inheritance and teach it, for it is half of knowledge, but it will be forgotten. This is the first thing that will be taken away from my nation.²⁴”

Here, the Prophet refers to the rules of inheritance as “half of knowledge” because they contain most of the rulings that pertain to a human being in the state of death whilst the other rulings of fiqh pertain to how people should live life. 

In another narration, he said:

“I am a mortal and knowledge will be taken away and trials will appear until (there would be) two persons who would differ about a case of inheritance and cannot find anyone to give a judgement.²⁵” 

Without doubt, what the Prophet said has now occurred as this branch of knowledge has been ignored and forgotten and is rarely taught to the average Muslim unless one undertakes formal training in the Islamic sciences in a well-known Islamic seminary or institute of higher education. It is crucial that as Muslims we revive this branch of knowledge in order to educate ourselves and preserve it in our communities, as it involves the rights of others, which is something that we will be questioned about on the Day of Judgement. 

The Prophet also said: 

“(Sacred) knowledge has three categories, anything else is extra; a precise verse, an established Sunnah, or a firm rule of inheritance.²⁶”  

Umar ibn al-Khattab said: 

“Learn the rules of inheritance, for they are part of your religion.²⁷” 

Islamic rules of inheritance refer to shares allocated to legal heirs by the noble Qur’an – these are prescribed shares of the estate which are to be given to those who deserve them. 

These laws ensure the correct distribution of the wealth of a deceased person. It is a right of those left behind among the deceased’s inheritors. Studying these rules entails learning how to divide an estate, its fiqh rulings, calculations and shares. 

After death, the following order takes place with regard to the deceased’s wealth:

a) Firstly, we use it to spend on his funeral expenses;

b) Secondly, we use it to pay off any debts that the person may have towards people or Allah ;

i) those debts related to mortgages take preference over general debts;

ii) Debts to Allah include things like Zakah, Hajj, etc.

c) Thirdly, we execute the person’s will up to one-third of their wealth;

d) Finally, we distribute the remaining wealth to their inheritors according to fixed laws in the Qur’an and Sunnah²⁸.

If any property remains after that, it is to be divided amongst their agnate²⁹ relatives.    

It is not permissible for anyone to try to change these laws of inheritance, which are decreed by Allah as He says:

“These ˹entitlements˺ are the limits set by Allah. Whoever obeys Allah and His Messenger will be admitted into Gardens under which rivers flow, to stay there forever. That is the ultimate triumph! But whoever disobeys Allah and His Messenger and exceeds their limits will be cast into Hell, to stay there forever. And they will suffer a humiliating punishment.” [Surah An-Nisa: 4;13-14]

Regarding the tafsir of this verse, Imam ash-Shawkani states:

“The word ‘these’, in the aforementioned verse, refers to the laws of inheritance which are discussed in the two verses preceding these two verses mentioned above. Allah (swt) refers to these laws as ‘limits’ because it is impermissible to exceed the limits of these rules or violate them. The phrase ‘…and whoever obeys Allah and His Messenger…’ means: whoever obeys Allah and His Messenger in applying the laws of estate division or any other Islamic rulings, as implied by the general meaning of the phrase ‘…will be admitted by Him to gardens [in paradise] under which rivers flow…” ³⁰

Imam ash-Shawkani then adds:  

It is related by Ibn Majah on the authority of Anas that the Messenger of Allah said:

“If anyone disinherits his heir, Allah will deprive him of his share in Paradise on the Day of Resurrection.”³¹

Therefore, whoever changes any of the laws of inheritance and prevents them by either allowing an illegal heir to inherit, or disinheriting a legal heir or depriving a legal heir of his or her share, may themselves be forfeiting their place in Paradise as a result. 

The Most Important Evidences Regarding the Islamic Rules of Inheritance

There are three verses from the Noble Qur’an and one Hadith of the Prophet that address the bulk of the issues of inheritance by designating the heirs, their shares and the approach to dividing the estate:

The three verses are from Surah An-Nisa:

The First Verse:

“Allah commands you regarding your children: the share of the male will be twice that of the female. If you leave only two ˹or more˺ females, their share is two-thirds of the estate. But if there is only one female, her share will be one-half. Each parent is entitled to one-sixth if you leave offspring. But if you are childless and your parents are the only heirs, then your mother will receive one-third. But if you leave siblings, then your mother will receive one-sixth—after the fulfilment of bequests and debts. ˹Be fair to˺ your parents and children, as you do not ˹fully˺ know who is more beneficial to you. ˹This is˺ an obligation from Allah. Surely Allah is All-Knowing, All-Wise.” [Surah An-Nisa: 4;11]

The Second Verse:

“You will inherit half of what your wives leave if they are childless. But if they have children, then ˹your share is˺ one-fourth of the estate—after the fulfilment of bequests and debts. And your wives will inherit one-fourth of what you leave if you are childless. But if you have children, then your wives will receive one-eighth of your estate—after the fulfilment of bequests and debts. And if a man or a woman leaves neither parents nor children but only a brother or a sister ˹from their mother’s side˺, they will each inherit one-sixth, but if they are more than one, they ˹all˺ will share one-third of the estate—after the fulfilment of bequests and debts without harm ˹to the heirs˺. ˹This is˺ a commandment from Allah. And Allah is All-Knowing, Most Forbearing.” [Quran: An-Nisa: 4;12]

The Third Verse:

“They ask you ˹for a ruling, O Prophet˺. Say, “Allah gives you a ruling regarding those who die without children or parents.” If a man dies childless and leaves behind a sister, she will inherit one-half of his estate, whereas her brother will inherit all of her estate if she dies childless. If this person leaves behind two sisters, they together will inherit two-thirds of the estate. But if the deceased leaves male and female siblings, a male’s share will be equal to that of two females. Allah makes ˹this˺ clear to you so you do not go astray. And Allah has ˹perfect˺ knowledge of all things.³²” [Surah An-Nisa: 4;176]

There is also an additional verse from the Qur’an that concerns blood relatives, though it is not explicit, where Allah says:

“And those who later believed, migrated, and struggled alongside you, they are also with you. But only blood relatives are now entitled to inherit from one another, as ordained by Allah. Surely Allah has ˹full˺ knowledge of everything.³³” [Surah Al-Anfal: 8;75]

The Hadith of the Prophet :

As for the Hadith of the Prophet , Ibn ‘Abbās narrated that Allah’s Messenger said:

“Give the stipulated shares to their owners; what is left over goes to the nearest male heir.” [Muslim]

Summary of the Main Categories of Heirs 

Below is a brief summary of some of the main categories of heirs in the Islamic rules of inheritance taken from Umdat al-Fiqh – a primary text of the Hanbali Madhab (school of law), written by Imam Ibn Qudamah al-Maqdisi³⁴. 

In the preface of his book Umdat al-Fiqh, Imam Ibn Qudamah said, “I included in it authentic narrations for their blessings and authority.” This was done to remind the student of knowledge that the spirit and foundation of this knowledge is the divine revelation (the Qur’an and Sunnah). The mere memorization of the rulings of different madhabs (schools of law) does not make one a Faqih (scholar of Islamic jurisprudence) until he or she knows their sources (proofs) and how they were deduced, and acts upon them with sincerity and devotion³⁵.

CATEGORIES OF HIERS

The heirs belong to one of three categories:

1. Dhoo Farḍ (heirs with designated shares)
2. ‘Aṣabah (residuary heirs)
3. Dhoo raḥim (other kin)

  – First Category: Dhoo Fard – Primary Heirs with Designated Shares

Heirs with designated shares are 10:

[1&2] The spouses; 

[3&4] The parents; 

[5] The (paternal) grandfather;

[6] The grandmother;

[7] The daughters;

[8] The daughters of the sons;

[9] The sisters; and

[10] The maternal half-siblings. 

 – Second Category: ‘Asabah – Secondary Residual Heirs 

Residual heirs are due to blood relationships – they inherit in the instance that there are first category primary heirs with designated shares. These include aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews and other distant relatives³⁶.

 – Third Category: Dhawi Arha’m (Other Kin)

These are the rest of the relatives or extended family who are neither: (i) first category primary heirs (with designated shares) nor (ii) second category secondary residual heirs (who are not entitled to a designated share). They may receive a share of the inheritance, only in the instance that there are no primary or secondary category heirs.

Hindrances to Inheritance

These include:

1) Difference in religious affiliation, meaning that the people of one religion shall not inherit from the people of another, because the Messenger of Allah said,

“The Muslim shall not inherit from the non-Muslim, nor shall the non-Muslim inherit from the Muslim,” [Muslim] and, “People of two different religious affiliations may not inherit from one another.” [Ibn Majah]

2) Killing (accidentally or intentionally); the killer shall not inherit from one whom he or she killed unjustifiably. 

It was narrated from Abu Hurairah that the Messenger of Allah said:

“The killer does not inherit.” [Ibn Majah]

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SECTION III: ISLAMIC SHARIA VS UK LAW REGARDING INHERITANCE 

Since there are strict and uniform interpretations and guidelines around inheritance, seeking professional help and advice when compiling an Islamic will is of utmost importance in order to fulfil the obligations of Islamic inheritance and make the will legally binding and enforceable in the UK.

As we have seen, in Islam, the Shariah outlines how inheritance is to be distributed after a Muslim’s death.  These distribution laws are not something that can be amended according to individual preference. However, under the UK civil law, one’s estate and assets can be distributed according to an individual’s preferences as outlined in their will – this is the primary difference between an Islamic will and a conventional will.

An Islamic will is only acceptable as long as it is compliant with the Shariah, and binding as long as it is compliant with UK civil law. If an Islamic will is found to be invalid, a Muslim’s inheritance will be distributed in accordance solely with the rules of intestacy (i.e., the laws that apply in that particular land) – this, of course, differs from country to country.

Common Mistakes People Make Regarding Inheritance

1. Leaving everything to one spouse or heir;
2. Preferring one child over the other;
3. Having assets and liabilities, but no will;
4. Not taking adequate care to protect assets and their distribution upon death;
5. Not maintaining the correct documentation in order to identify assets;
6. Making a Will based on domestic law only; and
7. Bequeathing more than a third of one’s entire estate to charity. 

Consequences of Dying Without a Valid Will

1. Without a Sharia-compliant Will, or any Will, one’s estate may be more complex and difficult to administer, as well as being costly;
2. It will mean that assets will be distributed in accordance with the rules of intestacy in England and Wales, which do not include provisions for Sharia compliance

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SECTION IV: OTHER MATTERS THAT MAY HINDER THE APPLICATION OF THE ISLAMIC RULES OF INHERITANCE IN THE UK

1. The impact of marriage 

In the UK, a legal/registered marriage entails that all assets will be equally divided³⁷ on divorce or automatically transferred to the surviving spouse upon the death of one of them (in the absence of a valid Will). This can have a huge impact on how someone’s estate is administered on divorce or death. Therefore, expert advice from Sharia scholars as well as lawyers needs to be sought in order to determine how to protect one’s assets (so heirs are not adversely impacted) and that a person’s Will is always divided according to the Sharia whether in a divorce or death. Wills, Trusts, and Prenuptial agreements can be the best way to protect one’s assets against unintended divisions. 

Nevertheless, this is a matter for Sharia Councils, Fiqh Academies and Lawyers specialising in Sharia-compliant Wills and Trusts.  

2. The Cohabitation Rights Bill 2026³⁸

This Bill which is currently making its way through Parliament, is designed to shape the future of family law in the UK in order to better reflect modern society. When it becomes law, it will offer cohabiting couples a distinct and different set of rights from legally married couples, including enhanced legal rights, automatic inheritance rights and domestic abuse protection³⁹. The bill is also considering making pre-nuptial agreements and post-nuptial agreements automatically legally binding. 

This is a welcome move as it means that Muslims who are married according to Islamic law, with a valid Nikah ceremony (who have not had a civil marriage), will have greater rights and protections. This will strengthen the position of the Sharia council in determining matters related to marriage and may also lead to people taking the Islamic nikah more seriously, which may (hopefully) even lead to a reduction of divorces for petty reasons. This obviously excludes abuse or violence, which are legitimate grounds for divorce.   

Despite the positives, the Cohabiting Rights Bill (when it becomes law), just like a legal civil marriage, will impact how someone’s wealth and estate are administered on death or divorce. Again, just as in the case of a civil marriage, wills, trusts and pre/post-nuptial agreements may be the best way to protect one’s assets against unintended divisions. 

3. Workplace Pensions 

Another matter for Fiqh Councils/Academies is the question of private pensions, which can be inherited by a surviving spouse. Private pensions can consist of: a lump sum; death in service payment; and a monthly pension (paid like a salary). Which (if any) aspect of these amounts must be given to heirs, and which part can a surviving spouse keep for themselves, is a question that needs to be determined by Sharia scholars and Fiqh Councils. 

4. Life Insurance

Without getting into the Islamic ruling regarding commercial insurance that a person opts to pay for, some companies also offer their employees free life insurance as an ancillary company benefit (along with private health care, gym membership, etc.). The question to ask is, how do we treat life insurance payments (when paid out at the event of death)? Are they subject to the rules of inheritance, or is it to be treated like a ‘gift’ from a company to the surviving spouse?  

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SECTION V: CONCLUSION & RECOMMENDATIONS

It can be seen that inheritance planning is extremely important for Muslims who have wealth that will remain after their passing. A properly drafted will can also help to avoid disputes and maintain peace after the death of a family member. If not dealt with correctly, inheritance can cause problems and quarrels among families.

Family members may feel they have been treated unjustly and not given their rights, and may harbour resentment towards those they feel have ‘taken their share’. 

Inheritance planning ensures that one’s wealth and assets are fairly given to those who have rights to them. 

It also means that the wishes of the deceased person are fulfilled, for example, if they wish for a certain portion of their wealth to be given as Sadaqah (charity). 

By correctly preparing for one’s death, one is ensuring the well-being of one’s family and of the Muslim community at large. 

Recommendations 

For Individuals: 

(i) Learn or, at the very least, familiarise yourself with the Islamic rules of inheritance;

(ii) Know who to ask (local Imam, Scholar, Fiqh/Sharia Council) and where to look (reputable organisations) for information regarding inheritance; and

(iii) Consult a solicitor/law firm who is experienced in writing Sharia-compliant and legally binding wills.  

Mosques & Islamic Institutions: 

(i) Educate your congregation regarding the importance of this topic and getting things right when it comes to inheritance planning; 

(ii) Run courses at your local mosques to teach people about inheritance; 

(iii) Da’wah organisations should make learning the rules of inheritance part of their teaching curricula together with other important subjects like aqeedah (theology), fiqh of worship and transaction, tafsir, Hadeeth, Arabic language, etc.

(ii) Since the science regarding the Islamic rules of Inheritance is very complex and detailed, it would be wonderful to see respected Islamic institutions and Fiqh/Fatwa councils create a tool (like Zakat calculators) or software where an individuals can input their details (heirs, financial assets and liabilities etc) and the software is programmed to divide the assets into their designated shares for the heirs. This could then be developed and refined to divide assets according to the rules and opinions of each of the established schools of law (Madhabs). 

One such tool exists here: www.almwareeth.com 

Allah knows best, and may His peace and blessings be upon our Prophet Muhammed , his Companions and all his family. 

*****

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Books & Articles 

1. Al-Buhuti, Shaykh Mansur, ‘Shar Muntaha al-Iraadaat’ li al-Buhuti,’ (www.shamela.ws)
2. Al-Fawzan, Dr. Saalih, ‘The Summary of Islamic Jurisprudence’ (al-Maiman Publishing House, 2011), Volume 2.
3. Al-Fawzan, Dr. Saalih, ‘Shar mukhtasa ala matn zaad al-mustaqni’ (Dar al-Aasima, 2004), Volume 3. 
4. Al-Sa’di, Sheik Abdurahman bin Nasir, ‘Nur al-Basai’r wa al-Baab fi Ahkaam al-Ibadaat wa al-Mu’amalaat wa al-Huquq wa al-Adab’ (Dar Ibn al-Jawzy, 1420h).
5. Al-Sa’di, Sheik Abdurahman bin Nasir, ‘Shar al-Qawa’id wa al-Usool al-Jaamia’ (www.moswarat.com).
6. Al-Sa’di, Sheik Abdurahman bin Nasir, The Path of the Wayfarer (Manhaj al-Salikin), (The Islamic Literary Foundation, 2014 – translated from Arabic by S. ‘Abd al-Hamid). 
7. As-Shithry, Dr. Sa’d ibn Nasir, Shar Nur al-Basai’r wa al-Baab fi Ahkaam al-Ibadaat wa al-Mu’amalaat wa al-Huquq wa al-Adab (Dar Kunuz Ishbayliya, Riyadh 2014).
8. Al-Haj, Dr. Hatem, ‘Umdat al-Fiqh Explained: A Commentary on Ibn Qudamah’s The Reliable Manual of Fiqh,’ Volume 2: Fiqh of Worship and Commerce (International Islamic Publishing House, 2019). 
9. al-Uthaymeen, Shaykh Saalih, ‘Shar Mumti ala zaad al-Mustaqni’ (Dar Ibn Jawzi, 2005), vol. 8
10. Hollingsworth, Munazza (partner at RHJ Devonshire solicitors), ‘The Islamic Succession,’ (www.rhjdevonshire.co.uk). 
11. Khattab, Dr. Mustafa ‘The Clear Quran’ (theclearquran.org) 
12. Rumsey, Almaric, ‘Moohummudan Law of Inheritance and Rights and Relations Affecting It,’ (3rd ed. London: W.H. Allene, 1880. iii. Print.)
13. Ash-Sawkaani, ‘Fathul Qadir’ (https://shamela.ws/book/23623)
14. Siyech, Mohammed Sinan & Shah, Sofiah Laila, ‘The Economic Contribution of British Muslims to the UK’s Growth and Prosperity, and the Risk of Exodus’ (EQUI, 2024)
15. Umar, Dr. Sajid, ‘Preserving a Legacy: Exploring Islamic Wills and their Profound Impact – Part I & II,’ (www.sajidumar.com, 2023)

Websites

1. https://www.ons.gov.uk/peoplepopulationandcommunity/culturalidentity/religion/articles/religionbyhousinghealthemploymentandeducationenglandandwales/census2021
2. www.qur’an.com
3. www.islamicfinanceguru.com
4. https://shamela.ws
5. www.almwareeth.com
6. www.islamicrelief.com
7. www.islamqa.com
8. www.islamicaid.com
9. www.yaqeeninstitute.org

Lectures:

1. Dr Hatem al-Haj, Fiqh of Inheritance, lectures 1 – 14 (Muslim Central, June 2020)

Related:

– To Buy Or Not To Buy, That Is The Question: An Analysis Of Possible Home Purchasing Options For Muslims In The UK

– So You Want To Become A Lawyer? [Part I] – On Faith, Duty, And The Legal Profession

The post Rules Of Islamic Inheritance: Dispensing One’s Final Act Of Justice In This Life appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Painting by Safia Latif

Our Prophet ﷺ never gave up on fasting on Ashura, which is the 10th day of Muharram (Sunan al-Nasa’i, 2416). The Quraysh used to fast on this day in times of Jahiliyyah, and so did he ﷺ when still in Makkah. Once he ﷺ arrived in Madinah, he ﷺ noticed that the Jews were fasting on this day too, commemorating that sayyidina Musa had triumphed over Pharaoh. He ﷺ turned to the Muslims and said “You (Muslims) have more right to celebrate Musa’s victory than they have, so observe the fast on this day” (Sahih al-Bukhari, 4680). In order for us to distinguish ourselves as Muslims from the Jews and the Christians and their practices, our Prophet ﷺ decided to fast on the ninth day of Muharram too if he ﷺ would get the chance to the next year (Sahih Muslim, 1134).

Once fasting became obligatory in Ramadan, fasting on Ashura was made voluntary (Sahih al-Bukhari, 4504). In this sense, fasting on the 10th of Muharram was part of the process to introduce fasting as an integral part of our religion. The fast’s reward on this blessed day is clearly known. When asked about it, our Messenger ﷺ said that it expiates the sins of the previous year (Sahih Muslim, 1162).

Earmarks of Truth

Let us go back in time. On the exact day of Ashura, sayyidina Musa found himself trapped as he and his Bani Isra’il, an oppressed nation of enslaved people who had been exiled in the desert for 40 years, were hot on heels by the corrupted army of Pharaoh, the epitome of despotism. The only thing they had left was their faith. At that terrifying moment, Allah guided him to lead his people to the edge of the rumbling sea. His people cried out in pure desperation that they would be overtaken by the tyrant’s army or swallowed by the waves, yet he encouraged them, full of faith, “Absolutely not! My Lord is certainly with me—He will guide me” (Surat ash-Shu’ara, verse 62). His words were barely out of his mouth when Allah ordered him to strike the sea with his staff. Allah then split the entire mass of salty water in halves as high as mountains so they could get to the other side safely, creating a path of freedom. The army of Pharaoh? They all drowned. It is a timeless reminder that, by the grace of Allah, steadfast righteousness nurtured by absolute faith always triumphs over tyranny.

On the 10th of Muharram precisely 1387 lunar years ago, in the year 61 AH, another pivotal moment in our shared past as Muslims took place. It was a particularly tense time, as the Umayyad caliph Muʿawiya had appointed his son Yazid as his successor. Hereditary succession was unprecedented in Islamic history. The decision had stirred growing controversy and grunting discontent. Sayyidina al-Husayn ibn Ali, one of the most beloved grandsons of our Prophet Muhammad ﷺ, took it upon himself to stand up against Yazid’s unjust governance and the moral crisis in which his fractured community had found themselves. What followed was a staggeringly unfair battle between al-Husayn’s troops, painfully limited in number, and the thousands of merciless Umayyad soldiers.

Tragically, al-Husayn ibn Ali was decapitated and mocked, and about seventy of his close family members and companions were martyred. Many others were captured. This battle, the Battle of Karbala, and the betrayal of al-Husayn, may Allah approve him, by the people of Kufa it stood for, would mark the start of the Second Fitna. However, it teaches us not to measure victory according to dunyawi standards. You have probably caught yourself doing this too. We often attach more worth to the means and forget the goal. Al-Husayn’s true success, however, comes in the Hereafter. His martyrdom is a symbol of his deeply-rooted faith and endless sense of justice. It is an ultimate testimony of honoring the notion of tawhid, of striving for the Truth and standing up for it.

Ashura Questions

Ashura reminds us that every Pharaoh will drown eventually. Every oppressor, big or small, will go down. Allah can do this easily. For every Pharaoh there should be a Musa who does his best to drown the oppressor, even if he only has a stick. Our iman should be that stick. Sayyidina Musa did not know that the sea would split, but he relied on Allah regardless. Allah did the rest. His assistance is always there for those who do not give up on His wisdom and mercy, those who strive in righteousness.

Over and over, we turn to the guidance of our Prophet ﷺ, especially in times of darkness. Muharram, one of the four sacred months of the Islamic calendar, stands for new beginnings. It is the chance to revive our commitment to his sunnah, to his path. Not to the path of those in power, nor of the financial elite of this world. Through fasting on its tenth day, we express our gratitude to Allah for the victory He granted sayyidina Musa over Pharaoh, and we commemorate sayyidina al-Husayn’s bravery when standing up for what is right.

As Muslims, we do not act as mouthpieces for injustice. Submitting to our Creator means renewing our covenant to tawhid, which inherently means standing for His truth, for justice, over and over again, unshakingly. Ashura asks us a crucial question. Do we really express our love for our Creator by speaking kalimat al-haqq in the face of tyrants, small and big? Or do we merely give lip service to Allah’s path? Do we really face the Pharaohs of this world, within ourselves and within others? Or do we betray the oppressed and sell them out like the people of Kufa did to sayyidina al-Husayn? Do we really have the level of tawakkul and courage it takes to take a clear stance when we face what feels like insurmountable adversities in this earthly realm? Do we truly grasp that this is what leads to ultimate victory? In essence, undoubtingly knowing that Allah is with us is what it takes.

The Red Sea, which Allah split for Prophet Musa on the day of Ashura. Getty Images.

How You Can Strike the Sea

This year, the 10th of Muharram falls on a Thursday so we can combine the intentions of fasting both sunnahs. In this day and age we need to stand with the oppressed and try to be the stick in the wheel of the tyrants. Merely fasting without reminding ourselves of this would be like praying without khushuʿ or reciting the Qur’an merely for the reward of reading its letters without trying to understand its meanings. Here are some steps you can take.

• Fasting with intentions that reflect the above. Fasting in Muharram is the best fast after the fast in the month of Ramadan (Sahih Muslim, 1163). Fast at least on Ashura, and if possible also the day before and/or after. Shortly after Ashura come the White Days, so you can fast those too.
• Do what it takes to nourish your belief that victory will come, even in unlikely circumstances.
• Reflect on what injustice entails, close to you and further away. We cannot allow ourselves to be oppressors to our own soul, to our family, friends, colleagues, spouse, children, our ecological environment… Which injustice in your life do you need to take care of before you stand in front of Allah?
• As Ashura is a day of forgiveness, who will you forgive this year?
• Follow up on news of our oppressed brothers and sisters worldwide, in your own circles and communities, in Sudan, Palestine, Lebanon, Kashmir, China, and elsewhere, and let it sink in. Feel it in your heart and pray for them.
• Reflect on how you can strike the sea, with the right intention. Which stick will you use to fight tyrants and their injustice? Put this into action against oppression according to your context and capacities, without seeking fame nor praise: post on social media, help out someone who is oppressed (for instance, overwhelmed by debt), organize, stand up against bullies, get involved in your own community, select a cause for which you want to use your talents for and strive, and get connected to those who have experience therein.

Related:

From The Prophets To Karbala: The Timeless Lessons Of Ashura For Muslims Today

Ashura: The Victory of Musa And Victory of Husain

The post Ashura: A Stick in the Oppressor’s Wheel appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Shifa Saltagi Safadi is back with her latest book, and more writing advice for Muslim authors! How much Islamic rep is too much Islamic rep for kidlit? Do you really need to develop craft? Isn’t enough to tell Muslim kids just to be good Muslims? And can Muslim authors survive the advent of AI… or should they tap into it?

Tune in for writerly advice and a peek at the latest Amina Banana chapter book for the kiddos.

Synopsis:

The science fair kicks up a rivalry in book four of the delightful Amina Banana chapter book series from National Book Award-winner Shifa Safadi!

Finally, the science fair is here, and Amina Banana is ready to showcase her skills. But when she is paired with someone unexpected, the science fair suddenly becomes . . . UNfair.

All Amina wants to do is win the fair and impress her grandmother, who is visiting from Syria. Will Amina be able to develop a formula to help her work with her challenging partner?

Related:

[Podcast] How To Free A Jinn & Other Questions | Ustadha Raidah Shah Idil

[Podcast] Kosovar Rep & What’s Missing In Muslim KidLit

The post [Podcast] Shifa Saltagi Safadi and the Formula for Writing Muslamic Books appeared first on MuslimMatters.org.

Read Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16  | Part 17

* * *

Vast Blue Sky

The mountains gradually gave way to rolling grasslands that invited a man to breathe deeply, and a horse to run fast. Great green hills stretched to the horizon beneath a sky that was bigger than the world, while herds of horses grazed freely across the open country. The land too felt immense, but maybe it was only that there were few wells, fewer roads, and fewer signs that anyone had ever attempted to tame it.

At times I wished I too was a horse, so that I could gallop free across this sweeping land, my mane streaming behind me like a banner of victory. At other times the sky was so unrelenting that I had an irrational fear that a bird as big as a city would glide down and seize the entire caravan in its beak.

I wondered if this was what my father had felt like when he was released from prison. That the world was too large, that so much liberty was heady but frightening, as if he were a mouse that had been released from a cage, and now must fear the hawk. It made me uncomfortable and sad to think of my father being afraid. I shook these thoughts off and spurred my horse forward, to find Weili and chat.

The cold wind blew constantly, as if it too had escaped a prison and come to a land where it could gust as hard and carelessly as it wished.

“This is Kyrgyz land,” Longwei informed me as we rode alongside the wagons.

“How do you know?”

He looked offended. “I have been here before.”

We passed many nomadic settlements. Everyone in this land rode horses, even the children, with an ease and grace so natural it was as if they’d been born in the saddle. Maybe they had. These people lived in circular felt tents supported by wooden frames. Hundreds of these yurts – for so they were called, Longwei said – dotted the surrounding countryside. Smoke drifted lazily upward from their chimneys while horses, sheep and goats wandered between them. Men wore long coats trimmed with fur and tall felt hats, while many of the women dressed in bright embroidered garments decorated with silver jewelry that flashed in the sunlight.

Fight With A Nomad

I saw a man and his son practicing stick fighting. They carried long staffs, and danced around each other, whirling, thrusting and parrying. It reminded me of my practice sessions with my aunt Jade. I felt a pang of sadness.

To distract myself, I broke away from the caravan and rode up to the father and son. Dismounting, I bowed to the father, and he bowed back.

I tapped my chest. “Darius.”

The man pointed to himself. “Almaz.”

Gesturing wordlessly, I indicated that I would like to spar with him. Grinning, the man said something to his son, who tossed me his staff. Almaz and I bowed to each other again, and without preamble, he attacked. I parried his attack easily. The man was talented but limited in his repertoire, and slow by my standards, I spun and reversed, attacking from odd angles, giving the father something to think about. He grunted with the effort of blocking my blows. Sweat broke out on his forehead.

Still, I held back. I only wanted to have a bit of fun, not hurt the man.

As we fought, some of the caravan guards rode up to watch, and a number of nomads gathered around, including Almaz’s wife and children.

Almaz came at me with what I thought would be an uppercut strike. I leaned back to let it pass me harmlessly, but instead the tip of his staff dug into the ground and flung dirt in my eyes. Blinded, the next thing I saw was the tip of the staff at my throat, the father grinning behind it.

I laughed, held up a hand in surrender, and returned the staff to the boy. I was genuinely glad to have been bested. I had shown Almaz a few new moves, and he’d taught me something too. I shook his hand, and everyone applauded.

As I rode away, I looked back to see Almaz beaming as his friends clapped him on the back and congratulated him. Some of my fellow guards ribbed me about being beaten by a nomad, but Weili gave me a knowing smile, and I knew that she knew that I could have defeated the man at any time. I never forgot that smile, and the admiring look in her eyes.

A Bracelet and a Wooden Horse

We came to a city beside a broad river. High mud-brick walls surrounded clusters of flat-roofed buildings. Scents drifted to us before we reached the gates. Roasting meat mingled with fresh bread, horse sweat, leather, wood smoke and spices I could not identify. Merchants from a dozen lands crowded the roads leading into the city. Some led camels. Others drove wagons piled high with goods. I heard languages I could not begin to recognize.

The Five Stars caravan established camp on a flat topped hill. The city loomed on the horizon. Several merchants prepared to enter the city to see what goods they could acquire at the local marketplace, which Longwei called a suq. Two wagons were selected for the trip, along with a contingent of guards. To my surprise, Sergeant Karim chose me for the detail. He also chose Kuangren.

“If you disappear again,” Karim warned, pointing a finger at him, “I will nail your boots to a wagon. With your feet inside them.”

Kuangren considered this carefully. “You’re too good a man to do that.”

Karim gave him a serious look. “Don’t count on that.”

The suq was one of the most fascinating places I had ever seen. Narrow streets wound between market stalls crowded with carpets, silverwork, horse tack, bows, knives, embroidered clothing and goods from every corner of the world. One merchant sold hunting falcons. Another displayed exquisitely carved saddles. Yet another offered tiny painted figurines no larger than my thumb. I also saw many things, from bracelets and amulets to furniture and tea sets, that were decorated with Islamic designs, including geometric patterns, and the names of Allah and the Prophet. I assumed these items were here to catch the eyes of passing Muslim travelers.

I fingered a silver bracelet decorated with onyx stones that reminded me of Weili’s eyes. Feeling embarrassed, I nearly put the bracelet back, then bought it anyway.

Later I found a carved wooden horse small enough to fit in my palm. I told myself I admired the craftsmanship. The fact that it looked exactly like something Haaris would treasure had absolutely nothing to do with my decision.

No, nothing whatsoever. Still, I would hold onto it. Maybe someday I’d find someone to give it to.

A Muslim Land

Once the sun passed its zenith, the call for salat sounded from every direction. I gazed at one of the merchants in amazement. He grinned and nodded his head, giving me permission to investigate. Store owners everywhere closed their shops and exited the suq. Customers, travelers, tribesmen, nobles and servants streamed toward the masjids. That’s right, masjids, plural. There was not one grand masjid, like in Deep Harbor. Rather, there were masjids everywhere. I realized for the first time that all these people were Muslim. I felt the hair rise on the back of my neck.

In my country Muslims were a minority. Deep Harbor was one of the most heavily Muslim cities in the land, and even there only a fifth of the population were Muslim. I had known, of course, that there were faraway lands where Islam ruled, but I hadn’t known that we had reached such a place. I felt almost like weeping, but couldn’t say why. I felt powerful, like nothing could threaten me.

I followed one group to a local masjid, performed wudu, and with my travel pack and dao on my back, prayed beside people of many lands. When the salat was over I found myself grinning and shaking hands with everyone. No matter what language they spoke, everyone knew how to say as-salam alaykum. A man might gesture at my size – for I had grown taller and stronger on this trip – and say, “mashaAllah!” Another pointed to my dao, then pointed to the sky and said, “Allahu Akbar!’ I wasn’t sure if this was an indication of approval, or a reminder that true power was with Allah.

Raiders!

By late afternoon our business was concluded and the wagons rolled back toward camp. It was only after we arrived that someone noticed Kuangren was missing.

Several guards exchanged resigned looks.

Ahmed sighed, Meilin rolled her eyes and Longwei merely shook his head and said, “Again?”

No one seemed especially alarmed. Kuangren disappearing was hardly unusual. In fact, it had become so common that we hardly knew whether to laugh, get angry or simply not care.

The sun had already set when the sound of galloping hooves shattered the evening calm. A lone rider burst into camp at full speed, his horse kicking up dust and covered in sweat.

“Raiders!” he shouted. “Raiders!”

It was Kuangren.

The camp erupted into motion.

Guards scrambled for their weapons while merchants took shelter behind the wagons. Horses whinnied nervously as teamsters rushed to secure them. I drew my dao and joined the line forming along the outer edge of camp. Kaungren slid from his beleaguered horse and gesticulated.

“Raiders!” he shouted. “Hundreds of them!”

“How many hundreds?” Karim demanded.

Kuangren shrugged. “A lot, probably.”

Hold Your Fire

A dark mass appeared on the horizon – hundreds of riders, coming fast from the direction of the city, and spreading across the grasslands as they approached. My stomach tightened. They came up the hill at a gallop, raising a cloud of dust behind them, their horses moving with the effortless grace of men born in the saddle. Bows hung from their shoulders, spears bounced against their backs, and curved sabers gleamed at their hips.

Our archers raised their bows. We had the high ground advantage. We could cut down a good portion of this attacking force before they even reached us.

“Hold your fire!” Karim shouted.

The riders continued to close the distance.

“Hold your fire!”

Something about the approaching force seemed wrong. They were certainly armed, but none had drawn a weapon. Nor were they forming for an attack. They were not trying to flank us, for example, nor was anyone shouting commands.

The riders finally slowed and spread out in front of the camp. At their center rode a wealthy merchant with a magnificent beard and an expression of such furious outrage that I reached up for my dao, though I did not draw it, for a young woman with thick chestnut hair, and dressed in embroidered riding clothes rode confidently by his side, mounted on a gorgeous spotted horse. She wore no sword, but a long knife hung from one hip, and she carried a bow on her back. Yet gold bracelets adorned her wrists, and one nostril was pierced with a gold ring. She resembled the merchant strongly, and was obviously his daughter. She was altogether quite impressive.

On the other side of the merchant sat an elderly man with a long beard, wearing an expensive coat. He was surrounded by heavily armed retainers, and might have been a tribal chief.

The rich merchant said something to the young woman, who slowly surveyed all the guards, then extended an arm and pointed.

Every head in camp turned to see what she was pointing out.

She was pointing at Kaungren.

Kuangren attempted a smile, which faltered and disappeared.

Karim strode up to him. “Raiders?”

Kuangren cleared his throat. “I may have misstated the case slightly.”

“What did you do?”

Kuangren shrugged helplessly. “I met the young lady in the suq.” He gestured to the lovely young lady.

“And?”

Kuangren chuckled nervously. “Well… It’s hard to talk to a lady when she’s with her chaperone. We found a quiet spot in a garden.”

Sergeant Karim took a step toward Kuangren. “And?” His tone was menacing.

“Come on, Sarge. I didn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to. How was I supposed to know her father is some kind of big shot? It’s not my fault that – “

Karim struck Kuangren with a series of blows so rapid I hardly followed them, ending with a fast chop to the side of the neck. Shocked, I watched as Kuangren crumpled bonelessly to the ground. The young woman cried out, not in satisfaction but in protest, and her father silenced her with a gesture.

Negotiations

The negotiations that followed consumed the better part of an hour. Translators moved constantly between groups while the merchant, the chieftain, several elders and Karim argued as Kaungren sat miserably on the ground, massaging his bruises.

The daughter herself seemed perfectly content with the situation. She stroked her horse’s neck and watched the proceedings with glittering eyes. I had the feeling this woman never did anything she didn’t want to do. On that, at least, Kuangren had not lied.

Her father, on the other hand, shouted and gesticulated continuously. More than once he took his bow from his back and nocked an arrow, aiming at Kaungren, whereupon our own people armed themselves in response. Each time the chieftain spoke a sharp word, and everyone settled back into an uneasy truce.

As the discussion continued, it became increasingly clear that there would be no peaceful solution that did not involve marriage. The father demanded it. The chieftain demanded it. Most surprisingly to me, the daughter seemed pleased at the prospect. Who would want to marry Kaungren of all people?

Eventually Karim made an announcement:

“Five Stars will provide compensation to the merchant and his tribe. The merchant’s honor will be restored. The caravan will continue unmolested.” He paused. “And Kuangren will marry the girl.”

For a moment there was silence.

Then Kaungren stood. “What?”

Karim folded his arms.

“You heard me.”

“I object.”

“I don’t care.”

“I can’t get married. I don’t even speak this woman’s language. Besides, I’m not fit for marriage. I’m a scoundrel. Sergeant, tell them I’m a scoundrel.”

“Trust us,” Meilin said, “they already know.”

“You will have to convert to Islam as well,” Karim said. “They will never accept their daughter marrying a disbeliever.”

Kaungren threw up his arms. “Doesn’t anyone know that we live in enlightened times? Such things don’t happen anymore!”

A Swordpoint Wedding

Things moved very quickly. Money changed hands. Ahmed was recruited to conduct the ceremony. A carpet was spread beside the campfire. Witnesses were assembled. The merchant sat proudly beside the tribal chieftain. I had the feeling that he was happy to be rid of his daughter, who seemed like a handful herself. I wondered if Kuangren knew what he was getting himself into. The daughter appeared delighted by the entire affair. Kuangren looked as though he had been condemned to death.

Ahmed cleared his throat and began in the name of Allah. The laughter faded as he recited a few ayat of the Quran concerning marriage and the creation of mankind in pairs. He then delivered a short khutbah on responsibility and kindness. It lasted less than two minutes. When he finished, he turned toward Kuangren.

“Repeat after me.” Ahmed recited the shahadah, and Kaungren – with a grimace – repeated.

Ahmed nodded, satisfied. “Do you accept this marriage?”

“No.”

Sergeant Karim took a step toward Kuangren.

“Let me ask again,” Ahmed said. Do you accept this marriage?”

Kuangren looked around as if seeking an escape route. The merchant glared. The chieftain narrowed his eyes. Karim took another step forward and put a hand on the hilt of his sword. It was not, I was sure, an empty threat. The bride smiled sweetly.

“Okay, then.”

Ahmed turned to the young woman and asked the same question. Someone translated. Her answer came instantly and enthusiastically.

“I accept!”

The surrounding tribesmen erupted into cheers. I found myself grinning. For some reason I wanted to seek out Weili and give her a nudge, as if to say, “What do you think?” But I knew that was beyond foolish.

The bride immediately wrapped her arms around Kuangren and kissed his cheek. More cheering followed. Kuangren stared into the distance as if contemplating whether being trampled by wild horses might improve his circumstances.

The celebrations continued into the night. Sheep were slaughtered, musicians appeared from somewhere, and gifts changed hands. We found ourselves sitting with these tribesmen, making mutually unintelligible conversation that consisted mostly of hand gestures, and sharing coffee and sweets. The merchant transformed from a man ready to start a war into the happiest father in Central Asia. The bride spent most of the evening sitting beside Kuangren, smiling at him and occasionally resting her head on his shoulder. Kuangren spent most of the evening staring into his bowl with the expression of a man trying to come to terms with a diagnosis of a terminal disease.

I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

When the celebrations were over, the tribesmen departed. A covered wagon was emptied, with its goods distributed among the other wagons, and it was given to Kaungren and his bride as their wedding suite, which I found somehow funny, embarrassing and scandalous.

A Brutal Judgment

The next morning, immediately after Fajr prayer, Karim ordered every guard assembled. Gone were the laughter and celebrations of the previous night. Even the air felt different.

We gathered in silence while dawn spread slowly across the grasslands. Kuangren stood among us looking tired and uneasy. His bride watched from their wagon, looking somehow satisfied and nervous at the same time. She clearly sensed that something was wrong, though she could not have known exactly what.

Karim waited until every guard was present. Then he began to pace before us with his hands clasped behind his back. Something that looked a lot like a bullwhip was looped and hung from his belt. This puzzled me, as my mind did not conceive of any possible use for it.

“Kuangren,” he said. “Step forward.”

With a half-grin, half-grimace, Kaungren stepped forward. He expected a stern dressing down, and was prepared to accept it with humility.

“I have tolerated your foolishness for months,” Sergeant Karim said. His voice was quiet, which somehow made it more threatening. “You drink too much. You gamble too much. You disappear whenever we pass near a town. You ignore orders. You ignore common sense. I have overlooked all of this because you fight well. So despite being an idiot, you are a useful idiot.” A few guards smiled despite themselves. Karim noticed immediately, and the smiles vanished.

The sergeant took a long, shuddering breath, and for the first time I realized that he was white-hot furious. He was trying to contain his rage. I had never seen him like this, and it frightened me.

Once again his gaze fixed on Kuangren. “Last night you endangered this caravan. You created enemies among the local population. You forced me to negotiate with armed men. You cost this company a substantial amount of money.” His voice rose with each accusation. “Had those negotiations failed, I might have lost guards, merchants, and teamsters. Good people. People who trust me to get them safely to Persia and back. All because you could not keep your trousers tied.”

The silence that followed was absolute. Even Meilin, who could make a disparaging comment about anything in existence, kept her mouth shut.

Karim held up the index finger of each hand. “You have two options. One, you and your bride may accept exile from the caravan. Your wages are forfeit. You can take your travel pack and weapons, and go wherever you wish. What becomes of you is not my concern.”

With the other index finger, he pointed to the nearest wagon wheel. “Option two, I tie you to that wheel and give you twenty lashes.” He drew the bullwhip from his belt and with a swing of his arm, flicked it. It billowed out as fast as lightning and gave a crack that made me jump.

“If you choose that option, you may remain in service to Five Stars, and there will be no further punishment.”

Twenty Lashes

For several seconds nobody moved. We all understood the choice. Thousands of miles from home, the caravan represented food, protection and survival. Without it, Kuangren would either have to settle permanently in a foreign land or attempt the impossible journey across half the world on foot, accompanied by a wife he had acquired less than twelve hours earlier. Or I supposed he could dump the wife at the city gates and run for his life.

He looked toward the distant hills, then toward the wagons. For the first time since I had met him, he appeared genuinely frightened. He opened his mouth to protest, then shut it.

“I’ll take the lashes,” he said quietly.

The punishment was carried out immediately.

Kuangren removed his shirt and was bound to a wagon wheel. He was a pale, skinny man with narrow shoulders. I couldn’t imagine what women saw in him.

Sergeant Karim rolled his shoulders and shook out the bullwhip. Around us, merchants emerged from their wagons and tents to watch. Even the horses seemed unusually quiet.

Karim wound up, swung his arm and let the whip fly. The first strike landed with a crack like a branch snapping in half.

I flinched, as did several others. A red welt appeared on Kaungren’s back, and while he grunted in pain, he did not cry out.

The second blow cut through the skin. The third opened it. By the fifth, blood streaked Kuangren’s back and dripped onto the grass beneath him. His bride began shouting in alarm. Longwei, who spoke some Kyrgyz, hurried over to her and attempted to explain what was happening. Whatever explanation he offered only seemed to upset her more. She tried to push past him and run toward her husband, but Longwei gently restrained her.

The sixth lash landed. Then the seventh. Then the eighth. Each impact sounded worse than the last. Kuangren’s entire body jerked with every strike, yet somehow he remained silent. Sweat poured down his face. The muscles in his neck stood out like cables. His breathing became ragged and uneven, but not once did he cry out. This surprised me. Though he was a good fighter, I had always seen him as a fundamentally weak man. I did not find him funny or cute. In fact, I realized now, I despised him. Seeing him whipped provided me with no satisfaction, but it didn’t bother me either.

Still, by the tenth lash I found myself staring at the ground. By the twelfth, several of the older guards looked disturbed. Meilin looked as serious as I had ever seen her. The bride wept.

The whipping went on. A movement beside me caught my eye. Ahmed had stepped forward. Not much. Only a pace. But enough that everyone nearby noticed. His face showed horrified resolve. For a moment I thought he was going to intervene.

Karim looked at him. No words passed between them. Yet something in Karim’s expression caused Ahmed to slowly step back into line.

When the whipping was done, Karim stepped forward personally and untied the ropes binding Kuangren’s wrists. The moment he was released, Kuangren’s legs gave out beneath him. He was unconscious.

The camp physician immediately ordered everyone away. Without really thinking about it, I volunteered to help. The old man looked surprised. “You know something about medicine?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Kuangren awakened as we treated his wounds. His hands clenched and unclenched around the blanket while the physician worked, yet he never complained.

“You know the worst part?” Kuangren said.

“What?”

“I’m not even sure I know my wife’s name.”

The physician burst out laughing.

I shook my head, though I couldn’t help smiling.

Blue Domed Mosques

The weeks that followed carried us westward through lands I had only seen on maps. Uzbekistan was a country of broad valleys, ancient cities and blue-domed masjids that gleamed beneath the sun like polished gemstones. These masjids were the most beautiful things I had ever seen, and I thought that Uzbekistan must be a piece of Jannah on earth.

With everything that had happened after our visit to Kyrgyz, I had never given Weili the bracelet I bought for her. Now, the moment seemed right. I knew she was stationed at the rear of the caravan, and as we passed through a glorious valley alight with wildflowers, I pulled my horse out of formation and dropped back to find her. Her long black hair was loose and whipping in the wind. Sergeant Karim would not like that if he saw it. She rode easily in the saddle, her eyes scanning the surrounding hills.

I nodded. “Any news?”

She snorted. “What am I, the town crier?”

I laughed. With a smile, keeping my voice casual, I said, “I got you something back in Kyrgyz. With all the excitement I forgot to give it to you.”

Her face lit up. “Really? What is it?”

I handed her the bracelet. “It reminded me of you.”

A smile brighter than the sun transformed her face. “It’s lovely! Thank you so much, Darius. That’s so nice of you. Next time don’t wait a month to give it to me, though.”

I laughed again. “Glad you like it!” With that I galloped forward to my station. I was pleased with myself for having played it just right, nice and easy.

We arrived at a city called Samarkand. I stood staring at buildings so beautiful they seemed unreal. Great turquoise domes rose above tiled courtyards covered in geometric patterns and Quranic calligraphy. Merchants crowded the markets selling melons, apricots, silk, spices and carpets from every corner of the known world. Everywhere I looked I saw evidence of centuries of wealth, learning and trade.

And all these lands were Muslim. For the first time I was beginning to understand the vastness of Islam. It was not a local religion practiced by a minority of people. It was, quite possibly, the dominant belief system of the world. Many on our caravan were not Muslim, and in a turnaround I found satisfying, they were now the minority. All around me I was surrounded by my brothers and sisters in faith.

Yet I saw pick pockets and the occasional street fight. A local merchant struck his wife in the face, and another whipped his donkey too cruelly. A drunk sat slumped against a wall. One businessman accused another of cheating. Being Muslim, it seemed, was not a cure-all for humanity’s problems. It did not turn men into angels. This was something I would have to ponder.

Beyond Samarkand, we traveled through Bukhara, where Islamic scholars seemed almost as common as merchants. Half the people we encountered seemed to have memorized much or all of the Quran. This astounded and inspired me. Zihan Ma would love this place. I wished our caravan could stay longer. I resolved that one day I would return to study here.

Ahmed nearly drove Karim mad by repeatedly disappearing into bookstores and madrasahs whenever we stopped for more than an hour.

“If the scholars kidnap you,” Karim warned him, “I’m not paying a ransom.”

Ahmed looked genuinely puzzled. “Why would the scholars kidnap me?”

“To make you listen to their stories.”

Ahmed laughed. “Hey, as long as you’re not going to bullwhip me, I’m fine.”

Karim turned away, all humor gone from his face. No wonder Ahmed almost never told jokes. He was terrible at it.

After our time in Bukahra, I began spending more time with my own copy of the Quran. I memorized all of Juz Amma, and began on Surat Al-Mursalat, and then Al-Insan.

Good Spirits

From there we entered Tajik lands. The roads climbed steadily into mountain valleys fed by icy rivers descending from distant snow-covered peaks. Villages clung to hillsides above terraced fields. Stone houses stood against slopes so steep I could not imagine building anything there. The people looked different from those we had encountered farther east, many with lighter skin, lighter eyes and sharper features than I was accustomed to seeing. At first they looked strange to me, but soon I began to find them quite beautiful.

During all this time I continued to ride with Weili at times, sit with her at the campfire at night, and teach her the Quran. She often wore the bracelet I’d bought her, and that made me happy. I taught a number of the short surahs of Juz Amma. She stumbled over some of the Arabic, laughed at her own mistakes, and occasionally became frustrated, but she persisted.

“I know that you believe deeply in Islam,” she said to me one night over a campfire. “You talk about Allah, and it’s as if you are talking about your best friend. It’s amazing to me.”

“Don’t you believe?”

She stared into the flames for a long moment.

“I don’t know. I have seen a lot of evil.”

It was an honest answer, and I did not try to change her mind with my words.

In exchange, she began teaching me archery. I quickly discovered that shooting a bow well was much harder than it looked.

“You are pulling with your arms,” she said one afternoon as I attempted to shoot a very large tree and failed. “Use your back.”

I understood the concept of not using the arms to power a movement. My father had taught me the same thing in martial arts. Power came from footwork, body rotation and body weight. The back, however, was foreign territory.

“My back is for loading crates at the dock,” I complained. “How am I supposed to use it to pull the bowstring?”

“You’re not on the docks. Be quiet and empty your cup.”

That made me laugh. I had heard that expression many times from Zihan Ma, but never from Weili.

“Where did you learn that saying?”

“What? You think I’m stupid just because I don’t know how to read like you?”

“Of course not,” I said hastily. “You are very intelligent. I admire your brain. I mean, I think you are the most, you know, I mean you’re great, and -”

“Oh, shut up and shoot.”

I released the arrow. “I hit it!”

“It’s the biggest tree in the world,” she said. “It’s the size of a house.”

Which was true. And the arrow had, in fact, barely struck the edge of it.

Slowly, something changed in me. I found myself waking before dawn in unusually good spirits. Chores that normally irritated me seemed less burdensome. I brushed horses, checked harnesses, repaired equipment and stood watch without complaint. Food tasted better. The weather seemed friendlier. Even Karim’s constant criticism became easier to tolerate. And I thought about Weili a lot. I looked for her, and smiled when I saw her.

One evening Longwei sat beside me while I sharpened my dao and Weili practiced archery a short distance away.

“You look at her too much,” he observed. “And you smile too much.”

“I do not.”

He recited one of his poems:

A bee finds a flower
and believes the sun rises for him.
The flower blooms.
The bee grows drunk.
Winter begins its unforgiving descent.
The flower that bloomed dies away,
and the world wishes only to survive.

“That is depressing.”

“You should consider it carefully.”

I threw a pebble at him, and he smiled sadly.

Orange Bellbird

Several weeks later we entered a broad valley filled with farms, orchards and prosperous villages. Long before we reached the largest town, however, we began noticing signs of unusual activity. Banners hung from rooftops and fences. Families traveled the roads in carts and on horseback. Musicians played in the streets, and entire groups of villagers seemed to be heading in the same direction.

A local merchant eventually explained the reason. An annual archery competition was being held. Competitors traveled from throughout the region to participate, and the winner received not only a substantial prize but considerable prestige. The moment Weili heard this, she became impossible to live with. For the remainder of the day she bombarded every local she encountered with questions about the competition, the rules, the bows and the previous champions.

Weili’s excitement was infectious, and I was excited for her. She and I had grown very close by this point. We spent a lot of our free time together, though always in public. Our relationship was not physical, but I found myself dreaming about her occasionally. Even though Kaungren’s wedding had been a fiasco held at swordpoint, I thought about it a lot. Kaungren’s bride was no older than Weili. Yet whenever I considered the prospect of marrying Weili, my mouth became dry, and sweat broke out on my forehead. I knew that Weili liked me, but beyond that I was not sure of anything.

By the time we pitched camp outside the town, half the younger guards wanted to attend the archery competition. Karim eventually relented and allowed a group of us to go, provided we remained armed and returned before sunset.

Longwei approached me as I secured my pack straps.

“Have you considered my poem?” he asked.

“Which one?” I didn’t have time for this.

He regarded me solemnly. “Never mind the poem. In the forests of Southeast Asia there is a bird called an orange bellbird. It’s small, but sings more beautifully than any lute or harp. When you hear it, you are reminded of Allah’s angels. You feel that the world is beautiful, and that everything is possible.

Yet if you catch it and cage it, you will be disappointed, for it will sit silently, and will soon die. You can never own an orange bellbird. You can only appreciate it from a distance.”

I made a helpless gesture. “Are we talking about flowers or birds?”

Longwei pursed his lips. “Neither. Enjoy the archery competition.”

* * *

As-salamu alaykum dear readers. Sorry for  the delay. But hey, I have you a double length chapter this week!

Read Part 19 – An Apple For Belly

Reader comments and constructive criticism are important to me, so please comment!

See the Story Index for Wael Abdelgawad’s other stories on this website.

Wael Abdelgawad’s novels – including Pieces of a Dream, The Repeaters and Zaid Karim Private Investigator – are available in ebook and print form on his author page at Amazon.com.

Related:

Pieces of a Dream | Part 1: The Cabbie and the Muslim Woman

Trust Fund And A Yellow Lamborghini: A Short Story

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