A Better Muslim

I'm currently reading 'Three Cups of Tea' by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin.

The book chronicles the challenges that Greg Mortensen faced when he tried to build a school in Korphe, an isolated and impoverished village in Pakistan. Below is the blurb on the back of the book:

"In 1933 a mountaineer named Greg Mortenson drifted into an impoverished Pakistan village in the Karakoram mountains after a failed attempt to climb K2. Moved by the inhabitants' kindness, he promised to return and build a school. Tree Cups of Tea is the story of that promise and its extraordinary outcome. Over the next decade Mortenson build not just one but fifty-five schools - especially for girls - in the forbidding terrain that gave birth to the Taliban. His story is at once a riveting adventure and a testament to the power of the humanitarian spirit."

At first, I nearly put the book aside after plowing through the first chapter. The prose just didn't manage to engage my interest. But I'm glad I persevered because the book does get better.

I just read a particularly touching chapter which I felt compelled to share.

While building the school one day, the villagers were startled by the intrusion of Haji Mehdi and his henchmen. Haji Mehdi is the nurmadhar (village head) of Askole (a bigger, neighbouring village).

[Excerpts from the book are in italics]

"I have heard that an infidel has come to poison Muslim children, boys as well as girls, with his teachings," Haji Mehdi barked. "Allah forbids the education of girls. And I forbid the construction of this school."

"We will finish our school," Haji Ali [Korphe's nurmadhar] said evenly. "Whether you forbid it or not."

Enraged by this answer, Haji Mehdi replied:

"Do you worship Allah? Or this kafir?"

To this, Haji Ali remarked:

"No one else has ever come here to help my people. I've paid you money every year but you have done nothing for my village. This man is a better Muslim than you. He deserves my devotion more than you do."

Haji Mehdi then gave an ultimatum: if they insisted on having the school, they would need to pay him 12 of their largest rams.

Haji Ali complied with this outrageous demand.

Mortenson who witnessed the whole proceeding noted:

"Haji Ali had just handed over half of the wealth of the village to that crook, but he was smiling like he'd just won a lottery."

He later addressed his people:

"Don't be sad. Long after all those rams are dead and eaten this school will still stand. Haji Mehdi has food today. Now our children have education forever."

That night, Haji Ali confided in Mortenson:

"Do you see how beautiful this Koran is?" Haji Ali asked.

"Yes."

"I can't read it," he said. "I can't read anything. This is the greatest sadness in my life. I'll do anything so the children of my village never have to know this feeling. I'll pay any price so they have the education that they deserve."

X X X

This story reminds me of Laskar Pelangi. How we take literacy and education for granted.

I wish I could drum this very important lesson to each and every one of my reluctant student.

And it's good to ponder on Haji Ali's remark: "This man is a better Muslim than you."

What makes one a good Muslim? This question reminded me of what Sayyid Abul A'la Mawdudi wrote in his book: Let Us Be Muslims:

"Can a person be a Muslim by virtue of his birth? Is a person a Muslim simply because he is the son or grandson of a Muslim?

Your answer to these questions will surely be: No. A Muslim does not become truly a Muslim simply because he is born a Muslim. A Muslim is not a Muslim because he belongs to any particular race; he is a Muslim because he follows Islam. If he renounces Islam, he ceases to be a Muslim."

Being a Muslim is not by mere verbal profession; you need to acquire knowledge and display it through your actions.