I like to write profiles of the archetypical characters I meet. Here is an excerpt from a profile I have written on a young man who, like so many of us, is devout in Spirit, but not always in his actions.
Youssef awoke to the amplified sound of the muezzin clearing his throat in preparation for Adhan, the call to prayer. Youssef focused his mind and heart on the incantation that followed; Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar. Yes, thought Youssef, God is Great and awaking to these words confirmed Youssef’s belief that God held Youssef in special esteem. Youssef hoped it was the second praying and not the third. Usually, he slept until well into the afternoon but today Youssef wanted to get to Bab Boujloud a little earlier than usual and clearly this was a sign that Allah was especially near today had something extraordinary in store for him.
Daylight never entered the room Youssef slept in so he could only guess at the time. He would find out soon enough, though. Youssef contemplated saying his prayers. Later, he thought. Allah would forgive him. He felt hungry and needed to begin his walk to the medina so he could meet with the owner of the Garden Hotel. Youssef had been patiently waiting for several years for the hotel to complete its restorations so he could begin work there. A job had been promised to him and he had a strong feeling today would be lucky for him. In fact, Allah had practically insured it by awakening him with His name and so Youssef felt compelled to answer His call.
Sitting up in his bed, Youssef cracked his back with a sharp twist, first to his left and then to his right. ‘Allahu Akbar’ he said in deep reverence and gratitude. Youssef jumped from his bed and was out the door of his miniscule room in two strides. “Meema!” he called. “Meema!”
Youssef found his mother in the kitchen and he walked up to her. Bending down he kissed his mother’s hand before rising up and kissing the crown of her head. “Salaam aleikum Meema. Bring me tea and bisarah. I am in a hurry.”
Youssef loved his mother almost as much as he loved Allah. And both Allah and his mother loved Youssef very much. Allah loved him because he was poor but more importantly Allah loved Youssef because he never, ever forgot about Allah. Youssef had no doubt that his mother loved her youngest son because he was special. Youssef was happy to live his simple life in the house of his mother and his unshakable faith in Allah. But there was no question that a job would help. More than anything, Youssef wanted to be able to hand a little money over to his mother every day. The Holy Koran told of a son’s obligation to help his family and if, God willing, Youssef earned a little money for his family, that would, indeed, please Allah.
Having drunk his tea and eaten his bisarah, Youssef put on his coat and set out for Bab Boujloud. It was a few kilometers from his area and the exercise was good for him. Everyone called Youssef the Bruce Lee of Morocco and it was important to Youssef to uphold his reputation by staying lean and quick. Besides, he had no car of his own and no money for a taxi. In fact, he had no money at all -- but Allah would provide. He hoped for a black coffee and a cigarette when he reached his destination; if Allah was willing. Maybe he would even score a little hash to mix with his cigarette. Youssef knew he shouldn’t smoke hash and hoped every day to quit. But he also knew Allah would forgive him because Youssef, at his core, was a good and true Muslim.
Youssef awoke to the amplified sound of the muezzin clearing his throat in preparation for Adhan, the call to prayer. Youssef focused his mind and heart on the incantation that followed; Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar. Yes, thought Youssef, God is Great and awaking to these words confirmed Youssef’s belief that God held Youssef in special esteem. Youssef hoped it was the second praying and not the third. Usually, he slept until well into the afternoon but today Youssef wanted to get to Bab Boujloud a little earlier than usual and clearly this was a sign that Allah was especially near today had something extraordinary in store for him.
Daylight never entered the room Youssef slept in so he could only guess at the time. He would find out soon enough, though. Youssef contemplated saying his prayers. Later, he thought. Allah would forgive him. He felt hungry and needed to begin his walk to the medina so he could meet with the owner of the Garden Hotel. Youssef had been patiently waiting for several years for the hotel to complete its restorations so he could begin work there. A job had been promised to him and he had a strong feeling today would be lucky for him. In fact, Allah had practically insured it by awakening him with His name and so Youssef felt compelled to answer His call.
Sitting up in his bed, Youssef cracked his back with a sharp twist, first to his left and then to his right. ‘Allahu Akbar’ he said in deep reverence and gratitude. Youssef jumped from his bed and was out the door of his miniscule room in two strides. “Meema!” he called. “Meema!”
Youssef found his mother in the kitchen and he walked up to her. Bending down he kissed his mother’s hand before rising up and kissing the crown of her head. “Salaam aleikum Meema. Bring me tea and bisarah. I am in a hurry.”
Youssef loved his mother almost as much as he loved Allah. And both Allah and his mother loved Youssef very much. Allah loved him because he was poor but more importantly Allah loved Youssef because he never, ever forgot about Allah. Youssef had no doubt that his mother loved her youngest son because he was special. Youssef was happy to live his simple life in the house of his mother and his unshakable faith in Allah. But there was no question that a job would help. More than anything, Youssef wanted to be able to hand a little money over to his mother every day. The Holy Koran told of a son’s obligation to help his family and if, God willing, Youssef earned a little money for his family, that would, indeed, please Allah.
Having drunk his tea and eaten his bisarah, Youssef put on his coat and set out for Bab Boujloud. It was a few kilometers from his area and the exercise was good for him. Everyone called Youssef the Bruce Lee of Morocco and it was important to Youssef to uphold his reputation by staying lean and quick. Besides, he had no car of his own and no money for a taxi. In fact, he had no money at all -- but Allah would provide. He hoped for a black coffee and a cigarette when he reached his destination; if Allah was willing. Maybe he would even score a little hash to mix with his cigarette. Youssef knew he shouldn’t smoke hash and hoped every day to quit. But he also knew Allah would forgive him because Youssef, at his core, was a good and true Muslim.
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