That year I was just a 17 year old in the city of Ibadan. Some tabligh had visited our local mosque a month before Ramadan and with their lectures focusing on prayers and the nothingness of this world, the youths felt a renewal of faith. I was among them.

One day I went to the masjid near my place of work for asr prayer. I slipped because my feet were wet and the tiles was smooth. When I stood up, the Imam was walking into the prayer hall from his house which was attached to the mosque. The face of the Imam. The way he walked gently and led the prayer with so much humility and took his time with the different postures amazed me. After the prayer, he gave a short khatirah then ended with a short du’a.

The next day at the noon prayer I asked if I can be his student. He said yes, if God wills. I know how to read the Qur’an, but I don’t understand its meaning. I want to learn jurisprudence. He asked why. I said so I can know my religion. He asked why. I said so I can know what’s right and wrong and how to do things. He asked why again, each time with a smile, he face looking as though beaming with light. Now I didn’t know what else to say.

I kept quiet for a while. Then he asked, why do you want to learn Islam from me when you’d later go to the University and learn something about this world and when you can do as most young folks are doing, you can go to mah’d or markaz, or simply go to halqah?

I did not have a good response. So, I said, I want to learn about Allah so I can worship him. I remember the maxim from ilé kewu, “recognize Me before you worship Me,”. He seemed impressed by my answer.

“In shaa Allah, I’ll teach you.” Imam Ka’meel said. “But there is one condition, for each session, I’ll give you a regiment of dhikr and a character value that you must practice.”

I agreed. He asked me to bring my hand, he led it and prayed for me.

We started with Al’Ahdary of the Maliki school. Each week, he would teach me a passage from the book after lessons in nahw, sarf, mantiq. Then he would teach me the importance of remembering God, and give me one zkir, like subhanallah, and tell me to pick a time after one of the prayers, usually after Fajr, to read a specified amount for a week. Then he will teach me about character qualities, like honesty, humility, being positive, generosity. And then my task is to display such character at least twice daily till our next class. I thought it would be easy until I actually started doing it.

There’s nothing I like to do after fajr than sleeping but I can’t. Fulfilling conditions are binding on Muslims. And it was for my benefit. Sometimes my friends would be reading Riyadh-us-Saliheen together for tahleem but I couldn’t join them. I had a regiment to do.

One day, I was making ablution, when a tall, beautiful girl in a long hijab, came out of Imam’s house. She looked so beautiful and had the same soft, radiating face of the Imam. I learned later that her name is Fatimah, Imam’s first daughter from his first wife whom he married while studying in the north. Her mother is Fulani and she and Imam had been divorced. She had died after a battle with a chronic disease and that’s why Fatimah had to come and live with Imam in Ìbàdàn. I was good at guessing age. She was 16 years old.

That day, Imam taught me about the conditions of a mukalaf, but my mind was overan by thougts and imaginations of an alternate universe where me and Fatimah were the only ones there. Then Imam taught me my character value for that session as lowering of gaze and disciplining the nafs. There were also some Arabic calligraphy tasks Imam needs done so he asked to come to his house frequently that week. He said Fatimah is good with Mandala arts, and so we’ll be working together.

I trust Imam’s judgment. But something in me told me he intentionally did that. There’s no excellence without test he liked to say. When I got home that day, I found out from my cousin that a scholar invited by the Muslim youths for lecture had declared Imam Ka’meel to be an innovator and that Muslim youths were discussing if I should hold my position as the general secretary of our community’s Muslim youth organization or if I should be banished for being a student of Imam Ka’meel.

I was furious, but then I remembered my last character value of patience. “What is he accused of?”My cousin said that he once said there’s fasting in Rajab, he is occasionally seen with his misbah (dhikr beads) after Salah, and that it is OK for people to do dhikr in congregation.

I made a mental note to ask Imam the next day I’m there for the calligraphy work.

—

2
When I got to Imam’s house the next morning, I saw Fatimah by the well, drawing water. I walked over and greeted her with salaam. I offered to help her fetch the water and carried the bucket inside the house. She hesitated at first, but I insisted and so she let me be chivalrous. I felt like Musa in Midyan.

Not sure if she understood Yoruba, I spoke English to her. “Are you enjoying Ibadan?”

“I like it. Ma Sha Allah.” Her accent was so beautiful. It reminded me of Fatima Abass of NTA Network News. I remembered my character value for the week. Well, it’s lowering the gaze, so my gaze was technically not on her. I was listening to her.

Later in Imam’s living room, Fatima handed me a black and white mandala. My job, according to Imam, who was sieving through texts at his desk, was to write Allah as beautifully as I can in the middle of the art. The patience a mandala art would take I imagined would be plenty, but here was Fatimah with so many different pieces so far. I wonder what kind of training she had gone through to master such an art. Her precision. Her attention to details. The different colors. I wanted to ask her a lot of things if not for anything, but to hear her speak more, because there’s an elegance to the way she spoke, the words enunciated so accurately that you would have thought she studied linguistic overseas. I could tell there was so much about her that I wanted to know, but Imam Ka’meel is my guide and he was right in the living room and there was a lot to get done.

I wasn’t thinking of anything dirty – AstaghfiurlLlah – towards Fatimah. I would never. I just wanted to be around her. She had such a commanding presence, a comforting aura about her. I had left the life of boyfriend and girlfriend to the past, the Jahiliyah period it belonged. My guide, Imam Ka’meel had taught me a life of purity, away from the shamelessness of frivolous dating and garam relationships. Even if I hadn’t, only an evil, vile person would think of something so disgusting when thinking of a modest girl like Fatimah.

After Zhur Salah, I waited for about 30 minutes for Imam to finish his zikr and naafil. Imam always took his time during and after Salah. He would just sit and do zikr in such a slow, deliberate pace. Sometimes I would get furious. I suspected he knew those times I wanted to ask him because he would raise his head meet my gaze, smile, and then continue. I would be the only one left in the mosque with him. He liked to read { فَإِذَا فَرَغۡتَ فَٱنصَبۡ } The moment you are freed [of one task] work on,

“I have a question Imam.” I said.
“What is it about?”
“Is it true that there’s fasting in Rajab? Because some people call it Awẹ Arugbo. “

Imam Ka’meel smiled. “There’s no such thing as awẹ arúgbó in the sunnah.”

I was excited at that response. So I followed up quickly. “And I also hear that misbah is bid’ah.”

I could tell. Something had changed. Imam was still smiling, but it was different from his signature smile. “La tas’al.”

Imam told me not to busy myself with the topic I was venturing into because he had seen many young people went that hole and lost themselves in the process. They ended up leaving the core for the peripheral. Then he told me the reason why he started teaching me tazkiyah first and why he hadn’t dived into the deep ocean of fiqh and conceptual theological issues. He explained that purifying of nafs through zikr, discipline, and character building is the first step after the oneness of God has been planted in one’s heart. The issue of bid’ah is of huge importance, but this is not the time.

“Na’am, Ya Imam.” I was satisfied, but uhappy, and he saw through that. God blessed him with so much foresight and wisdom.

“Why don’t you tell me what exactly is bordering you?” He asked with a gentle voice.

“Imam, some youths in my community called you Ahl’ Bid’ah. And I’m pained. I want to defend you from their rubbish.”

“God will certainly defend the believers as he said in Surah Hajj, Ya Talib.” He responded with a smile. “We don’t have to defend ourselves. Imam Shafe was called a Rafid’ah. Do you know what he said in return? He said if insisting on sunnah is the definition of Rafid’ah, then he is.”

He stood up and told me to walk with him.

During our walk to his farm which was a little bit far from the masjid, he explained to me what bid’ah is from shar’i points of view. He told me of the two main positions from classical scholars and gave evidences each group of scholars used to define and categorized this phenomenon. He gave me a framework to understanding this issue and it became crystal clear to me that the topic was not as simplistic as some scholars have made it look like. He told me of the Ibn Taimiyyan understanding, situating it in certain contexts that no other scholars have ever bordered to expantiate about to me or my friends. He also explained the Shafian understanding both with their evidences in the sunnah and actions of the sahabah and guided caliphs.

When we got to the farm, I experienced a dé ja vu and told him about it. He said that was probably because I had been here in my ru’h (spirit) state. We inspected the corns. They seem to be growing well. Right there I decided I would resign from the Muslim youth forum. I needed to focus on my own nafs first. I wondered if I should tell Imam but his phone rang before I could decide what to do, and the next thing I heard from him was….

“Subhanallah! What?!”

It is now seven months since that phone call brought the news that Imam’s mother had suffered a mini stroke. Imam went to Ilorin the next day and stayed there for a whole week until his mother felt better. When he returned, I visited him and asked if there was anything I could do. He replied in his usual way, saying, du’a, be with her in du’a. I noticed that Fatimah was not her usual artist self that day. She was busy in the kitchen, moving from one chore to the other. I also noticed that the house felt emptier. Imam’s little children were no where to found.

Imam later told me that Hajia, his wife, had moved to Ilorin to be with his mother. For a while till she get better? I asked. No, she’s there permanently. I was flabbergasted. I did not want to pry, so I kept quiet. But Imam explained nonetheless. My mother asked me if I could please allow my wife to come and be living with her. She likes my wife a lot. And with her age, she needs support and care, and she doesn’t want to leave her husband’s house. She feels comfortable with her. She’s my mother. Bir’ul walidayn.

I say, may Allah reward you, ya Shaykhuna.

Ameen. He replied. But my dear student, that prayer should go to my wife. She’s under no obligations to do that. Fine, yes, I’m her husband and she must obey me, but technically she can say this – going to my mom – was beyond her responsibility. But she’s a wonderful soul, Umm Lateefah. She loves my mother, too. And she was willing to do the sacrifice. You see, fiqh is one thing. Adab, tazkiyah, softening of the heart, is another thing. We both weren’t looking from a fiqhi perspective and demanding our rights. I wanted to please Allah through my mom, and she wanted to please Allah through me. I am already missing her too much. But what am I to do?

I got the gist of what he said that day, but I still question myself if I’m able to do that. He and Hajia are definitely in another maqa’m.

Anyways, a lot has happened since then. Imam now travels to Ilorin after Jumuah every Friday and returns Sunday afternoon. Fatimah and I have gotten close and we often do art works together. Fatimah is a hafizah of the Qur’an. And she’s brilliant. She’s doing GCE prep tutorials instead of enrolling in school as she plans on taking GCE. I have been teaching Qa’idah and Qur’an recitation classes to the students of Imam’s masjid on weekends.

Like I said, Fatimah and I are getting closer and I like that but I also don’t like it. She may start to see me as a friend, a sweet friend. I don’t want to be a friend. She may see me as a brother. I don’t want to be her brother so that when the time comes she won’t say, oh, you’re so sweet. I don’t want to be sweet! I know how many sisters I have.

Today I sit with Fatimah outside the mosque. She’s wearing a beige hijab and a black niqab. Fatimah is as she calls herself a flexible niqabi. The first time I saw her wearing one I thought that was it. But the next day she wasn’t wearing it. Before that I had thought of niqab as something like hijab, once someone put it on, the hope and prayer is to never without it. But Fatimah is different. She explained to me that she likes to wear niqab when she feels like she would be around a lot of strangers and she wants to be extra-comfortable.

I told her that one time I was at a wedding and the Ustadh giving lecture was screaming on top of his voice that face covering is an obligation.

“With all due respect to the Ustadh, he is wrong.” She said with a smirk. Then she gave me a detailed explanation of the Ayah of khimar and jilbab in Surah Ahzab and Nur, going far as quoting the dictionary of classical Arabic to illustrate what khimar and jilbab meant to the 7th century Arabs. That day, I was just thinking like daughter, like father as she quoted the different schools of thoughts take on what consistuted women’s awrah.

Back to today, Fatimah is quiet. I ask what’s going on. She says she misses her mother. “If I were back in the north, I would visit her grave and she would hear my voice again.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. “People in the grave do not hear.”

“Of course they hear when their relatives or friends visit.” She shot back at me.

I recall an Ayah in Surah Rum which I’m currently memorizing so I read it to her:
فَإِنَّكَ لَا تُسۡمِعُ ٱلۡمَوۡتَىٰ وَلَا تُسۡمِعُ ٱلصُّمَّ ٱلدُّعَاۤءَ إِذَا وَلَّوۡا۟ مُدۡبِرِینَ
So how could you say the dead can hear?

I felt like this is the first time I would be able to correct her. My ego was up.

The daughter of the cleric fires back, quoting a hadith of Ibn Umar reporting how the Prophet, peace be upon him, told Umar bin Khattab that the dead quraysh leaders in Badr could hear him clearly as Umar was hearing him. She also quotes a hadith of the dead hearing the footsteps I also remembered an Ayah in Surah Al-fatir. We go back and forth and then she says let’s go to the Imam so he can tell us who is right.

We found Imam in the living room, reading a book. Fatimah speaks. “Ya Abati, he says the dead do not hear the living.”

Imam nods. “And why do you say that?”

I recite the Ayah again.

Welldone, Imam comments, patting my back. Fatimah is shocked. “What do you mean, ya Abati?”

“Well this issue is a matter of difference of opinion and it goes back to the sahabah. On one side was our mother, Aisha, and at the other side, Abdullah ibn Umar.”

“I thought the companions only had ikhtilaf on fiqhi matters.” I say.

“They had minor ikhtilaf on theological issues too such as this. And that’s why it’s wrong to reduce three generations of Muslim scholarship into one monolith and say things like the salaf said this or did that because they were not a monolith. They had differences of opinions, but they respected each other. When Aisha heard that hadith of Ibn Umar she commented that Ibn Umar perhaps made a mistake in his recollection as the dead can not hear because of her understanding of the Qur’an ayahs. Later scholars following the opinion of Aisha did ta’weel on the hadiths saying the dead can hear by claiming they’re showing exceptional cases and by no means indicating that it was the norm for all dead. But Ibn Taimiyyah, Ibn Qayyim and other scholars followed Ibn Umar and other sahabah by intercepting the Ayah saying the dead cannot hear as meaning they cannot hear to benefit, not physical hearing. “

It is a lengthy explanation and one can see the excitement in Imam’s eyes. After examining both opinions, Fatimah still asks him which is his opinion. Can the dead hear or not?

The Imam smiles. My opinion is that of Ibn Abu AbduBarr, which is basically, we won’t know for sure until will get there. Both positions are ja’iz. And honestly, I’m not totally convinced of either position. So Allahu a’alam. But both of you, what I want you to learn from this is to know that there’s usually more than one way of understanding something. And we should be respectful of others who may hold different opinions, even in aqeedah issues. It does not mean the other is not a Muslim or a bad Muslim.

It is time for Maghrib. I go to make adhan. After the adhan, we wait for the Imam, and wait, and wait…

• Baba oni Story says thank you.

Mandala: The Daughter of the Cleric