Brotherhood in Action

By Dr. Altaf Kaisaruddin

Subhanallah, I was so tired. And there was still a long way to go. I only got about three hours of sleep the night before, I had about an hour to go to get home. Of course, that all depends on the trains. Walking along in the dark, I decided it was a perfect time to recite some surahs. It would not only be a good review, but it would also be a good reminder that Allah was with me.

How can I describe this neighborhood? This is around Brookdale hospital in Brooklyn, NY. For those not familiar with the area, let’s just say that most of the stabbings and shootings we saw in the ER didn’t have to go far to get to the hospital. Alhamdu lillah, they say that things are much better than they used to be; little solace for the guy we pulled a bullet out of today.

I was fighting to concentrate on reciting, pulling my mind away from the events of the day, shaking off the sleep as it sought to sneak up on me, and trying to keep aware of my surroundings so nothing else snuck up on me, when a man came up to me.

"Hey, can you help a brother out?"

"Sorry, I don’t give money to people." My mind and heart always struggle when confronted like this. I don’t want to miss this opportunity to please Allah by helping one who asks, but what guarantee that he won’t go and buy drugs, alcohol or whatever?

"Huh?"

"I said I’m sorry, but I don’t give money to people. Actually, to tell you the truth, I don’t have any money on me, but if I did, I wouldn’t give any to you." He stood there slack-jawed completely baffled by what he was hearing. I continued, "Listen, I’d usually offer to buy you something, but I really don’t have anything on me."

It was the truth. In order to reconcile this seeming paradox between wanting to help and not wanting to get made out to be a fool, I never give money to people, but I offer to buy them something to eat and drink. And depending on how much time I have, I may eat a little with them. It’s amazing how people respond when I offer to buy something for them, or just offer them my lunch. Absolutely amazing how many people would rather keep on panhandling than take my lunch. Of course, they would get more money if they kept doing what they were doing instead of accompanying me to the nearest restaurant. Allahu a’lam.

But this man was hungry. "Are you sure, man?" Oh, he pulled so hard on my heartstrings.

"Listen, I really don’t have anything on me, but if you want, I’ll take you to Queens."

"What’s there?"

"There might be a place we can get something."

"But if you don’t have any money…"

"It’s a chance, but if you’re willing, I’ll take you."

I had a spare MetroCard for emergencies, so I paid our way onto the trains, and there we sat. He felt obliged to tell me his life story. I sat struggling to keep my eyes open. His story was sad, and I believed him. There was a lull. I could feel him looking at me. I sat with my eyes half-closed looking down in front of me. His silence begged me to speak. He was waiting for some life-changing wisdom from this tired soul.

I turned my body and looked at him. "I’m really sorry. I don’t have much to say. I’m just really tired. I slept about three hours last night. I barely ate anything all day. I’m going home now to sleep maybe three or four hours before I get up and do it again. I’m sorry I don’t have anything special to say."

So we sat in silence the rest of the way. I wish I could say something, but my mind and tongue were not connecting. I want to tell him how I’m doing this because I’m Muslim, because in Islam, Allah tells us to take care of one another, that it was my honor to help someone who asks me, that we are encouraged to do good things without expectation of reward here, but only to please our Lord. My beautiful deen, a person eager to hear something from me, and weariness dulling my thoughts — the agony.

We came to the stop. "Let’s go." I said and led him down the stairs.

"I still don’t understand. If you don’t have any money…"

"Assalaamu ‘alaikum," I greeted the brother behind the counter. "I need a big favor, but I don’t have any money with me right now. Tomorrow, I can…"

"Brother, anything you want, you can have it for free."

"It’s not for me," I gestured to my traveling companion. Our Brother fell silent. He looked at me. He looked at the man I brought in. He looked at me again. There were many eyes looking at me, our Brother behind the counter and my new acquaintance.

"No."

"Brother, please…" I felt dumbfounded.

"No, I will not take anything from you. He can have whatever he wants for free."

"But…" I started to protest.

"No, I won’t take anything from you," he said with an air of finality.

I turned back to our guest. "Whoah, he just…" His trailed off in shock. "Just…" he tried again, but nothing came.

"He’s Muslim. That means we’re Brothers. That’s the way Muslims are supposed to treat each other. We’re all Brothers and Sisters no matter where we’re from." The words were just so hard to come by, but it was all I could muster. "Do you know any Muslims?

"No, but I know a mosque in Brooklyn. On Fulton."

I smiled as I gave him my spare MetroCard. "Have a safe trip back." I watched him carefully holding his bag of food as he went through the turnstile. I wondered if he would go to the Masjid. I wondered if he would meet Imam Siraj.

I continued on my way home, still so tired, but now my recitation had a strange new energy. I wondered what would happen tomorrow.

May Allah guide us all.