Little Egypt, Queens. Where it smells like argilah and tantalizing Arabic cuisines named “Magic Carpet” live. We won’t tell Disney if you don’t.
http://bassamtariq.com/30days/iman/magiccarpet.jpg
The Al-Iman Mosque is tucked along these streets.
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A really nice set of double doors welcome the congregants, well, the male congregants. Unfortunately, the sisters entrance isn’t as lofty. Left of this entrance is a small door that leads you to the sister’s prayer and wudu area.
http://bassamtariq.com/30days/iman/door.jpg
We got there fairly early and those who were there were steadfast in worship.
http://bassamtariq.com/30days/iman/beforemaghrib.jpg
I began talking about something idle with Bassam, and I’m really glad the person behind me politely told me to take advantage of the blessed time before iftaar. One really intriguing image we didn’t take a picture of was of a father listening to an iPod with his son. Each of them shared an earbud. My parents live very far away and it reminded me of the good old days when my dad took me to the mosque.
The volunteers laid out the break fast meal in an organized fashion. Today’s menu: whole milk, dates in saran wrap and half a banana.
http://bassamtariq.com/30days/iman/cups.jpg
Dinner was fantastical. Yes so good, I made up a word to describe it. We had steak, rice pilaf, salad and black eyed peas. There was no waiting in line, instead volunteers delivered plates of food wherever the congregants sat.
http://bassamtariq.com/30days/iman/foodtray.jpg
But this whole 30 mosques project isn’t really about food. It’s about the mini-communities we immerse ourselves in from visiting each location. It’s interesting, each night we make plans to leave after prayer and eat dinner at a nearby restaurant, but spending time and eating dinner with the people at the masjid is so much more fulfilling, both physically and spiritually.
One thing we have not seen a lot of so far are kids. I’m not sure if it’s a trend, but it seems like not many kids come to the masajid in New York. This clearly wasn’t the case here. We sat next to these young teens who compared ages with each other. The oldest kid was 14 going on 15.
My hairline continues to recede. Where’s a golden kufi when you need one?
