30 Masjids 🟩

By Aman and Bassam

Dear friends,

We are excited to announce the 30 Mosques, 30 Days speaking tour! Starting next week, Aman and I will be visiting universities, community centers, book shops, conferences, etc. all across the country sharing stories from our Ramadan adventure. There are tons of anecdotes, videos, and pictures that just didn’t fit in our blog, but have found a happy home in the presentation we’ve put together. We’re highlighting our favorite moments on the road, sharing stories from more communities that you might might not have heard of, sharing videos of people singing/laughing/yelling, and much more!

So if you are interested in having us speak in your neck of the woods, please drop a line at 30mosques@gmail.com. Also, check out our Speaking Series tab at the top of the website for our scheduled dates. Contact us as soon as you can, the dates of availability are limited.

By Aman Ali

Note: Since our site got hacked, we were able to restore everything but the comments originally attached to this post.

It’s hard to believe almost two weeks have gone by since Bassam and I concluded what is easily one of the most remarkable journeys of our lives. I’m glad I had some time to let my thoughts simmer because when I was in midst of this trip, my brain was basically in non-stop adrenaline mode so I didn’t have much time to let things process.

There are around 6-7 million Muslims in the United States, but who knows what that number will be a decade from now. Or even a year from now. Just about every Muslim community we’ve visited, mosque organizers have are working on some kind of expansion plan to accommodate a full time Islamic school, larger facilities, etc etc etc.

But ignorance is slowly growing too. For every mosque project, there are angry non-Muslim residents with signs ready to stop these protests from happening. Granted, our casual observations show that the opposition to Muslims isn’t as widespread as it’s made out to be, but it’s definitely there.

And that’s what makes me nervous.

I’m watching intently what’s happening with the Park 51 mosque in New York City because what happens there will most likely dictate what will happen to future mosques for quite some time. If the NYC mosque doesn’t get built, opponents will take deem that as a “victory” and then just head to another town and block a mosque there.

I read an article in the Washington Post that really ticked me off. Eid, the end of Ramadan celebration, fell on Sept. 10 or Sept. 11 this year, depending on the sighting of the moon in each community. In Washington DC, many of the Muslims celebrating Eid on Sept. 11 decided to “tone down” their celebration because they didn’t want to be seen as “insensitive” or as “celebrating” the Sept. 11 attacks.

At first I was like “Ok, completely understandable.”

But then I was like “Wait a sec, wth!!!!”

If Sept. 11 had nothing to do with the true teachings of Islam, why should I let that day have something to do with our beautiful holiday? Isn’t it “insensitive” to think that Muslims on their day of worship are “celebrating” the attack? Why not observe Eid on Sept. 11 and use it as a day not only for worship, but to pray for the people that died that day and those who served honorably that day helping people?

Granted, you wouldn’t want to crank up Eid celebrations up on Sept. 11, but why can’t we observe a holiday that we observe every year that just happened because of the moon calendar to fall on Sept. 11. Is God being insensitive because he decided Eid should be on Sept. 11?

For years we’ve been bullied by society to condemn despicable acts of violence we had nothing to do with, and now we’re being told where we’re allowed to worship and what days we can worship on. Am I being out of line in saying that’s ridiculous?

What bothered me about that article was there were some serious “Muslim heavyweights” that were talking about toning down Eid. I don’t want to criticize them (I know many of them personally and I look up to them for how much wisdom they have), because like I said, I totally understand because in this country, image is everything. And I know how in this society, Muslims are the “new kids on the block” so maybe we’re just going through hardships like the Jews, Chinese, Blacks and other groups did when they first got here.

But does that make it right? “That’s just the way it is” isn’t a good enough excuse for me to just sit there and be ok with all this.

Are there any more Muslims out there saying “Wait a second, wth!!!” too?

Maybe all the anti-Muslim hoopla has a lot to do with a slow news cycle or the upcoming elections. The economy isn’t getting better but it’s not terrible, the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq aren’t getting much attention, so maybe this NYC mosque is simply filling a news hole. I joked with a friend the other day “Man, someone needs to call BP and ask them to spill some more oil.” But who knows, I guess we’ll see.

I’m optimistic though. I’ve shared thoughts like this with the hundreds of people I’ve met during this journey. Most of them “get it.” They realize, in order to make things better in this country, we all need to take action, regardless of what our religion is, to come together and collectively say “Wait a second, wth!!!”

Heh, I realize I keep saying “Wait a second, wth!!!!” as if it’s some kind of campaign slogan. Let’s make that phrase the “Yes We Can” of 2010. Someone call Will.I.Am. to make a video.

By Bassam Tariq

You have traveled 13,000 miles around America in 29 days all while fasting and blogging everyday. And today, the 30th day of your journey, the celebration, you are late to the mosque. In fact, you are so late that the traffic jam in the parking lot has already passed. You enter the mosque in hopes of catching the last sentiments of Ramadan and grand embraces that happen after prayer, but that too has passed. You are directed to go towards the gymnasium where a large number of the congregants are eating samosas and drinking chai. You run towards the gymnasium in hopes to maybe at least get some photos of happy people. You enter the large space and see everyone leaving and wonder, “how am I going to make this work?”

Go ahead, you know you want to say it, this sucks. Especially since you have come to Detroit on one of the most important holidays, away from your family and friends, to celebrate Eid with strangers.

But then there is that part of you that shrugs it off and starts snapping whatever you see. You take mindless photos, photos of people taking photos, photos of people praying Friday prayers, boys choking other boys, uncles playing ping pong and an Obama-themed gas station. Happy moments, non-sensical ones, but mostly things that don’t add up to a cohesive narrative and for the first time during this entire adventure you don’t care.

Today is Eid and we are celebrating it wherever and however we can. Let’s leave making sense for later.

Eid Mubarak everyone.

By Aman and Bassam

Dear dedicated readers, we are recuperating these last three days. Bear with us as we are in the process of making our last posts. There are a wealth of stories we couldn’t fit in the blog. Today, we talk about a small and hopeful story about an Islamic center and their generous neighbors.

They knew that there was a church close to them when they were began building the Memphis Islamic Center, they just didn’t know what kind of a church it was.

“We were planning to go by,” Danish Siddiqi, the communications director of the Memphis Islamic Center, says, “they just got to us before we could.”

Within days of the construction starting, the Heartsong Church, the coincidental nieghbors of the mosque, put out a sign.

“We couldn’t believe what it said.” Danish chuckles.

The sign read, “Heartsong Church welcomes the Memphis Islamic Center to the neighborhood.”

The Muslim community was taken aback by the sign. Soon enough, they paid their visit to the pastor of the church.

“Steven Stone is an incredibly generous and hospitable man.” Danish says with excitement.

Dr. Steve Stone is the pastor of the Heartsong Church, affiliated with the United Methodist Church and has been instrumental in being hospitable to his new neighbors.

“Last Ramadan the church had a family day and organized a ‘no pork bbq’ for us.” Danish tells me.

But since it was Ramadan and the Muslims were fasting they couldn’t eat the food, but still appreciated the warm gesture. It was this year, when the relationship between the mosque and the Heartsong Church got even stronger.

The plan was to have the mosque built before the start of Ramadan so they can start holding the special Eid prayers there. Unfortunately, the mosque was behind schedule and it didn’t seem like the construction would be complete for Ramadan. Danish and the board members began to scour and find a place that they could rent.

“We tried all other options, but couldn’t find a big enough space. So that’s when we decided to go ask the pastor.”

Dr. Steve said that he wouldn’t rent the space to them, but instead, would give it to them free for as long as they want.

“Again, we couldn’t believe it. We insisted on paying, but they refused the money.”

The Heartsong Church hosted all 30 days of Ramadan taraweeh, the special night prayer during the month, in their large auditorium. Church members also stood by the door greeting the Muslim congregants that came to pray.

“It’s like the doors miraculously open for us when we come here,” Yasir Qadhi, a prominent Islamic scholar, said to me the day I attended the mosque. For those who don’t know, Yasir Qadhi recently took up a position at the Memphis Islamic Center as the resident scholar.

“Yeah, I never thought I’d end up in Memphis,” Yasir says, “but this place is great.”

Aman and I didn’t get to spend as much time in Memphis as we wish we had, but the time we spent with Chip and Eunice and then at the Heartsong Church gave us a small glimpse on what true interfaith community building looks like.

“This entire episode, makes us scratch our heads. And ask us how much do we even know the nieghbors we live around?” Danish says to me.

Future

The Memphis Islamic Center is stil in the process of being built, but are hoping for the building to be completed fairly soon. In the back, the board members have contemplated creating a baseball field for the youth. Many in the community weren’t sure if there were enough Muslims that play baseball, but Danish begs to differ.

“Sure, right now there are more folks that want to play cricket. But I don’t think that’ll be the case with their kids.” Danish chuckles.

Building a baseball field is not just important for their own community, but Danish sees this as an opportunity to return the kind gesture. The Heartsong Church is in need of a baseball field to host home games and the Memphis Islamic Center is looking to be their home.

By Aman Ali

Dr. Malika Haque is one of the most inspirational people I’ve ever met.

Her family is best friends with mine and she always believed in everything I’ve ever done growing up. When I was in high school and wanted to become a reporter, my parents were supportive but somewhat reserved about how stable the career could be. Growing up in Columbus, there really were no Muslims at the time that had gone into the field, so I was essentially taking a huge risk in their eyes.

My parents no longer live here, so breaking my last fast of this remarkable journey made sense to spend it with one of the aunties in this community that literally helped raise me. During dinner, Malika Aunty reminded me of the speech she gave during my high school graduation party in 2003 that I completely forgot about. It was the speech that helped comfort my parents who were worried about my career choice.

“Do you remember what I said during that speech?” she asked. “I said, ‘You’re going to grow up to be a great journalist and one day I’m going to see you on CNN.’”

She was right.

I’m not bringing this story up to pat myself on the back (yuck!). I am simply the reflection of people like her and her husband Azeez that pioneered the Muslim community here in Columbus. I grew up attending the Islamic Center in downtown Columbus and I laughed hysterically when Azeez Uncle told me the story that I didn’t know about how the mosque was established.

In the 1970s, there was no mosque in Columbus at the time and a group of Muslim families had their eye on a downtown property that cost $55,000. The Muslim families were able to raise about $30,000 and were worried they’d have to take out a loan for the remaining $25,000. Islam forbids Muslims from paying interest and everyone was afraid they’d have to if they took a loan out.

But then, a Kuwaiti student got word of the dilemma and came to a planning meeting for the mosque …. with a briefcase filled with $25,000 in cash.

“That’s one thing the Arab students were good for,” Azeez Uncle said with a chuckle.

That mosque is old but still active. These days though, the shining light of the Muslim community is now the Noor Islamic Cultural Center, the new colossal mosque that the Haque family also helped pioneer. It seems to be the only place in town that can contain the Muslim population that seems to be growing exponentially.

I haven’t seen Malika Aunty in quite some time and wanted to catch up with what she’s been up to. I was completely unaware of a remarkable new endeavor she help spearheaded called The Noor Community Clinic. The clinic is staffed entirely by Muslims and gears its services to anyone uninsured – regardless of religious affiliation. She doesn’t do any of this work for praise, but I’m glad someone like her is getting recognition for something like this.

I’m fascinated by this much needed endeavor she’s taken on but our conversation is pleasantly cut short by the arrival of her daughter Masu and her husband Badr. The couple live in Houston with their two children and Malika Aunty hurried to the door to greet her adorable grandkids. It’s the night before Eid and the family excitement is already reverberating around the house to celebrate the end of another amazing Ramadan. Malika Aunty’s face begins to glow as she sits her granddaughter Rayya down and decorates her hands with henna and outfits her in some fancy clothes.

I want to stay longer, but Bassam and I have to hit the road for our own Eid plans in the morning in Detroit. Before I get into the car, I think about all the places we’ve gone on this 13,000 + mile journey. Then I look at Malika Aunty’s magnetizing smile and remember one of the reasons why I was able to take this trip to begin with.

By Bassam Tariq

Note: Due to certain concerns, the subject of our post has been renamed and is not present in any of the photos. Instead, we present to you his workspace, blue prints and completed designs to help tell his compelling story.

Right now, in the heart of Lexington, Kentucky a white man with a thick southern accent is designing a mosque. He is designing the walls, the arched windows, the domes, and the inevitable trouble that local community members will have with the space.

“I’ve wanted to be an architect since I was a kid.”

This man is Brian and Brian is an architect. He runs his own small architecture firm in Lexington and works on whatever he pleases.

“When I stepped out on my own, my first building project was a mosque.” Brian says, “it’s also around that time that I accepted Islam.”

“It was quite a way to get acclimated into the community.” Laughs Brian.

Brian keeps thing light and easy. His sarcasm is dry and is realized only by his smirk. Today, he’s wearing a red polo and gray khakis, but admits that he likes to be more casual than this. On zonal hearings, where he’s been spending a lot of his time these days, he’ll wear a tie and suit.

The Hearings

“Zonal hearings suck the life out of you.”

As one may assume, Brian has sat in one-two many zonal hearings where the neighbors of said mosque site will come out in numbers to either respectfully or venomously oppose the mosque construction.

“A lot of people that come are concerned with very normal issues, like lighting, crowding. They don’t care about religion, but Muslims still take offense.”

Brian prides himself in having a thick skin and encourages the Muslim congregnats to not show up.

“But some people will rant about Shariah and terrorism. Stuff that has nothing to do with zonal hearings.”

This example of hatred spewing happened in West Virginia, where the public hearing became contentious very quick.

“If you took the temperature in the room,” Brian says, “you’d think it wouldn’t be approved. All the Muslims were getting so worked up and I just told them to not worry, it will pass.”

And soon enough, the West Virginia City Council approved the plans to build the mosque. Turns out the concerns of the public weren’t relevant, after all, it was about zonal hearing.

“It always happens. The loud ones drown out the rest, and make everyone who oppose the plan seem a little bigoted.”

Brian is thoughtful and considerate, he understands where a lot of the valid concerns come from. He grew up in Kentucky and has quite a few conservative folks in his family. Oddly, this gives him the edge he needs in these hearings to defend the community and the plans.

Building Fun

“Masjids take years. I sometimes outlive my clients!” Brian says laughing.

Brian has learned a lot from designing mosques. His first mosque project was in a rural town in Kentucky and he didn’t know what he was getting into. Not only did he just embrace Islam, but he also embraced a large community and its issues.

“At the time there were less than 12 people in the community and they were building a mosque for 120 people.” Brian remembers.

After the building was completed, he went back to the mosque and saw that the congregation had tripled.

“It was incredibly fulfilling because you feel a part of this,” he says smiling, “It’s not just a beautiful building, but its meaningful work.”

Though mosque building has been rewarding for Brian, it has its fair share of frustrations. When we start talking about difficulties, I ask him to make a list –

Frustration

“Its frustrating when someone from the mosque will say, ‘I just want it to look like a mosque’.” Brian recollects, “which really means, make it look like the mosques from back home. They don’t realize that they aren’t building for themselves, but for their kids.”

I asked what he thought of long minarets and chandeliers…

“I think minarets and chandeliers are beautiful, beautiful waste of money,” he says with his signature wit (poetry to my ears).

Mosque development teams usually consist of those that are putting the majority of the money down – primarily rich doctors and uncles who understandably want a say in everything about the mosque. This sometimes makes the mosque development team an insular group of folks that are not representative of the congregants that attend the mosque. It’s also where you also get the unnecessary extravagances in the building.

“Once, a man pledged to donate $25,000 with the condition that there would be a minaret connected to the mosque.”

“Wait, why did it have to be connected?” I interrupt.

“Long story… but it turned out it would cost more money to build a connected minaret than it would help us in the funding.”

Brian laughs it off. He does that with a lot of the ludicrous stories he shares.

“I just don’t think its virtuous to make your mosque look transplant. It’s important that it has the same vernacular as the rest of the community around it.”

Million Dollar Question

But challenging the extravagance or the mosque designs from the Muslim world isn’t the hardest part. The hardest part comes with the million dollar question that he now asks every building committee in their initial meetings.

“It’s my first question to the board,” he says, “where will the women go?”

It’s a tough one. Brian has been trying hard to figure out what the most ideal space for woman is and he can’t seem to find a single answer.

“I’ve seen that the loft solution has worked well. Have women on the top and they can still see the speaker.” Brian pauses to think for a second, “you know, I don’t think there is a single ideal solution for women. It’s always a tough question to answer.”

As we discuss this issue, a girl from the community shows up, Essma Amry, a Muslim interior designer. Brian stops her and asks her what she thinks.

Essma is quick to respond, “well, you know there isn’t a single space that will work for every community.”

Brian interrupts her, “But the question is, will whatever they set up now be sustainable for the future. Are these communities thinking about that?”

Brian poses smart questions. He is less concerned about this generation and is more concerned about his kids’.

“We need to start building with our kids in mind. They won’t be who their parents were.” he says with confidence, “As far as I know, I’m what the future of what Muslim America looks like.

In a perfect world..

Brian may come off as being overly critical about his work, but he is anything but. Like all of us, Brian loves his community and knows it can strive for something greater. I turn the tables on Brian as he started going into theories of architecture and asked him point blank – so what does the ideal mosque in the US look like in Brian’s eyes?

He pauses for a moment –

“The ideal mosque would come out of its place, share the vernacular of its place.”

Brian told me about Shaker Town, Kentucky. Where the entire town was built with God consciousness. There was a specific way light hit the buildings and it evoked certain emotions and feelings that worked incredibly well with where it was.

“And that’s il because the people will change, the weather will change, but the building’s not going to change. The architecture lives on. It lives on to keep telling its story.”

By Aman Ali

Chip Ordman is a reform Jew and his wife Eunice is a Christian. The couple attend mosques in Memphis 2-3 times a month for Friday prayers, potluck dinners and other events.

“The more people get to know each other, the more they’ll get along,” Eunice said.

I first met Chip in April this year for a standup show I did for the Memphis Islamic Center, a ridiculously awesome mosque being built here that we’ll talk about in a coming post. The Ordmans are a part of the Memphis InterReligious Group that encourage Muslims, Christians and Jews to hang out with each other and attend each other’s services. I’ve done a lot of traveling across the country and I’ve never seen an interfaith community like Memphis where a guy like Chip comes to mosques for Friday prayers and chat about the khutbah sermons afterwards with congregants.

“When it comes to visiting mosques, churches and synagogues, I often find that questions I have about one religion are answered by another,” he said.

Chip and Eunice met us to break our fast at the Muslim Society of Memphis, a simple mosque packed with congregants. He was wearing a north African Jewish yarmulke that I initially mistook for a kufi, a hat Muslim men often wear during prayer. Seeing him at the mosque with his hat and fluffy cotton beard made him blend in with just about everyone there.

After dinner, the Ordmans invite us into their home nearby. Their home is actually two condos they combined – one to live in and another to host interfaith gatherings in. Chip’s a goofy guy that loves to tell whacky stories about him and his wife’s travels around the world and points to many of the global souvenirs around the house that they’ve collected.

Chip and I begin talking about religious attire and he’s quick to pull out several items that many orthodox Jews wear during their regular morning prayers.

The Ordmans are actively concerned with the Israeli Palestinian peace issue and regularly got involved in the Muslim community here about 2-3 years ago. At the time, a group of Israelis crashed a peaceful pro-Palestine rally and sprayed protesters with tear gas. In 2008, the Muslim community in Memphis honored the couple with an award that Eunice proudly pulled out of her cloth bag during our conversation with her.

I asked the Ordmans how they’ve been received by Muslims as they regularly frequent Islamic events. Chip said he’s been received well but Eunice said she couldn’t say the same.

“Many of the women here will criticize me because I have a few stands of hair showing from my headscarf,” she said. “I’ll be sitting in a chair to the side of the room while they’re praying so clearly they know that I’m not Muslim.”

What I admire about the Ordmans is their passion for building interfaith relations in the community. But all religions embracing each other here is a common trait here, according to one of my friends Danish who lives here.

“The Christians here are very welcoming of Muslims because they actually adhere to what they believe,” he said.

It’s hard to believe, only a few hours away in Murfreesboro, a small town outside of Nashville, a national spotlight has been placed on those Muslims’ struggle to build a mosque amidst community opposition. But Murfreesboro isn’t the only community dealing with mosque opposition in this country, so I asked Chip how Muslims can avoid it.

“Before you build a mosque, you need to start by listening,” he said. “Go out into the community and make clear to everyone that you just want to listen.”

I admire the Ordman’s wholehearted and sincere interest in hanging out with Muslims here in Memphis. I ask him if he thinks Muslims here reciprocate that interest and hang out in churches and temples.

“They do, but I’d like to see more,” he said. “But I understand, many Muslims might feel a little nervous coming to a church because they might not understand the theology. But what I’d like to see is a mosque calling up a church and saying ‘Hi, we’d like to send one of our youth groups to attend one of your church services.”

With all the time the Ordmans spend at mosques, I have to ask if any Muslims have tried to convert them. Chip lets out a chuckle and responds.

“I’m quite happy with my tribe,” he said. “There’s so much mutual understanding and interfaith work that needs to be done. I feel like converting would disqualify myself from doing that.”

Chip is 65 and Eunice is 86. The two married in the 1980s and their chemistry is unmistakable. In just about every conversation, Chip would begin by saying something and Eunice would segway right in and finish his sentence. I love speaking to happy older couples and always have to ask what’s their secret.

“Instead of compromising, in a marriage you each have to give 100 percent,” she said as she grasped her husband’s hand.

Go ahead and say it, “Awwwww.”

By Bassam Tariq

Note: There are many families that have helped build the Cedar Rapids Muslim community. Unfortunately, I was only able to meet with a small portion of them. So please take these small accounts and stories as part of a larger history.

Many mistake the Mother Mosque as being the first mosque in North America, but as we blogged a couple of days ago, Ross, North Dakota was the site of the first mosque in 1929. What makes the Mother Mosque so important though is that it’s the longest standing mosque, established in 1934.

Throughout the 1800′s there were many Muslims that emigrated to the states to work at factories, railroads, etc., but very few of them were able to create sustainable communities. The Mother Mosque is a nationally recognized historic site and is preserved by Imam Taha. Since the Cedar Rapids Muslim community moved to a larger mosque, the Mother Mosque now serves more as a historical landmark and cultural information center.

The basement of the Mother Mosque is lined with photos and news pieces showcasing a rich history covered by the local papers and tv outlets. From the first news clipping and photo of the congregants outside of the mosque to pictures of the aftermath of the drastic Iowa floods that desecrated hundreds of important books, Imam Taha and the community have done a great job preserving the history of the mosque.

Unlike most of the Muslim communities in America, Cedar Rapids is home to a large community of third, fourth or even fifth generation American Muslims. Aman and I, both coming from largely first generation Muslim communities, wanted to learn more about these folks.

Today, on a cloudy Labor day, we sit with Fatima Igram, a third generation American Muslim, at her house as she shares some important photos with us from her community. .

Her father, Abdullah Igram, was in the military and was stationed in New Guinea during World War II. When he was getting his dog tag made, he was asked to claim his religious affiliation with either a P for Protestant, J for Jewish, or C for Catholic. Abdullah said he was a Muslim and asked for an M to be engraved. The military couldn’t produce an M on the tag, so decided to leave it blank. For Abdullah, the idea of dying abroad and not receiving the right burial was terrifying.

Thankfully, Abdullah safely arrived back to Iowa after the war. A couple of years later he wrote a letter to President Eisenhower persuading him to add the M option on military dog tags. Soon enough, Abdullah received a letter from the President’s secretary thanking him for the suggestion and the M option was added.

Abdullah Igram, a Syrian American, was born in America and became somewhat of an ambassador for the Muslims to the larger community. He was one of the first kids in the community to complete the Quran in Arabic. Afterwards, he taught basic aAabic and Qur’an classes in the basement of the mother mosque.

Aziza Igram, Abdullah’s wife and Fatima’s mother, came to the US when she was nine years old. She is now 82 and has been working at the Yonkers department store for the last 31 years.

“Uf, I think I’m going to quit soon.” she says to me.

Aziza is a petite Lebanese lady who loves talking about her kids, grandkids and, well, great grandkids. She is a hard worker and Fatima, her daughter, has been trying to convince her for years to leave her job.

Aziza has a large collection of her husband’s letters and documents. There was one letter written to an official in DC talking about the lack of unity when it comes to moon sightings during the month of Ramadan – the letter was written in 1954. So, yes, ease up fellow Muslim readers, your local uncle was not the pioneer of moon sighting quarrels. We learned it from our forefathers, clearly. 🙂

On our way out of Iowa, we stop at a furniture shop owned by Naji Igram, a third generation Lebanese American Muslim. Back in his day, Naji was a body builder who entered competitions regularly. At one point, he became the third runner up in Mr. Midwest.

“Ahh, I stopped it,” Naji shrugs, “there were more important things for us to spend our time on.”

Naji is a laid back guy who is known for his large hands. In fact, before knowing his names and his accomplishments, I was told about how large his hands are. Though he wouldn’t want me saying it, Naji has been integral in helping the Muslim’s in Cedar Rapids progress.

“Our families didn’t know much about Islam. They just knew the bare basics.” Naji says to me sitting a nice dining table on display, “They came to America as peddlers and grocery store owners, they were busy trying to survive.”

Many of the Lebanese families ran grocery stores in Iowa. Naji himself owned a grocery store, but, like many muslims, left because of the conflict of selling alcohol and lottery.

At the time, the Mother Mosque had a small turnout for Friday prayers, and small lectures on Sundays. There were makeshift arabic and quranic lessons, but nothing substantial was happening.

“That wouldn’t have been enough for our community to survive. We needed more.”

In the 1960′s and early 1970′s, the small Iowan Muslim community found a large number immigrants coming from South Asia for work.

“Many of the Pakistanis would try to correct us, or tell us what to do.” says Naji. A classic example of the clash of Immigrant v. Indigenous.
“but they were kind of right. We didn’t know much and needed to learn more.”

“We had a big divide around then, those that liked the way things were before, and those that were willing to progress in their Islam and their practice.”

According to Naji, those that were okay with the earlier ways of the community left and those that were willing to progress stayed and built the mosque into what it is now.

The Cedar Rapids Muslim community is large and vibrant. Aman and I joined them last night for dinner and were amazed by the diverse congregation we saw. For dinner, we had rice pilaf, tandoori naan, butter chicken, goat with gravy and rice pudding for dessert. It was clearly a Pakistani/Indian menu and a meal the entire congregation seemed to enjoyed.

“I’m optimistic about where our community is going,” Naji says, “our kids, they know more than we do. Actually, our kids’ kids know more than us. And that’s promising.”