The following post was written by Nzinga Knight, a New York based fashion designer who grew up in this mosque.

Masjid Muhsi Khalifa is my home mosque. Like the theme song for Cheers, Masjid Khalifa is the place where everybody knows my name and they’re always glad that I came. Since 1975 this Mosque has been under the leadership of the late Warith D Mohammed. I began going to Muhsi Khalifa as a child with my family. To quote Warith D Mohammed he said, “We should realize that the first identity is not of an African or a European or a Saudi. The first identity is a human being. And as long as we build our diversities upon that foundation that god gave us, the human foundation, we’re in good shape. And we should just make all the progress we can, separately or all together.” With Muhsi Khalifa’s do for self attitude this community has made great progress as an African- American and Caribbean American populated mosque that once had it’s beginnings in the Nation of Islam in the 1950’s.

My sister Nsenga Knight who has documented some of the history of this mosque through it’s female pioneers has helped me to learn even more about this place. She says, “I feel like I am living in the richness of this mosques history and truly feel at home in this space.” So do I.

One of the things that I love most about this mosque is the familiarity that it has with my life as an American. Regardless of gender or age every one is included in this community and we are in constant communication with one another. I spoke to one of the pioneers, Sis Umilta, Anika’s mother (who’s like an auntie) who began attending in 1973 about that day in 1975 when Warith D Mohammed succeeded his father as the leader of the NOI (a year later then Warith D Mohammed renamed it the World Community of al-Islam in the West) and led the congregation to mainstream Islam. She says, “I never felt as though I wasn’t Muslim, we had a mass shahada and we never turned back, it was like there was a genetic memory and it was just getting wakened up… it was a progression.” As the successor to his father Warith D Mohammed’s thoughtful demeanor and profound spiritual conviction inspired a community of people steeped in the idea of self-reliance and spirituality to create a brand of Islam that is American and empowering.

I can best describe this mosque community’s culture by illustrating what my experience is like from the time that I enter my mosque.

As I make my way to the mosque then brothers in suits greet me with Salaams at the corner, front door and security area. These men are standing at their posts and they are watching out for the community. And when I ride my bike then any brother will bring my bike upstairs.Then I go upstairs to the mosque and enter the sisters section.

To me then one of the most telling things about a mosque is the women’s prayer space… they can come in many styles: non-existing, in some scary space that’s probably a civil rights violation, partitioned, or simply behind the men’s. Women enter our prayer space upstairs through a door that is 3 feet away from the men’s identical door. The men and women all share the same large prayer space with the women beginning their lines for prayer in the back and the men beginning in the front. Our wudu station is convenient, dry, clean and pink. The women are really gracious and kind and I am constantly learning something new from them.

My women and children friendly mosque has a lounge area for women who aren’t praying or are nursing. It’s complete with sofas, a rocking chair, a crib, a changing station, flowers and most importantly speakers so that she can hear the kutbah. I have been to mosque spaces that are in many ways unfriendly to women so in light of what many other Muslim women put up with I don’t take this for granted. I also love that there’s a Girls Scouts of America, Boys Scout’s, Martial Arts classes, a Clara Mohammed, School, a community center, a banquet hall and a host of other reasons to stick around.

I am an American Muslim going to an American Muslim mosque. I love that there is no duplicity with how I interact with people outside and then inside of the mosque space. My mosques culture reflects its people. I think that it’s the self-love that we have that enables us to grow, love one another and love others.

The history of Muhsi Khalifa is something that has empowered the community and has informed its culture and style. Allah has written the marvelous story of these people and this space. I could only imagine what this community might have been like if we hadn’t built upon the good parts of all of our preceding chapters. I appreciate my mosque for so many reasons. It’s the simple things like being able to have iftar with Bassam and Aman sitting at the same table, being able to see my Imam as he speaks, and having a woman’s lounge with sofas that I find refreshing.

By Aman and Bassam

Tonight our journey learning about New York City’s rich Muslim roots led us to Masjid Khalifah in Brooklyn. Decades ago pioneers planted the seeds in hopes of developing a community. The people you meet now are the flowers that have blossomed from it.

This is one of the many temples that Malcom X and his then Nation of Islam congregants helped establish in the late 1950s. They passed by this dance club one day and saw it as an opportune place to build the temple. They knew a large dance hall would be adequate for what they were looking for, so it became known as Temple No. 7C.

The original name was Muhammad Mosque 7C. Each Nation of Islam mosque is called a Muhammad Mosque, followed by its number.

But it was around the 1970s when the mosque here began to break away from the Nation of Islam movement and follow mainstream Islam. That’s also around the time a man by the name of Abdul Muhsi Khalifah became an active member of the mosque.

One night, a lady from the congregation was being attacked a few blocks away. Abdul Muhsi Khalifah rescued her but was shot to death. The mosque then decided to name the place in his honor.

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From there, the seeds kept on growing. Tonight we were joined by several people who have grown up in this mosque including our fashionista friend Nzinga Knight.

We were also joined by Solange DeSantis, a reporter for Religion News Service. She sat back and scribbled away in her notepad as other people at the mosque broke down the place’s history for Bassam and I. Solange said this was her first time visiting a mosque, she also fasted today.

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Then the call to prayer came on the loudspeaker, signaling time to break our fast. We kept it old school: dates and water.

We then went upstairs into the main prayer room for Maghrib. One thing I really like about this mosque is how genuinely friendly everyone is. Anyone that walks by you here, its second nature for them to smile, say salams and shake your hand.

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After the prayer, the Imam got on the microphone and introduced tonight’s visitors. Aside from Solange and us, there was also a Christian group visiting the mosque. The imam had Solange come to the microphone to share a few words as the congregation welcomed us.

After prayer, we put on our shoes and noticed there was also a full time Islamic school here all the way up to 8th grade.

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If you wanted to measure the quality of the school, you need to look no further than the dining hall. Many of the youth at the mosque were tonight’s dinner volunteers. Especially the female youth. It goes without saying that women are the backbone of every Muslim community, but the women who helped tonight deserve some recognition.

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While I was waiting in line, I was introduced to a tasty beverage with a simple recipe. Hawaiian Punch mixed with iced tea. Hawaiian Punch is a bit too sweet on its own for my liking, but mixed with iced tea it tastes incredible.

Ah yes, dinner. Which deserves another shout out to the volunteers who made it. Tonight on the menu was catfish, corn, teriyaki chicken, rice, green beans and salad.

After dinner, Nzinga took us into a nearby ballroom. This room is where the mosque holds many of its receptions, including the most crunk Eid celebration that I have ever heard of. This Eid, the mosque will be featuring live entertainment including a James Brown impersonator, martial arts demonstrations and the cha-cha dance line. A trifecta of awesomeness, the Ramadan Santa must have read about my dream Eid!

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Essentially, we as Muslims believe in the same principles. But one thing I have gained from this journey is how each community reflects those principles in their own way. The end result is beautiful.

It reminds me of the analogy Dr. Umar Farooq Abdullah wrote in his famous piece “Islam and the Cultural Imperative.” He said Islam is something pure, like a river stream. We as Muslims are the bedrocks in that river. And when water flows over those rocks, it reflects the rocks’ characteristics.

Add to the fact that the people here are the flowers of the seeds planted from the mosque’s noble pioneers, and you’ll slowly start to realize how much Masjid Khalifah resembles a divine garden.

09/14/2009 11:01 AM

Two Men Try For 30 Mosques In 30 Days

 

Two local Muslims are on a quest to attend a different mosque in the city every night of Ramadan, the month-long holiday which wraps up next week.

NY1‘s Ty Chandler filed the following report.

In Aman Ali and Bassam Tariq’s journey to go to 30 mosques in 30 days they’ve managed to make a few new friends.

“We’re going into places, we’ve never met these people before, we are complete strangers, but they make us feel welcome,” said Ali.

The Mosque of the Islamic Brotherhood in Harlem is their 23rd stop.

Each visit brings them new experiences and closer to the nearly one-million Muslims in New York City.

“Sometimes we’re the only one’s that are South Asian, and the place will be all Indonesian or all African American, and we’ll walk in and everyone will be very happy,” Tariq said.

The two friends started to blog about the project.

They take pictures and write about each mosque they visit.

Their website has really caught on, but Tariq’s mother was not so sure it was a good idea.

“She was like, be careful, the FBI is going to follow you,” said Tariq.

“I said, ‘don’t worry, mom. Things have changed. We have a black president now. Things are going to get better.'”

And after nearly 14 hours of daily fasting, they say few things are better than praying and eating with new brothers.

“It makes us appreciate our community, our faith, and our people even more,” said Ali.

“It’s very easy to get caught up in your own comfort zone, thinking I don’t want to go to Queens because I’m from Brooklyn,” said Yusef Abdul-Jaleel of the Mosque of Islamic Brotherhood.

“But for them to do what they did, I think they will have imitators real soon.”

Ali and Tariq say they are looking for some time away from each other when Ramadan ends next week.

“I’ve seen a lot of Aman, it’s a little much,” said Tariq.

“I have to see this kid everyday, it’s a bit much,” added Ali.

The two men say this will be a one-time project as traveling from mosque to mosque is tough while trying to hold down a full-time job.

But their blog has turned them to the Zagat surveyors of the Islamic community, with friends and even strangers looking to them to find out what different mosques are like.

By Aman and Bassam

“How’s my hair?”

Clearly, the most sensible question to ask the residents close to the Mosque of Islamic Brotherhood (MIB). Today, Aman and I were going to be on NY1, a local news network, for our 30 mosques project. Since I have a tendency to look more awkward in front of a camera I wanted to cross my t’s and dot my i’s before they turned on. Aman, on the other hand, was made for this (See: Example 1 and Example 2.)

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(TO WATCH THE NY1 INTERVIEW, CLICK HERE)

The Mosque of Islamic Brotherhood is in the heart of Harlem. The center was founded in 1964 by a close student of Malcolm Shabazz, Shaykh ‘Allaama Tawfiq. After the passing of the Shaykh, the assistant imam of the masjid stepped up – Imam Talib. Fast forward 20 years and you have one of the most important and historic Islamic centers in the US. Which is the reason why we had NY1 follow us today, and why my hair had to come correct — I felt like I had to represent.

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The sidewalk that is under the center’s jurisdiction is painted green. Yusef, the communications director of MIB (pictured above), told me that they painted the sidewalk green so people knew not to drug deal, fight or loiter in that area. I heard of this infamous green sidewalk when I was back in Houston. I remember a story (which I can’t confirm) where one local was roaming Harlem intoxicated almost about to collapse. When he came by the green sidewalk, he knew better than to collapse there, so he walk walked passed it and then collapsed.

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Before Maghrib, Aman and I gave a brief interview outside the center to NY1.

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The call to prayer was given and we all headed out to the lobby to break our fast. Imam Talib led the congregants in a supplication before we broke our fast. Aman, being Aman, ate his dates before the dua.

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After Maghrib, Imam Talib brought us into his office to talk about our project.

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Many community members came in and out of the office bringing important business issues to the attention of the Imam. One brother wanted a poster approved, another inquired about food, while a third updated him on how some of the events of the day went. It was clear that Imam Talib wasn’t the imam that just led the prayer, he led the community.

There was an aqiqah, or Islamic celebration of the birth of a child(ren), at the mosque so the food was provided by a family celebrating the birth of their daughter and son. Today’s menu: Rice, Salad, catfish, chicken, potato salad and some baked ziti. The catfish was made just the way I like it, not too greasy and plenty of lemon zing to it.

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The majority of the congregants knew one another and all played a role in the mosque’s development. One brother served as the security guard outside, another served as the de facto historian – taking photos wherever Imam Talib told him. A group of sisters led dawah efforts and the weekend school program. It was clear from the get-go, Imam Talib and his congregation are establishing a model of how an Islamic center in America should be run.

After running many errands, Yusef came in and sat with us in the office. I was amazed by the general respect and reverence the congregants had for Imam Talib and raised this point with Yusef. Turns out Imam Talib is one of the oldest community members at this mosque. He was the Assistant Imam for about 13 years before becoming the lead Imam of the center 20 years ago. Imam Talib paused for a second and contemplated on this. While the Imam reflected on his history and his journey to stewarding this historic mosque and community, I took in the ponderous moment to think back on my history and path to the present.

MIB is a predominantly African American space. There is a cultural familiarity that permeates the center and congregants that is distinctly “American” but at the same time authentically “Muslim.” As someone raised in the South Asian community, there aren’t many mosques I’ve grown up in or been to that have reached that kind of cultural ease. This brought up one question that has always loomed in my head – albeit a very cheesy one – how do we maintain our religious values in this country that doesn’t lead to dilution or the awkward choice of piety versus “prosperity” (both material and immaterial)? I dreaded going to the mosque as a child because all I ever saw were people who spent days and nights there, barely working or providing for their large families. Or, on the flip side, I would see those who would be successful financially, but would divorce themselves from the Muslim community. The existential question most Muslims in America ask: how do we strike the balance?

After we finished our dinner, Imam Talib gave both Aman and me a CD of Qur’an recitation by Shaykh ‘Alaama Tawfeeq, his teacher. According to the Imam, it is one of the first recordings of a Qur’an recitation by an American Muslim. This was an updated, remastered CD. The original was of course released on vinyl. I looked through the updated liner notes written by Imam Talib and here’s the part that struck me the most:

My teacher, Shaykh-“Allama Tawif was not a qari [Quran reciter] by profession, nor a hafiz of the Qur’an (one who has memorized the entire Qur’an). When I asked him why he had done such a recording, he replied simply, “to show that it could be done.” This was a burning desire within him – to always demonstrate that the Islamic family of nations is composed of Muslims from all over the globe, including those born and raised in America.

And that’s it. The recitation didn’t come from a trained reciter, or the usual figure, but by someone who said, “Why not me?”

The balancing act. It can be done and is.

By Aman and Bassam

Staten Island definitely has some of the most precious hidden gems in New York City’s Muslim community. So tonight Bassam and I were joined by our homey Jordan Robinson and together we hopped on a ferry to Staten Island to do some treasure hunting. Hello Statue of Liberty.

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We got off the ferry and took a short cab ride to our destination the Albanian Islamic Cultural Center. Before I begin our story, just take a few moments and soak in how majestic this building is.

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The Albanian community is fairly large in Staten Island, which came to fruition here in the late 1980s. After a few years, the community got together and built this mosque and the building you see now has been in existence since the mid 1990s. They also have a full time Islamic school that started off with only a handful of Pre-Kindergarteners in the mid 90’s and today has over 200 students and has classes up to 11th grade.

As soon as we walked in the building our curiosity was immediately piqued by the soothing dhikr we heard on the loudspeaker. We slowly found our way to this large gathering inside the main prayer hall of people remembering Allah through some soothing dhikr. I should also mention this mosque is fairly hi-tech, they had a camera man working a switchboard broadcasting the feed in the prayer room to other areas of the building where the women were sitting.

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After the dhikr session, we broke our fast with dixie cups of water and prayed. The imam’s recitation was incredible. This may sound hokey, but his voice sounded a lot like a perfect pitch violin, the way his voice glided seamlessly from letter to letter in his recitation. You couldn’t help but close your eyes and take it all in.

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After prayer, a long line formed in front of the imam, as people patiently waited to greet him. His name was Dhul Qarnain and is a hafiz of Quraan that got his Islamic education from Al-Azhar University in Cairo. I briefly said hello to the imam and told him about the 30 mosques project. He said he had heard of it (yay!) and encouraged us to head downstairs and eat food with the congregation.

Round one of food was this rice soup. We asked the people around us what was in it and many of them were not sure. But we definitely tasted some chicken in there too.

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Dinner was just as good, steak and rice with a side of vegetables. The mosque has its own chef that prepared the food, may Allah reward him for his talent.

But the food didn’t compared to our true experience at the mosque. We sat among many of the younger kids in the community just picking their brains a bit about the community.

After a few minutes of breaking the ice, I mentioned the word “Call of Duty 4″ and immediately a group of kids swarmed me. We had a blast during dinner cracking jokes. One thing I really love is seeing younger kids come to mosques because they genuinely enjoy being there, not because they are dragged by their parents. Its kids like these that make me feel good about where the Muslim community as a whole is headed in this country.

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One thing that surprised me about this community is the fact that this mosque doesn’t do any fundraising to sustain itself. Many times, you go to mosques that have these huge annual fundraisers that they depend on to survive, almost like a quarterback in football throwing a hail mary pass with less than 10 seconds left in the 4th quarter (sorry, NFL season starts this weekend and its heavily on my mind lol).

But this place is clearly different. Not only is there a sense of pride among the people in this mosque, but the people here have a genuine sense of love for their mosque.

Anyone that is frustrated about not being able to fundraise at their own mosque really should visit this place. Because here is a small community of mostly Albanians that had a love for their religion so strong that they were able to create something so majestic with patience and time.

Anyone can shell out money, but it takes true character to shell out love.

By Aman and Bassam

Today we visited this new masjid that was established a couple of months back. Take two steps away from the bodega and you’ll miss it.

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A brief dhikr took place before iftaar. The congregants at the masjid were incredibly hospitable. Everyone I walked by asked if I had enough orange juice, tea or coffee. The majority of the people were from West Africa and spoke both Walaf and Arabic. We were the only South Asians.

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As we broke our fast with bread and butter, a lady asked, “what is your name?”

I replied, “Bassam.”

“Bachan? Like Amitabh Bachan”

It took me a second to realize she meant the legendary Bollywood heartthrob. We all laughed as she listed her favorite Indian movies

Dinner was going to be served after Isha prayers, but I had to get going. I promised them that next time I come I’ll make them a nice Pakistani dish and they are holding me to it.

On my way back, I started listing off all the different dishes I could make. Turns out I couldn’t make that many. Looks like I’ll head over to Patel Brothers in Jackson Heights and buy some daal.

This entry was written by Fatima Ashraf. A community activist who wants to “make it plain,” as brother Malcolm taught us.

Why can’t we all just get along? Wait, maybe we can…

B and A asked me to join them at Al-Khoei Mosque in Jamaica, Queens on Wednesday. I for one, was elated to go – the last time I prayed in a Shi’a masjid was when I was in Beirut, 2007. I had gone to see the 2006 destruction by the IDF – amidst the bombed out buildings and collapsed bridges, the gorgeous blue tiled mosque stood unscathed, but I digress…

Al-Khoei is a grandiose structure that instantly grabs your attention off the Van Wyck Expwy. The front is a large circular lobby that leads to a full time school in one direction and the prayer area in another. Men and women pray in the same space and have almost the same ammenities. The women’s area is neatly sectioned off with dividers. There’s a slight view of the gorgeous mimbar, boasting the same blue tiled design as the masjid in Beirut. When I walked in, I knew to look for the small clay pieces traditionally used by Shi’as in prayer. But I knew very little after that.

Maghrib and Isha were prayed directly after one another. After the second rakat in both, the Imam read “rabbanaa ‘aatinaa fiddunyaa hasanataw wa fil aakhirati hasanataw wa qinaa athaaban naar” out loud. In rukuh and sujood, the Imam also read “subanal rabi ul atheem” and “subanal rabi ul ala’a” out loud, just once, respectively. A young (and very articulate) Muslimah later explained to me that this was in the Shi’a tradition in Ramadan to relieve the congregation from a long prayer – basically, help everyone worship quicky and then get to eating.

I felt like such an outsider. Other than the piece of clay and praying with my arms at my side, I had no idea what I was doing. I reflected on my discomfort – Shi’as are such a minority in the Muslim community all over the world. But in the states, when we are all minorities, and mosques are numbered, how must Shi’as feel in Sunni masjids? And since there are far more Sunni masjids than Shi’a ones, it must be a pretty common that Shi’as find themselves in Sunni land. Its so important that we treat everyone who enters our mosques with warmth and respect and hospitality, everyone comes to worship, whether hands folded or not.

After Isha, I told myself I was going to make friends. I approached the girl who was smiling at me (she KNEW I was new) and introduced myself. She quickly became my new BFF and led me down to the basement for iftar and dinner (she explained that most of the women eat only after Isha). On the way, I stopped to check out the bathroom. Functioning toilets, functioning sinks. No paper towels, busted hand dryer, messy and wet. Probably exactly the same as the guys side, so no complaints from me (other than whyyyy do we Muslims have to be sooo messyyy!!!)

The scene at dinner was amazing! Crowded! Diverse! I heard Pashtu, Farsi, Arabic, Pubjabi, Urdu, and Hyderabadi Urdu (oh wait, that was me). The food was cooked by the masjid’s West African full time chef, Ruby. She has a penchant for South Asian cuisine – tonight’s menu included alloo masala (spicy potatoes), yellow rice, fish, and chicken noodle soup. Everyone sat in rows on the floor and ate family style. Chai was in the lobby.

I shared my potato dish with an elderly Afghani woman who welcomed me with all her heart when I said it was my first time there. I told her the community was beautiful and she said that its even better on the weekends – tonight was a slow night (there were at least 150 women eating).

The young Muslimah who befriended me told me that in lieu of tarawih, after dinner, the Maulana holds a 15min Q&A when anyone can ask anything. But he will not go beyond 15 minutes. If women want to ask a question, they have to relay it to a male member of their family – either during dinner somehow or text it afterwards. After the 15 min lightening round, the congregation breaks up into 4 groups – Arabic speakers, Farsi speakers, Urdu speakers, English speakers. They have lectures and halaqas in language until 11pm-ish.

While drinking chai, I hung out with some Pakistani aunties who insisted I speak to them in urdu. I was self concious of my Hyderabadi Urdi – some elitist Pakistanis, ahem Bassam, act like Hydro Urdu is un-understandable. They (he) stands corrected. The aunties told me that “Hyderabadi Urdu bohot meethi zaban hai!” (Go ask your urdu speaking friends what that means). Anyway, the aunties were curious as to why it took me 5 years to come to the mosque. Here’s what happened after that:

Me: I work in Manhattan, so I usually go to the mosque on 96th st

Aunties: What mosque on 96?

Me: You know, the big one, the Islamic cultural center.

Aunties: (confused looks, heads shaking) we don’t know of any Shi’a masjids on 96th st.

Me: ohhh, yeaaa, um, its a Sunni mosque.

Aunties: GASP! Then why do you go there!?!?

Me: (sweating, contemplating lying) actually, um, aunties, I am not Shi’a, I was raised Sunni.

Aunties: GASP! Then what are you doing HERE?!?!

Me: I think its important to learn from all Muslims about Islam.

Aunties: Oh, so you’re one of the good Sunnis.

Me: There are lots of good Sunnis.

Aunties: (looking skeptical)

Me: I promise, come visit me, I will take you to a great Sunni masjid!

Aunties: (smiling) OK, but you have to promise to come back here, too!

Me: Deal!

Whew! So morale of the story, there are good ones of us on both sides, we can all get along, we just need to make ourselves known to one another.

Allahuma salli ‘ala sayyidina Muhammad wa ‘ala aali sayyidina Muhammed.

By Aman and Bassam

A few blocks from the subway in Brooklyn, Bassam and I took a stroll down Coney Island Avenue and found a bustling street of Pakistani run businesses, including a hospital. Check out the banner on the hospital celebrating Pakistan’s Independence Day last month.

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Across the street from the hospital was our destination, the Makki Masjid.

It’s a predominantly Pakistani mosque that is basically in its first phase of construction, as indicated by the scaffolding on the outside.

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Our friend Adeel Rahman said he used to go to this mosque as a kid, here’s what he had to say in this post’s comment thread:

“This is the Mosque I grew up with and still pray Eid at. Before the reconstruction it was three conjoined four floor apartment buildings with a capacity that had to be over 2000. Thanks for checking it out!”

What I like about this place is even though it could take months for construction to be complete, the people there have managed to make this place look beautiful. Its amazing what a few strategically rolled out carpets and lights can do to turn a giant hollow building into a cozy place of worship.

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Check out all the rolled up carpet insulation in the right corner.

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Downstairs is the place to make wudhu. You have to walk across this wooden plank to get to the sink otherwise you’ll be stepping in dirt. Its quite an adrenaline rush to walk the plank on your tippy toes (if you’re easily amused like me that is).

It was time to break our fast and the imam led us in a lengthy but heartfelt du’aa (supplication). Normally we’ve grown accustomed to eating something small before prayer and then a full dinner after. But here they combined it so we broke our fast with dinner. I had some rice -w- chicken, dates, a large potato samosa and in the left corner of my plate is halwa. Its basically a dessert that tastes like Cream of Wheat. To drink I had my fave Ramadan drink, sharbat (rose syrup mixed in milk).

Prayer started quicker than I expected, so I ate my food quickly and ran upstairs to join the congregation.

There was something incredibly humbling about this place, that’s hard for me to put in words. You don’t need things like extravagant domes and fancy caligraphy on the walls to make yourself feel at home in a mosque. Because there’s more than one way to make a place look beautiful, as the people here have done.

I had an extremely stressful day today, but as soon as I took off my shoes and walked into the place, I felt a load come off my shoulder. That’s one of the things I enjoy about going to mosques – no matter how stressful my day is, I am always able to leave my baggage at the door and step inside into a serene garden of spirituality.

By Aman and Bassam

Today Aman and I went to the Imam Al-Khoei Islamic Center in Queens. It is one of the largest Shi’a mosques in NYC.

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The place hits close to home for me. My parents sent my brother and I to Al-Khoei for summer school when I was about seven years old. When my brother learned the adhaan, the call to prayer, from school and did it in front of our family, that’s when my parents realized they sent us to a Shi’a school. They weren’t too concerned so they sent us both with a note to our teachers saying we were Sunni. From that point on, whenever I wanted to flake out from a lesson I would raise my hand and say I was Sunni. That was the start and end of my Islamic schooling.

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Fast forward 14 years: today, I re-entered the mosque from the back and was brought into a small prayer area in the basement. It was time for me to break my fast, but since the Shi’a break their fast fifteen minutes later I discreetly ate a piece of chocolate.

As I ate my Hershey’s Kisses, I noticed one brother already praying.

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I asked him afterwards if he was Sunni and he nodded. His name was Hassan and was from Sri Lanka. He was your typical masjid goer, from the topi hat and beard, down to the prayer beads in hand. He told me he was from the area and that there were many Sunni mosques around here. I asked him why he didn’t go to those instead. And he said this one was closer and he enjoyed coming here. Suddenly, the small prayer area had about ten Sunnis praying.

I decided to go upstairs to join the Shi’a congregational prayer that was just about to take place. There are minor differences between the Shia pray and the Sunni one, so I didn’t feel out of place praying my pukka Pakistani way.

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Right after prayer, Aman and I went back to the basement for dinner. As we entered the makeshift dining hall, the first group of people I saw were the Sunni brothers who entered the basement musala as I was leaving upstairs. Turns out a group of Sunni guys hang out regularly at the mosque. They seemed to feel right at home. Hassan saw us from the distance and signaled me to sit next to him. I sarcastically thought to myself, “great, lets add more Sunnis in this corner.”

The little corner where Aman and I sat.

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For dinner we had chicken soup, yellow rice and an amazing fish curry.

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I tried again to ask Hassan why he decided to come to this mosque. He didn’t join the Shia’s in the congregational prayer nor did he speak with many people there, but he still seemed like a regular. I was baffled by the other group of Sunnis who just chilled and kept to themselves.

I used to wonder why my parents didn’t take us out of the Islamic School after they found out it was Shia’. Maybe just like Hassan Uncle and the small group of Sunnis there, it just wasn’t that big of a deal.

By Aman and Bassam

I was tired and slept my way to Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. Thankfully the train ride took 70 minutes so I was fresh by the time I got off the train.

There was a certain calmness in the air, something you just don’t get in Manhattan.

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There are many mosques in Bay Ridge and it was tough to choose which one to visit. Somehow or another, we decided on the Muslim American Society (MAS) Youth Center.

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All I heard as I entered the center was great recitation over the PA system. The sound system of the masjid worked perfectly for the space, but everything else seemed to be under construction. There were no signs to guide me to the men’s area, so I decided to follow my ears. Common sense told me – the louder the recitation gets the closer I am.

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I took the stairs down to the basement and greeted a small group of elderly women. I smiled and continued walking. One of them gasped. I looked back and saw her shaking her head. A group of younger girls also saw me and started giggling. That’s when I realized I stepped into sister land. I smiled again and awkwardly walked back up the stairs.

A little boy was sitting outside of an office, and told me to take the elevator to the third floor. There was so much construction happening all around the mosque, the stairs weren’t functioning. One could imagine, what a logistical nightmare it must be if the stairs aren’t cleared for the Friday prayers.

The inside of the elevator reminded me of BioShock.

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The prayer area was very large, but – like the rest of the masjid – was still in development.

There were mismatched lines of tape that marked the placement of feet.

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The front of the musala was plastered with MAS banners. The top one gave Ramadan greetings, the banner below stated the mission of MAS. The imam ended with a group dua in Arabic. Bay Ridge is known to be a predominantly Arab community. But today at the mosque, we noticed a very large Desi population. It seemed like the Desi’s felt comfortable. I overheard them sharing thoughts on Musharraf and Nawaz Shareef in Punjabi.

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Most of the volunteers were young kids, about 12 to 16. They placed cups with dates in them on this random counter inside the musala. I wondered, why would they need a counter in the prayer area?

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After we broke our fast and prayed Maghrib, Aman came up to me and said. “Dude, this used to be a banquet hall.”

And that’s when it all started to make sense. Why else would there be random mirrors on the wall? The chandelier? And, of course, the obtrusive counter.

The whole center was in the process of being converted into a full fledged mosque.

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We had dinner in the prayer area. They served us rice, meat, beans and a salad in a nice box. The meal was very tasty, or as Aman would say “money!”

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We chatted with the director of the mosque, Hesham, as we ate up. I asked him how long this masjid has been around. Turns out the center has been in development since 2002! I was a little hurt to hear that. I thought to myself, thing long and still not done with renovations?

After we finished our dinner, we took the elevator down to the main floor, passed through a couple of more construction areas, and we…err I made a slight detour into another sister’s area. In the lobby of the mosque, Aman stopped and pointed out the photos on the wall. The bulletin board showcased photos from the youth activities that took place in the center. The one photo that struck us the most was this little Muslim girl in a karate suit kicking butt. Finally, we thought, girls being allowed to participate in such activities. What’s more beautiful than a hijabi Chuck Norris?

I looked closely at the photo and noticed construction still taking place in the background. That’s when it hit me – the masjid was going through a massive renovation, but that didn’t stop them from continuing to put on great iftaars, informative classes and, most importantly, youth activities. Amazingly, they aren’t letting the construction get in their way.

Come to think of it, the American Muslim community is still a work in progress. It’ll take us a while to get the wudu areas right, to develop gender parity and create stronger ties with the larger community. But until we get there, please pardon our dust.

By Aman and Bassam

Today Bassam and I were joined by our good friend Omar Mullick as we went into the south Bronx to check out the Mount Hope Masjid. This is a congregation of primarily West Africans. One of the people that talked to us said most of the people are from s Togo and Ghana. He said the two countries’ cultures are similar, comparing them to the similarities between New York and New Jersey.

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What makes this place beautiful is the community involvement. In many mosques, generally it is a small handful of tireless volunteers that provide food for everyone. But in this case, it seemed like every single person contributed. As soon as you walk into the mosque, you see a sign up sheet where everyone volunteers to provide food to break the fast.

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We sat down on a floor covered in tarp in the dining room and watched as floods of people came bringing in food. Each of them provided an item or two to help create a full fledged hearty meal to break our fast. The food in front of us was a plate of dates, watermelon and some corn bread.

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There was a guy at the table serving this soup out of a huge Igloo cooler. It was a sweetened maize soup. Think of hot apple sauce with small pieces of cornbread in it. Fantastic would only be describing the soup’s taste lightly.

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There were a lot of people there that were amazingly friendly. Most of the foods there such as the soup and other dishes were foreign to us, but given how friendly the atmosphere was, you couldn’t help but just jump in headfirst and really enjoy yourself.

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We then went downstairs to pray. The imam of the mosque is from Guyana.

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After prayer, we ended up going to this vegetarian Indian restaurant on Curry Hill in Manhattan called Tiffin Wallah. The food was phenomenal. The three of us each ordered Mysore Masala dosas. The best way I can describe it is a enormous crepe and inside are spiced potatoes and peas. You then dip it into those lentil soups on the right.

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The food was great no doubt. But after we ate, I kind of really wished we ate dinner at the mosque. As we were leaving the mosque, they were serving large plates of rice and catfish. It made me think long and hard about my dad. My father is on temporary business overseas and is all alone for the time being until his job finishes. So he eagerly asks me to always send him any kind of project I’m working on just so he can pretend he’s there with me witnessing it happen.

I kind of wish I had catfish tonight because I know how much he likes it.

By Aman and Bassam

Note: Many comments from this posting have disappeared. We encourage those whose comments have disappeared to re-post their thoughts. Sorry for the inconvenience, Aman and I are looking into this issue.

How do you get to Sesame Street? Follow a muppet.

Jamaica Muslim Center? Follow the topis (hats) and hijabs on Hillside Ave.

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O, how Jamaica has changed! Back when we lived in Astoria, I remember coming here with my father when I was ten. He forsook my mother on ever coming to this area alone. Jamaica has developed immensely and looks nothing like how I remembered it from twelve years ago — a prettier Jackson Heights if you will.

This is the Jamaica Muslim Center, Inc. A predominantly Bangladeshi community with the usual IndoPak mix.

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Most of the residence in the surrounding apartments are Muslim. I would be afraid to live this close because I’d have to come up with some really creative excuses on why I wasn’t at the masjid for fajr.

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In the hallway before the musala, all the plates for iftaar were ready. I was taking pictures of them with my google phone when a man standing by me asked if I was from the media. I smiled and said I wasn’t. All the photos Aman and I take are from our cell phones. The day the press starts taking photos with smart phone cams will be a very sad day.

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When the time came to break our fast, the imam turned to the congregation and had us repeat after him.

Allah humma

O God,

inni Laka sumtu

…I fasted for you ..

Wa bika amantu

…and I believe in you..

Wa alayka tawakkalto

..and I put my trust in You..

Wa ‘ala rizqika aftartu

..and I break my fast with Your sustenance.

We then proceeded to eat our dates and drink NYC’s default choice for water, Poland Spring.

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Right after the Maghrib prayer, everyone stayed in place and performed their sunnah prayers. I don’t think I saw a single person leave the musala until they performed the the supererogatory prayer.

Just as we were done praying, the volunteers quickly began placing blue mats all around the musala.

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Today’s menu: Pakora, Rice, Chicken Seekh, Fried Chicken, and, um, Watermelon. Nice bite marks on the pakora, ya?

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A man sitting next to me informed us that the majority of the congregants were gathered in the basement. He also told me the women pray upstairs and that is also where they are served.

Everything about the masjid reminded me of Madrasah Islamia in Houston. From the local residence walking together to the mosque to the after school Islamic program, the place was oozing with the scent of Hafiz Iqbal’s joint. What struck me the most was the hifz program the center has. I didn’t know they had such a program until I checked the center’s website. On the site, they have a list of 30 or so hufaadh who have graduated from their Jamia Qurania Academy.

Centuries ago before printing books, many Muslims relied on the hufaadh, individuals who have memorized the Quran, to teach their communties the holy book. Now that Qurans are readily available on paperbacks and iphones, many say there is no need for these rigorous memorization programs. Maybe it’s the “immigrant” in me, but I think the memorization of the Quran is an important tradition we must keep alive. Not just because it is a part of the Prophetic tradition, but there is also an important component of reciting aloud that is being lost. And what better way to recite aloud than from our hearts?

Updated: Maheen informed me the imam of the mosque is not Indonesian. It is the Director of the JMC that is.

By Aman and Bassam

Our first trip on our journey to Staten Island, way overdue. No Bassam today, but instead I took my little brother Zeshawn and my cousin Salman to the Noor Al-Islam Center on Richmond Terrace. This is a World War II bomb factory they converted into a mosque. But before I get to that, we first took a chillaxing 25-minute ferry ride to Staten Island. Bye bye Manhattan and Statue of Liberty:

To truly appreciate how beautiful this mosque is, you have to learn its history. The mosque is built on a shipyard that was the location for the Bethlehem Steel Corporation during World War II. The corporation used to manufacture bombs for the military. After the war, a man named Muhammad Adam, who is still on the mosque’s board today, worked his way up the ranks at the shipyard until he finally took ownership of it. In the 1990s, he turned the factory portion of the shipyard into this beautiful mosque.

During World War II, this parking lot used to be an outdoor motorized track that used to transport the manufactured bombs in carts to the harbor, where men at the dock would load the bombs onto military supply ships.

It took Muhammad Adam and the mosque board about 10 years to gain full control of the five-floor building. In the late 1990s, they had only one small portion of the first floor. Then they got enough money to take control of the second floor to make an expanded prayer room. Then they took control of the third floor to make a women’s prayer area. Then they took control of the fourth floor to make a Sunday school for children. Then they took control of the fifth floor to make an apartment for the Imam.

This prayer room was completed about two years ago. The pillars from the original factory are still intact, but the entire room has been restored with beautiful marble tiling. We got to the mosque super early, so I sat back against the wall to take in the room’s beauty:

Apparently some of the people at the mosque are die-hard Jets fans, judging by this mat outside the prayer room. The Imam and I both agree the Jets made a mistake getting rid of Chad Pennington.

Since we got to the mosque about 30-40 minutes before prayer, we were asked by a group of people to join them in their religious discussion. They were a group of people from Brooklyn that were spending the weekend at the mosque. One of the things I love about going to mosques is when a random strangers greets you with a smile and makes you feel as if you’ve been friends for life.

It was time to break my fast and I had to give a shout out to my elementary school days. I broke it with a dixie cup cone filled with milk and a date.

Time for prayer.

After prayer, I was greeted by Hesham El-Meligy. A community activist who read our 30 mosques site and invited us to Staten Island. He is an amazing individual, and is one of the Muslim leaders in NYC pushing the city to make Eid a recognized holiday in the public schools. NPR recently did a story on him.

He gave me a tour of the mosque and explained its beautiful history. The congregation is predominantly Egyptian, but a good mix of Desis and African Americans too. For dinner we had fantastic Egyptian food: Rice, chicken, meatballs, mixed veggies and salad

For dessert we had baklava (left) and kunafa (right), one of my fave Arabic treats. If you haven’t had kunafa, its basically sweetened shredded wheat. Yes it sounds like something an 89 year old grandma would eat, but — holy moly — it’s amazing. It made me miss all my awesome Arab friends from college that made it for me all the time.

As we were getting ready to leave, I had to take one last shot of the building because I was still taken back by how beautiful it was.

I still can’t believe 15 days in this journey have gone by already. I have seen so many beautiful things so far, and we’re only halfway done. If I was able to see this today, I can only imagine the people I’ll meet and sights I’ll see in the days to come.

Alhamdulillah, I have lived an incredibly blessed life in the very few years I’ve been on this earth. This project without a doubt will be added to the long list of stories I’ll get to bore my grandkids about one day. I cann’t wait.

By Aman and Bassam

Today, Aman and I went to the Riverdale Islamic Center in The Bronx. It’s interesting how no other borough in New York has a definitive THE in front of it. I have yet to hear anyone say the Queens or the Brooklyn.

(Update: Turns out the Bronx comes from the landowner who acquired the borough back in 1639, Jonas Broncks. – Here’s a snippet from an article:

“A river ran through Jonas Bronck’s farm, which became known as THE Bronck’s River. Then the area around the river became known as THE Bronck’s; eventually the spelling of the name was changed to THE Bronx because of euphony and not because there is more than one Bronx. In fact, it is the only New York State borough using an article in its name.”

Props to the commenter who pointed this out)

The mosque is discreetly located in the back of an apartment complex. It’s very easy to miss if you’re not looking carefully.

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Before reaching the back of the complex, we had to pass through a smelly corridor filled with garbage.

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At the entrance of the mosque sat Aqib. A Pakistani kid who starts high school in a week. He directed me into the mosque.

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Inside the center, I was greeted by a small group of Desi uncles who were preparing plates for iftaar. They smiled and told me to sit before we break our fast. At that moment I thought the masjid was ran by South Asians, but when I looked to my left I saw a different picture. There were a couple of Latino and African American brothers helping out in the preparations. The small congregation began cracking on a brother who ate a date before the adhaan was called. Everyone took turns coming up with a joke. The brother who ate the date was a new convert and laughed as he turned red in embarrassment. The Desi uncles jokes were a little off color, but everyone knew they meant well. It was funny to see them transitioning from Punjabi to English to Arabic all as they put pakoras and dates in plates.

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Before the designated iftaar time, a vibrant man got up and reminded us that the small window before Maghrib is a very blessed time to supplicate. After he called the adhaan, I found out this man, Sheikh Sulayman, was the Imam of the mosque and instrumental in bringing this congregation together.

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We were given dates, pakoras, chickpeas and crispy rice for break fast. The only thing missing was roohafza.

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After Maghrib, I spoke with the Imam about the dynamics of the mosque. He said it was difficult to get the congregation to come together in the beginning, but since they were in such a small space there really was no choice. “The space is a blessing,” he said.

For dinner, the masjid provided a light biryani with salad.

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As we left the masjid, Shiekh Sulayman showed us around the masjid property. Turns out the landlord of the apartment complex is Muslim and has designated the majority of the first floor for the mosque. That explains how they get away with the blaring speakers in a residential building. The imam briefly spoke about the expansion plans to accommodate the growing congregation. I wondered what would happen once the masjid expanded. Would the community drift apart if they have the convenience of sitting in their own ethnic corners? Or would they still come together and crack off-color jokes in the comfort of a larger space? Let’s pray for the latter.

This entry was written by Fatima Ashraf. A community activist who wants to “make it plain,” as brother Malcolm taught us.

Masjid Dawood, better known as the Yemeni Mosque on State St, is a sad story in my opinion. But let me start with the good, since it is Ramadan. The sister’s section is on the second floor. The carpet in this masjid always reminded me of the Dome of the Rock; it’s a deep, deep red and pretty clean. The taraweah is beautiful; the Sheikh’s recitation, with eyes closed, can transport you to the Holy Land. It’s 8 rakats with the traditional break in the middle. The sounds of the recitation float out of the windows and over the trees throughout historic Brooklyn Heights.

Now, the sadness. Well, let’s call it awareness. Masjid Dawood is one of the FIRST mosques in NYC and therefore one of the first in the entire country. It was established by the Blackamerican Muslim community. It was a stronghold for Muslims. It was more than just a house of worship, it was a place where families could come to learn about Islam together, to study the deen, to raise their kids around one another, and to plan for the future of Islam in America. Today, this masjid is 100% immigrant; the founding fathers of this precious place are no where to be found. The population is homogeneous. Arabs. Yemenis (at least in the sister’s section). I am an immigrant Muslim, yet I still felt out of place. Furthermore, it’s become a transient place; there is no more socializing, no more community building. People come, pray, go.

There are many reasons for this. The gentrification of this neighborhood in the 60s and 70s played a part. The immigrant invasion played a part. But the past it the past; what we must think about is the future. Many of the Brooklyn masaajid, established by the African American community, no longer serve the community. Where is the Blackamerican Muslim community going? This is a very important question to get answered, but let’s first start by asking it.