Don’t Call Him That!

“Assalamualaikum warahmatullah…” I finished my prayer with salaam. I looked up from the carpeted floor. There were a few people still praying. Some were just sitting, talking to one another. They were all scattered in the praying hall. One man caught my attention. He was sitting alone with his head down. His eyebrows furrowed, as though he was thinking of something very serious.

“Assalamualaikum ustaz,” a voice pulled me away from the man. I looked to the source of the voice. It was Ustaz Hakim. He sat next to me. “Can you be imam for Subuh prayer tomorrow? Something’s come up with my family. I have to go back to hometown for a couple of days.” He looked grim.

I nodded. “Sure, it’s no problem,” I said. “What’s the emergency?”

“It’s my father-in-law, he’s had a stroke.” Ustaz Hakim said darkly.

“Inna Lillahi wa inna ilaihi raji’un,” I replied quietly. “May he be cured from this illness and not get sick till his time has come.”

“Thanks, ustaz,” he said gratefully. I smiled. “I have to go now, we’re leaving before dawn tomorrow. Assalamualaikum.” He held his hand in front of me.

I shook his hand and he left. I looked again to the surroundings. There were just two persons in the mosque now; me and the man earlier. I looked at the clock on the wall. It was 9.45 pm. Most of them must have gone back, I thought. It’s already late, after all.

I stood up and walked towards the light switches. The man, realising that I was moving about, quickly stood up as well and approached me from the side.

“Emm, emm… Assalamualaikum ustaz,” he meekly greeted me.

“Wa’alaikumussalam,” I said while turning my body to face him. He was holding his head down. His hands were slightly shaking. I could see his shoulders shivering as well. “Are you okay?” I asked him.

He shook his head. “No, ustaz. I’m not. I need…” He took a deep breath to calm himself and swallowed hard. “I need help, ustaz.” I looked at the man in front of me with serious eyes. Help? What kind of help? I thought silently.

“What sort of help do you need?” I asked him politely. He seemed nervous for some reason.

“I… I have a problem, ustaz,” he spoke up after a while, “and I want to fix it.” I nodded.

“Okay. What sort of problem?” I encouraged him to go on.

“Drinking problem,” he said shortly. I looked at him upon hearing his words, but said nothing. He hung his head in shame. “If you…” he started.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be honest,” I cut him off. “I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do here. I think you should go and see a counselor. It’s better for you.”

He raised his head to look at me. His eyes were serious, as if he was determined that I had said something wrong. “No, ustaz. I don’t want to go to counselor. If anyone finds out…” he trailed off.

I nodded understandingly. The stigma of going to a counselor must be too much for him, I thought. It’s not his fault though. The perception of the society shapes it. To them, if you’re seeing a counselor, that means you have a problem.

“Okay then. How do you want to fix your problem?” I asked him. “I’m not sure what I can do, though. If what you ask is too much, I’m afraid I have to turn you down.”

“It’s not much, ustaz,” he continued. “I just wanted to sit down and learn some things about Islam from you.” I fell silent. Here is a guy who wants to better himself. I shouldn’t push him away from the opportunity

“Emm…” I mumbled. “Okay, I can do that, Insya-Allah.” His face lit up at my words. “But we have to think of a time that suits the both of us.”

“We’ll follow your time, ustaz,” he said quickly. “I’m sure you’re quite busy.”

“Hahaha…” I laughed. “How about this time? 9 to 10, every Friday night? Is that okay with you?”

“Yes, ustaz, it’s good with me,” he agreed. “When do we start?” I smiled. He was eager.

“Next week,” I decided. He smiled again. I held out my hand and he took it. We shook hands.

“Oh, before I forgot,” I started. “What’s your name? I’m Arif.”

“My name is Hussin, ustaz,” he replied happily.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hussin, I have something to tell you,” I said to him. We had just finished our class. It was a month after our first lesson.

“What is it, ustaz?” He looked at me with curiosity.

“I have to go to a conference for next week, which means I can’t have class with you then.” Hussin was quiet. “But, don’t worry,” I continued. “Ustaz Hakim will cover for me next week. That way the class is still as usual.” I smiled reassuringly.

Hussin nodded. “Okay, ustaz. Emm, do you mind telling me how Ustaz Hakim looks like? I want to meet him before our class.”

“There’s no need,” I said with a smile. “That’s him, right there.” I pointed to a spot at the first row. Ustaz Hakim was reading al-Quran in a soft voice. Hussin turned to look at him. Instantly his face turned sour.

“Oh, him,” he simply said.

I was shocked at his reaction. “Why? What’s wrong?” I asked Hussin.

“Nothing, ustaz.” He smiled at me. “I’ll talk to him later. Thanks for today’s lesson. Assalamualaikum.” He got up and left. I was puzzled by his actions, but said nothing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ustaz Hakim, assalamualaikum!” I called out to him one evening. I had just returned from the conference. We were at the same mosque as last time. He was standing in front of the notice board, reading the notices.

“Oh, ustaz Arif. Wa’alaikumussalam,” he responded curtly. His demeanour changed as soon as he noticed me. I walked to him and shook his hand.

“How was Hussin yesterday night? Did you teach him something?” I asked.

Ustaz Hakim turned faced the board again. “Yeah, I did. But I don’t know if he understood it or not,” he said nonchalantly.

“Why? What happened?” I pressed him to explain.

“He asked too many questions, that man. It’s like he didn’t even know the basics!” He said in an annoyed tone. “Even children didn’t ask as much as him. ‘Ustaz, why this? Ustaz, why not that?’ Ergh, it’s a wonder how you put up with him!”

I fell silent. True, Hussin liked to ask many irrelevant matters, but I always managed to get him back on track by making him answer his own questions. I would only tell him the facts, and then asked him to figure it out.

“And one more thing,” Ustaz Hakim added. “Did you know he’s a drunkard? I bet he mugs people too. Who knows what else he does to get rid of his drinking problem.” His face twisted into disgust.

I began to feel angry at the words Ustaz Hakim had uttered. “Stop it.” I said sternly. “How do you know he’s a drinker? And what proof do you have to say he’s a mugger as well?”

“He himself confessed to me.” Ustaz Hakim explained. “He came to me one day, after Zuhur prayer. He said that he wanted to ask for my help. He said he has a drinking problem, and that he wanted to quit.”

I fell silent. So, it wasn’t the first time he approached an ustaz. And judging by his reaction, it’s no wonder that Hussin was hesitant in approaching me. And then I realised. Hussin did not like it when I told him that Ustaz Hakim would be replacing me. This was the reason.

“And the mugging? How do you know about that?” I asked him to clarify.

It was Ustaz Hakim’s turn to fell silent. I looked at him with inquiring eyes. He avoided my gaze. After a few moments, I said, “Well?”

“Alright, I didn’t know. I just assumed. But it’s bound to happen, sooner or later.” Ustaz Hakim finally confessed.

I shook my head. “That’s wrong, Ustaz. You don’t assume on a person just because he made a mistake. Yes, he drinks. But that’s all. There’s nothing to prove that he has done something else that is bad.”

“Remember a hadith by Abu Hurairah about a drunkard who went and confessed his sins to the Prophet S.A.W.?” I continued on, not letting him speak. “In that hadith, the man gets the punishment for drinking, but when the people punishing him began to insult him, what did Prophet Muhammad S.A.W. do? He stopped those people from saying such things!”

“We can punish him for drinking, but that’s all. We can’t simply accuse him doing some other crime. We would be helping the devils that way.” Ustaz Hakim was still silent. His head dropped a bit.

“Sorry,” he finally said.

“It’s not me you should be apologising to.” I said. “Hussin’s the one you want.” He nodded.

“Yeah, you are right. Next time I see him, I’ll apologise.”

“Great,” I said. “Well, I haven’t prayed ‘Asar yet, so excuse me.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Ustaz Hakim said. “I forgot about that.”

“It’s no problem. Assalamualaikum.”

“Wa’alaikumussalam.” We shook hands, and I walked towards the ablution area.

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