audhu bil-Lahi min ash-shaytan ir-Rajeem
Bismillah al-Rahman al-Raheem
wa sallAllahu 'ala Sayyidina wa Mawlana Muhammad
wa 'ala Ali Sayyidina wa Mawlana Muhammad wa sallim

as-Salaamu 'alaykum,

This is an unsigned article that originally appeared in the August 2002 edition of Q-News Magazine based out of the United Kingdom: www.q-news.com




VISITING AN HEIR OF THE PROPHET


There are probably a million or so young men the likes of me across the landscape of North America. Son of Arab immigrants, I grew up in the suburbs, went to the public schools, and prayed at the mosques founded by upper-middle-class Arab immigrant professionals. Whenever possible, I attended events pertinent to Islam and the Muslims. Imam Siraj Wahhaj fundraisers rank as my most popular memory. In general, I consider myself a son of the inglorious, grass-roots Islamic effort here in America.

Becoming more involved in Islam in America or England, I realised that the approaches to Islam are many, and sometimes conflicting. Of course you have the Ikhwan, who have their unique, almost corporate approach to the deen, then you have the Salafis with all their energy, the Sufis, the Tablighis, the different Pakistani Jamaats, and so on. I inclined to the nascent revivalists of traditional knowledge and devotion, for which I see Q-News as a flagship magazine. I was very enthusiastic about this group; still so, but more maturely now. I searched for the biographies of all the shuyukh, the living and the dead. I took road trips to hear the American traditional scholars speak whenever possible and I practiced what they taught. With college and what not, I was scrapping along, gaining knowledge sloppily and at a snail's pace. This made me at least a decent student and practitioner, but in comparison to the brothers who made it over to Syria and those places, I was mediocre at best. Part of this is natural; the nafs is not a light switch. It takes time to change your ways.

Now I had been hearing about a group from the Yemen for a while and my interest began to grow. I decided to go there, although my real dream was Mauritania. I had always thought that Habib Omar, may Allah preserve him, was just one of the shaykhs. Boy was I mistaken about that. He was the Imam of the school in knowledge and moreso in suluk. The students kept telling me, "He's a murabbi," meaning that he guides people to higher stations of iman and yaqeen. I simply said to myself, "Okay, that's good" - I make sure never to be too easily moved.

By the third day, I had only seen Habib Omar from afar, and only once. The next morning I was moved to see a shaykh because of doubts that had taken hold of me. I sought another shaykh named Habib Ali al-Jufri at his home, but this attempt failed. So I sought Habib Omar and said to myself, "If he is how they say he is, he'll extinguish my doubts by the permission of Allah and won't mind me barging in without notice." A little girl, probably his daughter, opened to my knock, and I asked to see Habib Omar. Not long afterwards, he came out. Standing at the frame of the door he looked at me completely straight faced, saying welcome and inviting me in after I asked to sit with him. He led me up a flight of stairs into a small room and shut the door. Like all the rooms in his home, this room was free of furniture, merely a forest green carpet and bare walls.

Sitting a few feet away from each other, the first thing he did was open his eyes like saucers and give me a look the likes of which I had never seen before. Then he opened the conversation about me and what I did. He was somewhat dismayed to know that I was only staying for a short period. I told him that I was a religion major and he asked if the religion professors at the university denounce Islam and promote Christianity, to which I replied that no, not across the board, but an excellent Islam professor is rare. I told him how my interest in learning the deen was heightened by Imam Hamza Yusuf's da'wa, and at this, a slight grin appeared on his face, the only exception to the absolutely straight face he kept for the entire visit.

I then explained to him that I had brought upon myself many doubts by studying philosophy while not yet having a strong background in the religious sciences. Reassuring me, he told me that I have come to a blessed place where many a righteous man has walked. Then he instructed me to repeat the following: La ilaha illa Allah, 12,000 times, and he gave me some more adhkar and said that I now have an ijaza in them. This would be a way of expelling my doubts insha'Allah.

The shaykh asked if I had a masbahah - beads to count on. I thought of responding in the negative, for perhaps he would give me his, but I just said yes and showed him mine. "Begin with the dhikr. There is a party from Egypt departing today who will have breakfast with us," he said, preparing to leave the room. "I will call you when the time comes." And on this he departed. I was not sure if I had understood correctly. I sat wondering what to do. Was I supposed to begin now? So I just began it, and immediately all my doubts were extinguished. I remembered, "Remember Allah and He will remember you." Half an hour later he opened the door to check on me. Some time later he came in again, this time calling me for the breakfast.

I noticed that the shaykh was very deliberate about his actions, even the way he sat - on his knees, his left hand was always palm down on the floor, and he leaned on it. I also noticed immediately about his manners, and his speech. He was very clear, and he repeated sentences fully if one did not hear. I took this to be a very conscious following of the sunna. After breakfast, we went to the masjid for dhuhr and that ended my visit to him.

I had never thought of taking suluki instruction from him; it just happened and I didn't at any point felt uncomfortable by it. When I returned to the West, I feared descending into the same old ghafla of the past. I was very nervous, and my fears were abated by a series of dreams or visions which I had regularly for about three months. In these visions, I saw Habib Omar. One time, he told me to continue lowering my gaze, praying on the Prophet, and getting up in the
night. I would later learn that Allah sends these gifts to encourage you. Today, I have much better control over my nafs by the permission of Allah, yet do not receive these visions as I used to. Allah gives them to whomever He wishes, whenever He wishes.

I decided to continue the dhikr instruction since I never knew how to gauge my dhikr. With Habib Omar, may Allah preserve him, I have a qualified guide to set the tone. Sometimes the dhikr is long requiring 500 repetitions a day, sometimes short and requiring 200 a day. It varies. I'm sure there's a wisdom behind it. To me, it resembles exercising the physical heart, for which it is beneficial to race the heart then slow it down, then race it again, then slow it down. Eventually, what was rigorous becomes normal, and you advance so.

Now, I contact him over the telephone and ask for another dhikr with a timetable. For example, he may say, "it shouldn't increase over two months." When I complete it, I ring him again. Our telephone conversations rarely exceed one minute. They simply consist of "Salaam alaikum, walaikum salaam, I completed the dhikr; can I have another one." The dhikr is undoubtedly prayer on the Prophet, but not always.

Things traditional entail a great respect for time, be it grammar, calligraphy, or the heart. As a result, there may descend on the individual times of boredom with the repetitive practice. One gets tired of waiting for the next milestone, and imagines that it will never yield. But patience is a must. These moments try the sincerity, and the slowness chases away the hawa, since hawa, as you well know, is a quick and short-term desire, akin to a fad. Also due to the slowness, one improves without realising it, which is key in bypassing'ujb.

Slowness is one of the great strengths of the traditional method, as nearly everyone in the modern world, including some Islamic groups, seek the quick-fix. I can tell now, who is going to last, just by their respect or disrespect for the time factor. Some groups will never bring about constructive change, because so much of their activities demand immediate results, and quick-fixes have weak foundations. Purifying the heart always reminds me of rotisserie chicken. The only way you can get it golden on the outside and fully cooked on the inside is by slowly turning it on that rod to a medium temperature. Amazing how we still understand rotisserie chicken but have forgotten about the heart.

I learned a little about the life of Habib Omar. When he was a mere nine years old, his father, may Allah have mercy on him, was abducted and murdered by the Communists who dominated their village of Tarim. Shortly thereafter, the Mufti of the district of al-Bayda called for Habib Omar, who would spend the next seven or so years at this Mufti's ribat. A ribat is like a dorm-school for intensive training in knowledge, suluk, and today, da'wa. It used to be martial training to protect the borders. There, Habib Omar recited a large book of awrad every day and showed a keen ability to speak publicly. He also developed a capacity for poetry. One of his older murids told me that he has over 1,000 qasidas.

Of course, Habib Omar has his own shaykh. They call this type of spiritual shaykh, shaykh al-fath. Habib Abd al-Qadir al-Saqqaf is his very aged master, living in Jidda. Over milk and bananas one morning, I complained to Habib Ali al-Jufri about my inability to move to a Muslim country where I can continue my suluk. Re-assuring me, he explained that one can be a salik anywhere in the world, and that the connection between the shaykh and the murid is spiritual not physical. Well, this is how Habib Omar was with his master, Habib Abd al-Qadir. He visited his shaykh merely four times in his entire life, never staying more than two months and receiving his fath at an exceptionally youthful age. He has yet to reach the 40 mark. There are many murids in the world, and they all attain their degree of felicity, but very few witness the ultimate goal. In the end, these matters of the shaykh and the tawfiq in receiving the fath are Allah's and it is in vain to talk about them. As Mulay Ali al-Darqawi used to say: let us rather speak about the things we should be doing.

In 1994, with the Communists out, Habib Omar returned to his home village of Tarim, and with connections he made in Oman and Saudi Arabia, opened a school, which is where I went. He named it "Dar al-Mustafa" - Home of the Chosen One.

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From America, Land of the Free, Home of the Brave


Picture: Habib 'Umar ibn Hafiz
(may Almighty Allah preserve and protect him)