Here's an interesting one:

Our very own Br. _salam_'s story!

Masha'Allah. Revert stories are always interesting. I always enjoy readin' them.

Jazaka'Allah Khairun bro

One of the greatest stories has to be Napoleon form the Outlawz, coming back from all that happened to him to accept Islam.

Quote:

Originally Posted by Ansar Al-'Adl Would someone please post some stories they really liked?

I really liked this story of a boy who converted at the age of 10 !!!!!
just read on :

Asalaamu Aleykum Brothers and Sisters. Since my conversion, I have had so many people ask me to write down my account, so I think that right now is the time. As with many reverts, something happened in my old life that led me to where I am now. When I was in high school, in history class we were all assigned a religion to study, and the religion that my group picked was Islam. I found it very interesting and I really got involved in the project, but after it was over, I forgot most of it. From time to time I remember hearing about Islam from my mom (she loves Cat Stevens, and I remember her telling me about his conversion.) I was brought up in a family that is very open minded and never attached judgment to any of these things. I was baptized into the Catholic Church when I was eight years old because my parents thought that religion would help give some form of stability to my family. My parents were Christians one day a week at best, and never really impressed religion beyond what we learned in church upon us. My senior year in high school I started my search for religion. I became a devoted Christian going to a different church every Sunday, and going to Bible study. I went to Nicaragua the previous summer on a mission trip, but while there found a verse in 1Timothy that had me angry with God for days. Going to Nicaragua made me more convinced that Christianity is used as a coping tool because with out it, the people would not have the hope to survive. I attended more than 15 different denominational churches in my search for God.
I study religion because I am able to see the part that it plays in the lives of individuals, but I never felt fulfilled. The more I learned, the more questions were being raised for me, and the more and more unsatisfied I felt. I ignored these feelings and came to a Catholic College, and became active in the Campus ministry. It was at college that I met Muslim sisters that began to teach me about Islam. Looking back, I was so ignorant, and they were so patient, teaching me over and over. My friend went back and looked at our first conversation and laughs at some stupid things I said. I remember not being able to say the whole greeting, and then how happy I was when I realized that I could say it correctly. My Muslim sisters I met gave me websites and people to talk to about Islam, and through these people I learned more and more.
I never intended to convert. I still was misinformed about the roles of Women in Islam. Because of what I read and because of the media, I did see them as silent and subservient. I had my eyes open when I met some wonderful Muslim sisters. When I saw a Sister pray I knew that I wanted to convert. It was so beautiful and fluid, and I could feel the closeness with God. I kept telling people I didn't want to convert but when the fact that I believed Shahadah was pointed out to me; I couldn't stop thinking about religion. All day in my classes, before I slept, all my time awake I studied Islam and kept questioning why I was here on this earth. I came to the realization that it was to worship Allah. I took Shahadah in my heart long before I took it with witnesses. When I was put on the phone with someone that pointed out that I believed in Islam, it was then I cried. I cried because I realized that my life was about to change, and I couldn't ignore it. I was scared to go to the masjid to say Shahadah so I put it off. When I did go, I was so nervous. It was a fun experience for me to go to the masjid though. Someone even took my flip-flops to make wudu. In the following months, I have faced a lot of difficulties and obstacles in my faith. I hope to InshaAllah learn more about Islam everyday, and have my eyes opened more and more everyday. Thank you to all of the wonderful brothers and sisters that have helped me on my journey...and my I grow closer everyday to the relationship that Allah wants me to have with HIM.
Part two:

Sometimes I think that living in IN ruined me. It makes me care what other people through of me, too much, and it didn’t expose me to as many cultures and religions as I would like to have been exposed to. My grandfather is a Catholic priest and more than anything else in my life, I fear his finding out that I converted. I was at one time completely encompassed by fear about what my parents would think. Even before I converted I was so incredibly afraid of what other people would and will think about my conversion. I spend hours explaining Islam to people and dispelling their unguided incorrect information, but never tell them that, I am in fact a Muslim. I don’t look like a stereotypical Muslim. I am white, with light brown hair and blue eyes, and I look like a good little American Christian girl. I don’t wear hijab; once again for my fear of people paying me undo interest. I remember going to the masjid and I have to walk about half a mile from the train station, and being terrified because I put hijab on and was afraid that someone was going to do something to me while I was walking to the masjid. Nothing happened though, and I am starting to realize that all of my fears from living around close-minded people aren’t necessary here. People in this area are used to seeing women in hijab. People in Indiana would think that I’m a nun. I am very picky with the people I tell that I’m Muslim. It took a month and a half and there are still a couple people in my office that don’t know I’m Muslim. When it came to finding a Muslim for a speaking engagement though, guess who they looked to J me…..hahaha that was rather interesting.
Anyways though this was supposed to be about my telling my parents! I went home about three weeks ago, and I knew that I had to tell them. It was eating me up inside. I didn’t eat for three days before I went home, and I was just so incredibly nervous. I was having panic attacks and alternating between sleeping all the time and not sleeping at all, and it was all I could think about when I was awake, and when I was asleep I was dreaming of the worst-case scenario. It really wasn’t a good situation. People kept telling me, either, don’t tell them, or trust God.
After I returned home, I was making a grilled cheese sandwich and my mother said something, I can’t remember what having to do with religion and looking into ‘Muslim’. I first couldn’t believe that she already knew I was looking into Islam and secondly couldn’t believe how uninformed about Islam she was. I told her not to tell my dad, so of course she leans over and yells out the window ‘hey John, I have something to tell you’. He comes over and is like ‘what’? My mom says in all her glory ‘your daughter is studying Muslim’ ….I about died, but I replied ‘Islam mom, its Islam.’ “Oh…she’s studying Islam then’. My father’s response was… “Where did you want to me to plant this?” I almost died with relief.
When I went to pray my mom wanted to see my hijab and all of my Islamic paraphernalia that I had cleverly hidden in a backpack. I showed her and she was moderately interested. See, my parents have always taught my brother and I to be the most open minded, kind, charitable people that we are able to be, to ignore the chains of modern society and be our own person. Because of this, my mother now has a Wiccan son and a Muslim daughter. I think she is quite happy.
While at home, my mother was making mac and cheese with ham in it and I explained that I didn’t eat ham and explained why. She the proceeded to make me my own little batch with no ham in it. When I left, I left her a book to read and that she did read and apparently took to heart. See, I am convinced that my mother would be a wonderful Muslim. After reading my book, she says out of solidarity with me, she stopped eating pork or anything containing pork products. The one thing is that she forgot to tell me this lol. I found out through my moms friend. I was completely shocked. My mother loved ham and all that stuff, and I cried because I realized that moment how much my mother loved me and would always support me, unless I became a Republican. That would seriously be the only way to get disowned in my family. Anyways, inshaAllah I can show my mother the way, and she can become a Muslim. I know that it’s in her heart, and I can show her the path. Salaam Aleykum brothers and sisters. Thank you for your support
Please e-mail me with any comments because it will take a year to find any on here...thanks

Subhan'Allah sis leena.noor, that has to be one of the most inspiring revert story that I've read so far. All Praise is due to Allah. Welcome to Islam sis. Insha'Allah, with Allah's guidance, I pray to Allah SWT that your mother also embraces this wonder way of life.

Jazaka'Allah Khairun for sharin' sis and once again, welcome!!

By the way, Ansar , that's her story!

A Jewish Man's Story of Finding Islam

Odyssey to Islam
By Dr. Moustafa Mould

After a spiritual journey of almost 40 years, a Boston Jewish linguist finds Islam in Africa.

An odyssey is a long, wandering journey. The word comes from Odysseus (in Latin, Ulysses) a hero of the Homeric epic poem, The Odyssey. His journey home took ten years and was fraught with many mishaps, detours, dangers and adventures. In retrospect, my road to Islam – my journey home- seems like an odyssey. As I look back over my life, from my early childhood up until I finally made shahadah, a journey of almost 40 years, it seems that there were many signs, many turning points, many incidents, some significant, some trivial, that were all preparing me for and pointing the way to Islam.

I grew up in Boston. It was very much a Catholic city, mostly Irish and Italian, with small but significant communities of blacks, Jews, Chinese, Greeks, Armenians and Christians Arabs, and in those days especially, each group had its own neighborhood. There were lots of Greek and Syrian restaurants, and I grew up loving Greek salad, shish kebob, lahm mishwi, kibbi, grape leaves, humus, anything with lamb, etc.

My family were mostly working-class, conservative Jews. My grandparents had fled the anti-Semitism and pogroms of czarist Russia around 1903. They and their families had found work in the sweatshops of the garment district, a few were in craft skills, and they were quite active in their labor unions. I was to become the first in my family to get a university degree. Our home was not strictly kosher, but we would never dream of eating pork. All the holidays and fasts were observed, and for years I went to the synagogue every Saturday and holiday with my father and uncle.

The synagogue we belonged to was conservative, close to orthodox but modernist: it was very traditional, but women were not totally segregated. I began " Madrasah" Hebrew school) at age six. It was 1948, which saw the birth of the state of Israel, and Zionist propaganda filled the atmosphere, as did conversations and sermons about the Nazis and concentration camps, and there were many recent immigrant refugee survivors.

At that time there was still a lot of anti-Semitism in the U.S., especially in the South and the Midwest, but also in Boston. The Greeks, Syrians and Italians were fine, but the Boston Irish were a big problem, dating back to my parents’ generation in WWI and the 1920s. During my childhood I was often chased , spat on, insulted and beaten. They even held me down and pulled my pants down - in addition to the humiliation they wanted to see what a circumcision looked like.

My Hebrew teachers were two Israeli brothers, who were orthodox, and veterans of the 1948 war. From them I learned modern Hebrew and absorbed a lot of Zionist ideology along with the religious teachings. I became more religious and an avid Zionist. I believed that Jews needed their own country in case of another Hitler - those Irish kids were doing nothing to allay my fears and I did not feel "at home" in America. I decided I would go and spend my life on a kibbutz ( communal farm).

My father was a musician and a cantor (prayer leader). He had a beautiful tenor voice, preferred the more traditional, rather oriental, melodies, and chanted the prayers with lots of huzn (sorrow) ( when I learned that word recently I began to wonder if it might be related to Hebrew hazan = ‘cantor’). In our synagogue, the Torah reader used a very oriental sounding tajwid which I loved listening to.
Believe it or not, I recently heard a friend reciting from the Qur’an and it sounded almost identical.

One thing that stands out clearly in my memory, even now during salah, is that in the Jewish prayers there are regular references to prostration (sujud). In fact, it is a custom in the more orthodox synagogues that during Yom Kippur , the holiest fast day and the equivalent of ‘Ashurah’ , the cantor, on behalf of the congregation, actually makes sujud, while still chanting. This is no mean feat, and my father, with his powerful voice, did it extremely well. I remember thinking then that it would be really nice if we all actually did prostrate, instead of just bowing as a symbolic sujud.

Around the age of eight or nine, I chanced to discover a radio station that broadcast programs of the local ethnic communities. I began to listen to the Yiddish, Greek and Armenian ones, and especially to the Arabic Hour. I fell in love with the music and the sound of the language. Using the Hebrew I knew, I tried to understand the news and figure out the sound correspondences; I noticed the differences between hamzah and ‘ayn, kh and h, k and q, distinctions which modern Hebrew has lost. This greatly improved my Hebrew spelling and I won prizes in Hebrew class. I also remember helping my friends cheat during spelling tests by repeating the words under my breath in an "Arabic " accent.

By High School, I had discovered the Boston Public Library and its record section: besides classical, I discovered ethnic folk music from all over the world, but I especially gravitated to the Middle Eastern: Arabic, Turkish, Persian, then Indian-Pakistani. I learned to identify various regional styles, instruments and rhythms. I most loved the ‘oud, and I taught myself to play the dumbeg and accompany the recordings. Once, a group of Yemeni Jews came to Boston from Israel to perform folk songs and dances. I was fascinated by their appearance, costumes and music. They even pronounced Hebrew like me during a spelling test.

I mention all these little things because there is an undeniable cultural component to Islam: the language, the melodies of adhan and Qur’an, social interactions and other features, which are really quite exotic and strange to the average Westerner, including westernized Jews, but which, by the time I encountered them years later in a different context, were already very familiar and pleasant to me, even to the point of nostalgia, and which helped make Islam easier for me to accept and follow. More on that later.

My best friend in high school was also a strong influence on me. He read a lot of philosophy, poetry and religious literature. I didn’t care much for the first two, but I did read some of the religious writings, Hindu, Buddhist, Taoist – and the Qur’an. I noticed that its stories were quite similar to the Bible stories, but I felt it was anti-Jewish. I was quite impressed, though, by its depiction of Jesus as a prophet, not just a rabbi. I accepted that, and that became my answer to my Catholic classmates when they would ask me what I believed about Jesus. They seemed not too displeased by that.

I also attended an advanced "Madrasah", studying Jewish history, Hebrew, Torah, and added Aramaic and Talmud ( Jewish fiqh); the languages, though were still my chief interest. Also around that time, age fifteen, I lost my faith, my belief in God. Earlier, I’d concluded that if God commands us to do certain things, how can I not do them; so I tried to be more orthodox. Then, one day I found myself saying, if God says to do all this I must; but what if there is no God? Do I believe in God? I really don’t know, maybe not, I guess not. And if God doesn’t exist, I don’t need to be doing all this stuff. And I stopped.

You can well imagine how upset my father was. Many people, particularly Roman Catholics and fundamentalist Protestants who grow up in a harsh religious environment, full of the threat of Hellfire and ****ation, beaten by the nuns at school and made to feel guilty about things that are merely a part of fitrah ( nature) – like their bodies - are happy to get out of the religion, become very anti-religion, and feel freed as if from a prison. My feeling was not like that; I felt sad, more like I’d suffered a loss, but there was nothing I could do; I knew it would be comforting to believe, but I couldn’t. Throughout the 60’s and 70’s I occasionally got these gnawing feelings and yearnings.

As Jeffrey Lang said in his book about his conversion to Islam, there is an emptiness and a loneliness that an atheist feels, which people of faith cannot understand. The world is absurd, an accident. Science has, or will have, all the answers, but life has no real meaning or significance. Death is final. You can have influence and an impact on the world through your children; you can do well, be remembered in the history books for hundreds, even thousands of years; when the sun dies mankind may colonize other star systems, maybe even other galaxies.

But ultimately, even if it takes 15 Billion years, the universe itself will die, or collapse into a black hole or whatever, and the end is absolute nothingness, the only thing that is infinite is a void. Life, then, is meaningless and death frightening. Truth and morality can become relative, which may lead to moral confusion, hedonism, and worse. But instead of the contempt for religious people that many atheists claim to feel, I respected them, and often envied them the security, the certainty, the comfort they experienced.

I went overnight from almost orthodox to an atheist, though I still loved Jewish languages, culture, music, food, history. I was an "ethnic " Jew, and still a Zionist. Zionism was still largely a political philosophy, not so much a religious one. In fact, at that time there was still significant opposition to Zionism among many of the orthodox. The current religious, messianic type Zionism really didn’t develop until 1967 – 1973 when Israel seized Jerusalem. I also decided I wanted to be a historical linguist specializing in Semitic languages; but then the universities I chose didn’t accept me, and the one that did didn’t offer Arabic, or even linguistics.

At my university in the early 60’s, I came into contact with a wider variety of people. For the first time I knew a large numbers of Protestants, more blacks, and most of the few foreign students, a couple of were Muslim. I was no longer encountering anti-Semitism, and I was beginning to enjoy and appreciate the diversity of Americans and my exposure to the international students. By the end of my sophomore year I was eating bacon and pork chops; at the same time I helped organize and was the president of the campus chapter of the Student Zionist Organization. I was New England vice president in my senior year.

Many of us were politically left-wing, coming from working class families whose spectrum ranged from liberal democrat to communist. We were pro-labor and the American Civil Liberties Union, anti-McCarty, Nixon, the House Un-American Activities Committee. We revered Franklin D. Roosevelt, Hubert Humphrey and Adlai Stevenson. We were into labor Zionism and the kibbutzim. One thing I want to emphasize, because of the profound effect it had on me years later: at that time most Jews were still socialists or liberal democrats, many were still working class, not quite so successful as now. I clearly remember right-wing Herut party, their expansionist ideology and terrorist activities in the 40’s. We considered them fanatics and lunatics.

I took a seminar on the Middle East. At nineteen I thought I knew everything. My professor was Syrian, and I think a Muslim. I was going to teach him a few things. He was remarkably patient and tolerant with me, considering his obvious anti-Zionist, anti-Israel position. His criticisms of my papers were objective and mild, mainly that they were too one sided. I began to pay more attention to the other side, and I realized how much propaganda I’d absorbed and how much information had been ignored, if not hidden from us. I didn’t get a very good grade, but I learned a great deal. Professor Haddad made much of the rest of my life, secular and religious, possible.

At the same time, I was becoming more and more involved in the civil rights and anti-Vietnam war movements. I joined the Student Non-violent Coordinating Committee (SNCC) and the NAACP, and participated in sit-ins at lunch counters. I helped found our campus chapter of the then mildly radical Students for a Democratic Society (SDS). I majored in government, taking several courses in constitutional law and international relations. I went to Washington, D.C. in August, 1963, in the March on Washington and was standing about 60 feet from Dr. King when he made that wonderful speech.

I’d lost my faith at 15; by 22 I’d lost Zionism. I still had my ethnic heritage, though I’d begun to feel uncomfortable with the clannishness of many Jews. I felt like a normal American fighting for American causes. I prepared to be a social studies teacher, but the job market was not good. After two years of substituting, and a temporary position at my old high school, I joined the Peace Corps, for the adventure and idealism improved my job prospects later – and to avoid being drafted and sent to Vietnam. I was selected to go to Uganda, East Africa.

I was extremely happy in that beautiful country, living where the Nile flows out of Lake Victoria, teaching students who wanted to learn in a society where teachers were respected. I was learning new languages and cultures. I developed a taste for African and Indian-Pakistani cuisine. Since there wasn’t much else to do in a small, up-country town, I began going to Indian movies. I particularly liked Mohammed Rafi, the famous playback singers, especially his qawalis; he reminded me of my father’s cantorial music. I also enjoyed the Islamic, Omani Arab ambience I found on the coast: Mombassa, Dar es-Salam, Zanzibar.

It was the first time not in a Hollywood (or Bombay) movie that I heard the adhan. Even in the movies its plaintive melodies always sent a thrill through my body. I was learning two African languages, Swahili and Luganda. Swahili was a very easy one for me; over half its vocabulary is from Arabic and practically the same as Hebrew. But Swahili is a Bantu language, and I was fascinated by the similarities and differences between Swahili and Luganda. I made up my mind: here was my (last?) chance to do what I’d always wanted – linguistics – but now with Bantu instead of Semitic languages. I applied to graduate school.

I returned home through the Middle East and Europe – first stop Israel. It was 1969. I was no longer a Zionist, but even so, I was surprised at how disappointed I was. I know that part of it was the culture shock of leaving a small, up-country African town, people and a job that I loved; still, I was surprised by the brusqueness and arrogance of the Israelis I met – much like the American stereotype of the French. From an archaeological and historical perspective it was a good experience, but I couldn’t get over how alienated I felt from the culture and from what were supposed to be my people.

I refused on principle to visit the West Bank – that was before they started building settlements – except for East Jerusalem; I couldn’t resist that. Standing at the wall of Solomon’s temple, the Dome of the Rock and Al-Aqsa gave me an intense feeling I could not describe at the time. I can describe it now: I was sensing a feeling of holiness; it’s no wonder the Islamic name is Al-Quds. But it upset me a great deal to see first-hand the discrimination and second-class status of the Palestinians, even the citizens. I had grown up in an American subculture where Jews had always been in the forefront of civil rights, labor and civil liberties struggles. To me, what I found in Israel wasn’t Jewish.

The next ten years, ’69 - ’79, I spent in Los Angeles. I had missed 1968, one of the most important and turbulent years in modern American history. Though not surprised, I was very disheartened upon my return to the U.S. Blacks were separating from Whites by choice; SDS had become a bunch of raving Maoists, free speech was degenerating into filthy speech. I couldn’t be political again, except for an occasional anti-war or anti-Nixon demonstration. I was both attracted to and repelled by the hedonism of 70s California. I was tempted to indulge and half-heartedly did so, but - thank God for my fitrah and my good Jewish upbringing – I didn’t go very far; I mostly grew my hair and beard long. I was too absorbed in my studies, getting my doctorate, teaching, getting married then divorced, and looking for a decent academic position.

Two things during that decade are relevant tom this story. Briefly, the Likud government in Israel, the building of settlements and the brutal treatment of the Palestinians, not to mention its alliance with South Africa, revolted and infuriated me, and turned me from a non-Zionist to a vocal anti-Zionist. Even worse to me was the knee-jerk support of the American Jewish community, which I’d though would oppose Likud at least quietly. Didn’t we all agree just a few years before that Begin and his ilk were lunatics?!

Many of the settlers interviewed on the TV news were obviously American Jews. How could they have grown up in this country with these American - and Jewish - values, live through the civil rights revolution, and go do what they were doing there? There was more Jewish opposition in Israel than there was in the U.S. I felt betrayed, ashamed, disgusted. There were, of course - and are - other Jews who felt as I did, mainly those on the left, but only a few spoke out. Notable were I.F. Stone, a radical journalist and one of my heroes, and Noam Chomski, whose political writings on the Vietnam war and Palestine were as revolutionary as his theory of linguistics.

In 1979, recently divorced, unable to land a tenure-track position, and missing Africa, I returned as an assistant professor of linguistics at the University of Nairobi. My father has passed away just a couple of months before I was to leave. I became friends with several faculty members, particularly my department chairman and a history professor, both Muslims from Mombassa, and the Arabic professor, my Sudanese next-door neighbor. I often ate lunch in the faculty dining room with them, and out of respect for them (and embarrassment, because I knew they knew I was a Jew) I never ate pork when I was with them. Before long I stopped eating pork completely. We often discussed the Middle East, Islam and Judaism, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that they could be anti-Israel without being anti-Jewish; they were surprised that I could be a Jew and anti-Israel.

Having more time on my hand than I’d enjoyed in a long time, I decided to catch up on my ever-growing reading list. I re-read the Bible: the Old Testament to clarify some confusion about chronology in ancient history, the New Testament because I never had and I though I ought to.

I re-read the Qur’an. I knew nothing then of the early Islamic history. Sirah or Hadith, but I appreciated it more this time. I got that reaction again, though; why does it have to be so critical of the Jews; but, my memory recently refreshed, I recalled that the Torah itself and the rest of the Old Testament were equally critical, if not more so, than the Qur’an.

But didn’t the Jews finally learn their lesson and truly become the People of the Book when they were expelled from Israel and Jerusalem the second time, and when the rabbis, synagogues and prayers replaced the priests, temple and sacrifices? What was it, then, about the Jews of Madinah; they were clearly reprehensible but they sounded so different from us European Jews, even from the Sephardi Jews of the time of the Caliphs; had they, like the Ethiopian and Chinese Jews, lacked the Talmud? I’m still curious about that. Anyway, that insight was later to prove to be a barrier removed.

Someone wise once said that if your faith is weak, just pretend to have faith, and that will strengthen it. Africans, whether Christian, Muslim or Pagan, are spiritual people. To be an atheist is incomprehensible and ridiculous to them. Knowing this, I never said I was an atheist when questioned - as I constantly was- About my religion. I would reply that of course I believed in God, one God, but not in any particular religion. I was almost true, or at least what I wanted to believe if I could. I cannot say that I had a sudden flash of inspiration, like Paul on the road to Damascus, or a near-death experience ( I did have two, but without religious effect). It seems to me that, just by saying it and pretending it, it gradually came back to me.

I’d become a deist, like another hero of mine, Thomas Jefferson. Maybe I would join the Unitarian Church, a popular group, especially in New England, which accepts Jesus as a prophet, and which includes many socially conscious, formerly Jewish and Trinitarian Christian, liberal intellectuals.

Another contributing factor was my joining at that time the Nairobi symphony orchestra/chorus. It was an amateur group but they were excellent. I’d gone with some friends to their Easter concert to hear them perform the Mozart Requiem – music for a funeral mass. That music, intensely religious, was gorgeous, sublime awe-inspiring and inspirational. It wasn’t only the beauty of the music, though it was a major part, but the message – glorifying God, speaking of death, resurrection, the final Judgment and eternal life – moved me to tears. The next day I went and signed up to sing in the chorus.

For the next three years I sang other masterpieces: masses, requiems, oratorios – Beethoven, Brahms, Bach, Verdi. It is all Christian, and some of it of course makes reference to Jesus as divine, but those words had no effect on m e; I was just helping make beautiful music. But the parts that spoke of God did touch me deeply and helped me gradually regain my faith and belief in Him. Of course today I would not sing such things as " I know that my redeemer liveth," but consider the beauty and power of "The Lord God Omnipotent reigneth, and he shall reign forever and ever. Hallelujah (=’Alhamdulillah’)."

Then I fell in love. She was Somali, intelligent, witty, charming, and a young widow with two handsome young sons. Her English was very limited then, and my Somali was non-existent, but we could communicate quite easily in Swahili. We discussed marriage, but there were a few practical problems.

I knew I could not stay much longer at the university of Nairobi; they were trying to africanize it as quickly a possible, and to them I was just another white foreigner. Before I got much older I needed a new job, probably a new career, maybe with the State Department or a non-profit agency. From her point of view the obstacle was simply I was a not a Muslim. I had mistakenly though that any Muslim could marry one of the People of the Book; she set me straight on that very quickly; men yes, women, no.

She was telling me about Islam, and I'd learned some things from my colleagues and others. I already believed in the One God,. The Creator of the universe and all that is in it; I already believed in the Islamic concepts of tawhid and shirk and avoiding belief or trust in anything like astrology or palmistry; I’d long believed that Jesus was one of the prophets. I believed that I believed that Muhammad (pbuh) was a prophet ands a messenger, and it had long ceased to be relevant to me that Muhammad (pbuh) was not a Jewish prophet.

I’d stopped eating pork; I didn’t gamble, I rarely drank anything besides a glass of wine with an occasional gourmet dinner. I was, since my Peace Corps days, already more comfortable with African and Islamic notions of modesty, child rearing, etc. than with the "sexual revolution", and the me-ism and disintegrating families of the ‘70s and ‘80s America. There didn’t seem to be much to prevent me from becoming a Muslim. I was so close, so what, in 1983, was the problem?

In fact there were two. First, there was the matter of my identity and my heritage. I imagine that it is not so traumatic for a Christian to change from one religion to another. If a German Catholic becomes a Lutheran, or even a Jew or Muslim, he remains a German. I certainly felt like an American first and a Jew second – I could never consider myself Russian. But in America, nation of immigrants, even the most acculturated attach some importance to their families' national or ethnic origins. Even though I had no desire to deal with Jews as Jews or as a community, I was reluctant to lose that identity.

The second obstacle was my family. Though not orthodox, most were strongly traditional, all pro-Israel, some were avid Zionists; many considered Arabs as enemies, and I expected they would also consider Muslims as enemies. I feared they would disown me as crazy, even traitorous. Worst of all, because I still loved them, they would be hurt. First things first: I left that problem up in the air, and when my contract expired I did not renew it, but returned to the States hoping to find another job, preferably back in East Africa.

It was terribly hard. I had no home, no income, not even an interview suit. I invested in a wool suit, three ties and a winter coat – it was my first winter in twenty years – got books on how to write a resume and a SF171, and stayed with a friend in Washington, trying all the government agencies, consulting firms and PVOs that had anything to do with Africa, until my many ran out. I had to return to Boston and stay with my sister, where I had food and shelter, but it was far from where the jobs might be. In addition, I was going through a severe case of culture shock. So there I was: broke in Reaganomic America, in the winter, in culture shock on top of a mid-life crisis, in love – and on anti-depressants.

I can joke now, but the pain and fear were unbearable then. For the first time in my adult life I began to pray. I prayed often and hard. I vowed that, if I could get back to Africa and marry my beloved, I would declare my submission to Allah and become a Muslim.

I got a really awful temporary job in a warehouse that at least paid for food, bus fares and dry cleaning, then a better, but embarrassing one as a receptionist in the counseling office at a local college. I could see that the four yuppie psychologists figured me for some 42-year-old loser, and I pretty much agreed with them. Out of embarrassment I didn’t tell anything about myself, but when the phone wasn’t ringing off the hook with students panicking over mid-terms, I was reading job notices and typing applications letters. I found that a government agency was hiring ESL teachers for Egypt - close enough - and I applied immediately.

A week later another agency I’d applied to six months earlier invited me to D.C. for interviews. As soon as I got to Washington I called about the ESL jobs to see if I could get an interview, "as long as I’m in Town." The jobs were already filled! Can I meet you anyway, in case something comes up later? OK, four o’clock? Great. She apologized – my resume had been misplaced – and would definitely keep me in mind. Thank you , delighted to meet you.

As I was leaving, she said hesitantly, "By the way, there is one position opening soon, but it’s in Somalia."

"Somalia!" I nearly shouted, " That’s wonderful!"

"Is it ?" she asked incredulously.

"Sure, I’d love to go there. I’m already familiar with the culture and the religion," I said aloud, but thinking to myself how it’s only an hour from Mogadishu to Nairobi, and how maybe I’d get to meet my future family in-laws.

I told her my references, all of whom she knew personally. She would call them, and as far as she was concerned if I wanted the job I could probably have it. I finished up my interviews at the other agency. They even showed me the cubicle in windowless office where I would probably be working, and I returned to Boston, elated. I might even have a choice, praise God. But what a choice it was: a one year renewable contract at a hot, dusty – but African – hardship post on the Indian Ocean, or a career civil service job with a pension plan in a windowless office in northern Virginia.

Two weeks later, she called to offer me the job of English program director in Mogadishu, would I take it, I had 48 hours to think it over. Everyone said it was a no-brainer; I should take the career job with pension in Washington, otherwise I’d be back t square one in a year or two. I argued that I was an Africanist, the experience would help me and I’d make good contacts. I accepted the job and starting getting my shots. A couple of weeks later the other agency sent me a brief note, no explanation, informing me I did not get the windowless job.

Alhamdulillah, Allahu ‘alim. I could so easily have ended up with neither, but Allah had guided me to the right decision. I was employed. I was a person. I might even getting married. I gave my notice at the college, and on the last day I typed a letter to the psychologists informing them that I was leaving to take up a position as a project direct at the United States Embassy in Somalia, signed M. Mould, Ph.D. Of course I "had to" stop off in Nairobi for a few days on my way to Mogadishu.

We had a tearful reunion and tried to make some future plans. I’d been hired as a single man, no chance of benefits or housing for a family, and I had no idea what Somalia or my job would be like or how long I would be there. For the time being, I’d remain a single man in Nairobi. Maybe I could visit often, and there was always the phone. Maybe she could come and visit her family, whom she hadn’t seen since childhood.

The job was interesting, a little teaching, but mostly administration and management, and dealing with embassy officials. Most of my own students were senior government officials and a few of them became good friends. Outside of work was a whole different story. The culture and atmosphere in urban Somalia is more Middle Eastern than African. During my seven years in Uganda and Kenya I knew the languages, people were open and friendly, and I never had trouble adjusting or getting around; I’d always felt completely at home.

Mogadishu gave me culture shock. I didn’t know the language, no one knew Swahili, educated Somalis knew Italian, not English. All the signs were in Somali. The worst thing was communications. Home phones were overcrowded, sweltering post office. Only telegraph service was usually efficient. The mail was totally unreliable except for the diplomatic pouch. It was impossible to contact Nairobi.

Don’t get me wrong. I was quite happy there, enjoying the sights and smells, the Italian and Somali food, my views of the ocean, which was within walking distance of my house and my office, discovering a new culture. I was living downtown, in one of the older sections, behind the Italian embassy, and I was awakened early morning by a beautiful adhan from the loudspeaker of a nearby mosque. We worked a Muslim schedule: Sunday – Thursday, 7 – 3. On Fridays I would walk around and often found myself outside a little mosque behind the American Embassy, and while myrrh and frankincense drifted from the doorways in the alleys I would stop and listen to the sounds of Jumu’ah.

The first thing I noticed was the murmuring of many voices as men read from the Qur’an while waiting for the imam to give the khutbah. I was instantly transported back in my mind to my old synagogue and the identical susurrus of old men reading from the Psalms (Zabur) at the start of morning prayers. It gave me a comfortable and comforting feeling of nostalgia. A little while later, walking back the other way, I would hear the imam reciting a surah. It sounded much like the Torah readings I’d enjoyed on Saturday mornings, again comforting and nostalgic. Not that it made me want to return to any synagogue; rather, it made Islam feel more comfortable and familiar to me.

I’m a linguist, and had been a specialist in field research. I found a book on beginning Italian and, there being no grammar in English on Somali, I hired myself a tutor, who was a better friend than a teacher. I quickly learned the greetings, common nouns, and verbs, kinship terms, numbers and telling time. Some of the vocabulary, borrowed from Arabic, was just like Swahili and Hebrew. Somali is also very distantly related to Semitic languages. The grammar was something else, though, really hard to figure out, and as I got busier and more tired at work, our lessons turned more to conversations about culture, politics and religion.

He was knowledgeable enough to distinguish between genuine Islam and some prevalent aspects of indigenous, pre-Islamic culture and superstition that had bothered me.
Before long, he offered to bring a sheikh to my home so that I could make the shahada. Despite my vow I still felt hesitation, thinking of my family. But they were ten thousand miles away, my fiancée a few hundred, and I was living in, being touched by and feeling comfortable with this Muslim society. I had good friends and colleagues, and it was clear to me that much of their goodness was due to Islam.

I asked him to bring the sheikh and he did. He questioned me about my beliefs, and I told him I’d been a Jew, not a Christian ( no problems with the trinity), and that I’d long ago given up pork, alcohol, gambling and zina, and after he was convinced that I understood what I was about to say and knew the five pillars, I declared the shahadah. My fiancée had suggested the name Mustafa, which I liked very much.

After all the hesitation and procrastination I felt enormous relief, and a restored sense of belonging that I’d missed more than I’d realized. All my Somali friends were of course delighted and very supportive.

They began calling me seedi (‘brother-in-law’). As soon as I could get away I bought some gold jewelry and flew to Nairobi. To get married I had to go to the office of the chief qadi and declare the shahadah again, with witnesses, in order to get an official certificate of conversion, there being no such thing in Somalia.

We went to the qadi and made our nikah. A couple of days later I had to fly back to Mogadishu and my work. Less than a year later, at 43, I was overjoyed and blessed by Allah to become the father of a wonderful Muslim baby boy. I flew to Nairobi, and after a brief discussion we agreed on my wife’s suggestion for a name. Now I even had a kunya (nick name); I was Abu Khalid, and he was named after the great Companion, Khalid Ibn Al-Walid.

You are probably wondering if I told my family about my converting to lslam, and the answer is, not for quite some time. Of course I told my family about my marriage and they were neither surprised or upset.

I was a middle-aged man who ought to know what he was doing, and they were mainly happy for the sake of my happiness. When Khalid was born they were positively delighted and were most eager to meet him and his mother. When Khalid was a little over a year old, I went to Boston on my vacation and brought my wife and son with me. The two boys, Ali and Yusuf, were away at a Muslim boarding school in north-eastern Kenya.

The reception was as warm and loving as anyone could wish for and we had a great visit. There's no question that a baby, especially a grandson, has a most salutary and beneficial effect on people. My wife had brought little gifts for my mother, sister and aunts, and they all had little gifts for her. I suppose they all assumed, as I had once done, that Muslim can marry a Jew or Christian. They knew my wife and our sons were Muslims, that Khalid was being raised as a Muslim, and they had no problem with that.

They knew I hadn’t been a practicing Jew for nearly thirty years, and I’d married a non-Jew before. I’d decided that if they asked I wouldn’t lie, and if they didn’t I’d just wait for a more opportune time – some other time. A few years ago they finally asked me and I told them. I cannot say they were pleased, but neither were they surprised, angry or cold to me, and we still have warm, loving relationships.

Another year, another contract went by, and then I lost my job. Like the new Pharaoh "who knew not Joseph", a new director came, who saw no value in the English programs and decided to end them. I kind of saw it coming and had applied for a similar job in Yemen, so I didn't fight it very hard, but in the end the job in San’a fell through, and, as my family had predicted, I was back to square one – well, not quite.

In 1988, leaving my family in Nairobi, I returned to the States alone and jobless. It was again vary tough (winter, too), but this time I had some savings, new skills and a stronger resume, I knew better how to job-hunt; I knew my way around Washington and had a few contacts. I still had the suit. Best of all, I had my faith instead of anti-depressants. I quickly got a couple of part-time teaching jobs and a job in a men’s store. The teaching jobs dried up, so I sold suits full-time for over three years, always looking for a better job, but finally – it took two years – I managed to bring my family over and we did our best, trusting in Allah.

Then, four years ago, a Muslim neighbor told us about a new Islamic institute that had recently opened, where they were looking for an English teacher. I immediately called, made an appointment and met the director. By the grace of Allah I was hired to teach some of the staff and do some editorial work. Ironically, I am now in a cubicle in a windowless office in northern Virginia, but what a difference!

I am in an Islamic environment, surrounded and inspired by good Muslim brothers, many of them excellent scholars and all of whom I love and respect very much, and whom I learn from daily. And what is my job? To read books on Islam, to edit manuscripts on Islam, to write about what I read. In essence, I am being paid to study Qur’an, Hadith, ‘aqidah, Fiqh, Sirah, Islamic history and Arabic. I thank and praise Allah every day for leading me to Islam and for showering me with all these blessings. Alhamdulillah, ash-shukrulillahi Rabbil-‘alamin.

JERUSALEM - Joseph Cohen moved from the United States to Israel as a devout Jew in 1998, but within three years he had converted to Islam and become Yosef Mohammed Khatib, a supporter of the militant Hamas, according to a report broadcast Thursday on Israel TV.

Now he refuses to say the word Israel, choosing instead to call the area "Palestine." His four children study the Quran, the Muslim holy book, instead of the Torah, its Jewish counterpart.

It was while living in the desert town of Netivot that Khatib met a sheik from the United Arab Emirates through an Internet chat about Israel. Khatib said he spent hours corresponding with the sheik, discussing theology. Gradually he began to see Judaism as racist and turned toward Islam after reading the Quran, he told Channel 10 TV. The report did not say where he lived in the United States or give his age.

Last year he told his wife of 10 years, Luna, also a devout Jew from the United States, that he wanted to convert to Islam.

"I said, `Listen, I love you very much ... and I have to be honest with you,'" Khatib said in the TV interview. "I read the Quran and I agree with everything it says in the Quran, and if I continue saying that I'm a religious Jew, I would be a liar."

The family converted together and moved from Netivot to an Arab neighborhood in east Jerusalem. The children went from being top in their classes on Judaism studies to being well-versed in Islam, he said.

Instead of supporting the Israeli Orthodox Jewish political party Shas, Khatib now supports the radical Islamic Hamas and believes an Islamic state should be set up where Israel and the Palestinian areas are now located.

He praised Hamas for setting up social services for Palestinians but dodged questions about the other side of the Islamic group — suicide bombings and other attacks against Israelis. The United States has declared Hamas a terror group.

Khatib differed from most Israelis and Americans in his views about Osama bin Laden, the top suspect in the Sept. 11 terror attacks in New York and Washington.

"I think that he's number one, Muslim number one," Khatib said with a strong New York accent about bin Laden. "But I don't think that he's responsible for the World Trade Center (attacks)."

Wearing the white skullcap and robes of a religious Muslim, Khatib denied his Jewish past, insisting that he is 100 percent Muslim. He made a parody of a blessing that observant Jews say every morning, in which they thank God for not making them gentiles.

"Blessed are Thou, Lord Our God," Khatib began in the traditional Jewish blessing, but ended it with, "for not making me a Jew."

Live Dialogue here: http://www.islamonline.net/livedialo...GuestID=KzI47I

By Sarah de Andrade Siqueira


I have always kept interest in the Muslim world; it passed to me a sense of peace. On the Brazilian Educative TV I watched a documentary about the life in some Muslim country. Those mystery women dressed in those beautiful long clothes and veils raised my curiosity. When a Muslim woman mentioned that it is not a matter of culture only but that her religion was a complete way of life (Deen), I wanted to know more.

The idea of a religion ruling all aspects of humankind’ way of life is not common where I live, not to mention having anything to do with economy, politics and social issues.

I decided to look into Islam. My first question was: How could I do this? No books were available at my University or in the bookshops.

1999 I earned my Bachelors degree in Languages. It was a moment that brought tears in my eyes, because my beloved family always did a lot of efforts to provide me with the best education they could, despite of our humble life. The present my parents chose to give me upon that was a computer. They saved long months to be able to pay for the gift they thought would enable me pursue a career. When I saw those big boxes in my room I felt such gratitude to them.

Now I could access the Internet and be able know more about Islam. I was surfing on the web looking for information when I came across Yusuf Islam’s (formerly Cat Stevens) website. After I read about his journey to Islam and how a famous pop star could give up the great world of music and find his certainty on the straight path. He chose Islam as a way of life based on pure love, charity, humbleness and the submission to the one and only God. When I listened to Yusuf’s lecture named “One God, One Community” my appreciation for Islam became greater than before. Since that day I have been studying Islam with an eager will to learn about the pillars of Islamic faith and way of life as well.

When I had a blessed opportunity to read the Holy Qur’an which narrates with scientific accuracy the development of the baby in mother’s womb, since his first moments of life; I have decided to embrace Islam. Beyond this, I also have to say that the submission to only one God and the complete way of life established by Allah through his last Prophet Muhammad had touched my heart.

During my “web Islamic research” I have met in an Arab chat room some Muslim friends, who helped me a lot in my journey to Islam, Alhamdulilah. The one I met first was a Sudanese Muslim student, who taught me my first words in Arabic language and always was by my side (with the famous web instant messengers), despite our distance, to solve my doubts in respect of Muslim women issues. The other one was a brother from Egypt, who was amazed with my path to Islam and gave me a blessed help shipping to me the Holy Qur’an (a bilingual version in English and Arab), the prayer carpet, books about Islam and even Hijabs, to allow me to practice the beautiful and honored concept of Islamic Modesty. My parents, are Christian, however they never opposed my religious choice-God bless them.

I thought there were no Islamic Centers in my Brazilian city. All websites about Islam I had visited were not Brazilian either and few of those I’ve found in Portuguese refer to Islamic Societies far away from my home. Hence, Allah and my Sudanese sister were my witness that I had embraced Islam.

After sometime, Alhamdulilah I have found an Islamic website developed by a Brazilian sister, who gave me the brilliant information that there was a small, but very serious and lovely Muslim Society in my hometown. She introduced me to The Imam and sisters there. It was a beautiful moment of my life, to get know a part of our Ummah in the city I was born and live in.

My mum is now considering converting to Islam. May Allah show her the right path. The last thing I would like to say from the bottom of my heart is:

“Ash Hadu Anlaa Illa Allah wa Ash Hadu Muhamadan Rasululah”

May Allah bless our Ummah!

Yusuf Islam is the founder of Britain’s most Famous Muslim School Chain “Islamia Schools”, his company Small Kindness supports thousands of orphans and children around the world, Is a active participant in the Campaign against Aids, Is the author of several Islamic Booklets and Audio/Video Lectures, His company MOL has produced many video/audio cassettes CD’S Of songs about “World Peace and Harmony”. But his past was very different.

Ex Cat Stevens was one of the Greatest British POP/Folk Singer-songwriter, at just 19 His first solo album Matthew And Son was a hit, after which many of his songs reached at first position in Britain as well as America even against stiff competition by the “Beetles”. Still a teen he was every were ,media was after him ,fans were crying for him .He was in the front cover of many world magazines including Rolling Stones .His name was taken with the “Beetles”, “Rolling Stones”. He was declared as one of the “Golden Artist” of all time in the USA. In his Country he was just sensation .In a short music career he sold more then 40 million LPs through out the world.

Born in London in 1948 to a Swedish mother and a Greek Cypriot father, Stephen Demetri Georgiou aka Cat Stevens was educated in Sweden, where he studied native songs and dances as well as classical music. He grew up in the city, amidst the steady rumble of traffic, the rush and bustle that never stopped, the smoke and dirt, the bright lights and the few patches of grey grass.

Cat himself writes” I was brought up in the modern world of all the luxury and the high life of show business. I was born in a Christian home, but we know that every child is born in his original nature - it is only his parents that turn him to this or that religion. I was given this religion (Christianity) and thought this way. I was taught that God exists, but there was no direct contact with God, so we had to make contact with Him through Jesus - he was in fact the door to God. This was more or less accepted by me, but I did not swallow it all I looked at some of the statues of Jesus; they were just stones with no life. And when they said that God is three, I was puzzled even more but could not argue. I more or less believed it, because I had to have respect for the faith of my parents”


The boy and his parents were Greek, so the music played to him while growing up was the music of that wise and ancient country. Full of richness, emotions, joy and sorrow, pain and pleasure, it was a good music to have as teacher (sic), and the boy learned well. As he grew older, the boy started to write his own music. He was very good, and before long he came to the attention of a very important man who knew how to make people famous. Now, not only was the boy very talented, he was also very handsome, so before very long he and his songs were well known from one end of the land to the other.

Still a young teen, fame and wealth was all over him. Huge number of people bought his songs and magazines printed pictures of him which girls stuck on their bedroom walls, so as to have him near them in their dreams. Tunes such as, "The First Cut Is The Deepest "I Love My Dog , "I'm Gonna Get Me A Gun ", and "Here Comes My Baby ", were all highly representative of the diverse ability that this artist had to offer. Finally, in 1967 cat was only 19, there came his first album "Matthew & Son” It became a hit on both sides of the Atlantic and opened up many an ear and eye to the talent of the young man.
The boy became very famous, worked very hard at his new job, traveled a lot, appeared in a lot of shows, and wrote songs for other people, who in turn became famous.

But all the time the boy became more and more unhappy. The songs people wanted him to sing were not the songs he wanted to sing. He was writing songs which were far better than the ones he was famous for, and try as he would to change their minds, the people who controlled his fame and fortune did not want him to sing those songs. Then in 1969 he was diagnosed with tuberculosis .He was so ill in fact that when he saw a doctor he was told to spend at least three months in a hospital or he would die. So the boy went into the hospital for three months, and while he was there he was able to think seriously about himself and his life. He did not like what he saw in himself, and so he determined to make a complete break from the past

While recovering, Stevens underwent a spiritual crisis and began studying Eastern religions, practicing vegetarianism, and writing highly introspective songs.

Cat writes himself about the hospital time-

(”After a year of financial success and 'high' living, I became very ill, contracted TB and had to be hospitalized. It was then that I started to think: What was to happen to me? Was I just a body, and my goal in life was merely to satisfy this body? I realized now that this calamity was a blessing given to me by Allah, a chance to open my eyes - "Why am I here? Why am I in bed?" - and I started looking for some of the answers. At that time there was great interest in the Eastern mysticism. I began reading, and the first thing I began to become aware of was death, and that the soul moves on; it does not stop. I felt I was taking the road to bliss and high accomplishment. I started meditating and even became a vegetarian. I now believed in 'peace and flower power,' and this was the general trend. But what I did believe in particular was that I was not just a body. This awareness came to me at the hospital. One day when I was walking and I was caught in the rain, I began running to the shelter and then I realized, 'Wait a minute, my body is getting wet, my body is telling me I am getting wet.' This made me think of a saying that the body is like a donkey, and it has to be trained where it has to go. Otherwise, the donkey will lead you where it wants to go. Then I realized I had a will, a God-given gift: follow the will of God. I was fascinated by the new terminology I was learning in the Eastern religion. By now I was fed up with Christianity. I started making music again and this time I started reflecting my own thoughts. I remember the lyric of one of my songs. It goes like this: "I wish I knew, I wish I knew what makes the Heaven, what makes the Hell. Do I get to know You in my bed or some dusty cell while others reach the big hotel?" and I knew I was on the Path. I also wrote another song, "The Way to Find God Out." I became even more famous in the world of music. I really had a difficult time because I was getting rich and famous, and at the same time, I was sincerely searching for the Truth. Then I came to a stage where I decided that Buddhism is all right and noble, but I was not ready to leave the world. I was too attached to the world and was not prepared to become a monk and to isolate myself from society. I tried Zen and Ching, numerology, tarot cards and astrology. I tried to look back into the Bible and could not find anything. At this time I did not know anything about Islam, and then, what I regarded as a miracle occurred. My brother had visited the mosque in Jerusalem and was greatly impressed that while on the one hand it throbbed with life (unlike the churches and synagogues which were empty), on the other hand, an atmosphere of peace and tranquility prevailed”)

For more than a year he did not work, but concentrated on his new writing. The money he earned from his early fame was enough to give him complete freedom, and gradually what he felt to be the real him surfaced. Eventually, he was sure he was ready. A changed man, Stevens signed a new record deal with Island, who had just landed a U.S. distribution agreement with A&M, and began recording new material With the help of some friends and sympathetic people, he went into recording studios for a month and recorded a collection of his new songs.

Stevens' first A&M release, 1970's Mona Bone Jakon, was a solid album that established Stevens' new image as a sensitive singer-songwriter. His next record, Tea for the Tillerman, was released later that same year to overwhelming success. With the hit singles "Wild World" and "Father and Son," the album became an instant folk-pop classic and went to No. 1 in the U.S., earning gold status.

1971's Teaser and the Firecat repeated Tillerman's success and contained the international anti-war hit "Peace Train." The album also spawned a children's book and short film. 1972's Catch a Bull at Four was Stevens' first No. 1 album, and was followed the next year by The Foreigner, which went to No. 3.

He was in the front cover of many magazines including Rolling Stones .His name was already compared with the “Beetles”, “Rolling Stones”. He was declared as one of the “Golden Artist” of all time in the USA. In his Country he was just sensation. But then what happened was absolutely unexpected.

In 1973 Stevens' brother David visited Israel and, aware of his brother's fascination with religion, returned with a copy of the Quran as a souvenir. Cat Stevens Writes about the incident himself-

“When he came to London he brought back a translation of the Qur'an, which he gave to me. He did not become a Muslim, but he felt something in this religion, and thought I might find something in it also. And when I received the book, a guidance that would explain everything to me - who I was; what was the purpose of life; what was the reality and what would be the reality; and where I came from - I realized that this was the true religion; religion not in the sense the West understands it, not the type for only your old age. In the West, whoever wishes to embrace a religion and make it his only way of life is deemed a fanatic. I was not a fanatic, I was at first confused between the body and the soul. Then I realized that the body and soul are not apart and you don't have to go to the mountain to be religious. We must follow the will of God. Then we can rise higher than the angels. The first thing I wanted to do now was to be a Muslim. I realized that everything belongs to God, that slumber does not overtake Him. He created everything. At this point I began to lose the pride in me, because hereto I had thought the reason I was here was because of my own greatness. But I realized that I did not create myself, and the whole purpose of my being here was to submit to the teaching that has been perfected by the religion we know as Islam. At this point I started discovering my faith. I felt I was a Muslim. On reading the Qur'an, I now realized that all the Prophets sent by God brought the same message. Why then were the Jews and Christians different? I know now how the Jews did not accept Jesus as the Messiah and that they had changed His Word. Even the Christians misunderstand God's Word and called Jesus the son of God. Everything made so much sense. This is the beauty of the Qur'an; it asks you to reflect and reason, and not to worship the sun or moon but the One Who has created everything. The Qur'an asks man to reflect upon the sun and moon and God's creation in general. Do you realize how different the sun is from the moon? They are at varying distances from the earth, yet appear the same size to us; at times one seems to overlap the other. Even when many of the astronauts go to space, they see the insignificant size of the earth and vastness of space. They become very religious, because they have seen the Signs of Allah. When I read the Qur'an further, it talked about prayer, kindness and charity. I was not a Muslim yet, but I felt that the only answer for me was the Qur'an, and God had sent it to me, and I kept it a secret. But the Qur'an also speaks on different levels. I began to understand it on another level, where the Qur'an says, "Those who believe do not take disbelievers for friends and the believers are brothers." Thus at this point I wished to meet my Muslim brothers”)

From then right up to 1977 Cat Stevens composed and sang many hit records including Mathew and Son, Here Comes my Baby, Wild World, Morning has Broken and Moonshadow, selling over 40 million LPs throughout the world.

Finally in 1977 Stevens made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. In December of that year Stevens formally converted to Islam at a London mosque, taking the new name Yusuf Islam. Cat Steven writes-

“Then I decided to journey to Jerusalem (as my brother had done). At Jerusalem, I went to the mosque and sat down. A man asked me what I wanted. I told him I was a Muslim. He asked what my name was. I told him, "Stevens." He was confused. I then joined the prayer, though not so successfully. Back in London, I met a sister called Nafisa. I told her I wanted to embrace Islam and she directed me to the New Regent Mosque. This was in 1977, about one and a half years after I received the Qur'an. Now I realized that I must get rid of my pride, get rid of Iblis, and face one direction. So on a Friday, after Jumma' I went to the Imam and declared my faith (the Kalima) at this hands. You have before you someone who had achieved fame and fortune. But guidance was something that eluded me, no matter how hard I tried, until I was shown the Qur'an. Now I realize I can get in direct contact with God, unlike Christianity or any other religion. As one Hindu lady told me, "You don't understand the Hindus. We believe in one God; we use these objects (idols) to merely concentrate." What she was saying was that in order to reach God, one has to create associates, that are idols for the purpose. But Islam removes all these barriers. The only thing that moves the believers from the disbelievers is the Salat(Prayers). This is the process of purification. Finally I wish to say that everything I do is for the pleasure of Allah and pray that you gain some inspirations from my experiences. Furthermore, I would like to stress that I did not come into contact with any Muslim before I embraced Islam. I read the Qur'an first and realized that no person is perfect. Islam is perfect, and if we imitate the conduct of the Holy Prophet (Sallallahu alaihi wa sallam) we will be successful. May Allah give us guidance to follow the path of the ummah of Muhammad (Sallallahu alaihi wa sallam). Ameen! ”

A&M released what was to be the last Cat Stevens album, Back to Earth, in early 1978; by 1979 Yusuf Islam had married and retired from pop music.

During the 1980s Islam settled in London with his wife and five children and became very involved in the local Muslim community, founding one of Britain's top Islamic school chains.

His Islamia School has become one of the most famous Muslim School. In 2000 ,Prince Charles visited his school ,congratulated Yusuf for his efforts towards the development of Peace And Harmony through education. And also declared himself a fan of Cat’s songs in 70’s.

In 1995 Yusuf established a company MOL(mountain of light) and released his first "record" since retiring from pop music, a two-CD set called The Life of the Last Prophet which features one disc of Muslim chanting and another disc of Yusuf Islam reading a 66-minute biography of Great Prophet Muhammad(pbuh). Though it was ignored in the West, the double-album reached No. 1 in Turkey and was a hit in most of the Muslim world.

Since then Yusuf has continued to release many albums for children, including recently released album for Iraqi Children, he has released many Video, Audio CD’S ,Cassetes of DA’WAH(Spreading the correct message of Islam).

His works include 30 plus DA’WAH Audio/video releases ,booklets on the different topics of Islam including Booklets on misconceptions of non-muslims towards Islam, has participated in many functions to discuss the message of Islam.He has and is working for many charity Trusts, collected money for Sep 11 victims, Kosovo Children, Iranian, Aids Charities. His own charity company Small Kindness is supporting 2,500 orphans of Kosovo, and working on 100-homes Project in Turkey, and with UNICEF Small Kindness is working for Iranian Children.

Official Site- www.yusufislam.org.uk

by request from Ansar Al-‘Adl, here's my story

Where to begin... It's a long story, but I hope others may find support/inspiration in it.
Also, please excuse my many spelling and grammatical errors. English is not my native tongue and on top of that, I'm dyslectic.

I was raised as a Christian but lost my faith somewhere at the age of 6. Things just didn't make sense for me. I guess I've been quite critical all my life. I even remember thinking that my teacher was a moron when I was 7 because he had claimed that time-traveling could be possible. "If time is the speed at which things change how could these changes be undone for a traveler?" was the first thing that popped into my mind smile.gif As I grew older I went trough some hard times and had to deal with serious matters at an early age. The worst of them all was a depression of my father in which he tried to kill us in order to commit suicide afterwards. The fights, fleeing home, the divorce, I’m sure one can imagine...

It seemed like every time I trusted someone, loved someone, they 'd betray me. It didn't take long for me not to trust anyone let alone believe in a higher being without any proof of such. I'd even say at one point I fitted all criteria from the definition of paranoia. Not that I seemed to have any problems, I functioned perfectly in today’s society, but inside I always felt like a big mess. I studied science and was quite good in it; I even became passionate about it, for they seemed the only certainties in life. Morality and ethics were pointless words, leftovers from old wives tales and so called holy books.

Until one day I was smoking pot for the first time of my live with a friend. I don't know what really happened that day but it was the scariest experience of my life. I was convinced of being dead and in hell. The friend sitting next to me was the devil. Every move I made was anticipated. Every sentence had an answer ready before I could even complete it. I felt like a play ball being psychologically tortured for fun. And the fear was worse than any imaginable pain. I was told by my doctor later that most likely LSD was sprayed on to the weed. I had my urine tested but since it happened in the weekend and visited the doctor on Monday, It was possible for the test to come out negative even though it did had LSD on it . The test result turned out negative, and the uncertainty was killing me. For a month I slept with the lights on. I started to better my ways out of fear. As time went by, the fear diminished but the morality and ethics kind of grew on me.

It took me about 3 years of self-reflection and philosophizing. But I was finally able to find answers to all my questions, basically get things lined out once and for all so I wouldn't have to bother myself with them anymore. I concluded to believe only in science as I have always done before. Basically, because I refused to believe science left any room for free will. An indispensable aspect of any religion containing words as hell and heaven, punishment and reward.

So I defined my personality disorder and found out the source of it on my own. Well at least, I had some clues. Memories of myself in the corridor of the house I grew up in looking at the bathroom door, sounds of my mother and father struggling, My mother screaming to my older sister: pick up that knife and get rid of it – It's funny how those memories came back. I can see myself standing in that corridor and know what is happening, but I can't recall what I saw. I only see myself in 3rd-person view.

I always knew I was different from everybody else and figured that finding out the cause of my problems would help me deal with it, solve the problem. But somehow that didn't help. I had everything figured out, but I was back at square one, everything seemed pointless. And nobody's to be trusted. So I gave up the fight and continued life. Without realizing it my morality diminished again. My life had no meaning, trusting no one, nor anything except for logic and science.

But then help came from an unexpected corner. In retrospect I'd even say right before my point of view would become problematic
23;62 On no soul do We place a burden greater than it can bear.
I was trying to bend my mind over the difficult theory of time traveling and einstein-rozenberg-bridges but it all didn't make any sense. 'Till in very small amount of time a series of unrelated events, one after another seemed to point something out to me, It was as subtle touches pushing me towards a point of view. At first I thought my paranoia was finally getting to me, but then It finally hit me, as if the puzzle came together: science doesn't deny religion, no far from it, science needs religion to complete it. When I posted this on another forum I'm active on, I was told of the miracles of the Qur’an. How certain things which were unknown in the time the Qur’an were written are in it. Being so fond of science this immediately got my attention. So I started reading....

Seas of emotions went trough me as I was reading, I cried of sadness and laughed of joy, I felt safe and afraid at the same time. The words were so strong yet deliberating; so plain, yet irreplaceable in their sentences. At some times it even seemed as if the book interacted with my thoughts. No other than the creator of all things could have made such a masterwork. I never knew religion could be this logical and rational. About a week and 15 soera's later I converted. I felt alive. I believed. I no longer mistrust. And my heart found piece as promised.
13;28 Who have believed and whose hearts have rest in the remembrance of Allah. Verily in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find rest!

Guess what just happened (again)?

Another Catholic priest entered into Islam. I am so happy because this one actually came in by learning from our books, tapes, CDs and the combined efforts of brothers and sisters that we work with in Florida.



Bismillah Rahman Raheem
Salam alaykum to all:

Guess what just happened (again)?

Another Catholic priest entered into Islam. I am so happy because this one actually came in by learning from our books, tapes, CDs and the combined efforts of brothers and sisters that we work with in Florida.

What is really strange is that a brother there in Florida asked me to ship some CDs to him and that he was trying to get a grant and he would pay me later (?) I wondered about that - but I figured, what the heck. I'm not doing this for the money and if even one person comes to Islam from our efforts, then it is all worth it. You know? So we sent him hundres of CDs and materials. He never wrote back. So, I figured, "Oh well."

But now this letter comes in and I want to just sit and cry, remembering how the first priest came to Islam along with me and my wife and father - over 12 years ago. . .

Here is the letter to me (last name is delete and email address removed for privacy):


Dear Yusuf:

My name is Father Daniel, living in Miami, Fl, and studying Special Education at the local university (Florida International University). I always see this Muslim group of students in one of the halls of the Student Center, offering books, Cd's, and time there to whom it may be interested.

One day, as many, I saw them, and only by curiosity I stopped by, and ask for something to read about the whole thing of Islam. I used to be catholic. In fact, more than simply that. I was a catholic priest. I've been a priest for five years in my country (Argentina). But my personal faith slowly decreased after finding out many contradictions in faith and practice within the catholic church. Tired and disappointed, decided to quit and change my life.

Since my sister lives here, in USA, I decided to come, and study what I liked, and re-build my life. So far I was considering myself a simple agnostic.
Until that day... I started to read, and read and read. And a Light has been growing and growing in my heart, more and more. It has started about three months ago.

I don't want to rush, I want to learn more (not only curiosity), I want to get into little by little. I need time to process all this new "thing" that is coming through.... and I still don't know how to deal with it.

To be honest with you, I do believe that in Islam is the Truth... but I need and want time.

Yesterday, those students gave me a CD. It was you teaching about Islam, I think after that terrible 09/11. I was astonished. I enjoyed every single word. I listened the CD in my car all the way to my house. Today I listened it again.

I really appreciate your testimony, may be you can not imagine how much! Well, Allah knows it very well, I believe.

Question: Since I am a student (and no money for now), do you know how to get the Holy Qur'an, I mean, a good one... I would like to read it, but if I go to a book store, I feel lost... What can you recommend?

Thank you for reading this long e-mail.
Respectfully,

Father Daniel (last name deleted)