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Be A Salafee to the Utmost  

You are welcome

إن الحمد لله نحمده ونستعينه ونستغفره ونعوذ بالله من شرور أنفسنا ومن سيئات أعمالنا من يهده الله فلا مضل له ومن يضلل فلا هادي له وأشهد أن لا إله إلا الله وحده لا شريك له وأشهد أن محمدا عبده ورسوله أما بعد

Here you will be reading about my personal experiences perhaps we will get motivated together and remain upon the pristine path of Islam.

Indeed the experiences are of varieties just as the world we live is variegated. I believe you will enjoy them and never regret you called.

I am yours in Islam, Ishaaq bn AbdurRaheem, Aboo Aamir al-Atharee al-Ibadaanee, a slave in need of his Lord's Mercy.


Originally written June 15, 2012


The circumstance that made me left home in 1996 for the city of Kano still reverbrates in me. But I won't tell it because that's not the intent here. (I am preparing a book on that though I don't know when it will come out perhaps when I die. O Allaah take my life on Islam.)

I only spent two weeks in Kano with some uncles of mine before I came to Kaduna. Then I was not a serious Muslim. I hardly said my prayers. And there was an evil company I kept back in our town.

My first weeks in Kaduna was as usual - frolicking and gyrating. I never knew Kaduna was such a semi-Islamic city. All that I used to see were people as I was.

Then came the metarmophosis. My uncle's place was around Kagoro Close of the Kaduna metropolis. It was a rented apartment a sort of BQ shared with other tenants. Our compound used to be a rowdy place because of the people it contained - Muslims and Xtians of the southern extractions.

Just opposite our house was another apartment very similar to ours. There was a man there by name Sani, nicknamed 'Abacha'. It was this Sani my cousin took me to, to say hello, one night, that Allaah used to facilitate what I am today.

My cousin and I entered upon Sani and we exchanged pleasantries. It was in the course of the familiarization that I made the blunder that has become the caption of this small piece. Mallam asked me: 'How was the last festival in your place?' He was apparently referring to the Eidul'Ad'ha of that year. 'You mean, Eidul-Kabar?' I tried to reply. And that was it, Sani fired me. 'Why did you pronounce the words as if you were not a Muslim?' Thanks to those shots. Though they were hard on me but they made me. All other discussions that night I absentmindedly took part in them. My sleep was hellish, it was as if I was already in the hell. Sani's words 'as if you were not a Muslim' rang on and on in my hearing. Since the morning of the day that followed the event, I had been struggling to be a Muslim. Here I am today, still struggling. And the struggle continues. O Allaah, make me remain on the struggle.




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