It was in the Ostrich Bakery that we met. I had heard that the Muslim Hausa people had a large population near the Anglican Cathedral. So Sunday afternoon I sauntered on over, praying for “a man of peace” from that community.
Well, there he was in the bakery. I walked up to him, looked innocent (as a dove), and asked him if he could take me through the mosque, which was right across the street. He was quite pleased with my question and proceeded to tell me several things.
First, his name was Isa. Arabic for Jesus. Second, as I was a Christian, I could not go into the mosque. But as I was interested in Islam, I could meet the imam.
And that led to a motorcycle tour of the Hausa community, a stop at the imam’s (door locked), and a long conversation with four of his friends. Two of them are named Isa, one is Jousef Ali, the name of the leading annotator of the Qur’an, and two others.
No tour of the mosque, no meeting with the imam, but exchange of phone numbers and their intention to introduce me to the imam Monday.
I have a suggestion in my mind for this upcoming conversation. I probably will refrain from one of my usual questions when interviewing Muslims: “How many times have you been a suicide bomber?” That is for breaking down stereotypes in the States. No, I’ll suggest that we four do a comparison of Isa in the Qur’an and Isa in the New Testament. That will be an opening I look forward to continuing.
Stay tuned and please pray. For this and for the Fulani…
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There is no moment of delight in any pilgrimage like the beginning of it.
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