I was on an emotional roller coaster today. I woke up jumping for joy about NPR doing a second story on us, this time now the entire country knows how beautiful New York’s Muslim community is. Then, I looked outside my apartment window to see that my car had been towed.

To make a long story short, I spent 4 hours and $240 recovering my car that a construction company towed… so they could park their steamroller in my spot. But then, Bassam emailed me saying a mosque in the Bronx had burned down last night.

The Islamic Cultural Center is a mosque still healing from a terrible tragedy two years ago, when 10 people from this congregation, nine of them children, died in a horrific house fire.

By fate, the towing pound I was picking up my car from was only a mile or two away from the mosque.

Notice how you can see scorch marks streaking through the tan part of the roof.

I asked one of the firefighters at the scene what happened and he told me a fire broke out after around 11 pm last night in the grocery store next door to the mosque. Flames burst through the store’s roof and also engulfed the mosque. He said they spent hours last night putting out the flames and the exact cause is still under investigation. I will post updates as soon as I receive them.

(UPDATE: I talked to one of the investigators in the fire department Saturday morning and he told me it was an electrical fire. Someone doing some electrical work in the grocery store was installing a fan and left some wires exposed).

You can see how strong the flames were by looking at how charcoaled the sidewalks are.

Thankfully, nobody from the mosque or store was hurt. But flames tore the inside of the mosque apart making the building unusable.

I stood there for a few minutes, motionless, staring at the door imagining what the congregation here must be thinking after having their mosque burn down. Especially during the holy month of Ramadan.

But I was quickly taken out of my deep thought by a man named Bilal. He tapped me on my shoulder letting me know there was only about five minutes before time to break the fast. He told me to come with him to the temporary mosque the congregation set up two blocks away inside an empty storefront building.

I ran into Imam Talib Abdur-Rashid, the Imam of the Mosque of Islamic Brotherhood in Harlem, that we visited a few days ago. He came to show his support for the community.

We broke our fast with some dates, and prayed in another barren room that only had blue tarp on the floor. After prayer, many of the people got up to go inside the room next door to eat, but I wanted to sit for a little bit and make some supplication for the people of this mosque. I immediately began thinking about how insignificant the problems in my own life are. Less than an hour ago, I was whining about some stupid tow truck. My eyes teared  just thinking about it. Bilal must have noticed as he was putting on his shoes since hee put his hand on my shoulder and said  “Come, we are all brothers.”

He took me into the room next door where everyone was eating dinner.

Keep in mind the room is an unfinished building, so we all sat squatted on the floor  around trays of food spread along the room. One person told me to stop taking pictures — this was a time for us to eat and share the company of our fellow Muslims, not turn an iftaar into a media event. I told him what I was doing and he welcomed me being here, but kindly asked that I take no more pics.

I sat with Bilal and one of his friends as we sat around a plate of seasoned steak, beef stew, plaintains and salad (sorry no pics). We tore up long rolls of Italian bread and used it to eat the food with. Being with these guys really made me feel at ease.

The congregation at the Islamic Cultural Center is almost all West African. Bilal is from Gambia and the other person we sat with is from Nigeria. They told me the Islamic Cultural Center had been in the neighborhood for over 10 years. The fire Thursday night actually broke out only 15-20 minutes after the congregation had finished its taraweeh prayer.

Bilal brought up one of my favorite sayings from Prophet Muhammad that really captured the mood in the air tonight. That the Muslim community is like a body. When one part of the body is in pain, the entire body is in pain.

In other words, when one of us suffers we all feel the plain. But Bilal brought up an interesting point. He said this saying also applies to happiness. When one of us is feeling good, the rest of us should feel the same as well. He told me this was not a time for us to be sad and depressed. Instead, this is a time for us to smile and be thankful that everyone is here to support each other during the end of this blessed month.

Bilal continued, “Plus, my wife tonight made the best steak you’ll ever taste in your entire life. Now you really have no reason to be sad.”

He was right.

This project is not about us, but instead we are the conduits to showcase New York City’s Muslim community. Whether you’re Muslim or not, please support the people of the Islamic Cultural Center in any way you can.

Call Bakary Camara at 917-568-5763 or mail letters and donations to:

The Islamic Cultural Center

Attn: The Building Fund

371 E. 166th Street

Bronx, NY 10456

497 Comments | In: Bronx | | #

Today Bassam and I were joined by our good friend Omar Mullick as we went into the south Bronx to check out the Mount Hope Masjid. This is a congregation of primarily West Africans. One of the people that talked to us said most of the people are from s Togo and Ghana. He said the two countries’ cultures are similar, comparing them to the similarities between New York and New Jersey.

What makes this place beautiful is the community involvement. In many mosques, generally it is a small handful of tireless volunteers that provide food for everyone. But in this case, it seemed like every single person contributed. As soon as you walk into the mosque, you see a sign up sheet where everyone volunteers to provide food to break the fast.

We sat down on a floor covered in tarp in the dining room and watched as floods of people came bringing in food. Each of them provided an item or two to help create a full fledged hearty meal to break our fast. The food in front of us was a plate of dates, watermelon and some corn bread.

There was a guy at the table serving this soup out of a huge Igloo cooler. It was a sweetened maize soup. Think of hot apple sauce with small pieces of cornbread in it. Fantastic would only be describing the soup’s taste lightly.

There were a lot of people there that were amazingly friendly. Most of the foods there such as the soup and other dishes were foreign to us, but given how friendly the atmosphere was, you couldn’t help but just jump in headfirst and really enjoy yourself.

We then went downstairs to pray. The imam of the mosque is from Guyana.

After prayer, we ended up going to this vegetarian Indian restaurant on Curry Hill in Manhattan called Tiffin Wallah. The food was phenomenal. The three of us each ordered Mysore Masala dosas. The best way I can describe it is a enormous crepe and inside are spiced potatoes and peas. You then dip it into those lentil soups on the right.

The food was great no doubt. But after we ate, I kind of really wished we ate dinner at the mosque. As we were leaving the mosque, they were serving large plates of rice and catfish. It made me think long and hard about my dad. My father is on temporary business overseas and is all alone for the time being until his job finishes. So he eagerly asks me to always send him any kind of project I’m working on just so he can pretend he’s there with me witnessing it happen.

I kind of wish I had catfish tonight because I know how much he likes it.

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Today, Aman and I went to the Riverdale Islamic Center in The Bronx. It’s interesting how no other borough in New York has a definitive THE in front of it. I have yet to hear anyone say the Queens or the Brooklyn.

(Update: Turns out the Bronx comes from the landowner who acquired the borough back in 1639, Jonas Broncks. – Here’s a snippet from an article:

“A river ran through Jonas Bronck’s farm, which became known as THE Bronck’s River. Then the area around the river became known as THE Bronck’s; eventually the spelling of the name was changed to THE Bronx because of euphony and not because there is more than one Bronx. In fact, it is the only New York State borough using an article in its name.”

Props to the commenter who pointed this out)

The mosque is discreetly located in the back of an apartment complex. It’s very easy to miss if you’re not looking carefully.

Before reaching the back of the complex, we had to pass through a smelly corridor filled with garbage.

At the entrance of the mosque sat Aqib. A Pakistani kid who starts high school in a week. He directed me into the mosque.

Inside the center, I was greeted by a small group of Desi uncles who were preparing plates for iftaar. They smiled and told me to sit before we break our fast. At that moment I thought the masjid was ran by South Asians, but when I looked to my left I saw a different picture. There were a couple of Latino and African American brothers helping out in the preparations. The small congregation began cracking on a brother who ate a date before the adhaan was called. Everyone took turns coming up with a joke. The brother who ate the date was a new convert and laughed as he turned red in embarrassment. The Desi uncles jokes were a little off color, but everyone knew they meant well. It was funny to see them transitioning from Punjabi to English to Arabic all as they put pakoras and dates in plates.

Before the designated iftaar time, a vibrant man got up and reminded us that the small window before Maghrib is a very blessed time to supplicate. After he called the adhaan, I found out this man, Sheikh Sulayman, was the Imam of the mosque and instrumental in bringing this congregation together.

We were given dates, pakoras, chickpeas and crispy rice for break fast. The only thing missing was roohafza.

After Maghrib, I spoke with the Imam about the dynamics of the mosque. He said it was difficult to get the congregation to come together in the beginning, but since they were in such a small space there really was no choice. “The space is a blessing,” he said.

For dinner, the masjid provided a light biryani with salad.

As we left the masjid, Shiekh Sulayman showed us around the masjid property. Turns out the landlord of the apartment complex is Muslim and has designated the majority of the first floor for the mosque. That explains how they get away with the blaring speakers in a residential building. The imam briefly spoke about the expansion plans to accommodate the growing congregation. I wondered what would happen once the masjid expanded. Would the community drift apart if they have the convenience of sitting in their own ethnic corners? Or would they still come together and crack off-color jokes in the comfort of a larger space? Let’s pray for the latter.

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The Bronx! My family was in town today, so I decided to bring them along to visit Masjid Noor-Ul-Huda off Gun Hill Road. This is a large house they renovated into a breathtakingly beautiful mosque (that’s my Mommy on the bottom right).

I’m floored by the fact they only spent $500,000 to build this place. Check out how beautiful the interior is.

This place was 3 levels. Wudhu and bathrooms on the bottom floor, the prayer area for men on the first floor and area for women on the 3rd floor (more on the women’s area in a minute).

What I enjoy about this place is how loving the community was here. My family was welcomed to the mosque by some kind people who guided us to the back. We waited outside with some other brothers who had set up some tables for iftar. Each plate was filled with dates, bananas, grapes, peaches and pakora (desi potatoes fried in batter). That pink drink is sharbat, which is a traditional drink made from rose syrup and milk.

The people were extraordinarily kind to my mother. She was the only female that was in the women’s area and volunteers came up to the third floor and brought her food. They also came up every few minutes to make sure she had everything she needed. Meanwhile, we sat with the guys outside and broke our fast. I love being in gatherings where everybody is genuinely excited to be there, no matter who is there or how their day has gone.

A few minutes before prayer, I had the chance to take in how beautiful some of the decorations inside the mosque were. That’s when the imam came in and told me about the mosque’s history. The community here is very proud of their mosque and they have every reason to be.

Time for prayer.

After prayer, I told the imam about my 30 Mosques project. That’s when he gave me this kufi. I have never seen a place that has kufis with the mosque’s name on it. Tonight I am proud to have been a patron of Noor-Ul-Huda.

They insisted that we stay for iftar, but since my family was in town, I wanted to take them to Samosa Cabana. This hands down my favorite place to eat at. It’s in Westchester, and its a place run by two college students. They take burritos and put biryani inside it. I ordered a lamb biryani wrap.

I hadn’t seen my family in almost two months, so today was all about spending time with them. When I first told my mom about this project, at first she was worried about me being exhausted from taking this on (you can’t blame her for thinking like that, she’s a loving mother). But tonight, she was taken back by how kind everyone was and she began to understand why a project like this is so spiritually fulfilling.

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