The Manrilla Blog | Life. Art. Religion. Culture.

Life has been coming down the fast lane these past few months. Time and time again I am reminded that we’re promised no time on this rock. I just received a text from a friend stating that a close friend of mine had passed away. He was not even ten years older than I am. His name was Hamza and he will be remembered by many.

I think back now on those who have left. By those, I refer to the first individuals that I met when I took shahadah. Brother Ron [a.k.a., ‘Imran], God rest his soul, is no longer with us. An unidentified car struck and killed him during the night as he rode on his bicycle. His killer remains a mystery to this day. Ron had a great spirit about him. He was a cheerful fellow who’d always take time to talk with people. I miss his spirit. And now, Hamza. Hamza was also part of that same initial core group of individuals who taught me some basics about Islam. I first met Hamza one day as I was on my way to meet some brothers at a very small musallah [prayer room] when I saw this tall, broad shouldered man outside, practicing martial arts with a wooden practice sword. With his dreadlocks, Hamza made quite the first impression. But he was a very easy going, gentle person who enjoyed talking with people. We shared a lot of time together over the first several years after my conversion, hanging out, talking, laughing, philosophizing, the whole bit. I will also miss his spirit. He was a good brother. May God grant him Jannah.