Packages of Hope - China 2005

The Imam and his staff were genuinely interested in my humanitarian effort, and told me that they, too were involved in many charities in the community. They had most recently sent large contributions to Pakistan, hard hit by devastating earthquakes.

I then suggested to my hosts that I could record whatever message they would like to the Muslims of the Orlando community. Switching effortlessly into Arabic, the Imam, as well as his staff extended a greeting via my camcorder.

The Imam and his staff then took a few photos with me, and asked me if I wanted to take a tour of the Mosque, as well as take a look at the
school located on the mosque grounds.

“Kids?! Are you kidding? I’m there!” I enthusiastically agreed.

At first we ascended the steps towards the main circular onion domed mosque that dominated the landscape. The Imam, who had already had some difficulty moving around using his cane, stayed behind in his offices. I asked his young aide if it was okay for me to enter, given the fact that I was not Muslim. He told me, “you are welcome here”. I was humbled and honored.

We took off our shoes and I entered with the rest of our entourage. It was clear that the exterior shape of the mosque dome was indeed just a shell for the interior arena. There was very little in the way of support beams or interfering structure inside the dome, save for an upper level balcony. The high vaulted ceiling gave me that familiar sense of awe that I feel whenever entering into a large church hall. The acoustics corresponded to the magnificence of the surroundings. Even our whispers could be heard at great distance.

Prayer rugs were laid in neat rows from one side of the hall to the other. All were facing the central altar.

The junior aide asked me if I would like to hear a formal greeting from XiGuan Mosque. I told him I would be honored. He bid me to come to the front of the room, near the altar, but I felt odd in doing this. I settled down in the center and raised my camcorder, expecting to hear another introduction in spoken Arabic.

The young man took a meditative position in front of me, and knelt down on his knees. He asked me if I was ready. I said yes.

A moment of silence followed, and you could hear a pin drop. Then his voice boomed out and filled the room in the lyrical chant of spoken Arabic prayer. The dome served as an amplifier, and the hairs on my neck stood on edge at the magnificence of his vocal abilities. I tried to keep the camera steady as his voice permeated my very bones, his face taut with spiritual intensity and concentration. With a small sway, he kept time to some well practiced metronome.

When at last he finished, the vibrations of his prayers were still ringing in my ears. My knuckles were white on the camera, and I realized I hadn’t taken a breath in a long time. He was staring at me, and I remained stunned, until I at last said, “that… was… one of the most amazing things I have EVER experienced. THANK you.”

He only slightly smiled, indicating that this is an everyday practice. This was something that was thoroughly impressive for me, however.

Still awed by the performance, I was led outside to the lower levels of the mosque complex, where I was shown a few classrooms. This was my first experience with Chinese teaching facilities outside of orphanages. I was thoroughly impressed. The organization and skill of the teachers were apparent, even though I could not understand the language.

All the children were orderly and obedient, although not rigid. I was welcomed into a kindergarten class, where it was clear from the look on the students faces that I was a disruption. Curiosity quickly overtook them, though, and they edged closer to get a better look or to shake my hand. There were lots of smiles, and lots of giggling.

I could have stayed there all day, but I wanted to be respectful of the teacher’s control of the class, and I didn’t want to be too much of an interruption of her lessons. I got up and moved backward toward the door where the entourage awaited me. I felt very guilty leaving the teacher with the chaos of 30 children now chattering away about the “foreigner”. However, with a single barked syllable from the teacher, the students INSTANTANEOUSLY quieted, lept to their seats and sat perfectly still.

To be honest, I actually recoiled in fear and yelped a bit myself at this action, which caused some of the students, in turn, to be a bit afraid. The teacher looked at me puzzled, along with the other staff members at the door.

“I’m sorry” I said, “I’ve NEVER seen anything like this before. I know it’s been a while since I’ve seen a kindergarten class, but I’d be hard pressed to find students who can snap to attention THIS quickly back where I come from.”

The story was the same in the other classes we visited. With a single command, the students sat ramrod straight, although not in a robot-like or fear-induced way. It just looked like this was the way they behaved on a day to day basis. In a few classes the teacher had the class recite their practiced English phrases. Again I wondered how many kindergarten classes in America were able to repeat Chinese phrases.

Blown away by the model behavior of the children in class after class, I was led to another building filled with classes of young women. The classes were teaching Arabic, Chinese, Koran study, and singing.

Again I was impressed with the discipline and order of the classrooms.

When we finally met to say goodbye, I thanked the members of the Muslim delegation for giving up so much of their time to meet with me. They mentioned that they welcomed me or anyone else from America to come and visit them in peace. As a farewell, they presented me with an absolutely beautiful calligraphy painting to present to the local Orlando mosque. I told them it would be an honor for me to do so.