How Allah Saved My Life
My conversion to Islam has alarmed many friends and family members. It seems to them so strange and odd for a Latino like me to become a Muslim. Catholicism and Protestantism are the leading religions in Latin America so these are reasonable religions for any Latin American to convert to, but when my family follows either Catholic or Protestant denominations, why Islam? Well, my conversion to Islam was not introduced to me by any family member, like most of my family members whose parents' ideas of life were given to them and they adhere to that as truth, without searching. The journey to God is a beautiful road that was given to the Prophets from God to us humans. The Prophets are our ways, and that's the way I follow.
My story begins at my birthplace, El Salvador, a beautiful tropical country located in Central America, filled with exotic, delicious, and tasty fruits. The people are warm and welcoming to others and possess a very intimate culture. Our culture is a crossroads of the mingling of many rich cultures. If you mingle Spanish Arab intellect with the African tangy taste of rhymes, and the Native Indians love of the earth, you get the beautiful people of El Salvador. I was born in 1975, from the middle class of the poor, yes, we were poor but we had the blessing of food. My father was a farmer, whose family bought a lot of cheap land, so they were well off and my mother was from a very humble, poor family who lived by fishing and working for others to get by. Their families opposed of their marriage because one was poor and the other very poor. So my father did what most do, elope with my mother to my grandfather's house, even if my grandfather did not like it. Later, both families became okay with it and a house was given to my father by grandpa, and this is where I was born. The house was an old adobe house.
My father came to America in 1978 to make some quick money and he kept coming and going back for a period of four years until he bought a cargo truck with his brother and worked for a while. Then he felt the urge to come back again and because the war began he felt scared for me and himself. In 1983, he left El Salvador again but with an intention to bring the family and stay for good.
After my father left, I spent a lot of time with my grandfather who was a Protestant, and I used to listen to the Biblical readings and I used to love looking at the pictures in the Bible. I used to ask, "Does anyone still dress like the people drawn in the Bible, with long robes, turbans, and beards." And, they would reply, "No, it was long time ago." I was fascinated with Noah, Moses, Abraham, and particularly with Jesus. I had this immense hunger to find people like Jesus, the way he spoke in the Bible and the way he dressed, his beautiful beard brought mystery and he looked very wise. I never saw this in my family who were very religious or in anybody else in the two Christian branches.
In 1984, my father sent a letter to my mother telling her to come to America and to bring me, too. When my mother told me about it, I felt sick and destroyed because I thought that I was in paradise and I didn't want to leave. I cried almost every day, pleading that my mother would leave me with grandpa, but my words were not heard. We left El Salvador in August and I did enjoy the trip to America, but it was very hard for my mom. My two sisters stayed with my aunt in San Salvador, the capital of El Salvador. We arrived in National Airport of Washington D.C. three weeks after we left El Salvador. After spending time here in America, I found out that religions are thrown away by society and are considered private, and not a way of life to many. I didn't feel the love of God as I did in El Salvador, but still tried to keep Him in my heart.
Most of my desires of God in my life were gone in America. I went to regular schools from second grade to high school, but my thirst for religion began in high school. My first year in high school was in 1990. What a joy! I was so happy the first day, and my cousin Ana warned me to be careful because seniors threw freshmen in lockers, but I didn't care, I was happy. Inevitably, soon I found out that seniors weren't the ones who beat and threw freshmen in lockers but it was the football team. The football team was not interested in freshmen only but in Latinos in general. We were terrorized so bad that we used to hide in bathrooms when we saw one of them coming. These guys were 6'5" tall when most Latinos are 5'6" so of course we were terrified.
In the middle of the year, we formed a gang to protect ourselves from the football team. We were becoming crazy to the point that the football team tried to offer an apology to us but we were having fun, and we did not accept to stop. We started going to clubs, drinking, using drugs, and of course, women were not excluded. This period of time was the most dangerous of my life. We used to fight for stupid things. I was almost shot on the metro (train) in Washington D.C. for a stupid argument between my friend and some young kids. The kids started shooting at me like I was the one arguing with them, and a bullet went by my head barely touching my hair. This was crazy and we went after the guys who shot at us, and they got beat up very badly. Twenty minutes later, I felt a drawling rush in my whole body; it felt like I was Superman. I just went through a dream and I thought that I was going to be known, recognized and respected by my homies that I called friends.
Next day, we told our friends and none of them believed our incident, but still, I felt strong. Another incident at a nightclub was our biggest fight ever. The fight was so severe that many of my friends left the gang that we belonged to. Three of my friends were stabbed badly inside the club, so a group of us went outside looking for them, and the cops separated us into subgroups. I was in a group of six guys. We were just walking around the club when a pickup truck came near us and they asked if we needed help, we said, "Yes." All of them got out the pickup truck. They looked fishy to me, but my friends were happy to see them. One of them asked, "What mara (gang) do you click (hang around) with?" We responded with our gang's name, and they said their gang's name, too. The bad thing was that these were the guys who stabbed our buddies and we were looking for them, also. We started to get ready and I told my buddies to run because several of them pointed guns at us, so we ran. I was too drunk to run so I got caught by six of them. They beat me severely. They kicked me with their boots and hit me with their fists all over my face and body.
The cops showed up right in time because I felt death on my throat. They could easily have stabbed me or killed me, and I looked up in the sky and said, "My Lord, save me, and I will serve you." One of my friends got thrown from a bridge and broke his hand while others got away. That same friend who was with me at the train shooting and the nightclub started to become more aware of life. After this incident, he began learning about different doctrines. His philosopher was Karl Marx, his sociology was communism, and his theology was Islam. To me, he was becoming unaware of life, and I myself started to search, but in the Protestant church. I found myself becoming religious again, once again praying to God for guidance. However, I did not want to become too religious of a person because I knew my family would ridicule me.
I had always been a person who seemed uninterested in life. My friend started preaching about his thoughts and beliefs. I told him that my love for the Protestant church was growing more so he could leave me alone. I told him Jesus is my teacher; not a black man named Elijah Muhammad or Farrakhan. My friend at that time was confused what the real Islam was; his Islam looked weird to me. He believed that the Nation of Islam was the real Islam. He did not know the differences, such as that the real Islam was not racist like the Nation of Islam. I did accept his socialist belief in communism, and "Che" Guevara and Fidel Castro became our leaders for world modernization. At the same time, I was not too happy, because communism denounced God's existence.
He pushed on about Islam, telling me to read his Quran, so I did. I was amazed to see Jesus, Moses, Abraham, and many more Prophets of the Bible in the Quran. He told me, "We believe Jesus is a Prophet of God, not the son of God or God himself." And, I immediately responded that I believe in the same. He said, "Your church believes that Jesus is God and the Son of God and they make up the Trinity." I told him that is not my belief about Jesus and God. That made me think a lot more about Christianity and of their Triune god because I never knew that Jesus was considered this, even though I did go to church. I felt confused but happy that there was a religion that had what I believe in, but still, I wasn't too accepting of it.
A year after graduating from high school in 1995, I went to work at a cafeteria at a university. At work, I saw so many cultures and different religious people. I still had hatred towards non-Latinos, but my first week at work a group of students came to buy some stuff at the store where I worked, and they were fighting among each other because everyone wanted to pay. This incident was very touching to me because I was a very giving person yet my friends took advantage of that quality. I asked one of them later that week why Middle Eastern people were so generous with each other. He replied, "See, we owe it to Islam because Islam teaches us to be generous. Some of us don't practice that much but Islamic manners are embedded in our hearts."
This statement moved me. I replied to him that I used to study Islam for political reasons. He asked, "Why did you stop?" I told him that I didn't know where to get more information about Islam. He looked at me with joy and he said he had an American Muslim friend that converted six months ago. The next day they came to visit me, and I saw this white male dressed like the people in the Bible who looked like Jesus. My heartfelt this peaceful, calm feeling that I still feel. He started asking me about my health, my family, and my work. He didn't mention anything about religion. I was so happy that I told him to come teach me every time he could.
For two months, Muslims were coming to me with books, pamphlets, and just to talk. It went on for two and half months and then the store closed for the summer. Thus, for two months I just relaxed and partied all summer. However, I started to feel guilty while drinking. When I felt that way, I used to prostrate in asking for forgiveness. In September, I went to a party with my friend and I got really drunk that night and almost got into a fight, but my friend reminded me that I was studying Islam, so I stopped and asked him if we could go home. The next day, at 9:00 in the morning, I woke up with this sickening feeling and the phone rang. It was my friend from the university. I told him to please pick me up and take me to the mosque. He came to my house like a lightning flash.
I was nervous and happy at the same time. We arrived at this beautiful Mosque Darul-Al-Hijrah in northern Virginia, which was about ten minutes away from my house. At 10:00 a.m. the teacher came, very calm and not pushing, and asked me if I believed that God is One, I said, "Yes." He asked if I believed that Jesus is a Prophet and the son of Mary. I said, "Yes." Do you believe that Muhammad is the Last Prophet of God? With doubts, I replied "Yes." At that moment in doubts of Muhammad, I said to myself, "If I believe in the teachings of Islam, I must be a fool not to accept the one who brought it." I told the teacher that I was ready to become a Muslim (in submission to God). He told me to repeat: "Ashadu anla ilaha ilallah Wa ashadu ana Muhammadan Rasululah. I testify that there is nothing worthy of worship than Allah and I testify that Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah. Yo atestiguo que no hay nada digno de adoraci que Alah y Atestiguo que Mujammad es el Mensajero de Alah."
At this point, I could smell the mercy and the sweetness of heaven. I felt the presence of God in my torn and sick heart. I felt clean and brightness in my new way of life. My life was ready for the next journey on earth, the journey to Paradise. All Praises are due to Allah, Lord of the Worlds, that has invited me to Islam from among billions of people on Earth. My thanks are due to Allah, the Almighty, for inviting me to His House in Mecca in 1997 for Umrah.