Kay Yusuf's Epistles

There is no doubt that democracy is kufr. And I am not aware of any reliable scholar of the Deen who has claimed otherwise. Likewise, it's an indisputable fact that scholars of the Deen aren't on a singular page as to participation in its process, be it running for a post or voting the one running. Some of the erudite 'ulamaa have maintained that, given the rotten root of the system of government in question, participating in it by any means possible - running, voting - is haraam. Those who are quick to hubristically label fellow Muslims with the extremist appellative should think twice before they do so on custodians of the Islamic knowledge. Scholars who are of this opinion are in their tens - not one, not ten. So, be careful of where your tongue may land you. However, eyes shouldn't be closed to the fact that some other dependable scholars have (in no contradiction to the aforesaid but in addendum to it) ruled that, on the ground of necessity, participation in de...

She strived headlong to stop her husband from taking a second wife, but she never thrived. Doggedly, the man made his interest supercede his wife's. Therefore, the other woman finally got entry amidst storms. She did all in her powers to make life miserable for the new wife, and of course, their husband. Rather than enjoy, the marriage turned out to be hell on earth. The second wife could not but take a walk out of the matrimony to seek haven elsewhere. After a while, the man gave up the ghost on account of high blood pressure. The polygamophobic woman became widowed at 34. Half a decade down the line, she remained a single mother of three fruits of the womb. At 39, she thought of getting hooked up again. But all efforts to that effect proved abortive until after 2 years of ultimate search for a single or a widowed man. To her dismay, no bachelor nor widower was ready to marry a 39 year old mother of three offspring - they rather preferred brand new ladies. Luck finally...

Men and women, boys and girls - hale and hearty - do flood the streets of Lagos begging for money to feed. They are usually attired in white garbs - including headgears - and are very sharp-tongued, articulate in rendering mesmeric, irresistible prayers for their desired benefactors. A wide, big calabash clothed or painted white in which numberless cowries lie is the walking bank with which cheerful givers drop their widow's might. Why aren't these hale but lazy fellows working as done the gullible givers? They say the act is a spiritual calling from their god, and that whoever is called is a special one. What sort of a beggar-god is that? With proceeds from the filthy merchandise, they live admirably big. They are beggars on the road, but big men and women at home. The boom of the business has afforded many personally-owned shelters, whereas their benefactors might never have amassed money worth the purchase of a land parcel, let alone being sheltered from personal riches....

Murewa was married to Ajibola in a colourful, memorable wedding ceremony. Felicitators wined, dined and had leftovers to go home with – a sign that much was significantly expended on eatables and drinkables by the parents. Half a decade into the conjugality, there was no fruits of the womb to the woman’s credit – not even a miscarriage. The couple became worried. Medical remedies were sought when the problem became apparent a year into the union. Doctors with expertise in gynaecology were consulted - at different times. In the end, it was discovered that Murewa had complications preventing her womb from fertility. The husband, too, had been unpremeditatedly infected by the wife through mating. Double jeopardy! Thousands of Nigerian currency was periodically spent on lab tests and drugs, all to no avail. In the long run, they resorted to herbs – very expensive ones, for that matter. Taking them as prescribed was hell due to their unpleasant sourness and irritating odour....

There is no one she cannot talk down. She is lousy - orally untidy, verbously shameless and attitudinally unbefitting. She does not only abuse, she rains curses on whoever crosses her path - unfortunately under the hijab. She is no respecter of anyone, not even her parents. She coughs out whatever shaytan whispers into her unbridled tongue. She blurts out anything from the world of her ignominious mouth. The sacredness of the Hijab garment is of no meaning to her whenever she addresses a matter in public. She is usually not different from a garrage vagabond each time she is angered. Whoever intervenes to quench the matter is obviously in trouble. Her parents know her to be a demon of pathological cantankerousness who turns situations into cacophonous phenomena. She grumbles that her mode of dressing is hated by them, yet the behaviour with which such can be redeemed aren't existent in her person. To her husband, she is a filthy parrot. She spits out anything that flows through ...

Some ill-informed muslims make people feel that the sunnah of the Prophet is not worth embracing with the way they are usually shabbily dressed. They appear displeasing, such that people avoid close contact with them. Their clothes are filled with creases as though there were no irons on earth to smoothen the garments.  I wonder how a dirty and seemingly filthy person will be able to win the soul of another person whose mindset about Islam is notional and stereotypical. Dirty outlook is never borne out of poverty; it is usually a personality phenomenon. Some do not have more than two wears, yet they will never appear dirty, shabby or stinking. He claims to be the best follower of the Prophet, yet he has never come across the Hadeeth that enjoins cleanliness. He has never read that the Prophet himself despised dirtiness. You had better go dis-learn the jass in your brain and relearn the correct sunnah of Allah's Apostle. His dirty, shabby and rough...