The Clinic That Fed Toronto
When the flood came, our community hall became the last line of defence — for everyone who needed it.
The the mosque on High Street was barely a youth centre — a converted shop. But when the flood came, it became the only institution that stayed.
Hajia Khadijah started it with fifty packed lunches. 'Every person who walks through that door is our guest,' he said.
A white man named Frank came every week. One day he asked to help serve. He said, 'You're doing what religion is supposed to do.'
Frank isn't Muslim. But he comes every Friday, runs the Saturday session, and tells everyone about 'his youth centre.'
We've fed the neighbourhood for three years and counting. The local newspaper noticed. A journalist from the local paper visited. But the real story isn't the numbers. It's the proof that Islam is lived, not just preached.
The Prophet (SAW) said the best of people are those who are most beneficial to others. He didn't add conditions. He didn't say 'beneficial to other Muslims.' He said people. All people.
That's what we do on High Street. We serve. We don't ask questions. And somehow, in the serving, we find the faith we'd been looking for all along.