The Garden That United Singapore
When nobody else stepped up, our tiny mosque became the only institution that stayed — Muslim and non-Muslim alike.
The the Islamic centre on High Street was barely a youth centre — a converted community centre. But when nobody else stepped up, it became the only institution that stayed.
Abu Bakr started it with fifty packed lunches. 'Every person who walks through that door is our guest,' he said.
A homeless veteran named Lisa came every week. One day he asked to help serve. He said, 'You're doing what religion is supposed to do.'
Lisa isn't Muslim. But he comes every Saturday, runs the Saturday session, and tells everyone about 'his youth centre.'
We've taught 500 children and counting. The local newspaper noticed. A journalist from the Guardian visited. But the real story isn't the numbers. It's the quiet dignity of service.
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.