In series: Young Initiative Group

“Let’s distribute Iftar meals in masjids!” we decided, charged with the early Ramadan spirit found in all Muslims during the first few days of the blessed month.

“Call Abu Hamza! He’ll be of great help,” I told my brother. “And it’s always better to do it in a team.”

“I spoke to him,” my brother said when he called back. “He says he knows masjids in some poor districts where there’s hardly anything available for Iftar. Shouldn’t we be distributing there then?”

“Yea, that’s better! Let’s go there Insha Allah,” I replied.

But by the time we were out shopping, the Iftar idea had been dropped. We bought, instead, basic provisions for about ten poor families. The plan was to distribute them in Jeddah’s Al-Bawadi district. Abu Hamza knew someone named Faisal who lived in Bawadi and could direct us to the most needy people in the area.

“There are families living there, Subhan Allah, you’ll be shocked to see their state,” Abu Hamza told us. “In some cases, the father is extremely old and there’s no male member to earn a living.”

“There’s a man, a Hakeem,” Abu Hamza recalled while relating to us some of the stories he knew, “who used to help everyone there with whatever little he would earn. He had an accident sometime back and is now paralyzed. I saw him last year and he was in such a sad condition. Subhan Allah, he is now in need of help.” We made an appointment with Faisal and left late at night, because everything here happens only in the night during Ramadan.

We reached the location and met Faisal, a young Pakistani man, who came along with his little brother (or son). “Some of the families live in streets that are very narrow and there’s sewage on the road,” he said. “Is that alright?”

Alright?!

Ya’ni, he is asking if it’s okay for us? Human beings are living there, and we are asked if it is acceptable to us to merely visit the place?

After driving through the ups and downs of a damp street, we pulled over near a modest apartment building. A young bearded man collected the provisions. He was the son of the late Hakeem, we learned. Yes, the Hakeem had passed away from prolonged illness after his accident. The family hadn’t had enough money for treatment. His son now sold Attar (scented oil used as perfume) for a living.

Our next stop was a dilapidated construction where Faisal lived with his extended family.

We met ‘Chachi’ – Faisal’s neighbor – who welcomed us with a broad smile and a heartfelt du’a. Her husband is too old to work. Her young sons were deported to Pakistan because they didn’t have Iqamas. She was left with only children and young women in her household.

Faisal’s condition was no better either. His SR750-per-year apartment is Masha Allah home to fifteen people. A father of five, he was born and raised in Jeddah.

In another rundown house that was only a little over six-feet high, lived a family that is being supported by these already-deprived people, because the members has no source of income at all. The adult son is in jail for drugs, while his father has been sick for months.

Each family had a unique story to tell.

The cases that Faisal was talking about are of ethnic Pakistanis who are either ‘illegal overstayers’ or people without proper residency permits (i.e. expired Iqamas), regardless of the fact that they may have been living here for decades.

Illegal immigration is a difficult problem to tackle in many parts of the world, and Saudi Arabia is no different. The most popular method here was for people to come on Hajj or Umrah visa and stay back. But new laws have tackled the problem quite efficiently in the Kingdom. In the past few years, the abuse of Hajj or Umrah visa has become almost non-existent. The king has announced amnesty for all Hajj and Umrah overstayers to return back without facing any criminal charges.

While the new laws nipped illegal immigration in the bud, they have come down quite heavily on those who settled here more than a generation ago, when life was simpler and laws less stringent.

“Many families have been sent back. Earlier this area used to be full of Pakistani families. Now there are only a few,” said Faisal.

So regardless of the fact that second and third generations of such illegals were born and raised here, they will be, because of their foreign ethnicity, deported back to their “homeland” – a land they have never seen in their lives.

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“Why don’t these women work?”

Faisal ignored the question.

“Why don’t the women work?” Abu Hamza repeated the question. “You say these families are going through such difficulty. What’s stopping these young women from working?”

“Can’t they work in homes? There are so many families, good and decent families, looking for people to work in their homes. Like cooking, cleaning or babysitting,” Abu Hamza continued while Faisal’s blank face stared at him.

“Even we are looking for such help,” Abu Hamza said.

Faisal hesitated and looked unsure about what he could say in reply. “Well, everyone has their own point of view,” he finally managed to say. “If I suggest them this (as a solution), they’ll tell me, ‘Even you aren’t doing well, so why don’t you start with your own home (i.e. send your women to work)’.”

I turned to face Faisal; his facial features now more clearly visible as our car entered a well-lit main road. “Is it because of fear,” I asked. “Do they fear sending women to work?”

“Well yes. It’s not safe. We have seen with our own eyes what happened to some women who went to work in some homes,” Faisal said. “After that everyone in the area is scared of sending their women (to work).”

We fell silent.

“When we send children to get grocery, many times their money is forcefully taken away. It’s not safe,” Faisal continued.

It was not surprising to hear that, given the condition of the locality he was living in. The district is known to be crime-infested. Though women in groups could be seen walking in the streets at two o’clock in the morning (since it’s Ramadan), it surely did not look very safe or decent.

But, I thought, they could certainly look for work in decent neighborhoods, couldn’t they?

“Do they want to live here? Won’t they prefer being deported and going back to Pakistan?” I asked about the ‘illegal’ families who had been separated from their loved ones.

“We don’t have any land or house in Pakistan. Where will we go?” he replied. “Besides it is not a good experience for a family to get deported, which may take several days. Authorities keep men, women and children in separate jails. And they get deported separately. Some may go early and others may stay behind. This is difficult particularly in the case of children. How will they live when they are separated from their parents?”

“Moreover, you have to pay SR300 if you want an officer to take you for deportation,” he added.

The question-and-answer session made my heart heavy with guilt. What was Faisal thinking about our questions? Did he feel as if we were interrogating him?

Enough of your expectations and judgmental attitude on how they should live their lives, I told myself.

The poor are not perfect. They are riddled with faults just as every one of us is. We can, and should, command good and forbid evil, but we cannot, and should not, make our help conditional on expectations that we want them to fulfill.

And it’s none of your business where they choose to live, how large families they have, or why their women are not working, I told myself. Are you here to help them, or what?

Many a time the poor are taken for granted and abused because they are seen as powerless and worthless. But they do have their own dignity and self-respect that we should learn to respect.

Charity, moreover, is not a favor we do to anyone. It is a duty.

“By no means shall you attain righteousness unless you spend (in Allah's Cause) of that which you love…” (Qur’an, 3:92)

We dropped Faisal off and headed towards home, our minds full of unexplainable feelings.  Never will I buy anything extravagant. That extra halalah can be of help to someone desperate, were thoughts that resonated in our minds.

But with the passing of days, resolutions start fading away. The real test would be in how consistent our actions are and how permanent the change is.

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If you’d like to make a difference, then it’s never too late to start your own personal effort. You can also donate through several charity organizations in the Kingdom. Please see this article on Young Initiative Group, an enthusiastic volunteer group in Jeddah.