The M agical Moroccan
Naveed Mir
Illustrator
Anisa Mohammad
i
The Magical Moroccan Rug
First Published in 2023 by THE ISLAMIC FOUNDATION
Distributed by KUBE PUBLISHING LTD
Tel +44 (0)1530 249230
E-mail: info@kubepublishing.com
Website: www.kubepublishing.com
Text copyright © Naveed Mir 2023
Illustrations copyright © Anisa Mohammad 2023
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner
Author Naveed Mir
Illustrator Anisa Mohammad
Book design Nasir Cadir
A Cataloguing-in-Publication Data record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 978-0-86037-967-6
eISBN 978-0-86037-972-0
Printed by Elma Basim, Turkey
ii
• For My Parents
iii
•
v • Contents • • Chapter 1 • 1 • Chapter 2 • 9 • Chapter 3 • 25 • Chapter 4 • 31 • Chapter 5 • 39 • Chapter 6 • 43 • Chapter 7 • 62 • Chapter 8 • 67 • Chapter 9 • 75
vi • Chapter 10 • 82 • Chapter 11 • 91 • Glossary • 96 • Quick Quiz • 98
“Oh no!” shouted Yusuf. “Look at the time! I promised my mum I wouldn’t be late.”
“Hang on,” said Jack, “you forgot your–”, but it was too late. Yusuf had already jumped down from the tree and was halfway down the path which led out of Oakwell Hall.
“Jumper,” sighed Jack to himself, tying it around his waist so he wouldn’t forget to take it with him.
Yusuf and Jack had been best friends for as long as they could remember. They first met at nursery and had been inseparable ever since. They each lived on one end of Country Lane and even though they did not attend the same school, they saw each other as often as they could. They always met on a Thursday evening at Scouts and at
1
• Chapter 1 •
least once more during the week. Since last year it had become a Saturday tradition to meet at Oakwell Hall. Both their gardens backed out onto the country park behind the Elizabethan manor house and they loved spending time there. It was the perfect place for two children who loved the outdoors. They spent their time climbing trees, building dens, making dams in the shallow stream and generally getting as grubby as they could.
This particular Saturday, the second Saturday in September to be precise, was an eagerly anticipated day for Yusuf and his family. It was the day his grandpa was due to arrive from Morocco. Grandpa had always wanted to visit England and for years their weekly conversations over the phone usually ended with ‘insha’Allah, I will visit.’ But due to ill health and family commitments he was never able to come. ‘Insha’Allah, I will visit’ became something he always said before he hung up. It was said so often that when Grandpa phoned them in June to inform them that he would actually be arriving on the second Saturday in September, everyone fell silent for a few seconds, shocked that the visit Grandpa had been promising was now just
2
around the corner!
Since that phone call, Yusuf’s house had been filled with excitement. To say they were all looking forward to the visit was an understatement. Yusuf’s parents had cleaned and re-cleaned the house a number of times and they still didn’t feel it was perfect enough for their special guest. They steamed the carpets, washed the curtains and cleaned the windows until the house shone. His dad finally got round to completing all the odd jobs he’d been putting off. He even fixed the extractor fan in the kitchen, something his mum had been reminding him about on what seemed like a weekly basis. This made Yusuf smile. He didn’t think Grandpa would notice the extractor fan, but it was nice that his father wanted everything to be perfect.
Yusuf enjoyed helping his parents prepare their home for Grandpa and loved seeing them so happy. His parents left Morocco many years ago, soon after they had married.
3
They had a dream of studying at a university abroad and arrived in England almost penniless. Their families had tried their hardest to convince them to stay in Morocco.
‘Why do you want to leave? You have everything here,’ they would say, ‘Both of you can study here, we will support you.’ They were all against the move to England – all except for Yusuf’s grandpa. “Let them go! They are young and they have dreams. Do you not remember having dreams at their age?”
Everyone disapproved. As the eldest and most respected member of the family, he should be trying to convince his son otherwise, they thought. But he continued to support them while they studied in England and would send them money regularly.
Yusuf often felt sad for his parents on occasions such as Eid when other people got together and visited their relatives. It was only the three of them in England, and when they would phone Morocco on Eid morning after returning from the mosque, the longing in his parents’ voices would bring a lump to Yusuf’s throat. His parents had always planned to visit home regularly but life and more specfi-
4
cally, lack of finances, got in the way. They managed to save up enough money once when Yusuf was two years old but that had been their only trip home. Sometimes Yusuf sat and thought about how difficult it must have been for them not to have seen their families for eight years. After their first and only visit, they had struggled to save money with both of them completing their degrees and then starting their teaching jobs. Money had been tight and since buying their house, a holiday was out of the question. That was why this day, the second Saturday in September, was so special. And he was on the verge of ruining it.
Yusuf stopped running to catch his breath, he bent down and stretched. The sides of his body ached from sprinting so fast. He looked up. He could see his garden fence from where he was standing. Not far to go! Yusuf had promised his mum before he left that morning that he would be home in time to shower and change before Grandpa arrived. But then he and Jack started building a den with bits of wood they found lying around. They had become so engrossed in their project that Yusuf had lost track of time. It was only when he’d heard Yankee Doodle Went to Town blaring from the
5
ice cream van, which arrived at Oakwell Hall at precisely 12 o’clock every Saturday, that he realised how late it was.
Yusuf tried to ignore the stitch that was burning the sides of his body and ran on. As he frantically hurtled through the garden towards the patio door, he could see his mum standing there. The look on her face made him feel awful. He knew she wouldn’t shout at him but somehow this made it worse. She would just look at him with disappointment on her face. Yusuf hated disappointing his parents.
“Mum I’m so sorry we were building a den and I didn’t look at my watch and then I heard the ice cream van and I knew I was late and I feel so bad!” blurted Yusuf, without taking a breath.
“Upstairs. Shower. Now,” she said, shaking her head. “Your father phoned ten minutes ago to say they’d be here in half an hour!”
Yusuf kicked off his muddy shoes before coming inside and ran up the stairs straight into the bathroom. He was getting
6
• Chapter 9 •
Yusuf woke early the next morning. He felt tired but he couldn’t sleep. He checked his clock and realised it was almost time for fajr prayer. He made wudu. The water was cold; after splashing his face three times the tiredness he was feeling only minutes earlier disappeared. He stepped out of the bathroom and noticed his grandpa’s bedroom door was slightly ajar.
Yusuf could hear him reciting the Qur’an. He knocked softly and waited for permission to enter. Grandpa opened the door and hugged him tightly. “Come, Yusuf, we will pray fajr together today,” he said, “and Insha Allah, afterwards we will have time to talk.”
After the prayer, Yusuf waited for his grandpa to finish
75
reciting his morning dhikr. The lamp that shone dimly in his room reflected light off his amber prayer beads and they sparkled like jewels. He put the prayer beads down after a short while and looked at Yusuf, smiling. “So, you like your gift?” Yusuf nodded. He had so many questions but he didn’t know where to start. His grandpa sensed this and began telling him a story.
“My grandfather gave me this rug when I was a young boy and it took me and my best friend on many adventures. The stories I could tell you!” he laughed.
“I suppose I should start at the beginning; I will tell you what my grandfather told me.” Yusuf shuffled closer to his grandpa, ready to listen to the story.
“My grandfather, your great, great grandpa, who was also called Yusuf, was a very poor man. Sadly, he was orphaned when he was only nine years old. He had no other family so he struggled through life all by himself. He had many opportunities, he told me, to make money and become rich quickly but by doing the wrong thing: cheating, lying, tricking people. There were other boys in his
76
