This article is about IGI's trip to Mexico, chronicled by our Executive Director, Muhammad Sattaur.
Chiapas, Mexico - October 2019
Sometime in early 2019, I received an invitiation.
Ever since our first trip to Colombia, IGI had been organizing regular trips to visit Muslim communities in Latin America. Our team had made perhaps 20 trips in total over the preceding three years, mostly to Colombia, though we had also visited the island nation of Trinidad and Tobago, as well as my ancestral home country of Guyana.
One way or another, by that time IGI was somewhat known for its work in Latin America.
This new invitation was from a group of Muslims in the southern Mexican state of Chiapas. I had actually heard of them, because they had received a fair amount of media attention over the previous few years, including a feature article in National Geographic.
Yet despite this worldwide attention, the community was still underserved, lacking many basic resources to help them study their faith and connect with the wider Muslim community.
For various reasons, we weren't able to accept their invitation right away. But near the end of 2019, a few things came together, and finally in October of 2019 our team was able to organize a visit to Mexico.
Ustadh Mostafa, Ustadh Talut, and Ustadh Mudar overlooking the spectacular Cañon Sumidero (Sumidero Canyon), one of the great landmarks of the Chiapas region. The canyon was created by the mighty Rio Grijalva, which runs northwards through it.
Organizing the trip
I invited Ustadh Mostafa Azzam to join me in the journey to Chiapas. Ustadh Mostafa had taught at several previous IGI trips, and from what I knew of the Chiapas community, I sensed that his teaching style would be a good fit.
There are various issues & challenges that arise when teaching in different languages, both for non-native speakers and for translators. In IGI's previous trips to Latin America, we had always invited English-speaking teachers, who would teach with a Spanish translator alongside them. Whenever possible, though, the translator would be a scholar himself, or at least someone who already knew the material quite well.
For example, in our first trip to Colombia, as well as many of our subsequent trips, Shaykh Hamzah Maqbul taught alongside Shaykh Ilyas Mazagoui, who is himself a scholar and teacher.
For this trip, Ustadh Talut Dawood would be our translator and traveling companion. Ustadh Talut lives in the city of Oaxaca, about 300 miles (500 km) west of Chiapas. Although he had not visited the Chiapas community before, I expected Ustadh Talut would be well equipped to translate in our classes and gatherings.
I had no idea how wrong I was.
Looking up from the river at the bottom of Sumidero Canyon
Ustadh Mostafa's perspective
Ustadh Mostafa recalled being slightly uneasy during our preparations for the trip.
"When I teach, I want to know as much as possible about who I'm teaching, so I can speak on their level," he explained. "And before a class or a retreat, I always keep asking questions, looking for more and more detail, and just try to find out as much as possible."
This trip would be the second time Ustadh Mostafa had taught a class together with a Spanish translator.
"I find it very challenging, because I try to convey concepts with precision, and that's quite difficult when there's a language barrier," he said. "I taught 'aqida in Colombia, and some of the people there spoke English, but some of them didn't, and it was being translated into Spanish.
"I had only been to Mexico once in my life, when I was about 12 years old. This trip really felt like a very foreign experience. But we had Talut with us, answering questions and translating and so on.
"But still, I think I was kind of anxious going into it, because I felt like I didn't know much about the community."
Another view of the spectacular Sumidero Canyon, with the Rio Grijalva far below
Halal food in Mexico?
We arrived in Mexico on a Wednesday, and met Ustadh Talut, as well as another Mexican brother named Daud Solares.
Naturally, one of the first things we did was get something to eat.
One important aspect of our trips to Colombia had always been obtaining good quality halal food. At first, we would visit a meat processor in Colombia to process our own halal animals, and later one of our Colombian friends actually started a business supplying halal meats to the community.
For some reason, since there are statistically more Muslims in Mexico than in Colombia, I expected it would be easier to obtain halal food.
I was completely wrong.
I quickly learned that the Muslims of Mexico are much more spread out than in Colombia, and as a result it's not easy to build a community. And one of the secondary effects of that is there are very few halal restaurants in most of Mexico.
Furthermore, most Mexican food includes some sort of pork, so we had to be wary of even seemingly vegetarian dishes at most restaurants.
For me, that was a bit of a culture shock. In the US, it seems most communities are accustomed to having some access to halal meats, but in Mexico, it's very difficult to obtain basic halal items like lamb, goat, and beef at stores. Chicken is somewhat easier, as people are more easily able to process chicken at live markets. In general, Muslims in Mexico who want halal meats have to process the animals themselves.
Later in the trip, our hosts processed some chicken for our meals together.
But I regret to say that, despite being in Mexico, we ate a lot of Domino's pizza, only because we knew it was halal.
San Cristobal de las Casas is situated among the mountains and forests of the Chiapas Plateau
Arriving in Chiapas
When Ustadh Mostafa and I arrived in Chiapas on Thursday, we got settled in to our accomodations, and set began trying to get a feel for the community.
We both came with the impression that the Muslim community was a little village, and that basically the entire village had become Muslim. We expected to find 100 Muslims, or something close to that, living together in a small community.
We quickly realized that we had misunderstood. It turned out that all of this was taking place in the city of San Cristobal de las Casas, which is a pretty big city, with close to 200,000 people.
The Muslim community has established its own little pocket within the city of San Cristobal. When we arrived at their masjid, we found that it's a modern Islamic Center. It wouldn't look out of place in any city in America. We learned that a few years before, some outside donors had provided funds and built something pretty nice. A couple of hundred people can pray there, although the community is not that large yet.
As it turned out, there was not much activity at the center itself. It was a short walk up the hill from where we were staying, and we prayed the five prayers there, but there were only a handful of people, perhaps three other brothers. We would have a bite to eat there after prayers, as there were one or two brothers who would typically prepare some food, and who were responsible for overseeing the center. It seemed like it was built to be the hub for a community, but from what we saw, that has not yet happened.
The activities, and our program, were at the little masjid that they had already established some years before. On Friday, we prayed Jumu'ah prayer at their little masjid. It's probably closer to what we would consider a musallah, rather than a masjid. It's its own little building, with a courtyard and so forth, but the space in it for prayer is is quite limited.
Much of San Cristobal is very colorful.
A surprise barrier
Ustadh Mostafa's class started after Jumu'ah. He was in for a surprise.
He recalled how the class began, from his perspective as the teacher:
"I like to prepare thoroughly before any class I teach, and I'm generally pretty good at asking the right questions, to get the information as I need. So before we started, I'd asked as many precise questions as I could. But I still didn't feel like I knew exactly what to expect."
As it turned out, this community has a unique language barrier, that neither of us had seen anywhere before. Their Shaykh speaks Spanish and Arabic, and the community speaks Spanish and Tzotzil Maya. However, only the younger members of the community are fully fluent in Spanish, and many of the elders are much more comfortable in Tzotzil.
As he began to teach, Ustadh Mostafa quickly realized this would not be an ordinary class.
"I was planning to teach on the character of the Prophet ﷺ. So I sat down, and began by asking everyone, 'What brought you here? Why are you here? What are you expecting to get?' It's really important to me to get the vibe of the people, and to understand two things: One, what are their expectations? And two, what is their level of understanding?
"So I asked this, going around from person to person, and we discovered a couple of things. One, not a single one was there for the subject of the class. They all had different reasons for being there. So that was one thing we started to learn.
"But the other thing, as I'm trying to communicate with them through the translator, is that a large percentage didn't really speak Spanish. When Sidi Talut translated into Spanish, we noticed that many of them had blank looks on their faces, especially the elders. They seemed to have a little bit of exposure to Spanish, but they would have a youth beside them, and they would be looking at the youth, going back and forth, with the youth would be explaining to them in their own language, Tzotzil Maya."
There were about 35 or 40 people in total, about 20 women and 20 men. There was also a huge age range, with many generations. The youngest in the room were perhaps 14 or 15 years old, and the eldest were upwards of 120. And again, the youths were generally paired with one or more elders, as translators. When an elder had a question, he or she would speak to the teenager next to them, who would then ask the question in Spanish.
Ustadh Talut Dawood and myself with some brothers of the Chiapas Muslim community, including some youth and one of the elders
“What have you gotten me into?!!”
Ustadh Mostafa had never taught a class like this:
"So I was feeling very disoriented at this point. I realized that, first of all, it would be impossible to teach the subject matter with this language barrier. I would just have to wing it. I don't usually like to do that - I need to prepare beforehand. But once I understood the language issue, I could see that it wouldn't work.
"Also their general level of knowledge seemed basic. I got the vibe that they didn't necessarily know a lot. There were a few of the youth who seemed knowledgeable - for example, there was a young man who was very well read. I think one had gone overseas and studied for a time, and had lived in Mexico City for a long time as well. He was quite knowledgeable.
"But the back and forth, with two levels of translation, really threw me off. It felt like a game of telephone!
"We spent a long time just sort of getting to know each other, and then we had a break. I was actually quite frustrated by that time."
On that break, I remember Ustadh Mostafa took me aside and asked quietly, "What have you gotten me into?!!"
Though we didn't have much time to explore, San Cristobal is definitely a very interesting city
Love of the Prophet ﷺ across language barriers
I didn't know what to tell him. I was just as disoriented as he was!
Ustadh Mostafa is a meticulous planner. He doesn't like to improvise, or to be caught off guard.
But what could we do?
We had to figure it out on the fly.
"I was very uncomfortable at this point. I couldn't teach them directly. I couldn't do a formal class. There was just way too much of a chasm to overcome. There was a language barrier, there was a understanding barrier, and also getting responsiveness from the community. When I teach, I need it to be interactive, I need the people to be engaged, so that I know they're processing and absorbing the material.
"But it was like pulling teeth, getting them to speak! And part of it was their shyness. But part of it was also the language. So it was really a struggle. It was clear that this was not a context in which I could do any type of formal teaching, because of all of the barriers that were there. So I decided to keep it informal, and aim not to convey information, but hopefully transformation, while also attempting to address the questions that they had.
"So I decided to focus on the love of the Prophet ﷺ. That's the biggest thing that I've always focused on, and that's what my teachers have emphasized to me. And any teaching that I do will always return to that. Now, none of the them were coming for that, but all of their questions, the things that they were looking for, the vast majority of them could be addressed by relating them to examples from the life of the Prophet ﷺ."
Despite not liking to improvise, Ustadh Mostafa came up with a beautiful method of teaching.
Some of the architecture of San Cristobal is remeniscient of Spain and al-Andalus
“The floodgates opened”
As he recalled the class, Ustadh Mostafa's voice started to crack a bit, as he held back tears.
"I asked each of them just tell me something about the Prophet ﷺ, that when you think of it, you melt it in his love ﷺ.
"I hope we can do majalis like this, around the world. We just get together, and we speak about the Prophet ﷺ. I think the Sahaba رضي الله عنهم used to do that. I wish I could find the Hadith again, but I remember them mentioning that some of them رضي الله عنهم would get together after the passing of the Prophet ﷺ and just reminisce about their time with the Prophet ﷺ."
The people, who had been so shy and reticent up to that point, suddenly began to engage.
"The floodgates opened. Each of them would share something with the group, and it was so beautiful. And each time one person would share something, they would prompt me to add to it. It wasn't like a direct teaching, it was a back and forth, and everything that they would mention, would cause me to think about something else, and I would get to share what I had.
"We just went back and forth like that. And I think we were actually able to address all of their questions. For every question, we were able to weave it into a story from the life of the Prophet ﷺ. And we pretty much got every relevant question addressed."
I had the honor of meeting one of the elders of the community. He had previously been Catholic, and in the 1950's, he had actually been appointed by the Pope to lead the team that translated the Bible into the Tzotzil Mayan language. He was over 100 years old when I met him!
A request from an elder
As things went on, everyone got more comfortable with each other, and started to talk more. At one point, the most senior member of the group, who was actually over 100 years old, talked for at least 10 minutes!
He made an incredible impression on us. Ustadh Mostafa recalled:
"One of his biggest issues was that the Qur'an was not available in in their language. I wasn't able to address that. We talked about possibilities to explore, but was not something I could I could answer, per se."
We learned that this man had actually worked as one of the heads of the team that was commissioned by the Catholic Church to translate the Bible into the Tzotzil Mayan language in 1953.
And now he's Muslim!
When I got home after the trip, I looked into the history of this project a little more. In the 1950's, the Pope had commissioned a two teams of people from Chiapas, in this region and another region. This particular man was appointed the head of that region's team, and they had translated the Bible into the Tzotzil dialect, which is one of the two main dialects of the Mayan language in Mexico.
So for him to talk about translating the Qur'an is a very serious comment. He's a person who has deep knowledge and authority in this matter.
We pray his noble intention is fulfilled. It would be an honor to assist in such a project.
We wished we had more time to explore the city of San Cristobal!
A superstar translator
Just as we were starting to get really worried, a young man stepped up to serve as a translator. It was a multi-stage process. Ustadh Mostafa taught in English, then Sidi Talut Dawood translated into Spanish, and finally this young man translated from Spanish into the Tzotzil Mayan language. When someone had a question, the process was reversed.
Ustadh Mostafa recalled his experience of this unusual conversation:
"This young man, he was pretty uncomfortable, the poor guy. But honestly, he was really was a huge help. Seriously, he was a superstar! Once it became clear he could translate, I asked him to come sit with us at the front.
"It was the weirdest thing. I've never seen anything like this, in the context of like a class, or anything like it. Basically, I was sitting up there, and Shaykh Mudar was on my left, and every once in a while he helped with translating into Spanish. Sidi Talut was on my right, and he primarily translated into Spanish. We brought this young man up, and he would translate into Tzotzil Mayan, and then when someone asked a question, he would translate from Mayan into Spanish."
Ustadh Mostafa emphasized that this was much more difficult than it might seem!
"Now, the thing with translation is that it's not about the language, so much as it is about knowing the material, so you can convey it in a way that the audience can understand. When you're translating, the most important thing is not the dictionary definition. It's not the language, per se. It's the commentary, the particular terminology in that area.
"So when I taught 'aqidah in Colombia, the person translating was Shaykh Ilyas, and he already knew the material, so it was easy for him to translate. In Chiapas, we had Sidi Talut. He knew the material, so I spoke about something, he knew what I was speaking about, and it was much more natural for him to put it into Spanish.
"But now we get this kid who doesn't actually know the material, so he just has to translate, word for word, what he's hearing, which is so much harder! I would look at him, and I could see the stress he was feeling. Sometimes he would ask us to repeat a couple of times.
"Honestly, he really, really stepped up. All of us, we were so proud of him. I said a special big thank-you to him afterwards. He really stepped up, masha'Allah. He's not someone who was learned. I would speak in English, Sidi Talut would translate into Spanish, then this brother, who didn't know English, would translate from what Sidi Talut said.
"So it was it was quite a broken telephone! That was a another huge reason that I couldn't do any formal teaching. If the translator doesn't know the material, it's very, very difficult to convey anything with precision.
"And so what we decided to focus on was not information, not transmitting knowledge, but transmitting states, and creating transformation. They would each share something about the Prophet ﷺ, and I would expand on it. So it was basically this conversation, about melting in the love of the Prophet ﷺ. So we did this the first day, on Friday."
Ustadh Mostafa and Sidi Talut Dawood teaching in Mexico
A different crowd
On Saturday, Ustadh Mostafa had an easier time, in part because now he knew what to expect:
"When we came back on the Saturday, it was a different group, a smaller group. There were fewer elders. The ratio of those who spoke Spanish was much, much higher. Almost everyone who came on Saturday understood Spanish reasonably well. I think there was one elder lady, who had some Spanish, but not as much, so I think her daughter was translating for her.
"But also, the second day, on Saturday, that brother who had translated wasn't there! So we just continued and did our best, going back and forth, same as before.
"We were starting to get a feel for what we were doing on the second day. The vast majority of the people on the second day did understand Spanish. And I realized that even the elders had some Spanish, but they were just much more comfortable with Tzotzil. They had very limited Spanish, but some that we had thought didn't speak Spanish, they actually did have a bit of Spanish.
"And so those that were there, the second day, generally understood the Spanish, except for maybe that one elder lady, who had her daughter translating for her.
"And so our majlis just kept going, sharing our personal feeling of the love of the Prophet ﷺ. It was so beautiful. I think, despite the language barrier, I don't think there was anyone who did not at some point shed tears."
The influence of Andalusian architecture is clearly visible in San Cristobal
Love of the Prophet ﷺ across language barriers
Ustadh Mostafa clearly had fond memories of our second day in San Cristobal:
"I remember one brother talking about imagining the voice, the speech, the breath of the Prophet ﷺ. It was really something else, masha'Allah!
"We continued this exchange for most of Saturday. It was as if we were preparing for a celebration of the Prophet ﷺ. By the end, we decided to do sort of a mini-mawlid. Now that our hearts had been moved, now that we had been moved to discussion, now let's sing and celebrate.
"The thing was, now it was getting even tougher in terms of the language barrier, because the only things I can offer to sing are in English and Arabic, so the vast majority of them wouldn't understand any of the meanings. When we put it on the table to sing, I was a little bit hesitant, because again, they wouldn't understand the meanings.
"But they wanted it. You should have seen the energy. It was like, you know, 'We're in love, and we want to celebrate the Beloved ﷺ, even if we don't understand what's being said.' People like this always amaze me. Their energy was incredible. They were so excited.
"It turned out that a few of them were familiar with Tala 'Al Badru 'Alayna. So we sang some verses. They requested it, and we all sang them. We sang some verses from the Burdah in Arabic, and in English. We just sang, and recited, and they would sing what they could of the chorus.
"And after a while, I was actually ready to wrap up. Our time was up, and we needed to get to our flight. And also, I actually didn't want to overwhelm them with too much singing, especially in languages that they don't understand. I didn't want them to get drained, or bored. But every time I tried to excuse myself, they just wanted to continue."
The region around San Cristobal is absolutely spectacular
“They kept asking for more”
Ustadh Mostafa was actually holding back tears a bit as he remembered that day:
"We would do a qasidah, and they would ask to do more. So we would do another one, and again they would ask for more. I was actually resisting, and asking to be excused. At one point I asked if we could leave, because we had a flight to catch, and I wanted to get packed up before we traveled.
"So I asked multiple times for permission to leave. And each time they would say, 'No, no. Not yet.' They kept asking for more!
"Seeing these people just aching, aching for mawlid, aching for celebrating the Prophet ﷺ, it was incredible."
Ustadh Mostafa chuckled a little bit, though his voice was still cracking with emotion.
"After speaking about the Prophet ﷺ, I always ask, 'Who here feels that they have increased in love for the Prophet ﷺ through our time together?' And every single one of them said yes.
"But still they wanted to keep going, and keep going, and keep going! So finally, I asked them to make a commitment. I asked them if they would commit to having a regular celebration of the Prophet ﷺ. They all agreed that they would do that with their Shaykh. So we concluded by making this agreement together.
"From doing a number of these retreats, I know that I can only spark something, but they need to maintain it. They need to hold close to their teacher, and have ongoing rejuvenation, and inspiration, and learning, as well.
"The tag team is so critical for these intensives. The community usually has a local teacher, but somebody can come and hold an intensive, and sort of light a fire under them in a different way than their regular teacher. But this spark needs to be sustained by their regular teacher.
"And so we all made intention together to have an ongoing celebration of the Prophet ﷺ, once a month, twice a month, whenever they could pull off. I just left it to them, and they were all eager for that, and they all they all committed to to doing that.
"Then they finally, finally agreed to let us go."
Ustadh Talut and I with some of the children of the community.
Stories of da’wah
As you can imagine, Ustadh Mostafa and I were exhausted. We probably slept on our flight back to Mexico City. I can't even quite remember.
By the end, we were quite emotional.
Later, when we had a chance to reflect on our experience in Chiapas and what it meant, we realized it reminded us of some of the stories of da'wah we've heard from our own teachers.
Ustadh Mostafa recalled:
"It was really, really touching when we were saying our goodbyes. It was actually quite challenging.
"The community itself was really beautiful, because they look like a family. There were often little kids running around, playing outside in the courtyard. We all went outside, and the kids were running back and forth.
"I remember one brother - it was really, really touching - with all seriousness, he asked me to move there. He said to me, through Sidi Talut, who was translating, 'You should move here, so that we can do this all the time!'"
San Cristobal is nestled among the mountains and rainforests of the Chiapas plateau
"They brought such an incredible energy"
Ustadh Mostafa continued reminiscing about the mawlid gathering. He repeatedly tried to wrap up our conversation, but each time he would remember something else, and continue.
I was happy to listen.
"It was really, really touching. I mean, you could feel the energy, all of us. We were so moved. And they brought such an incredible energy, and such a love.
"And we also decided that they're not prepared for formal learning. We discussed this with their Shaykh, and we concluded that what this community needs right now is not so much formal learning, but just celebrating the Prophet ﷺ. We all agreed on that. But it was really tremendous, to see their love pouring out. It was really, really touching."
Everything that Ustadh Mostafa mentioned, I had felt the exact same thing. I remember I came up to him afterwards, and told him the impact that it had on me. I've been to a lot of gatherings, in many different communities around the world, but I had never experienced anything like that before.
Ustadh Mostafa continued:
"As we were in this community, it sort felt like we were going into the middle of nowhere. Yes, we were in a city, but their community is quite isolated in many ways. It's a very simple structure, in their masjid, and so on. It felt like we were going into a very rural area, where they don't have that much access to the rest of the world. The elders, especially.
"I was remembering some of the da'wah projects that we had heard of, da'wah missions, where a Shaykh went into these foreign places, and just inviting them, and they would open up, and then maybe the Shaykh would leave somebody behind to continue the process. I really felt this. It was really different than anything that I had experienced in going into cities, where people have already a lot of exposure. These people felt very isolated, in terms of their knowledge, their culture, it felt very simple and relatively isolated.
"It almost reminded me of some of these da'wah missions, where a Shaykh would go forth and invite the community to Islam, and then continue on, but leave somebody behind to continue the work."
Ustadh Mostafa and I agreed that this trip was a very emotional and very spiritual experience for both of us.
He told me, "I could see it on you."
Much of San Cristobal is quite colorful
"It felt like one big family"
As we talked, Ustadh Mostafa observed some of the differences we had seen in the Chiapas community, as compared with other places where we had traveled together:
"Every retreat we do is different. Some communities are more formal, and it's like a classroom setting. Others are very informal, and people come and go casually.
"In Chiapas, it felt like one big family. It felt like a barbecue, like an extended family barbecue, and we were all living together, and the barbecue just happened to be at the masjid. They were all just kind of chatting. People were coming and going, and they were very laid-back, as a community. All of them were sitting with their backs against the wall - well not all of them, but many of them - they were sitting with their backs against the wall, and their feet extended forward like it was nothing.
"My favorite was a brother, who was probably the most learned and the most studied among them. He was the one person who was actually dressed in what we might call Islamic garb. He was wearing a Turkish cloak, I think a turban, or maybe a kufi. And in the class, he's sucking on a lollipop! And he did that for two days!
"Like I said, they were so laid back. It's fascinating to me, these different communities, and their different cultures around seeking knowledge."
I definitely felt the same things. They really were like one big family.
Beautiful, fragrant rooftop gardens are common in San Cristobal
A culture of simplicity
In terms of culture and education, one important thing that we learned is that the average person in the Chiapas community will quit school around age 12. If they were lucky enough to come from a relatively wealthy family, they might stay in school until they were 13 or 14. Others would leave school at age 10. Very few of them continue past what we would consider middle school age.
For them, that's normal. After age 14, they expect a person to get a trade, or start working as a laborer, or take some sort of job that will immediately bring in money. And that's basically how their whole society looks at life. They go to school for what's legally mandatory, and after that, they work to make money. They don't necessarily think long term, along the lines of, "I were to stay in school, and get four more years of education, I might be able to double my income."
Ustadh Mostafa talked with their Shaykh about this issue, and they discussed his struggles with helping them to think longer term.
"It's a very simple society in that way," Ustadh Mostafa observed. "That simplicity came out in everything.
“And keep in mind, in relation to that, most of them have a full family by the time they're in their mid-teens."
That culture of marrying and having a family at such a young age was definitely different from our own experience, and quite remarkable to us. The young man who had translated between Spanish and Tzotzil on the first day was 17, and he had three kids, which means that he must have gotten married and become the head of a family at 13 or 14 years old. From what we saw, that was typical in their society, and he wasn't abnormal or unique in any way.
This culture of marrying young means that the elders - for example, the man who was over 100 years old - will interact with four, five, sometimes six generations of grandchildren, great grandchildren, great great grandchildren, even great great great grandchildren.
Sumidero Canyon, where the Rio Grijalva cuts through the Chiapas Plateau west of San Cristobal, is incredibly beautiful
The tight-knit culture of this community had played a significant role in their acceptance of Islam. A few of the elders accepted Islam, and following that, all of the lineage of their families, including their children, grandchildren, and so on, followed.
From what we've understood, this is often how conversions happen in tribal cultures. Some of the elders may convert, by virtue of that, their children and grandchildren convert as well, and a number of families basically come into Islam together.
This article will be continued soon insha’Allah.
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Una Introducción a la Doctrina Musulmana, escrita por Imán Ibrahim al-Bajuri, traducido por Rashad Jameer (PDF libre)