"Thief!" A woman in the bustling streets of Medina exclaimed as her leather pouch filled with Dinar was snatched from her grasp. The cacophonous volume of the crowded market drowned the lady's desperate cry. The people, in lightly wrapped robes, were busy bargaining with stingy tradesmen. The smell of frankincense, mirth and other Arabian spices filled the air as an orphan by the name of Jamal shifts deftly through the sea of pedestrians, carrying a the woman's purse. The guards brandished their scimitar and pursued the orphan, only to be stopped by endless waves of people.
"Darn it! By God that boy was fast!", Sergeant Saif shouted as he abandoned his pursuit.
"Sheath thy weapons, men. We'll find this sly rascal in some occasion", Saif said as he sheathed his sword. His armor clad troops followed and marched into the nearby garrison.
Shuffling swiftly across the dark alleys of the market, Jamal glanced at the retreating guards and sighed. He is safe, for now. The cacophony of the market died down as the long Arabian night sets in. The stinging chill of the night pierces through Jamal's naked skin as he climbed the Minaret of the towering Al-Masjid al-Nabawi over looking Prophet Muhammad's tomb. The orphan lifted his languished body onto the Minaret's ledge and laid there, counting the Dinar stolen earlier.
"Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty...", Jamal mumbled, grasping his coins tight, for it is worth weeks of an honest man's wages. Exhausted, the orphan fell asleep.
In his slumber, he saw his left hand hewed by the guards. His eyes lit up, awaken by the Imam's morning prayer. He looked down at the elegant Green Dome glittered under him and he was reminded that this is Muhammad, the founder of the region's dominant religion of Islam, laid here. Yet, in such a holy place, he felt no shame in his misconducts for he knows not of the words of the Koran, Islam's holy scripture written by Muhammad. Jamal's hunger spurred him on his feet, and climbed down the Minaret. Hungry for food, he headed down to his home turf, the market to buy himself some provisions. Jamal, after fighting the dense crowd ended up at a street side bakery.
"Young friend! Thou art hungry, here's thou provision. Allah bless your needy soul", the baker exclaimed in joy as he handed Jamal a wooden plate of Naan (Arabian bread) with spiced chickpeas and a hunk of dried mutton.
"Kind sir, how much do I owe you?" Jamal asked as he pulled out a few Dinar from the pouch.
"Companion! Keep thy gold for this is thy day's Zakat, please, young fellow, enjoy God's gift.", the baker pushed away Jamal's Dinar and handed him a poorly tempered knife.
"This is for the mutton" said by baker.
"Sir, I know not how to thank you. What dost thou mean'st by Zakat?", Jamal mumbled as he stuffed the baker's goods down his throat.
"Ah, thou art a traveler eh? Zakat, is one of the five pillars of Islam where thou repaid'st Allah's graciousness by giving, thus, it is thy duty to provide the needy with provisions for sacrifice is the very essences of Islam. Dear friend, food is thy alms (and thy profession, of course)", the baker replied in a solemn tone.
"Thank you sir, well spoken-" Jamal's response was curtailed when Saif trotted in the bakery.
"Salam Alaikam! Mahmood, this hath been an arduous shift, thy belly is yearning for a meal!" Saif shouted as he got seated next to Jamal.
"Sire, thou art tired, what hath thou been doing?", baker Mahmood asked as he laid a slice of Naan with cheese for the sergeant.
"Well, the usual matter, arresting petty thieves in the market! These persistent roaches of the streets, O Allah the gracious, the merciful, please cleanse the land of these vermin!" Saif exclaimed as he gobbled down the Naan, followed by chunks of goat cheese, while Jamal starred at him in astonishment. Fear engulfed Jamal, as he quickly consumed the baker's meal.
"Calm down, you saucy fellow! Have pity for this innocent lad beside thee!" baker Mahmood shouted back. That instant, Saif turned towards Jamal beside him and drew his scimitar.
"I remember thee, thief" Saif pointed at Jamal.
"Sire! Thou must be mistaken!" Jamal replied as sweat trickled down from his temple.
"In the name of Allah, thou hath committed crimes against Medina and her people, what say'st you in your defense?" Saif trained his sword at Jamal.
"Give me your left hand, for I shall make quick work of it" Saif lifted his scimitar.
"Till death shall I give you thy hand!" Jamal cried as he leaped on the the sergeant, stabbing him in the neck with the baker's knife.
Saif dropped instantly before he could utter his last words. The baker-silenced. As the crowd converges to Saif's lifeless body, Jamal was gone.
"Pity! Sham'st thou ye petty thief! That's a good man you've taken!", Corporal Sahib, Saif's second in command shouted as he held the corpse.
"Farid, inform the Imam for the sergeant's funeral services. Hussein, clear the streets and inform the general, we must bring this vermin to Allah's justice!", ordered Sahib. They never found Jamal.
Hours followed, the crowd was dispersed and the sun sets upon the city of the prophet.
Jamal dragged his worn body through the sands of Arabia. He looked back again at Medina, the city he shall never return again. From his vantage point on the sand dunes, he saw the glimmering torch light from the city, it was from the guards seeking for him.
Foolish Deeds! Jamal stumbled and laid flat on the sand for his strength was depleted during his daring escape. He was certain that his end draws near.
Horses neighing, camels grunting, and the echoing morning prayer woke Jamal from his sleep. A Bedouin, heavily wrapped in linen with a tight bounded turban approaches him.
"Salam, young friend. It seems that thou art hath awaken! Let Allah be praised for this miracle, we thought thou art deceased!" said the Bedouin in a joyous tone.
"O' kind sir! Thou save'st thy life!" Jamal replied in an instant.
"We found you in the desert last night, half-dead, art thou mad? Venturing into the deserts like that!" He added.
"Here's your meal for thou must be starving" The Bedouin handed him a piece of Naan. "Not much, but it'll keep you alive"
Jamal gladly accepted the Naan, almost snatching it from the Bedouin's hand. In that sudden, Jamal realized his debt he owed to the people and Allah for their generosity. Why doth a stranger give his hard earned provision to me? Jamal said to himself.
"Why dost thou bother saving such a worthless boy, sir?" Jamal asked the man.
"Why dost thou ask'st such a foolish question? Thou art Allah's craft, thus, we are taught to assist fellow human for it is his decree! As devout Muslims, we are to submit to Allah's will, or his wrath shalt fall upon thee." stated the Bedouin. "Ali is thy name, thou art..."
It is Allah, who hath impose such decree that made the commoners so kind to me. It was him that incited generosity in them, fostering selflessness in such a barbaric world , so why do I steal when I should give? Jamal asked himself.
"Jamal, sir", Jamal reluctantly replied in a humble tone. He slowly indulged the bland taste of Bedouin's coarse grained Naan.
"How did you end up here?" Ali asked Jamal.
Jamal knew it was time to confess. He told his tale to Ali in that long afternoon in vivid detail of how he had snatched the lady's purse and how he finished off Sergeant Saif. Ali, though have heard of such a gruesome recount of the child's life, remained calm and have forgiven him.
"Jamal, thou hath confessed. I shalt not put you to the blade, it is time for the mindless slaughter to end. The Koran shalt lead you to the path of the righteous, regret not of thou deeds for Allah, the gracious, the merciful hath spared your life." Ali stated in monotone. "It is time for me to pray, join me, Jamal, it is your first step of redemption."
Jamal obediently followed. By praying, he had given God a portion of his day in reverence to Allah. When Jamal knelt down on the Ramad Mat, he had a revelation: I had committed the worst of all crimes, theft. By stealing the lady's purse, I not only rob her of her Dinar, but also her efforts spent on her trade and her family's supper. By killing Saif, I rob Saif of his life, his wife of his husband, his son of his father and his soldiers of their leader. Tears streamed down his face in shame of his sins.
"Come, Jamal join thy caravan and start your life anew with the blessings of Allah" Ali said, padding Jamal's back as he wept.
Years later, Jamal became a grown man living in the deserts with the Bedouins, enlightened in the teachings of Muhammad. He had strictly abide the Sharia, the Islamic law and practiced the five pillars of Islam, which includes faith in Allah, fasting, giving alms, praying five times a day and taking a pilgrimage to Mecca. Jamal grown into a devout Muslim that was revered by the members of Ali's caravan, yet the memories of his childhood lingers within and the will to redeem himself remained strong.
At the age of twenty, he solemnly left the caravan and enlisted as a soldier for Saladin's army that marches to reclaim Jerusalem. He left his life as a Bedouin behind and followed the way of the Jihad, or the will to survive and defend Islam from the invading infidels. He was promoted to Sergeant during the days preceding the attack on European occupied Jerusalem. Now, clad in chainmail and armed with a scimitar, Jamal was ready for his quest for redemption.
After days of bombardment, the Jerusalem was breached. Jamal and his troops charged in to the city to drive out the European crusaders, with his sword brandished high. He hacked through the infidel's defenses, leading the infiltration of the city. Soon, the city fell to Saladin as hordes of Muslim soldiers fill the streets. Jamal, however, advanced deep in the city and had spotted a band of persisting Templars who drew their swords at him.
"Infidels! Surrender or face the wrath of Allah!" Sergeant Jamal shouted with his scimitar trained to the Templars.
"Thou art no god fearing man! I, Adrian DeLaharpe shalt battle thee!" DeLaharpe replied to Jamal with an arrogant gesture and stricken one of Jamal's men with his broad sword. The poor soldier fell on his knees and dropped to the ground--dead. The Templars gave their battle cry and charged at the Muslim soldiers. The soldiers clashed, trading sword blows and parries. The Christian soldiers lift their great swords, hacking them to the Muslim's circular shield creating sparks that lit up the dusk sky. At the height of the intensifying battle, Jamal parried DeLaharpe's blow, knocking him to the side with his scimitar's pommel. DeLaharpe slowly returned to his guarding stance only to be slashed across his shoulder blades by Jamal's blade. The Templars, soon mounted their horse and fled, leaving DeLaharpe helpless on the ground in a pool of blood.
"Enough! I submit!" DeLaharpe cried in pain. "Let me leave here with dignity!"
Jamal pointed his scimitar at DeLaharpe's throat and said "Infidel, why do you steal?"
"I did not take anything, sir" DeLaharpe replied.
"You take my soldier's life, yet you claim to be innocent?" Jamal exclaimed as he lifted his sword. The Templar closed his eyes. As Jamal swung his blade, he jerked back and dropped his scimitar. He missed DeLaharpe's throat by an inch.
"Sire, why dost thou spare'st an enemy's life?" asked DeLaharpe.
"To give is Allah's will and I had given your life back... Corpsman! Dress this man's wound. Thou art DeLaharpe, if I am not mistaken, we shall have a long chat ahead of us lad." Jamal sheathed his sword as he spoke calmly to his prisoner.
Moral: Never steal, for it is the greatest sin one could commit. Instead, learn to give for the sake of our fellow humans.
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