The Redemption of Sidi Ibrahim Dimson, Part 9

بِسۡمِ ٱللهِ ٱلرَّحۡمَـٰنِ ٱلرَّحِيمِ 

The following is the spiritual journey of our Tijani brother, Sidi Ibrahim Dimson.  The story was written by him.  I have only formatted it and edited the language where necessary.  The spelling of the names have been left as Sidi Ibrahim Dimson spelled it.  The style of the writing has been left largely intact to preserve its flavour. 

“A month or so after the showdown, I was informed by my prison counselor that I was getting transferred to a minimum security prison camp in Montgomery, Alabama.  My classification points had dropped and that meant, I could now be housed in the lowest security-grade institution in the Federal Bureau of Prisons.  I was being sent to the Federal Prison Camp at Maxwell Air Force Base in Montgomery.  30 of us were selected to go to the camp.  Everyone was so happy and excited, except for me.  Although I had only been there for less than six months, I was very comfortable there.  Besides, I really did not want to leave the company of my two good friends, Abdul Ghani and Eman.  But, I had to go.  We said our farewells and parted ways. 

The Federal Prison Camp at Maxwell Air Force Base in Montgomery Alabama was nothing more than a college campus filled with ex-convicts.  It was beautiful.  I mean, it had manicured lawns, nicely kept dormitories, a culinary-arts school and a CDL- school for the inmates.  There were no high fences, no barbed-wire, no guard towers, no cameras and best of all, no Salafis.  The government was wasting money by keeping us there.  There was next to no security there.  A person could simply walk away.  Our living quarters were also, very comfortable.  We lived in 2-man cubicles.  We had spring-mattresses and the entire building was air-conditioned.  This place could not have been more different from Fort Dix or any other prison.  The only indication that it was a prison was the fact that we all had to wear dark green shirts and pants. 

There was a UNICOR factory there, which basically is a factory where inmates manufacture goods for the United States Army, Bob Barker industries, other prisons and other companies that supported ‘slave’ labour.  I believe, the UNICOR pay rate started at 15 cents per hour.  I cannot deny the fact that many men were able to send money home to their families because of UNICOR and that it was a way for inmates to lessen the financial burden on their loved ones, but I also know that it drives the prison industrial complex and has an impact on arrest and conviction rates. 

I refused to work UNICOR, and the other jobs at Maxwell were not going to be good for me either.  You see, the rest of the inmates would get on buses every morning and go to work in the Air Force base, as maintenance workers, clerks or grounds-keepers.  These jobs put us in direct contact with civilians and Air Force personnel.  There was widespread fornication and all types of crazy stuff going on!  It was an inmate’s dream come true.  Almost everyone had an Air Force girlfriend.  I passed on that, and landed myself a job as a cook.  Since Maxwell had the culinary arts school, it was imperative that it also had the best food in the Federal Prison system.  I could honestly say that we ate better than most people ever do.  My experience in the restaurant business put me in a very favoured position.  I could basically cook whatever I wanted for the inmate population, and I made sure we ate extremely well. 

I met and became friends with quite a few guys there but one friend in particular would prove to be my most lasting and beloved of all.  His name was Eddie, later to be known as Abdul Mateen.  Unknown to Eddie nor myself, we would one day in the near future, make history.  The Muslim community there was small, perhaps only 20 brothers.  The imam was a really nice brother named Bud.  He and I became good friends.  The Muslims at Maxwell were relatively peaceful.  Most of them knew very little about the religion.  Bud would sit with me for hours, asking questions about the religion.  Soon after, all of the brothers there would stop by my cubicle to sit and chat about the religion.  I became, in effect, the assistant imam there.  Bud would try to get me to be the full-time imam, but I would always refuse.  Every now and then, there would be some small controversy to erupt, but nothing big.  I did my year there relatively smoothly and was released.  

They gave me a one-way bus ticket to New York City.  While at the bus stop, I changed almost $10 into coins just so that I could call Shaykh Hassan (q.s.). I was anxious to let him know that I was free. 

‘as-Salaamu’Alaykum, Baye, congratulations!’ 

‘Shaykh, Wa ‘Alaykum as-Salaam.  Thank you so much.’ 

‘May Allah (s.w.t.) Bless you and keep you safe.’ 

‘Amin.  I want permission to leave here and come to stay with you in Kaolack.’ 

‘No, Baye, you have much more work to do there in America.’ 

‘Okay.’ 

‘Don’t worry, Baye, the Messenger of God (s.a.w.) has said that a person is always with the one he loves.  We are always together Baye.’ 

‘al-Hamdulillah.’ 

‘For now, I want you to be in close companionship with Shaykh Jibril Madaha.  He is not well.  Spend time in his company and serve him.  There is much to learn from him, Baye.  He was one of your father’s close friends and one of the great muridun of my grandfather.’ 

‘Yes, I love him very much, Shaykh.’ 

‘Good.  al-Hamdulillah.  May Allah (s.w.t.) Love you.’ 

‘Amin.’ 

‘Now it is time for your next test, Baye.’ 

‘My next test?’ 

Shaykh Hassan (q.s.) laughed. ‘Yes, of course.’  Then he quoted Allah’s (s.w.t.) Statement in Qur’an: 

سُوۡرَةُ العَنکبوت

أَحَسِبَ ٱلنَّاسُ أَن يُتۡرَكُوٓاْ أَن يَقُولُوٓاْ ءَامَنَّا وَهُمۡ لَا يُفۡتَنُونَ (٢) 

Do men think that they will be left alone on saying “We believe” and that they will not be Tested? (Surah al-‘Ankabut:2) 

I began to develop a major headache.  ‘What is my next test?’ 

Shaykh Hassan (q.s.) said, ‘The biggest test of all.’ 

I stood there for a minute wondering what the biggest test of all could possibly be.  I decided to call Shaykh Hassan (q.s.) back and ask him.  I reached in my pocket to get more money to call him, but I did not have any more money.  Suddenly, it hit me!  The biggest test of all was poverty! 

It is incredibly hard to describe the feeling of being released from imprisonment.  It is one of the greatest feelings a person can experience.  But to be completely honest with you, I was a bit sad.  I know it sounds crazy, especially with all that I had been through, but honestly, there was a sadness there.  On one hand, the pressures and guilt of having to leave your family to fend for themselves and missing out on all of the things that a free man is accustomed to, can make a person extremely sad while in prison.  But on the other hand, I had experienced such growth intellectually and spiritually.  I had time to read dozens of books, I had time to recite and contemplate the Qur’an.  I had time to study the history of my religion.  I had time to dig deep into the sciences of fiqh, ‘aqidah and taswawwuf.  I learned about the amazing intellectual history of our religion.  My prior incarceration only proved to be an introduction to these things.  This incarceration afforded me the opportunity to dig deeper; it was a strengthening of my faith and conviction that God is One and Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.) is definitely His amazing prophet and messenger.  It allowed me to appreciate my spiritual lineage also.  I read every book I could get my hands on that had anything to do with Imam al-Ghazali (r.a.), Shaykh ‘Abd al-Qadir al-Jilani (q.s.), Imam Ahmad az-Zarruq (q.s.), Imam as-Suharwardi (q.s.), Imam ash-Shadzili (q.s.), Imam al-Qushayri (q.s.) and my favorite, Shaykh ibn al-‘Arabi (q.s.).  I discovered these giants of Islamic spirituality.  I learned to love and appreciate all of the Sufi thuruq.  I understood how each thariqa’ was tailor-made to deal with the spiritual sicknesses of its time. 

On the beliefs side, I fell in love with ‘Aqidat ath-Thahawiyyah and its simplification of the intellectual understanding of what a Muslim should believe and understand.  I learned to respect deeply, the four a’immah and their students and how they codified the ritualistic aspects of the Diyn in a way that actually made it easy for the average Muslim to perform all of the religious rites.  I read everything written by the a’immah.  Three books that really allowed me to look at the science of jurisprudence from a different perspective were Imam ash-Shafi’i’s (r.a.) ar-Risalah, al-Muwaththa’ of Imam Malik (r.a.) and ‘Umdat as-Salik by Imam Shihab ad-Din al-Miswri (r.a.), which is actually an extended commentary of an earlier book written by Imam an-Nawawi (r.a.).  I realised that the world of Islam was full of flavour.  It was alive and vibrant.  It had a history that was being forgotten and I was blessed to have been exposed to it. 

I am telling this because it all helped me to love and appreciate everything that my father had taught me about Islam in general and thariqa’ in particular.  Knowing the history of the religion allowed me to sit in awe, at the feet of the two greatest people, for me, after the Messenger of Allah (s.a.w.), Shaykh Ahmad at-Tijani ash-Sharif (q.s.), and Shaykh Ibrahim Niasse (q.s.), the possessor of the Faydhah of experiential knowledge of God. 

I began to understand the enormity of what they had done for millions of people.  I began to understand that they were to me, the representatives of Allah’s Messenger (s.a.w.).  If I wanted to understand the Messenger of God (s.a.w.), all I had to do was look towards them and their students.  Shaykh Hassan (q.s.) was the student of his grandfather, Shaykh Ibrahim Niasse (q.s.), and I was his student.  That placed me within a chain of excellence that led back to the Prophet of God (s.a.w.).  I did not and still do not deserve that honour. 

All of the stories of the swahabah of the Prophet of God (s.a.w.) had suddenly come to life for me.  I could relate my own, as well as others, experiences and better understand the type of reverence and love that was necessary to have for the beloved Messenger of God (s.a.w.).  I was being Given a chance by God to enjoy a small taste of what it must have been like to be under the tutelage of God’s Prophet (s.a.w.).  Please understand that in no way am I comparing myself to the swahabah or my shaykh to the Prophet of God (s.a.w.); I am simply trying to explain that the heirs of the Prophet (s.a.w.) are his representatives, and their students have a similar relationship.  As foul as I was, Shaykh Hassan (q.s.) would never abandon me or shun me.  As troublesome as I was, Shaykh Hassan (q.s.) would always welcome me into his embrace.  As stubborn as I was, Shaykh Hassan (q.s.) would deal with me patiently.  He would always point me towards my ‘better self’, he would always point me towards Allah (s.w.t.). 

Shaykh Hassan (q.s.), along with all of my shuyukh and teachers, treated me with the utmost kindness and respect.  I was, and will forever be, undeserving of their kindness and guidance.  There is no way for a person to truly understand what loving another for the sake of God means unless he or she has a shaykh.  I say this because the shaykh is not your family, not your spouse and not your child.  The only thing that binds you to him is the fact that he directs your heart towards God.  When you love him it is for this reason alone, and that is the essence of loving a person for the sake of God.  That, to me, is the best example of such love and was the example that we saw between the Messenger of God (s.a.w.) and his swahabah. 

One of those shuyukh that I am forever indebted to is Shaykh Jibril Madaha (q.s.).  Shaykh Hassan (q.s.) had commanded me to stay in his company and to help him in his time of illness and old age.  It was so very hard for me at first.  I had just gotten released from prison, I had no money and everywhere I turned, the streets were calling me back.  All I had to do was make a phone call, and I would be back in the saddle.  All of my old criminal associates were eagerly waiting to see if I would get back in the game.  al-Hamdulillah, my focus could not be swayed towards anything besides helping Alhaji Madaha (q.s.) go to his doctor’s appointments and sitting with him daily in his home in New York, listening to him tell me about Islam and Shaykh Ibrahim Niasse (q.s.) and the good old days.  I swear, being in his company for that entire first year after release served as a protection for me.  I was not allowed to succumb to the call of the streets.  I had a duty to fulfill for my shaykh.  I got a job as a breakfast cook at the Applebees restaurant on 42^nd Street.  I would work from 4 pm to 11.30 am, go home to shower, change clothes and then off to go sit with Shaykh Jibril Madaha (q.s.) until after ‘isha’. 

Alhaji Madaha (q.s.) was barely in his teens when he finished the memorisation of the entire Holy Qur’an.  His father decided to allow him to travel with him to perform the hajj.  After settling all of his debts and providing for his family, father and son set off.  They set off on foot from Togo, West Africa to Mecca Saudi Arabia.  That is right; no Airplanes or nice hotel packages.  They walked. 

They anticipated the trip to take them about four years to complete.  On the way there, Alhaji Madaha’s (q.s.) father fell ill and passed away.  Alhaji Madaha (q.s.) was barely 14 at the time.  So, he buried his father and continued to Makkah by himself.  He arrived to the Holy House years later, performed the hajj rites and returned home to his family, now a young man.  He was affectionately known to most people as Alhaji Madaha (q.s.), not simply because he performed hajj before, but because his hajj was performed in the manner of the old days. 

When Shaykh Ibrahim Niasse (q.s.) received his Great Spiritual station, Alhaji Madaha (q.s.) was the second person in Ghana to be informed.  He was the 6^th person in the world to know about Baye Niasse.  He was informed by his own shaykh, a man of God named Malam Idris Sufi (q.s.). 

When Shaykh Ibrahim Niasse (q.s.) made his first visit to Ghana, he sat in his room as it was filled with crowds of students reciting Islamic poetry.  At that time, the most famous poem that was being recited throughout West Africa was called al-Ishriniyyah by Shaykh Usman Dan Fodio (q.s.).  It was a poem all about the greatness and beauty of the Prophet Muhammad (s.a.w.).  Everyone was reciting as Shaykh Ibrahim (q.s.) listened.  When Alhaji Madaha (q.s.) began his recitation, Shaykh Ibrahim (q.s.) lifted his head, took off his spectacles and looked directly at him.  Then he pointed at Alhaji Madaha (q.s.) and told him to come to him.  When Alhaji Madaha (q.s.) walked over to Shaykh Ibrahim (q.s.), Shaykh Ibrahim (q.s.) handed him a book and told him that it was his own Diwan, and told Alhaji Madaha (q.s.), ‘From now on, recite my Diwan instead of al-Ishriniyyah’  He was the first to begin memorising and reciting the Diwan of Shaykh Ibrahim (q.s.).  Alhaji Madaha (q.s.) was the man that Shaykh Ibrahim (q.s.) would say, ‘Alhaji Madaha, come and recite the Diwan to me so that I can feel happy.’ 

Shaykh Jibril (q.s.) was the senior of Shaykh Hassan Cisse (q.s.) by more than 20 years, but every time he would visit Kaolack, even in his old age and sickness, he would lead the crowds of dzikr and jog in front of Shaykh Hassan’s (q.s.) car with loud dzikr to the masjid.  Shaykh Hassan (q.s.) would get out and implore him to sit in the car with him, but he would always say, ‘Never can I sit next to my shaykh; only at his feet or leading his students in dzikr.’ 

It is a custom of the Ghanaian thulab of Shaykh Ibrahim (q.s.) to not wear shoes in the Holy Lands of Makkah and Madina, and never in Senegal.  They did this because they consider these places sacred, therefore making it impermissible to soil with their dirty shoes.  They walk barefoot whenever they are in these three places.  Alhaji Madaha (q.s.) continued this tradition for over 50 years. 

Alhaji Madaha (q.s.) had moved to the United States in the late 1980’s.  He lived in our household for a few years and I can honestly say that he was the most cheerful person I had ever met.  He was a complete scholar of the Islamic sciences.  One of the greatest things I had seen from him or any shaykh of his calibre happened one day when I asked him a question related to a story in the Qur’an.  His simple answer was, ‘I don’t know the answer, Ibrahim.’  It was so striking to me that I stared at him and just blinked.  This was one of the most knowledgeable and saintly people I had ever met and when posed with a religious question, he said, ‘I don’t know’.  That display of humility left a lasting impression on me.  This was who Shaykh Hassan (q.s.) ordered me to assist and keep companionship with in his illness.  I remained in his service for some time until the inevitable occurred. 

After the passing of my beloved teacher, Alhaji Jibril Madaha (q.s.), I fell into a state of severe loneliness.  Every one of my teachers here in the United States was gone.  I repeatedly implored Shaykh Hassan (q.s.) to allow me to relocate to where he was in Medina Kaolack, but each time, he would refuse.  I could not understand why he would not permit me to leave America.  It was a place filled with everything I was fighting to free myself from.  I was penniless, everywhere I could turn, there would be a fresh opportunity to get back into the ‘game’.  I will never forget a call I received from an old associate of mine.  He said he wanted to see me about an important matter.  I refused and told him that I was out of that kind of business.  He insisted and promised me that it was not anything like what I was thinking.  Since he was a childhood friend of mine, I decided to trust him.  I invited him over to my apartment.  He arrived late that night.  I expected him to come empty-handed.  But with him was a huge duffle bag.  I let him in and invited him to take a seat in my living room.  On the surface, I convinced myself that he was coming over for some advice of some sort, but deep down inside, I knew that it could only be one thing this guy wanted. 

He sat down and placed the huge bag directly on the floor between us.  ‘I know you told me that you were out of the hustle, bro, but I need you just one last time.’ 

‘Nah, bro, I’m good.  I’m retired from all of that.’ 

He looked me straight in the face and opens the bag.  Inside the bag was what amounted to $4 million dollars’ worth of ‘stuff’.  I sat there quietly looking at what was at my feet.  My mind racing, heart thumping!  Here, in front of me, was about a week’s worth of work and my cut would be around $1.5 million.  All types of thoughts raced through my head.  Here I was, in a one bedroom apartment that cost me $1,000 a month that I was struggling to pay, no car and a bunch of fines that the federal government was forcing me to pay because of the crime I was convicted of, and just a few feet away from was the solution. 

‘Let me just leave it here with you overnight, while you think about it and I’ll come back tomorrow to get your decision.’ 

By the time he said that, my moment of weakness had passed.  ‘No, take it with you.  I told you I’m out.’ 

He sat there studying me for a minute.  ‘I can see you’re struggling, Black!  You livin’ in this old apartment, you ain’t got no car and you are completely broke!  I heard you were working as a cook at some restaurant downtown.  Why are you allowing yourself to suffer like this man?  I know you can flip this stuff in just a few days.  Everybody still respects you and I know you still got all of your connections.  Just do it this one time so you can get back on your feet.  Help me and help yourself this last time.’ 

‘Sorry, I’m good.  And please remember, I’m done.’ 

I escorted my old friend to the door and watched him walk down the hall with his bag of poison.  I felt good about myself.  I had stared temptation straight in the face and stuck to what was right.  I tried to call Shaykh Hassan (q.s.) but he was not there.  Then I went to call Alhaji Jibril Madaha (q.s.).  It struck me like a hammer in the chest; he was gone!  I felt so lonely at that moment.  Nobody to confide in, nobody to encourage me, nobody to talk to.  I had gotten so accustomed to always having access to either Shaykh Hassan (q.s.) or one of my other teachers.  It was horrible!  I went to bed that night feeling as if I was the only person left in the world.  All I wanted to do was leave America and all of its evils and temptations.  I wanted to go to my Shaykh Hassan (q.s.) in Medina Kaolack, but he would not give me that permission.  I was afraid for myself. I knew that the tests would become more difficult and I was afraid of failing.  I knew myself.  I knew that Shaythan and my nafs were working hard to defeat me.  I felt like an addict going through withdrawal.  I was an addict going through withdrawal!  I needed to enter a treatment facility, I needed my doctor and I needed counselors.  This was my most pressing problem at the moment.  I needed to escape, I needed support. 

A few days after my test I received a call early in the morning as I was about to leave my apartment to go to work.  It was Shaykh Mudaris (q.s.).  ‘Ibrahim, as-Salaamu’Alaykum.’ 

‘Wa Alaykum as-Salaam, Mudaris!  How are you?  Where have you been?’ 

‘I’m fine.  I’ve been travelling throughout Africa and was staying in Makkah for some time now.  How is everything?’ 

‘Everything is okay.’ 

‘No, I don’t believe you.  You sound sad, Ibrahim.  What is wrong?’  I remained silent.  ‘Can you come and see me?’ 

‘Yes, I will come after work, insha’Allah.’ 

‘Okay, I will be waiting for you.  Have you spoken to Shaykh Hassan lately?’ 

‘No, I think he is travelling.’ 

‘Okay.  If you speak to him, please give him my greetings.’ 

‘Okay, I will.’ 

‘Thank you.  as-Salaamu’Alaykum.  See you later.’ 

‘Wa ‘Alaykum as-Salaam.’  As I walked out of my building towards the train station, I got another call.  I looked at the number on the caller ID and knew it was Shaykh Hassan (q.s.) calling me from somewhere.  I anxiously picked up the phone.  ‘Shaykh!  as-Salaamu’Alaykum.’ 

‘Baye, how did you know it was me?’ 

‘Wa Allahi, my heart told me.  And nobody else calls from such strange numbers.  Wa Allahi, Shaykh, it’s been a long time.  How are you?’ 

‘I’m fine, Baye.  I am in Nigeria.  How is your mother?’ 

‘She is doing well, Shaykh.  Please pray for her and all of us.’ 

‘I will.  May Allah (s.w.t.) Give her long life and happiness.’ 

‘Amin.’ 

‘Amin.’ 

‘Shaykh, I want to seek permission from you, again, to come and stay with you in Medina Kaolack.  I want to be with you. Teacher is gone, Alhaji Madaha is gone …  Wa Allahi, the temptations are too much for me here in America.  There are no blessings here.’ 

‘No permission, Baye.’  I was silent.  ‘Baye, Kaolack is easy.  All we do is dzikr all day.  America is the place of testing, hardship, temptation and most importantly, it is the place where there is a lot of Blessings!  America is full of the biggest fitan, and that means it’s full of the biggest Reward for the ones that can overcome that fitan.  I remember when your father called Shaykh Ibrahim seeking permission to leave America and return to Ghana.  He wanted to leave for the same reasons you do.  Shaykh Ibrahim told him, ‘No permission, Ahmad.  My work for you is in America.’  Years later, it is he that I came to stay with, it is his house that we first performed the wazhifah with among the Americans.  Your father welcomed everyone that came to America.  Most of the Senegalese stayed in your father’s house first.  Nobody can mention Thariqa’ Tijaniyyah in America without mentioning Shaykh Ahmed Dimson (q.s.) and Hajia Halima Dimson.  You and Osman have to continue his work.  Here in Africa, there is a lot of help for people.  But in America and Europe and other places, they need help.  They need the Faydhah.’ 

‘Okay, Shaykh.’ 

‘Work for Allah (s.w.t.) and His Messenger (s.a.w.), Baye.’ 

‘Okay, Shaykh, but work how?  Doing what?’ 

‘Allah (s.w.t.) will Show you.  Be patient.’ 

‘Okay. Alhaji Ibrahim Mudaris is sending his greetings to you, Shaykh.’ 

‘Masha’Allah.  Greet him for me.  Stay close to him, Baye.  He is very knowledgeable and Shaykh Ibrahim loves him very much.  He will help you with tarqiyyah.’ 

‘What is tarqiyyah, Shaykh?’ 

‘Once the murid has done tarbiyyah and knows Allah (s.w.t.), then he must continue to move forward towards Allah (s.w.t.).  Water that is sitting in one place is bound to become dirty and impure.  But water that is continuously flowing, will always stay clean and pure.  Tarqiyyah is the constant movement towards Allah, once you know Him.’ 

‘Okay, Shaykh.  Thank you.  Will you be coming to the United States soon?’ 

‘No, but my brother, Shaykh Tijani will be coming soon.  You and Osman stay with him and take good care of him.’ 

‘Okay, Shaykh.  Thank you.’ 

‘as-Salaamu’Alaykum.’ 

‘Wa ‘Alaykum as-Salaam.’ 

I had my marching orders: Stay in America and endure, fight Shaythan and fight my nafs in this country, work for Allah (s.w.t.) and His Messenger (s.a.w.) and stay close to Shaykh Mudaris (q.s.) because he would help with my tarqiyyah.  I promised myself that I would do as my shaykh advised.  I stopped trying to leave America and I prepared myself for the inevitable struggles that were ahead.  I sat at the feet of Shaykh Mudaris (q.s.) and learned more than I had ever learned.  My iman increased incredibly and life was good - for a time.  Unbeknownst to me, my greatest test and difficulty was yet to come.”