Different sects, same outrage at violence
A Sunni Muslim and a Shia Muslim meet for the first time, and find they have much in common
AS I STEP into Zainab’s (not her real name) house, I’m unsure what to expect. She’s Shia Muslim and I’m Sunni Muslim. There are ideological differences between us. For many years, I’ve read about these differences in pamphlets and on social media posts penned by Sunnis, or heard about them during family discussions.
Zainab appears to have read my mind. With a smile, she gestures at the dining room walls. “See, I don’t have a shrine in my house. Sunni Muslims think Shias have shrines in their houses, but I don’t. If I was going to hang anything up, it would be Aayatul Kursee (a Qur’an verse commonly displayed in Muslim homes).”
I met her a few days after the attack on the Imam Hussain Mosque in Verulam, in which one man was killed and two others injured, and the building petrol-bombed. In the wake of the attack, discussion has been rife on social media about the motive. Some thought Islamic State was responsible, others even pointed fingers at the CIA and Mossad.
Many said anti-shia sentiment, expressed by Sunni bodies and maulanas in their literature and lectures over the years had not helped matters.
Zainab, who teaches Islamic studies to children at the mosque and frequently worships there, is reluctant to comment on the attack owing to the ongoing Hawks investigation.
But she admits she conceals the fact that she is Shia, when not at mosque, due to fear of victimisation.
Her children attend a Sunni Islam school where no one knows they are Shia: “Because of the nonsense that has been spread about Shias, we’ll be victimised and our children. We get branded because of the sect we belong to; we get called abusive names.”
“If people know we are Shia, we will be looked down on as outcasts. I have seen this happen with other Shia Muslim women who have been totally isolated.”
She points out that she had only told her best friend, a Sunni Muslim, that she was Shia on the day of the attack. She was pleasantly surprised by her reaction: “She told me she wasn’t interested in politics. She said we were friends and that she loved me and we would always be friends.”
Zainab introduces me to Ruwaida Sheik (not her real name), a fellow worshipper at the mosque, who is close to the family of Abbas Essop, whose throat was slit in the attack. “All he ever wanted was unity between Shias and Sunnis – for us to live in harmony together,” she said.
Although Shia, Shaik is part of a Sunni Muslim family with whom she celebrates the Muslim festival, Eid, and participates in their religious gatherings.
Her family was initially resistant to her conversion to Shia two decades ago, she admits, but over the years they have come to accept that this is who she is.
“My father debates with me every day. We argue with each other, but he respects the fact that I’m an independent individual,” she says.
Sheik believes unity between Sunnis and Shias is attainable. “I don’t think there’s anything fundamentally different between us – our core beliefs are the same. Where we differ, we can’t force this on them, and they can’t force it on us.”
She points out that the attack on the mosque shocked the vast majority of the Sunni community. “We have had a lot of support from them. Those who are not afraid have come out and supported us. Others may not come forward because they are afraid of being ostracised by a minority who don’t respect the beliefs of others and want to create disharmony in the Muslim community.”
Maulana Aftab Haider, national co-ordinator of the Ahlul Bait (AS) Foundation of SA, an umbrella body for Shias in the country, says as painful and unpleasant as the attack on the Imam Hussain Mosque was, it has signalled a new era for Sunni-shia relations.
“It was a wake-up call – a broad spectrum of Sunni Muslim bodies have visited the mosque, including representatives of the United Ulama Council of South Africa (UUCSA) and the Jamiatul Ulama KZN,” he says. “Significantly, the most senior leadership of the Muslim Judicial Council (MJC) – the president and vice-president – came to visit and prayed for the deceased, that he be accepted by God as a martyr.”
Haider emphasises that Sunni-shia unity doesn’t equate to denying that differences exist between the two sects. “There are theological and ideological differences which we can critically discuss. We can even defend our beliefs, but this does not have to take the form of hate speech and the dehumanisation of others. The leadership, including the MJC, have agreed in this regard, showing wisdom and foresight.”
On Facebook, I ask if any South African Sunni Muslims are willing to talk to me about the attack. I receive a message from Swaaibah Dawad, a sales manager at Yellow Pages.
“I was absolutely horrified that such a violent attack would occur at a place of worship and, more so, in a democratic and religiously tolerant country like South Africa,” she said. “I don’t see any reason Shias and Sunnis can’t co-exist – ultimately, we are mere mortals and shouldn’t be judging anyone.”
Back at her house, Zainab tells me she doesn’t know whether the translator of the Qur’an she is holding is Shia or Sunni. “All I know is that this is the Qur’an.”
She tells me she encouraged her late father, who was a Hindu, to convert to Islam, and that he did so towards the end of his life. I ask her if she converted him to Sunni or Shia Islam. “No, I just made a him a Muslim. I taught him the shahadah (a name given to the statement an individual makes when he/she converts to Islam), in which he bears testament to the oneness of God and the prophethood of Muhammad and to love the prophet sallallahu alayhi wassallam (peace and salutations be upon him),” she says.
Asmal is a freelance writer and founder-director of the Institute for Learning and Motivation: SA, a faith-based charity working towards uplifting disadvantaged sectors of society. She writes in her personal capacity.