Category: Poetry
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From a family Gaajah in Florida North to the chorus of the Burdah at Houghton Mosque, Joburg’s dhikr carries both intimacy and grandeur. This Rabiʿ al-Awwal, in Heritage Month, I was reminded that memory does not belong to Cape Town alone. It stretches wider — across towns, valleys, mosques and homes — carried in the…
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Rabi al-Awwal has entered our skies. In Cape Town, remembrance is not reserved for the minbar — it pulses in the scent of rosewater, in quiet salawāt whispered in traffic, and in songs sung without instruments. This reflection explores three threads of Prophetic remembrance — as a guide in our struggles, a wellspring of longing,…
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In the Karoo, three koppies rise like ribs from Mother Earth’s chest — storm-sisters who absorbed a comet’s grief and became stone. This is their myth. Their vanishing. Their voice beneath the silence.
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“Os wiet dat ’n taal is ook ’n houvās.” We know that a language is also a holding — like a salomie wrapped in a roti: not to preserve perfection, but to keep the inside warm. Spiced, sacred, messy, surviving. This blog is my offering — a prayer for our tongue, our tasbīḥ, and the…
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In a world where sermons often speak to the youth or about parents, this khutbah speaks for the child. Inspired by the memory of Jayden-Lee Meek — an 11-year-old who died under tragic, preventable circumstances — this reflection draws from the Prophet Muhammad’s ﷺ tenderness towards children and confronts the silence that allows harm to…
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“Not brought by botanists. Not named by settlers. But gifted by a porcupine, Planted by Gubi and Nori, Rooted in fire, story, and seed.” A tale passed down through generations — from mother to child, from silence to word. Set beneath Table Mountain, this is the story of the Silver Tree, the river Camissa, and…
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Discover the Ratib al-Haddad’s movements, history, and meaning, from slavery to anti-apartheid resistance in the Cape, told as a spiritual symphony.
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From the first martyr to the first mu’adhin, from the refuge of Najāshi to the dignity of Barakah, Africans shaped Islam from its earliest breath. This is their story — woven into the Ka‘bah, the adhan, and the footsteps of Hajj itself. More than history, it is a revolution of faith and equality.
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A Turkish Delight of memory, scent, and softness — this is a tribute to the ones who raised us, laughed with us, stitched us together. From Braima Winter’s cloud-watching wisdom to High Rugaya’s cinnamon mercy, this is how we remember. With bricks. With books. With soup.
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A Cape Qur’anic remembrance: children once walked the streets of Bo-Kaap and District Six, dressed in sorbaans and medoras, reciting the final verses of the Qur’an. This was the Tamat — not memorised, but recited with presence. A covenant, a celebration, and a sacred procession into the heart of memory.
Adli Yacubi 