Sarfraz Manzoor celebrates an iftar meal with homeless people and his fellow Muslims, a web-generated ‘flashmob’ observing an Islamic tradition of generosity to the needy
It is sundown in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, a large outdoor square behind London’s Holborn Underground station. I am here to meet a man called Miqdad Asaria who had invited me to attend what he had described as a ‘flashmob iftar’. During the month of Ramadan, which ended last week, an iftar is the evening meal that marks the end of the fast and it is traditional to celebrate it with family and friends. Asaria had a more ambitious proposal.
‘During Ramadan Muslims get a glimpse of what it is like to be hungry,’ he had told me earlier in the day, ‘and I thought, what better time to share our food with those who are hungry all year round?’ He wanted to find a way to help the homeless but make it fun and not involve any of the usual Muslim organisations. ‘I didn’t want to do some PR exercise,’ he explained. ‘I just wanted to make the point that Muslims shouldn’t only be looking overseas when they think about problems — there are plenty of problems in this country.’ He set up a Facebook page where he advertised the flashmob iftar along with instructions to ‘bring food for you and one homeless person to eat together’. The Facebook page also included the flashmob iftar mission statement: ‘No agenda, no organisation, no rules, just normal Muslims doing their thing.’
It sounded promising, but would anyone turn up? The only way to find out was to see for myself, which was why I was in Lincoln’s Inn Fields that Tuesday evening. What I saw surprised and delighted me: more than 150 young British Muslims, men and women, sharing biryani, samosas and cakes with the startled but grateful homeless. In one part of the fields 30 men were kneeling on the grass in prayer, their heads bowing in the direction of Mecca as a group of young women in headscarves chatted to an elderly homeless woman who stood propped by a walking stick. Among them were Farah and Fatima. ‘My mother made the biryani especially,’ explained 20-year-old Farah. ‘Why are you here?’ I asked. ‘Ramadan is about understanding those who don’t have as much as we have,’ said Farah. ‘It’s about building bridges between communities.’ ‘For me it’s about reaching out to people who are not necessarily from the same background or faith,’ added Fatima, ‘but who are also in need.’
As a Muslim I was raised to believe in the centrality of hospitality to Islam. On holy days such as Eid my mother would cook pilau rice which she would scoop on to plates and cover with aluminium foil to retain the heat. My sister and I would be instructed to race to our neighbours and friends and hand them the food. In those days Islam did not have the unwelcome reputation it has now; people did not fear Muslims, they just did not know much about them. In a tiny way, sharing our Eid celebrations may have helped build a few bridges. Recalling how my own family celebrated Ramadan, I should not have been shocked by what Farah and Fatima had told me and yet the truth is that I was very surprised. It has become the norm to argue that British Muslims are, to a bearded man and burqa-clad woman, angry and alienated, with little or no affection for this country. The young British Muslims who rate a mention in the national press are those downloading terrorist manuals; those who are using the internet to organise feeding the homeless are less often reported.
‘This isn’t what you normally hear about Muslims,’ I suggested to Fatima. ‘That’s true, but it is what we normally do,’ she replied. ‘It’s just not what you read about in the media.’ ‘So you think the media concentrates too much on extremists?’ I asked. ‘No, the mistake is to think that we’re all just extremists or liberals,’ she said. ‘I could be extreme in my Islamic views but that doesn’t make me extreme in my politics — helping the less fortunate is the act of a Muslim extremist, if you want to use that language.’
As I was talking to Fatima and Farah I could see numerous small groups of young Muslims engaging in conversation. Since the event was organised online most of those who had decided to turn up did not know who else would be attending. Adlan, a young Sudanese student, had heard about the Facebook group earlier in the day and had headed to his local kebab store to buy food which he was enthusiastically distributing to the homeless. He was joined by 16-year-old Hamza, who is studying for his GCSEs and is part of a local Islamic organisation who had told him to turn up at the iftar. Looking at Hamza, with his earnest eyes and wispy beard, it struck me that in many ways he was the embodiment of what so many non-Muslims would consider with weary suspicion: an observant young Pakistani Muslim man whose religion lies at the heart of his world. And yet for Hamza, and the other Muslims I met in Holborn, the manner in which they articulated their Islamic identity offers hope that there need not be any contradiction or clash between the values of liberal democracy and Islam. To these young Muslims Islam is about community and charity, values that sit rather well in today’s Britain.
The flashmob iftar has already been repeated in Manchester by 22-year-old Oxford graduate Arzoo Ahmed, who was inspired by the London example. ‘Islam says you follow the law of the land you are in,’ she told me. ‘So for me it’s very important to reach out to non-Muslims.’ The Manchester flashmob iftar drew 80 young Muslims in its first week and Ahmed is planning on setting up a long-term sustainable project that can capitalise on the interest that has been generated.
The flashmob iftars in London and Manchester offer fascinating glimpses into a new British Muslim identity. Traditionally, British Muslims have been accused of being insular and only caring about other Muslims, in this country and abroad. It is also generally thought that the third generation are the most vulnerable to radicalisation. This is a legitimate concern but it is not the only story, and the hundreds who turned up laden with food are evidence of a more encouraging development. ‘For my generation most of us feel completely British,’ Farah told me. ‘That’s why I want to help the homeless — they are our people too.’
Young Muslims like Farah are tiring of how the media demonises them and impatient with the leaders who claim to speak for them. Now, through small but significant acts of charity, they are beginning to find their own voice.