Becoming Muslim 
                
                William Burchell 
                Bashyr Pickard (England) 
                Author, Poet and Novelist  
                 
                
                 
                "Every child is born with a disposition towards the 
                natural religion of obedience (i.e. Islam); it is the parents 
                who make him a Jew, A Christian or a Magian." ---- a saying of 
                Muhammad.  
                Having been born in Islam it was a good many years before I 
                realized this fact. 
                At school and college I was occupied, perhaps too intensely, 
                with the affairs and demands of the passing moment. I do not 
                consider my career of those days brilliant, but it was 
                progressive. Amid Christian surroundings I was taught the good 
                life, and the thought of God and of worship and of righteousness 
                was pleasant to me. If I worshipped anything it was nobility and 
                courage. Coming down from Cambridge, I went to Central Africa, 
                having obtained an appointment in the administration of the 
                Uganda Protectorate. There I had an interesting and exciting 
                existence beyond what, from England, I had ever dreamt, and was 
                compelled by circumstances, to live amongst the black 
                brotherhood of humanity, to whom I may say I became endearingly 
                attached by reasons of their simple joyous outlook upon life. 
                The East had always attracted me. At Cambridge I read the 
                Arabian Nights. Alone in Africa I read the Arabian 
                Nights, and the wild roaming existence I passed in the 
                Uganda Protectorate did not make the East less dear to me. 
                Then upon my placid life broke in the First World War. I 
                hastened homewards to Europe. My health broke down. Recovering, 
                I applied for a commission in the Army, but on health grounds 
                this was denied to me. I therefore cut losses and enlisted in 
                the Yeomanry managing somehow or other to pass the doctors and, 
                to my relief, donned uniform as a trooper. Serving then in 
                France on the Western Front, I took part in the battle of the 
                Somme in 1917, where I was wounded and made prisoner of war. I 
                travelled through Belgium to Germany where I was lodged in 
                hospital. In Germany I saw much of the sufferings of stricken 
                humanity, especially Russians decimated by dysentry. I came to 
                the outskirts of starvation. My wound (shattered right arm) did 
                not heal quickly and I was useless to the Germans. I was 
                therefore sent to Switzerland for hospital treatment and 
                operation. I well remember how dear even in those days was the 
                thought of the Qur'an to me. In Germany I had written home for a 
                copy of Sale's Koran to be sent out to me. In later years I 
                learnt that this had been sent but it never reached me. In 
                Switzerland after operation of arm and leg my health recovered. 
                I was able to go out and about. I purchased a copy of Savary's 
                French translation of the Qur'an (this today is one of my 
                dearest possessions). Therein I delighted with a great delight. 
                It was as if a ray of eternal truth shone down with blessedness 
                upon me. My right hand still being useless, I practised writing 
                the Qur'an with my left hand. My attachment to the Qur'an is 
                further evidenced when I say that one of the most vivid and 
                cherished recollections I had of the Arabian Nights was 
                that of the youth discovered alive alone in the city of the 
                dead, seated reading the Qur'an, oblivious to his surroundings. 
                In those days in Switzerland, I was veritably resigne a la 
                volonte de Dieu (Muslim). After the signing of the 
                Armistice I returned to London in December 1918 and some two or 
                three years later, in 1921, I took up a course of literary study 
                at London University. One of the subjects I chose was Arabic, 
                lectures in which I attended at King's College. Here it was that 
                one day my professor in Arabic (the late Mr. Belshah of Iraq) in 
                the course of our study of Arabic mentioned the Qur'an. "Whether 
                you believe in it or not," he said, "you will find it a most 
                interesting book and well worthy of study." "Oh, but I do 
                believe in it," was my reply. This remark surprised and greatly 
                interested my teacher in Arabic, who after a little talk invited 
                me to accompany him to the London Prayer House at Notting Hill 
                Gate. After that I attended the Prayer House frequently and came 
                to know more of the practice of Islam, until, on New Year's day, 
                1922, I openly joined the Muslim community. 
                That is more than quarter of a century ago. Since then I have 
                lived a Muslim life in theory and practice to the extent of my 
                ability. The power and wisdom and mercy of God are boundless. 
                The fields of knowledge stretch out ever before us beyond the 
                horizon. In our pilgrimage through life I feel assured that the 
                only befitting garment we can wear is submission and upon our 
                heads the headgear of praise and in our hearts love of the One 
                Supreme.  
                "Wal-Hamdu lil' Lahi Rabbi 'l-'Alameen"  
                 
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