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by Jen Dutcher

Several of us recently visited a mosque in Milwaukee to hand out school supplies to Muslim children. I had no idea what to expect. I assumed the mosque was going to look like some sort of temple, so I was surprised when we pulled up to a three-story row house in a neighborhood that has seen better days.

We were warmly greeted outside by a young man (18 years of age or so) with a bright smile, wearing a white thobe (a long robe worn by Muslim men) and a white kufi (brimless hat). I later learned that he is an older son of the Rohingya leader who passed away a few months earlier.

This son later told us that while his father was on his death bed, he made him promise that he’d carry on his father’s work in the mosque.

As we carried in the boxes of school supplies, I noticed a Muslim woman, with her hijab draped across her face, watching us from the street with a curious and untrusting gaze.

Once inside, we removed our footwear and placed them on the floor of the modest foyer, along with dozens of other pairs of little shoes. A few moments later, we were invited to sit down in the adjoining parlor.

The young man’s mother, the widow, joined us. She was friendly and graciously accepted our basket of fruit as a condolence gift. Hospitality is very important in the Rohingya people, so the widow was embarrassed that she had forgotten we were coming for a visit and didn’t have a meal pre-pared for us. We assured her that the sliced mango, banana, and fruit punch was enough.

Pastor Nate and Linda Lyke had been to the mosque previously, so there was some familiarity between them and the widow and her sons. Although there was a bit of a language barrier, conversation flowed naturally.

When it came time to pass out the school supplies (pencil boxes filled with supplies), the new young leader in white brought down the first group of 15 children. They were instructed to first greet us, so they formed a single line and went around our small circle greeting each of us individually, using both
of their hands to gently shake both of ours while saying, “Salam Alaikum”, which means “peace be upon you”.

Several of us responded with, “Wa alaikum salam”, which means “peace be also with you”. Some of the children were surprised by this and smiled. I was struck by how shy many of the children were. Most made no eye-contact while shaking hands. I realize though that it had to be way out of their comfort zone to touch hands with strangers.

One of the older girls, wearing a grey hijab, stood out to me. I guess her to be around 14 years old. Her face was covered with what looked like burn scars. When I glanced down as we shook hands, I noticed the same burn scars all over her hands and wrists. She had a pretty smile!

A little while later, the Rohingya woman I saw outside earlier, who was leery of us, came in and sat with us. I think she was in her early 30’s. She mostly had her head down, tilted off to the side, and occasionally stole glances of us.

While conversation continued around her, I was able to catch her eye at one point and we exchanged gentle smiles. The depth of hurt I saw in this woman’s eyes and her overall countenance made my heart break. I may be wrong, I hope I’m wrong, but there’s very little doubt in my mind that she has seen and been through some horrible things. I continue to pray that God will heal her trauma.

A few times throughout our visit, we told our Rohingya friends that we were there because Lord Jesus loves them. We have to preface Jesus with “Lord” so they know we believe him to be the Savior. If we just said “Jesus”, they’d think we believe him to be just a prophet as Muslims believe.

The Rohingya I met that evening are a beautiful, strong, resilient, proud and respectful people. Please pray that our relationship with them will prosper and they will come to know Jesus as Lord Jesus.