A Rent Party

Last night I had a rent party at my home in Newlands. Those of you that have visited me know that I am very fortunate indeed to have one the very coolest townhouse apartments that can be had anywhere. Its three bedrooms on a split-level four floors, from lower ground to upper loft master bedroom. My entire library stacked full of books, paintings, prints, original watercolours and even an oil. There are oriental carpets and an Ivory Coast mask of an African prince. There are photos of my Shaykh and also his Shaykh, as well as three men who have been my closest brothers and, you could say, were dear friends except it would be presumptuous on my part to say so. Two have already gone on ahead and left this world, and the third will, I pray, out-live me by many a year. In the 1950s and early 60s it was a practice among the bohemian artists and poets of New York’s Greenwich Village, who took it from the earlier generation of Paris in the 20s, to invite all their friends and friends of friends over for a rent party. This occurred when the person was about to be evicted from their apartment and they needed to raise some money to pay the rent. Folks would bring some cheap wine, maybe some beer, food and whatever they could spare to put into the hat towards the overdue rent. Sometimes they may have all ended up a bit hung over and still short on the rent, but among these artists and friends there were always a few who had some money. Last night we had nine people over for dinner. It was a night in part for one of our people whose sister is visiting from Europe and is interested in the Deen. Also it was the birthday of Hajj Ikramudin’s lovely wife, and as most of you know Ikramudin had stayed with me for a few years, off – to complete his degree – then on again until his marriage. Some people think I looked after him, but, of course, he looked after me. We know from the famous Hadith that each guest brings with them 70,000 angels and that they remain (for a time) after your guests depart. It may be that Allah has another place for me to live. That is, I may be moving (quite soon) from my Newlands home. I am not worried so much about the money, and I do put in motion a plan, and trust in Allah that He will continue to look after me. Therefore, this is not a passing of the hat. This is to say that my home this morning is full of light. My heart is at ease and I am for the moment still here. Hajj Abdal’Razak had been looking after the house while I went overseas to visit my family (now 2 grandchildren) and has accepted to stay on a bit to give me some company. Sometimes people will say with a derogatory connotation that something is just poetry. We know what they mean when they say that. Also, there is the poetry of the one who says a thing in a way that rings true, that expresses something so beautiful, hits the nail on the head, captures the very soul of the thing being said, even while it is not exact prose in the way people normally talk. That 70,000 angels arrive with each of your guests is not just poetry. It is from a Hadith from the Rasool, may Allah bless him and grant him peace. That I attempt to write it, pass it on in a way that can move an understanding between us, is, you could say, my poetry. Abdullah Luongo