Mentor diary. Murtaza Jaffer

As the long john Silver theme tune rang from the alarm clicks in room 1, there was five minutes to Fajr azan. As I rushed into the courtyard of Columbus, I stood back for a moment and watched as the campers had fallen into the Fajr groove. Small streams of  Pyjamas and jackets leave their rooms to join the collective river of slumber struck campers into the namaaz room…

As the clock struck noon I drew my lesson on greater sins to a close, a gloomy yet vital part of the camp’s syllabus, but that didn’t dampen the growing buzz around the camp site. The campers swiftly dispersed into their holes getting ready for their journey ahead. Warm wet proof clothes packed lunches and pocket money at the ready as the entire camp site set of for Stockholm town centre. The butterflies within began to flap their wings, anxious tense and alert we marched on, boarded bus and train, and soon enough we had arrived. The city made up of islands. 40, 000 of them.

Souvenirs filled the campers bags while ice cream filled their bellies, exhausted, shattered, fatigued we marched on and boarded the bus back to the camp. As we got off and headed down the grassy pathways into the camp site, I sighed with relief, the constant unnerving array of possible risks and hazards that alerted my senses from the point of departure had now settled, and as I sit here in the calm of the night, I take a quick look up to the starry heavens and Thank Him, our protector who sheltered us on our journey.             

Sweden 2009