More Similar Than Different

ALTOONA - Every day, Mahmoud Taman wakes up and prays to Allah while facing the northeast - toward Mecca in Saudi Arabia.

Every night, before returning to bed, Taman does the same. And three times during the day, he stops what he's doing to pray.

But Taman contends that's one of only a handful of differences between being Muslim and being Christian or Jewish.

"The belief system of one God is the same. You do good in life. The belief system that you will come back to God on the day of judgement - all of these are the same," he said before a Friday afternoon worship. "The religions are about 90 percent the same. There are some differences of course ... but the main morals are the same."

Taman's morals and "divine destiny" are what landed him in the Chippewa Valley in 1973. Originally from Egypt, Taman was trained in London in the 1960s and eventually moved to Iowa with his wife and a friend.

"From Iowa we were looking to go to the East Coast, but a friend of ours lives in Chippewa Falls and he kept calling me (to come and visit)," Taman said.

Taman, a psychiatrist who now is semiretired, also was getting calls from St. Joseph's Hospital in Chippewa Falls "because they needed my specialty at the time."

Taman made his way to Chippewa Falls to visit his insistent friend. A month later, he was living there instead of Maryland, where he thought he would move.

"First you have patients and you have hospital work, then you have a family and kids and grandkids and life goes on this way," he said. "You just take it as it comes."

Living in Chippewa Falls in 1973, Taman knew he needed to build a faith-based community for his family. But as the self-proclaimed "only Muslim in northwestern Wisconsin" the road was not smooth.

"I really didn't have a plan, I just responded to the needs of my children and my family and myself," he said. "The issue of religion was important to me because I wanted to keep it."

First, the religious gatherings consisted only of his family. Taman said he scheduled worship services, prayers and Quran readings in their basement for several years. As other Muslims became aware of Taman and the religious meetings, they would join Taman's family.

Irfane Khatib, a gynecologist at Sacred Heart Hospital and OakLeaf Medical Network who also is Muslim, said it was difficult to practice his religion without a mosque.

"We started to (worship) in someone's house and sometimes we had a Friday prayer and sometimes we didn't," he said.

"The community increased, so we bought this building and we remodeled it," Khatib said, referring to the Islamic Society of Northern Wisconsin Center and Mosque at 527 W. Second St.

From 1973 through 1991, when the mosque was purchased, Taman's group included about nine families.

"We are happy to have this small church so at least we have something to use, to educate ourselves," Taman said. "We have Sunday school for kids and we educate others."

Almost every week, the mosque welcomes 10 to 15 university students who either are interested in the religion or use the visit to fulfill a class requirement. Taman also writes columns in local publications two or three times a year.

But by making himself known, he also opens the door for scrutiny.

After the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks in the U.S., Taman experienced a bit of misguided revenge from some community members.

"Of course there were a few messages on the answering machine, a stone on the window, a couple eggs on the door," he said. "But then the letters came in and the people came in and you realize that 95 percent of the people are supportive.

"Everywhere you'll find people that don't understand. The more you know, the more you know there's no difference (among people.)"

Khatib didn't personally encounter hatred after Sept. 11, but he said his children did. The children, who are grown, were in Syria in 2001.

"They were resentful against the Syrians because some people said, 'Oh, the United States got what they deserved,' " Khatib recalled. "But my kids, they say, 'The United States is my country.'

"Ignorant are ignorant anywhere."

As a Muslim, Taman's goal is to educate so there is little misunderstanding. After Sept. 11, education became more important, Taman said.

Not only did community members begin learn more, but so did Taman.

"I actually learned, after 9/11, three or four times more than I knew before about my religion," he said.

As far as Muslim naysayers, Khatib has his own thoughts.

"I think religion is a religion - Muslim, Christianity - they teach the same thing," he said. "We are identical 95 or 96 percent of the time, and unfortunately we argue and fight about the 4 percent. We forget about the 95 percent."