The first time I met Sulaiman’be, I was just a boy of 11. It was 2006, and I had returned to my island for the school holidays, as I always did. But this time, something was missing. My grandfather had passed away the previous year, leaving behind a void that no amount of anything could fill.
I had always been a morning person, waking up early and sitting alone on the neighboring joali, lost in thought. One morning, Sulaiman’be who lives next to my house approached me. He was an old man more like in his late 60s, much like my grandfather. He sat beside me and began to speak, recalling about the days he had spent with my grandfather, sharing stories of their most memorable fishing trips and endeavors.
As he spoke, I listened carefully, absorbing every word. He told me about the fishing spots they visited, the techniques they had used, and the adventures they went. He encouraged me to explore certain reef points, knowing that I used go fishing as a hobby. Back then, small engine boats were rare, and we relied on the few small boats owned by ordinary citizens, borrowing them with permission to explore offshore. Those fishing trips surely became some of my most cherished memories.
Sulaiman’be had a habit of speaking quickly, and I had to pay close attention to keep up. But his words carried wisdom and lessons about life. One day, he asked me about my future, whether I planned to pursue A’levels after secondary school. I was only in grade six or seven at the time and hadn’t thought that far ahead. When I told him this, he scolded me—not harshly though, but with firm guidance of someone who cared. He told me I needed to think long-term, to set goals high and aim even higher.
Back then, not many students from my island pursued A’levels. Maldives had only one school offering higher secondary education which was CHSE (until VIHS was established, providing second tier students with the opportunity to do higher secondary studies). Because of the limitations I believe, many of my friends opted for cerficiate level programmes from institutions like Cyryx College, often without a clear path forward or perhaps they lacked proper life coaching. Some eventually joined the security forces (which I believe is comfort zone), while only a few pursued higher education, the most challenging yet rewarding path.
Sulaiman’be urged me to think beyond the present, to set my sights on something greater. He told me about his son, who had traveled to Egypt to study Islamic virtues, dedicating his life to knowledge. His appreciation in his son was evident, and he encouraged me to become a lover of knowledge, to strive for excellence.
Our bond grew stronger with each passing day. Every morning, we spent time together—praying, talking, and playing Raazuvaa (more similar to Chess) with the neighborhood kids. Raazuvaa was an addictive game, and Sulaiman’be loved watching us play. He was more invested in the matches than the players themselves, shouting at the losing side for making stupid mistakes, adding to the stress and excitement of the game.
On some evenings when my friends and I caught fish, we would gather in front of my house for a barbecue. Sulaiman’be was always invited, and he accepted with honor. But if he was unhappy with the way we cooked, he wouldn’t hesitate to ‘scold’ us. While my friends chatted, I would gather the joali around my house and sit with Sulaiman’be, just as I had once done with my grandfather.
From 2006 onward, every school holiday was spent in his memorable company. In 2010, following his advice, I began giving Azaan, Iqamah, and leading prayers as an imam in most mosques on the island. He encouraged me to learn the skills of an imam, not necessarily to pursue it as a profession, but to have the knowledge whenever I needed it. He corrected my mistakes, ensuring I improved. He once told me he would like to see me as ‘Katheeb’ who is the effectively the highest level of power in an island.
After losing my grandfather in 2005, I was blessed with five to six more years of invaluable guidance from Sulaiman’be. It felt as though my grandfather had entrusted him with the task of mentoring me, and his wisdom shaped the person I am today.
I write this today to honor Sulaiman’be, to let him know that I will never forget the time we spent together, the advice he gave that shaped me into a better person. I wish he were here to witness the journey I have taken.
While my friends spent their time exploring and engaging in youthful adventures, I found immense joy in sitting with the elders, listening to their stories, and learning from their experiences. Their words carried the weight of decades, offering insights that no textbook could provide.
May Allah bless Sulaiman’be with eternal paradise, forgive his sins, and make his grave a blissful garden. May He bless his family and grant them abundance in this life and the next.
