The Secret Public Library
A few weeks ago I decided to spend the afternoon at a café called Sophia. What I like about the place is that it is quiet and spacious. It is also a bookstore and publishing house.
In addition, there is a magnificent mosque across the road which I have passed several times before and always wanted to visit. I saw this as an opportunity to finally do that.
I barely got started with my work before hearing the athan echo from outside; it was time for the ʿAsr prayer. I left my things as they were and headed out to the mosque.
The mosque is covered in white marble with green, blue, and gold accents. Two minarets rise above it, framing a light green dome at its centre. Above the entrance arches is inscribed:
إِنَّمَا يَعْمُرُ مَسَاجِدَ ٱللَّهِ مَنْ آمَنَ بِٱللَّهِ وَٱلْيَوْمِ ٱلْآخِرِ وَأَقَامَ ٱلصَّلَاةَ وَآتَى ٱلزَّكَاةَ وَلَمْ يَخْشَ إِلَّا ٱللَّهَ
“The mosques of Allah should only be maintained by those who believe in Allah and the Last Day, establish prayer, give zakah, and fear none but Allah.” (Qur’an 9:18)
Inside, geometric patterns adorn the walls, and stained-glass windows colour the light that enters. Close to prayer time, I sat in the front row near the mihrab. Beside it stood an opaque glass door used by the Imam. Before the prayer began, he entered — and when the door briefly swung open, I caught a glimpse of something unexpected: a full library tucked away behind the mihrab.
I could not suppress my curiosity.
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After the prayer, I noticed a man slip quietly through the same opaque door, as though following the Imam. That small moment emboldened me. I enquired and was directed to the mu’adhin, who, to my surprise, informed me that the library was open to the public. Part of it had been temporarily closed for renovations, he explained, but would reopen in a few days. When he asked if I was searching for something specific, I replied that I simply wished to browse. He gestured toward a door at the front of the mosque. I opened it and stepped inside the hidden library.
The mu’adhin introduced me to a middle-aged Saudi gentleman named Abdurahman. I initially assumed he worked there, but later learned that he was a civil engineer who had left his profession and now dedicated his days to studying Islam. He explained the different sections of the library and its operating hours. He was warm and convivial, and what began as a brief introduction turned into a long and engaging conversation. Eventually, I thanked him and promised to return.
Later that evening, I returned for Maghrib. After the prayer, I wandered back into the library.
“Abu Aalia,” a voice called out. It was Abdurahman. He invited me to join him for some gahwa (traditional Arabic coffee).
Around the table sat two older men in their sixties. I was told that the man on my left was an exceptional ṭabbākh (cook), renowned for preparing the most delicious meals. A Pakistani who had lived in the Kingdom since the 1970s, his Arabic was so fluent one would easily mistake him for an Arab. He cooked for Shaykh Fahd Aluwaidah, the founder of this mosque, after whom it is named. The Shaykh also owns four or five large palaces surrounding it. To this day, the cook continues to prepare meals for the Shaykh’s family.
On my right sat an avuncular Palestinian man wearing a single glove and a beanie, animatedly recounting his frustrations with the strict security guards in the Haram of Makkah. The flask of coffee ran dry, but the conversations flowed uninterrupted.
At one point I paused and thought: How did I find myself here? Sitting in a mosque library, drinking coffee with three men I had only just met? Yet I did not feel like a stranger. I felt, strangely, as though I were among old friends.
Later, Abdurahman invited me to accompany him to another nearby masjid for Isha — Jami’ Walida Hisham Al-Musa. The mosque was newly built and modern. The Imam, Anas Almayman, a well-known reciter, led the prayer. His recitation was precise and heart rendering.
That day reminded me why I first wanted to travel. It is not always about material gain. It is about discovering places you never knew existed, meeting people you were not expecting to meet, and stumbling upon serendipitous moments.
