Left: Najla Henderson and her son Zavian stand next to her parents Daarina and Rashad Abdus-Samad. Right: The sign for Masjid Al Taqwa still stands.
(
Samanta Helou Hernandez
/
LAist
)
Topline:
Masjid Al Taqwa — the first mosque in the Altadena-Pasadena area — was among many buildings destroyed by the Eaton Fire, which broke out Jan. 7 during an historic wind storm and grew to become one of the deadliest fires in Southern California’s history.
Why it matters: “It's a place where we come and we gather, but it's also our community … It's gotten me through some trying times and I've always known that I could go to the masjid,” said Najla Abdus-Samad, who grew up attending Masjid Al Taqwa. “Even when I didn't understand it, it was a place of openness where we could go and run around and it was safe.”
The backstory: The mosque started as the Altadena-Pasadena Dawah Center in the 1970s by a group of Black Muslims leaving the Nation of Islam. The community was tight knit and used various locations to worship. But as their numbers grew, they needed a permanent home and they found one on Lake Avenue in Altadena. It grew to a beloved community landmark for multicultural Muslims in the area.
What's next: Aaron Abdus-Shakoor, one of the mosque's founders, is working to secure a place for the Masjid Al Taqwa community to continue Friday Jummah prayers (congregational prayers that Muslims offer like Sunday service). They have launched a LaunchGood campaign through Islah LA to crowdfund for the Masjid Al Taqwa’s needs, with the funds earmarked for temporary housing, clothing, hygiene products and foods for those who have lost homes. The mosque is also raising funds to rebuild.
Gone are the rich, jewel toned thick carpets, gold embossed Qur’ans and the fig tree. Now, all that remains of Masjid Al Taqwa — the first mosque in the Altadena-Pasadena area — are soot, ash and charred twisted skeletons of chairs. A sign proclaiming the mosque’s name stands beside a burned, hollowed out billboard.
Listen
• 3:55
After the Eaton Fire destroyed Altadena’s first mosque, its leaders focus on rebuilding
The place of worship and gathering was among many buildings destroyed by the Eaton Fire, which broke out Jan. 7 during an historic wind storm and grew to become one of the deadliest fires in Southern California’s history.
“It's a place where we come and we gather, but it's also our community … It's gotten me through some trying times and I've always known that I could go to the masjid,” said Najla Abdus-Samad, who grew up attending Masjid Al Taqwa. “Even when I didn't understand it, it was a place of openness where we could go and run around and it was safe.”
The skeleton of chairs at the former site of Masjid Al Taqwa which was destroyed by the Eaton Fire in Altadena.
(
Samanta Helou Hernandez
/
LAist
)
Now, mosque leaders, despite suffering losses of their own in the fire, are looking toward recovery and rebuilding as the full scale of destruction sinks in.
Early beginnings
The mosque started as the Altadena-Pasadena Dawah Center in the 1970s by a group of Black Muslims leaving the Nation of Islam. The community was tight knit and used various locations to worship. But as their numbers grew, they needed a permanent home.
Daarina Abdus-Samad, Najla’s mother, was driving around Lake Avenue in Altadena and spotted the building which at the time was a thrift store. All it needed was a name.
Masjid is an Arabic word for “place of prostration” and Al Taqwa loosely translates to God consciousness or piety. The leaders agreed it would be a fitting name for their new home.
The tight-knit Masjid Al Taqwa community hopes to rebuild despite the loss of their place of worship.
(
Samanta Helou Hernandez
/
LAist
)
What remains of Masjid Al Taqwa, the first mosque in the Altadena-Pasadena area.
(
Samanta Helou Hernandez
/
LAist
)
Multigenerational place of community
Najla Abdus-Samad recalls Sunday school at the mosque and learning the Arabic alphabet.
“We'd stay there for hours and we'd learn and we'd read the Qur'an and we'd play with each other,” she said, carrying her 1-year-old son Zavian Henderson.
“ I want him to grow up with what's right and what's wrong and the masjid taught me that. So not having the masjid, it's going to be a lot harder to teach him about a faith, about Allah that has carried me through my whole life.”
Jihad Saafir, the founder and executive director of Islah LA, a nonprofit offering education and housing in south Los Angeles, grew up in the Altadena-Pasadena area.
”This has always been my uncles, aunties. They helped raise me,” he said about some of the mosque’s early founders gathered to speak to LAist. “I lived right around the corner from the masjid at one point. I was the imam here. These are sites that I've seen growing up every day so to see them and to hear about them being burned down and seeing video and pictures, it's heartbreaking.”
Jihad Saafir, the founder and executive director of Islah LA, a nonprofit offering education and housing in south Los Angeles, grew up in the Altadena-Pasadena area.
(
Samanta Helou Hernandez
/
LAist
)
Rahil Siddiqui and Zayaan Qazi grew up attending Masjid Al Taqwa.
(
Samanta Helou Hernandez
/
LAist
)
For Rahil Siddiqui, 19, some of his best memories at Masjid Al Taqwa were around Eid, the festival marking the end of a month of fasting.
“ My father owned a restaurant nearby, so we would help with food for Eid,” he said. “We had this tradition where the kids would be able to put three gifts that they wanted, and the masjid would crowdfund in order to get those gifts and distribute it.”
And now as an adult, he helps keep the tradition alive, distributing the gifts on Eid morning.
Zeyaan Qazi, a student at USC, got her last Eid gift when she turned 18.
“ I've been helping the little kids paint their Eid bags, even like the little babies who can't even hold a paintbrush,” she said. “Now I'm older and I can help Sister Dolores plan the wish list and stuff the bags and decorate the gifts and it's honestly just such a tradition that I'm so excited to continue insha Allah (God willing) when we rebuild our mosque.”
Rebuilding and what the future holds
The loss is compounded for the likes of Aaron Abdus-Shakoor, one of the mosque’s early founders who also lost his home and business in the fire.
“Home, nothing was salvaged, office, nothing was salvaged, and other homes that I'm involved in, they were totally destroyed,” he said. “It is devastating. It's completely gone. It's flat. These areas are flat to the ground.”
Despite his personal losses, Abdus-Shakoor is thinking about the congregants. He is working to secure a place for the Masjid Al Taqwa community to continue Friday Jummah prayers (congregational prayers that Muslims offer like Sunday service). Ramadan is a few weeks away and he’s looking to lease a property so they can continue the free daily evening meals.
Delores and Aaron Abdus-Shakoor are early founders of Masjid Al Taqwa which was destroyed by the Eaton Fire along with their home and office. Here they stand with their son Jihad Abdus-Shakoor and his wife Desha Dauchan.
(
Samanta Helou Hernandez
/
LAist
)
Saafir has launched a LaunchGood campaign through Islah LA to crowdfund for the Masjid Al Taqwa’s needs, with the funds earmarked fortemporary housing, clothing, hygiene products and foods for those who have lost homes. The mosque is also raising funds to rebuild.
“ I think it’ll come back, but it's going to be years. It's not going to be overnight. It's going to take time because there's so many properties that were destroyed,” Abdus-Shakoor said. “It's a process of planning and building and getting permits and going through that system.”
Altadena is a tight-knit and diverse community where people have been able to achieve homeownership. Many residents who've been impacted by the Eaton Fire hope to rebuild.
(
Samanta Helou Hernandez
/
LAist
)
Darina Abdus-Samad, agreed, adding that the masjid has to rebuild, even if it’s with a tent or rug, because “the family is strong.”
“It just has to make us stronger. We can't let it go someplace else,” she said. “So much love and work has been put in it and you can feel the feeling when you come into our (masjid) — we've had families come from different places into our masjid and say, OK, this is home.”
