Why Did They Become Muslims

Eventually, I was given an office in Uganda, which was under the
British sway in those days. When I went to Africa, I saw that life
was entirely different there. Lifestyles of people living there, the
sentiments that they displayed concerning various worldly events,
their behaviours towards one another amazingly defied the
expectations and imaginations that I had harboured about them
when I had been in London. People living in this place faced the
very primitive and onerous life-styles and all sorts of difficulty they
encountered in a sense of absolute trust, did not lose their jollity at
times when one would normally feel quite despondent, and no
degree of poverty could inhibit them from helping one another. A
sacred glue composed of love and compassion had attached them
to one another, which was well beyond the narrow mental grasp of
people of our sort. In fact, I had taken an interest in the orient
during my school days. In Cambridge, for instance, I had tasted the
pleasure of reading the stories of Arabian Nights. And now, being
in Africa, and so close to the Orient; I resumed reading the book.
The difficult and unaccommodating life I was now leading in
Uganda was making me feel closer and closer to the oriental
people. As I was reading the stories of Arabian Nights now, I was
comparing them with the people of Uganda and, as it were, I was
living with them.
I was completely accustomed to life here, when the First
World War broke out. When I applied for military service, they
would not admit me into the military on account of my poor
health. When I felt better I applied again. This time they admitted
me, and sent me to the German front in France. In 1917 I joined
the terrible Somme battles. I was wounded in these battles, and I
was captured by the Germans. They took me to Germany, where
I was put in a hospital. I saw extremely horrendous events in the
hospital. Because of those battles, mankind suffered such horrible
afflictions. Many Russian prisoners of war were brought to the
hospital. They were suffering from dysentery, which had already
exhausted them. Food provisions were extremely poor in
Germany. They did not give enough food to the prisoners of war
or to the other patients. I was writhing with hunger. The wound
on my right arm never seemed to be recovering, nor did the one
on my right leg. I was already crippled and paralyzed. I applied to
the Germans and requested them to repatriate me to my country
through the Prisoners of War Exchange Commission in
Switzerland. My request was approved by the Germans. I was
sent to Switzerland, where they hospitalized me again. My arm
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