by: Meila Rosianika
In the heart of Jeonju, I discovered a place that represents both faith and connection. Masjid Abu Bakar Al-Siddiq, the only mosque in the city. Reaching it was a journey in itself: I took two buses and walked more than 6,400 steps, guided by the kindness of strangers.
At first, I
felt uncertain about the directions, but along the way, a sister in faith from
Bangladesh kindly helped me. Her calm and gentle manner reminded me that solidarity
among Muslims transcends borders and languages. When I finally arrived, praying
in the mosque after weeks away from home felt deeply comforting like finding a
spiritual anchor amid the unfamiliar rhythms of Korean life.
Though
modest in size, the mosque carries a powerful sense of peace. It also serves as
a community center, where Muslims from different countries gather to pray and exchange stories.
After
visiting the mosque, I went to Firdavs Restaurant, a halal restaurant in Jeonju
run by a Muslim from Uzbekistan. I had to take another bus and walk a bit
farther to reach it. When I arrived, I was delighted. The restaurant offered a
variety of delicious Uzbek dishes, and I met several fellow Muslims from
Bangladesh, Uzbekistan, and India. It also provides a small prayer
space, something quite rare in Jeonju, where most worship spaces for Muslims are
limited to the mosque.
This was my second
visit to the mosque but my first time dining at a halal restaurant in Jeonju.
During my first visit, I struggled to find the mosque because Google Maps
didn’t always work properly in Korea, and some place names appeared unreadable
even in English. At that time, I didn’t know the mosque was also listed as Korea
Islamic Center Jeonju Mosque on KakaoMap.
While I was
lost, I met Naima, a kind Muslim woman from Bangladesh pursuing her Ph.D. in
Jeonju. Seeing her wearing a hijab gave me the courage to approach her, and she
guided me with warmth and patience.
Later, when I got confused again, I asked for help from a Korean man who didn’t speak much English. We communicated through Papago, and although he had a different destination, he chose to accompany me on the bus to make sure I arrived safely. When my bus card ran out of balance, he even paid my fare. I was deeply moved by his kindness. After we got
off the bus, the mosque was still a long walk away. Yet, he continued to walk
with me until we reached the narrow alley leading to the mosque. Before
parting, he pointed toward it and gestured, “It’s close, just walk straight.”
Even after I walked away, he stayed to make sure I reached safely. His simple
act of humanity touched my heart.
Many Koreans I have met do not actively practice a specific religion. However, this does not mean they lack spirituality or moral values. On the contrary, they often demonstrate deep respect, empathy, and discipline. Those are qualities that reflect universal ethics and compassion. This experience made me reflect: As people of faith, do we show the same level of kindness and concern for others, regardless of their beliefs?
Visiting the
mosque helped me realize that faith travels with us. It is not bound by
geography. Even far from home, I found a sense of belonging in a foreign land.
The kindness of strangers and the shared rhythm of prayer reminded me that spirituality
and humanity can coexist beautifully, even in diversity.
That day, I spent my weekend mindfully, walking past more than a dozen bus stops and covering over 14,000 steps. Yet, my heart felt lighter, renewed, and recharged. In this small
Muslim community in Jeonju, surrounded by brothers and sisters from Bangladesh,
Uzbekistan, and India, I rediscovered not only faith but also the essence of
global citizenship: respect, empathy, and understanding.
-Lesson learned week 7-
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