It was about a year after my return from Guantanamo, before I began working at Cageprisoners, that I remember receiving an unexpected call from someone who said he was in HMP Long Lartin [prison]. Unlike several of the other prisoners there I didn’t know this person but, I had read something about his case. He introduced himself as “your younger brother, Faraj Hassan, from Libya”.  Although his English was good I spoke to him in Arabic and asked him how it was in prison for him and all the others. He praised Allah and said that their ordeal, although a great injustice, was nothing like Guantanamo or the secret prisons.  In fact, he said something I often say myself about people in worse situations than us: “knowing about places like that helped us to pass through our own hardships and accept out fate”.

And yet, Faraj was different from many other in his situation; for as sure as he was prepared to accept his fate, he was not prepared to accept injustice lying down – for himself or anyone else. He said: “Brother, I know the work you are all doing for our brothers in Guantanamo and elsewhere – may Allah free them soon and unite them with their families – but can you also remember to talk about the plight of your brothers here, held for years without charge in Britain’s own Guantanamo.”

Faraj was eventually released from prison and put on a very restrictive control order. We used to call each other often to talk about his case but, I also got to learn something about his story, how he had not seen his wife and daughter  for many years; his love of Islamic knowledge, Quran and even the martial arts! Al-hamdu lillah, after years of separation, with his wife and child still in Pakistan, they were finally reunited and lived together – control order and all – in a small house in Leicester which is where I first visited him. I remember the beaming smile on his face when we first met and embraced. My book had just been published in Arabic so I’d brought him a copy. But it was as if he we had already known each other. I’d seen his interviews on Press TV and Islam Channel and it was clear the brother, ma sha Allah, had the passion, desire and ability to campaign against the injustice of imprisonment without trial and more.

Several days later Faraj called me and said that in sha Allah, when he was able, indeed he too would be campaigning for the rights of others.  But of course he still had many battles to win before his own control order was quashed – which happened only a few months ago. After that, Faraj could have decided that he now needed to try and start his life afresh and no one could have faulted him for it.

Around that time I was facing repeated attacks in the media for all sorts of things and had decided to take a short break from public speaking, even cancelling several events. But there was one exception. Faraj told me he’d agreed to do a talk in Surrey University and that he’d like me to join him as it was his first public talk. In fact, I was the one who wanted to join him – was honoured to join him that evening. He was concerned about how he sounded - I told him he was fine. I couldn’t tell him that I’d had tears in my eyes when I heard him speak.

After that I heard about Faraj speaking at HHUGS and JFAC events, about him visiting brothers all around the country who are also on control orders or in some dire need of assistance. I'd often hear from people I was visiting that Faraj had been round to see them several times. He even came to visit me at the office and we went out for dinner and discussed the issues of the brothers, our pasts and hopes for the future.

I loved seeing his bright, handsome face, speaking in his Libyan-English accent on television interviews.  In real-life he was even better. I loved the way he spoke Arabic, the way he recited the Quran and the way he made du’aa in qunoot - in any prayer. The last time I heard him was on Saturday when he came to the Birmingham HHUGS event and we spoke together about the plight of prisoners and their families. He led the maghrib prayer and made a du’aa in the last rak’ah, the likes of which I last heard in the cages of Guantanamo. I was so glad that at least that is almost my last memory of him, almost. We sat together at iftaar and he said next time I was in London to come over to his house, break our fast together and that I stay over the night with him. I agreed, I’d come to his house after spending the day at the office. But Faraj was going to be breaking his fast somewhere else, come Monday. He was also looking forward so much to coming to our dinner on Saturday and meet all the Guantanamo prisoners. But, like the iftaar, it was a promise he was unable to keep.

When I called some former prisoners who had once been held with Faraj and told them the news these men, like me, could not control their tears. I have to admit I've not cried like this for a while. It's still hard to believe.

Yet he’s gone...but his voice still echoes in my ears, my head, my heart. He’s gone to the One who said: “Neither does anyone know what he will harvest on the morrow. Nor does anyone know in which land he will meet his end." 

Faraj touched the hearts of many people and left a beautiful, lasting impression on us all, even though most confess to not having known him for very long. This is a testament to the man, what he believed in and stood for. If ahl-ud-dunya think of him thus, it is surely a good sign for ahl-ul-aakhirah who he has now joined.

Faraj struggled in the path of Allah and fought for the rights of the oppressed. My thoughts of his end are echoed through the words of a great scholar: “Death comes only once - so let it be in the way of Allah.” 

May Allah have mercy on you dear Faraj, and know that I love you for the sake of Allah even if you have departed from this life. 

"Peace be upon you O dwellers of this abode - Muslims and believers - and by the leave of Allah we shall be joining you soon. We ask Allah for us and for you al-'Aafia [to be kept safe in this world and the next]." (Supplication for visiting the abode of the dead).