It is a question I hear often as a relief team leader for a Protestant organization. Of course I do. In fact, over the past 25 years, the vast majority of my relief work has taken place in Muslim regions. My experience ranges from Afghanistan in 2002—including post-war reconstruction in Iraq and the earthquake in Iran—to Somalia and Mali in Africa, and most recently, the Rohingya refugee camps in Bangladesh.
The fundamental principle of relief work is clear: “Saving lives and alleviating suffering takes top priority in any situation.” To achieve this, we adhere to four key principles: humanity, neutrality, impartiality, and independence. We protect lives and dignity out of humanity, maintain political neutrality, and provide aid impartially based solely on need—regardless of religion, race, or gender.
True to these principles, we rush to disaster sites within 48 hours, even in Islamic countries. However, because religions and cultures differ significantly, we must exercise extra caution. Respecting religious leaders, being considerate of prayer times and fasting periods, and observing local attire, etiquette, and gender norms are essential practices.
Allahu Akbar (God is Great).”
When the *Adhan* (the Islamic call to prayer) rings out from the mosque, locals stop what they are doing to pray; they strictly observe these five daily prayer times. This happened in Mosul, Iraq. I needed to deliver documents regarding a visa extension to the pilot of a military helicopter bound for Baghdad, but printer trouble caused a delay in our departure. Anxious because being late was absolutely not an option, I kept making the Sign of the Cross as we drove—until the vehicle suddenly came to a halt.
"Oh no!" Just as I was about to scream, thinking the car had broken down, the driver and staff stepped out, spread a small blanket on the ground, and began to pray. I ended up missing the helicopter that day—a harsh lesson learned.
This is especially true during Ramadan. As it is a month-long period of fasting during which no food or water is consumed while the sun is up, schedules for supply distribution and meetings are adjusted accordingly. During the relief operations following the earthquake in Pakistan, Ramadan coincided with the height of summer. The fifty or so local army engineers working with our team restored collapsed mountain roads all day long under the scorching sun without taking a single sip of water. By afternoon, I felt hesitant even to drink water in front of the soldiers, whose lips were parched white and trembling.
"As-salamu alaykum" (Peace be upon you).
The success of relief efforts hinges on relationships with local religious leaders. That is why meeting them is the first item on the agenda. During these encounters, female personnel cover their heads, wear loose-fitting clothing, and refrain from taking the initiative unless the other party offers a handshake or speaks first. Male personnel must avoid any physical contact with local women and steer clear of situations where they might be alone with a woman in an enclosed space, such as a vehicle.
"Is it really necessary to go to such lengths to help?"
My answer is clear: We must help, no matter what. These are the people who need help the most, and they, too, are precious human beings created by God. In 1965, through the Declaration *Nostra Aetate* (Declaration on the Relation of the Church to Non-Christian Religions), the Catholic Church proclaimed that Muslims are neighbors—descendants of Abraham in God—and that God’s grace of creation and love extends to them as well. The guiding principle is not to shun others because they are different, but rather to respect them all the more for those differences and to reach out with a hand of love.
This is why I am truly proud to be a Catholic.
