Sheikh Mustafa Haji Ismail Harun: The Quiet Teacher

Introduction:

Some people make an impact by raising their voices. Others do it by listening. Sheikh Mustafa Haji Ismail Harun falls into the second group. You probably won’t find him trending on social media or giving flashy speeches in stadiums. But speak to the hundreds—if not thousands—of young men and women who’ve heard his words, and they’ll tell you: he changed the way I think.

This isn’t just the story of a religious man. It’s the journey of a person who used humility as strength, and wisdom as a bridge between tradition and modern life.

1. From Burao to the Bigger World

Sheikh Mustafe, as he’s often known, was born in Burao, a quiet city in the Togdheer region of Somaliland. His childhood, like many in rural Somalia, was grounded in simple routines: Quranic memorization before breakfast, helping family with chores, and listening to elders speak under acacia trees.

What set him apart wasn’t where he came from. It was how he saw things. As a child, he asked questions others avoided. Not to rebel — but to understand.

When asked later in life where his love of knowledge came from, he smiled and said:

“Sometimes silence teaches more than books. I learned more by watching my father pray than reading 20 pages of theory.”

2. The Unexpected Student of Engineering

In the early 1980s, while many of his friends pursued traditional religious studies only, Mustafe enrolled at Somali National University to study electrical engineering. For many, this was a surprise. How could a man so steeped in religious learning choose science?

But to him, there was no contradiction. He saw science as a gift from God, a different lens to understand the universe. He’d spend his days analyzing circuits and his evenings diving into classical Islamic texts. His mentor, the late Sheikh Abdulkadir Nur Farah, once said,

“He has a scientific mind and a Sufi soul.”

3. The Journey to Norway – More Than Migration

When civil war tore Somalia apart in the early 1990s, Mustafe, like many, had to leave. He found himself in Norway, a country that couldn’t be more different than where he came from. Snowy winters. Cold silences. A culture that valued individualism.

But where others saw isolation, he saw opportunity. He realized that the Somali diaspora needed more than just a preacher—they needed a translator between two worlds. And so he became that. In community halls and local mosques, he began giving sermons. Not just about heaven and hell, but about marriage, parenting, education, and identity.

His Norwegian-born students often described his lectures as “real talk.” One said:

“He doesn’t tell us what to do. He shows us how to think.”

4. Not a Celebrity, but a Shepherd

In a time where many religious figures chase fame, Sheikh Mustafe remains deliberately low-profile. No big social media platform. No theatrics. Just calm, well-thought-out teaching.

What makes him special is that he understands struggle. He’s seen young people lost between cultures, parents disconnected from their children, and faith used more as a weapon than a light.

One of his most famous lectures was about the “Shahada flag” controversy in Somaliland. Instead of taking sides, he asked everyone to reflect:

“Are we defending Islam, or are we using it as a tool for politics?”

The question hung in the air. It wasn’t an accusation. It was an invitation.

5. His Real Legacy Lives Off-Stage

What’s remarkable about Sheikh Mustafe is how many people he’s helped—quietly. He’s officiated weddings, guided broken families, and helped university students find direction when life felt meaningless. He doesn’t ask for payment, recognition, or applause. His reward, he says, is “seeing someone walk out of a conversation lighter than they walked in.”

Ask around in Somali communities in Oslo, Bergen, Gothenburg, or even Toronto, and someone will know him—or someone changed by him.

Conclusion:

In the end, Sheikh Mustafa Haji Ismail Harun isn’t famous for shouting louder. He’s remembered for reminding people of what matters most—faith with understanding, leadership with humility, and identity that bridges, not breaks.

If more of us listened the way he speaks, maybe the world wouldn’t be quieter… but it would make more sense.