IN ONE WORLD, HE WAS A DRUG ADDICT; IN ANOTHER, HE WAS A WISE SOUL

A persistent midafternoon breeze swept over the mourners Monday as friends,
co-workers, strangers and a teenage son gathered to bury the earthly body
of Carmichael barber Mohammad Reza Abdollahi.

Known simply as "Ray" to his customers, Abdollahi, 51, was remembered as an
educated, giving person adept at breaking down the barriers of cultural
differences. Customers found him especially wise in his viewpoints on
global matters and cross-cultural relationships. At least one customer
struggling with America's changing perspective in the aftermath of Sept. 11
sought out Ray's barber chair the next day for answers.

And so it seemed impossible late in March when many who admired him
discovered that he had long been addicted to heroin. The way they learned
it was almost as horrible. Unbeknownst to his friends, Abdollahi was being
held in the Sacramento County jail on drug charges when he reportedly
hanged himself from the bunk bed in his cell shortly after midnight on
March 27. Few could believe that the name in the Sheriff's Department press
release was the same person they knew as "Ray, the barber."

Drug addicts are supposed to be faceless, loveless people shooting up in
darkened alleys, not people who gently put the most human of faces on the
issues of our times.

"Most people who knew him never would have guessed it," said Tom Gray,
owner of Barber Studio I, where Abdollahi worked for more than eight years.
While not perfect, "he was a very giving man. Very educated. Very
insightful. He really enjoyed people."

I first heard of Abdollahi, a practicing attorney in his native Iran before
the political turmoil of the 1970s, from an e-mail that began, "I had the
most interesting haircut of my life on September 12, 2001."

Like many of us, the writer was badly shaken by the terrorist attacks;

it was Abdollahi's perspective that helped calm him.

"He spoke like a man who had endured parts of the world that I would never
see," said the customer, who asked to remain nameless. "Oddly, his insights
quelled some of my biggest fears of Sept. 11. What seemed to be no less
than Armageddon-scale events of cataclysmic disaster, I now saw as the acts
of a desperate, cowardly, ignorant sect within the Muslim community."

Interestingly, Abdollahi's burial ceremony also bridged cultures as
mourners from different backgrounds and faith traditions gathered at Mount
Vernon Memorial Park. Prayers were recited in the heavenly chant of the
minister conversing with Allah, or God. Then he knocked on the simple wood
casket to get the soul's attention.

Mourners were encouraged to "wipe their thoughts clean," so the soul isn't
distracted as the minister feeds the soul the correct answers to spiritual
questions. Muslims believe the soul returns to the body on the first night
after burial to answer questions posed by angels, explained Mahmoud
Forghany, a volunteer minister who considers caring for the religious needs
of deceased Muslims a "mission" he does in honor of his father's memory.

Mount Vernon has an interesting relationship with the Muslim community.
About a year ago, a deal was forged to set aside a small area of the
grounds for burials following Islamic traditions. Any Muslim who hears of
the tragedy is responsible for stepping forward to make sure a proper
ceremony is conducted and paid for.

The simple wood casket was opened during the service to turn the body on
its side so it faces Mecca. (Most Muslim burials use no casket.) The body
is completely wrapped in a "kafan," a white, perfumed shroud. A small mound
of dirt is placed under the head, to bring the body closer to the earth to
which it will return.

The journey in all religious traditions, Forghany said, is about "being the
best humans we can be." The law, as it must, saw Abdollahi one way; his
admirers sent him off without judgment.