Bismillahir Rahmanir Raheem
An "Out-of-Sequence" Chapter in the Story
of
~*Aishah's Journey Continues…An American Muslim in
Saudi Arabia*~
Assalamu
Alaikum wa Rahmatuallahi wa Barakatu. I
actually started writing this as a part of a reply to an email I received from
a sister that happens to also be a foreigner living in Riyadh. Subhan’Allah, my dear Heather (jibrielsmommy),
thinking I might be lonely, was searching through other e-groups and found one
with a sister in it living in KSA and she wrote to her and told the sister
about me…masha’Allah…Krista wrote to me after receiving Heather’s email and I
let a few too many days pass before replying (you know me…)…but then she
apologized right back for taking a few extra days to answer me, too…and such
is life. LOL!! I didn’t realize my return reply to her
would turn into a story in-and-of-itself, but before I knew it, I had been
typing from the end of Maghrib until the adhan for Isha (and then some!). So, are you ready?!?! Cause here we go! Off on another of Aishah’s journey’s…Make sure you’ve got a few
minutes…because in MS Word this is 12 pages long! Oh, my goodness!!
{{smile}} Note: Please bear in mind that the experiences
that I write about here are those of a single person and are not necessarily
representative of how life in KSA is throughout the entire region.
And so begins
the chapter.
This past
Friday after Asr, Mustafa and headed out in search of something to do, and
found ourselves being dropped off in front of the Taif International Mall. Wow…what a shock… I could not believe this shinning, gleaming,
marble tiled place…it was all clean and beautiful…but it was completely
filled with shops (most of which contained Western clothing) in which
only women would want to buy anything…and each and every shop (it seemed
that there were at least 100 between what was on the inside and the two row of
shops on the outside of the mall) was operated by a man.
Now lets
ponder this…the majority of women in Taif walk around wearing niqab, lest she
cause a man to have even a momentary sinful thought, and at the same time they
are forced to go into shops selling negligees, bras, panties, makeup, and other
“female” items…and have to deal with a man in order to make their
transactions!! Let’s see…mmm…
“Ah, I like that bra over there, do you have it in black, maybe in the back of
the store?” “What size would you like,
sister?” “Ah, do you have a 34-C?” –
okay, right! LOL! And this guy is supposed to be hanging
around all day looking at this stuff and not be prone to having a single
“sexual” thought? And even though the
pious shopping sister is wearing niqab…the shop clerk/owner isn’t supposed to
wonder what her 34-C bosoms would look like in that sexy new bra as he gazes
into her immaculately beautified eyes peeking out from the slit in the
fabric covering her face??? Yes,
that’s right…to add insult to injury…the “pious” niqabi has a truckload of
eyeliner and mascara (sometimes eye-shadow as well) on her eyes! Come on…get real…I mean…Al-hamdulillah
for those sisters who sincerely wear niqab piously…but is it really
pious to wear niqab and at the same time wear eye-shadow, eye-liner and
mascara; products designed to “beautify” the eyes? I mean…sisters…please…it is not my
intention to make anyone upset here, but, seriously…what is the point? The point of the veil is modesty…those
sisters making a personal choice to wear niqab do so, insha’Allah, as a
deed for which they hope to be rewarded in the hereafter, right? This can also be because they believe that
revealing their beauty to those from whom it is forbidden to reveal it is haram. So if the one who chooses to cover
everything, as in the case of niqab, turns right around and beautifies her eyes
with eye-shadow, eyeliner, and mascara, thus purposely making them
appealing, and by default attracting the attention of men in front of
whom she is forbidden to reveal her beauty, then what is the point of
covering at all???? I think the
“point” is missed altogether and the reward cancelled out! Astaghferullah…the act is supposed to
be something in which one would hope to find pleasure from Allah (swt)…not
from non-mahram males… Well, I am
sure this is getting me off on the wrong foot somewhere along the line…so lets
journey onward!
I guess the
good news is that I have since learned that in Mecca and Jeddah you can find
shops for women with darkly tinted windows that are run by women…that
ought to be fun shopping experience…we should, by all means, be protected from
each other!!…sigh…alas, even in the United States I didn’t like to shop in
malls…as long as I had a debit card and an internet connection I could safely,
privately, and securely shop in the freedom, comfort and relaxation of my own
home…but here everyone uses cash…something else for me to get adjusted to!
Anyhow, the
next leg of our journey took us in search of a place to eat …ahhhh… but
herein lay another dilemma…my husband wanted to eat out with his wife. The streets are literally lined with shops
and restaurants…and not a single one would allow a man to eat with his
wife. Unbelievable… Like women are
non-persons or something?!?!…astighferullah. Okay…hang in there with me…all is not lost…
We ended up
catching another taxi, and subhan’Allah, the driver knew of a “Chinese”
restaurant with a “family” section where we got dropped off and were able to
enjoy a nice meal together.
Al-hamdulillah. We were both
starving! Ah, and let me say, the
food was good, and the Pepsi was g-r-e-a-t! LOL!!!
It was a good thing that afterwards we were planning to go to the
grocery store because that gave us a chance to walk off our meal. Boy was I full! It was the first time (all the more reason not to
disappoint your wife…) I had eaten outside of the apartment since we arrived so
I have to say I did enjoy this part of our outing. The company wasn’t bad either… a rather
dashing young man my husband is…masha’Allah…
LOL!
Alas, I would
be remiss in forgetting to acknowledge that we have encountered some
very nice taxi drivers during our stay here…Al-hamdulillah. That seems to be a recurring theme in my
life over the last three years…discovering nice and helpful taxi drivers! Two of my dearest friends in the U.S. are
Muslim cab drivers…subhan’Allah…one affectionately refers to me as a “headache”
(hahaha) and the other one (from Morocco) has told his family that he has an adopted
sister in the U.S. who looks out for him so they need not worry about him any
more…masha’Allah… In return, when I was
getting ready to leave, I asked my Moroccan brother to take care of my adopted
daughter, Hanane (also from Morocco), the same way he took care of me…and,
Al-hamdulillah, she reports to me that he has done just that. May Allah (swt) reward him for his
faithfulness and good deeds in this life and in Jannah. (FYI - I was one of those rare people in
the U.S. who did not drive…living in Washington, D.C., driving and parking was
such a wretched headache that I just opted out! LOL!! The plus side to my
not driving is that in KSA I can’t drive anyway, so I’m, Al-hamdulillah, at
least already accustomed to that!
Anyhow, my
not driving is how I developed a network of cab/friends and Muslim brothers and
sisters to adopt as my new family.) After eating my husband and I left the restaurant and headed just
up the block to a grocery store we had frequented a couple of times
before. This one is kind of like a mini
Wal-Mart…way mini! LOL!! Oh, I just remembered something! One of the things I just love (I say this
facetiously), about this grocery store is that from the moment you pick up
the first item off a shelf, you just have to forget the urge to go and wash
your hands until you get home. Everything
is dusty!! Mmm…this could be a plus
to wearing gloves…except the black fabric would just show all the dirt!
By this time
it was approaching Maghrib, and knowing that it would be useless to begin our
shopping because the businesses would be closing for salat, we opted instead to
walk further down towards the “mosque”…
There are two
different grocery stores that we take turns frequenting for our shopping. The store we were going to on this occasion
is in the vicinity of a KFC (Kentucky Fried Chicken, of all things…),
and an ATM machine at which I can withdraw money from my U.S. Citibank account,
Al-hamdulillah! Across the
street from the grocery store is a huge “park” of sorts. As I have come to understand it, with the
“weekend” being Thursday and Friday here, many families gather at these parks,
which you can readily find as they are sporadically laced throughout the
city.
The first
time we shopped at this particular grocery store it was between Maghrib and
Isha, so when the adhan called us to prayer, we headed in the direction of a
nearby mosque. (One thing about
Taif, there is no shortage of mosques!)
Well, wouldn’t you know…we had been “told” that we could find a place
for sisters to pray…but I’ll be darn if we could figure out where it was
squirreled away!! I got completely
frustrated; I was the only sister “lurking” around outside looking for a
place to pray! Abandoning my fruitless
search, I ended up walking back up to the park to sit by myself and waited for
my husband to return from praying with the brothers… Subhan’Allah…the men had a place to pray…
Upon arriving
at the park I found a little place where a husband and wife had arranged boxes
and boxes of shoes for sale. It
reminded me of a scene from the local flea market in a city that I used to live
in back home. There were only sisters
and their daughters gathered around the boxes, as it seemed that the shoes were
for the female gender, so I thought I would look as inconspicuous as possible (with
my glaringly white American face…), by sitting on the curb of the sidewalk
beside where the couple had set up their shoe stand.
As fate would
have it (or in other words, it seems to be typical that if I am sitting somewhere,
somehow children seem to migrate around me), a very young (maybe 2 or 3-years
old) brother and sister (about 4 or 5-years old), snacking on small packs of
potato chips, seemed to find entertainment in “chatting” with me while I sat
smiling, and looking at her wide-eyed, as if I understood what she was
saying. Well, the little girl seemed
chatty anyway…LOL…the little boy just seemed to bashfully stare at me with
equally wide-eyes…LOL…oddly enough that seems typical, too. {{smile}}
Anyway, the second
adhan announcing the commencement of Isha started, and when it finished the
most adorable and astounding thing happened.
The little girl, in her sweet little Arabic tongue, immediately began to
recite Surah Al-Fatihah, followed by short little surah’s and Allah Akbar’s
that sounded so melodious that I just wanted her to keep reciting…it was so
beautiful, masha’Allah, and yet melancholy at the same time. There we were in a park crowded with people
busy visiting, eating and shopping, and from amongst them a single voice
prayed… Is this where I say
“Astaghferullah” or “Al-Hamdulillah”????
Anyway, back
to the "current" grocery store adventure...(sorry, I get side-tracked
sometimes!)
As Mustafa
and I were preparing to leave the Chinese restaurant to embark on our latest
trip to the grocery store, we sat there trying to decide which one we would go
to, and ended up choosing the one in the vicinity of the “mosque” referred to
above, as it was closest to the restaurant; within walking distance, in fact. Thus started our second misadventure to
the same mosque…
As predicted,
the adhan for Maghrib sounded just as we approached the grocery store. I was secretly dismayed as I recalled our
prior experience with the “mosque”, but my husband seemed convinced that if we
walked back over there a second time, we would somehow magically find what we
did not find before. And once again, I
walked back up to the park filled with people oblivious to the call for prayer,
and waited while my husband prayed in the “mosque” that wouldn’t accommodate
his traveling wife.
In
retrospect, having made wudu at the Chinese restaurant before we left from
eating our dinner, I have to say that on this occasion, I noted (out of all the
people crowded into the park), three sisters who stood in their own short
line to pray Maghrib together. Wallah,
I wish I had had the courage to just go ahead and fall into line with
them. But as it happened, in that
precise moment, I was still in an agitated state from my experience at the
mosque. Combined with the fact that I
had once again found myself alone in a strange place waiting for my husband,
together with the additional circumstance that I happened to be only one of a
handful of women brave enough (or brazen enough), to wear just hijab and
not niqab; I was virtually paralyzed with anxiety.
This anxiety
was exacerbated by the fact that two children, a boy and girl that I assumed to
be brother and sister, had been passing through the area where I was waiting
selling scarves. I had been watching
them pass among the small groups of women, asking if anyone wanted to buy a
scarf, and when they were moving from the small group nearest to me, they
passed right by me and moved on to the next group, as if I had not been
there at all…and truth be told…I had intended to buy a scarf from them just
for general principles…and not because I actually needed one…but just out of
the kindness and generosity of my heart…just as I also know that I would have
insisted that they accept more for the scarf than they were actually asking…just
because…instead, I turned away from the scene in front of me and sat down
on the edge of the curb along the sidewalk facing the street to wait for my
husband. Al-hamdulillah, Allah (swt)
in His infinite mercy allows us credit for a good intention even if something
happens negating our ability to fulfill it.
After salat
my husband found his way up the winding sidewalk from the mosque to the front
of the park to retrieve me…gosh…at this point I don’t think anyone would
doubt that I felt like little more than a piece of lost luggage…
Note: We are still car-less and dependant on taxis
so grocery shopping is always a truckload of fun. Not… Most of the time my husband goes alone and just
gets enough things for us to “survive” (which I am so completely sick of…“surviving”,
that is…), and if I’m lucky, once a week, or in the alternative, once every
other week, I get to accompany him so I can listen to him complain about the
trip being a headache because he had to take me with him (astaghferullah…he’s
just a man…). My husband’s
annoyance stems from the fact that my traveling with him necessitates his
getting a taxi when, if he went alone, he could catch a ride with someone
leaving the hospital complex, which would cost him nothing, and on the return
trip he would only pay 5 riyals for a ride in one of those little diesel
engine, pollution emitting, two-seater, Suzuki taxi/trucks that he refers to as
a “debaab” – which, by the time he gets home, has him smelling so badly of
fumes that he has to go straight to the shower while I put away the
groceries. (Mmm…I think that was a
“run-on” sentence! LOL!!)
To add insult
to injury, even if we run out of groceries, if my husband is “on-call” he cannot
leave the hospital grounds because the signal for his pager will not travel
beyond the mountains that the campus is surrounded by. So, on this particular Friday evening, we
really needed to get a good supply of things because of his being on call for
the next few days, and with us being together, I thought it would be a
productive shopping trip. The last time
we made the shopping trip I just waited at the front of the store with my
grocery cart for him to return with the taxi.
Gosh…it didn’t seem like such a big deal to me…the weather was great
and it gave me a chance to just quietly observe my surroundings.
But on this
particular shopping trip my husband seemed to want to hurry through the store
without picking up too many grocery items.
This really irritated me because I was calculating the number of days in
conjunction with the complete lack of supplies in the kitchen, together with
his on-call schedule, and I knew we would be looking at bare cupboards before
our next shopping trip. However, as
fate would have it…we’ve been in “survival” mode again for the past three days,
and quite frankly, I am a little more than ticked off about it. Astaghferullah. I am venting now…please forgive me…I just get so
frustrated sometimes because I am so accustomed to being able to do things for
myself.
Back home in
the U.S. I never had to depend on anyone else to do anything for me…(another
monumental adjustment in moving to Saudi Arabia…) in fact, if my work
schedule had me too busy, I could even go to www.peapod.com and order my groceries through the internet
and have them delivered to my apartment for a mere $4.00 service charge! Yes, it’s true! And an amazingly wonderful service it is,
too! If you’re East Coast, stateside,
there might be one near you!!! LOL!!!
At any rate,
we ended up moving through the store more quickly than would have ordinarily
been possible for me to pick up all that we needed to survive comfortably
for the next few days. Before you could
blink an eye, we were at the check-out, only this time, with so few bags when
it was all said and done, that we elected to just walk together out of the
store vs. my waiting for him to return with a taxi like before.
As we walked
along the sidewalk in the direction of the hospital, I noted that soon it would
be time for Isha, and yet I couldn’t help but notice that the park was still
full…children were running and playing, men sat in groups together on blankets
playing cards, smoking cigarettes (astaghferullah), eating, drinking
tea, and talking, while the women sat in little groups, clad in their niqabs,
literally just staring blankly out into space; some quietly chatting amongst
themselves…(a few actually keeping an eye out for their children)…somehow I
felt depressed looking out at the scenes falling behind me as we walked along
in search of a cab to take us home; all I could think of was getting away from
there and quick.
Unfortunately,
for some reason (we’re always being tested on our patience, aren’t we??)
on this particular night it seemed that we would be hard-pressed to hail a
taxi. As I stood at the curb waiting
(something else I am growing more and more accustomed to…not!!) with
Mustafa, I opened one of the grocery bags, and Al-hamdulillah, found one of the
cans of Pepsi that happened to be from a refrigerated container inside the
store. Aaahhh…sometimes there’s
nothing like the “real thing.” (That’s
one of Pepsi’s slogans…“The Real Thing.”)
{{smile}} Oddly enough, for some
reason Coca-Cola just isn’t the same here…Mustafa and I jokingly refer to it as
“fake” Coke…boy, wouldn’t the marketing department at Coke be dismayed to hear that! LOL!!
Anyhow, after
what seemed to be about 20 minutes a taxi finally happened along. Uhhhh…and these are not the
famous Washington-Metropolitan-Area, Lincoln/Crown Victoria, air-conditioned,
leather seated Red Top cabs, oh, no!
Many of the cabs in Taif are (for the most part) out-of-production
Toyota Cresseda’s, and many of them are typically on their “last leg” – or…if
you can’t figure that out…it is a miracle that they get you 10 feet up the
road…lol…but, Al-hamdulillah, we were finally rescued from the curbside and on
our way home.
Entertainment
for the journey home consisted of listening to the Arabic conversation taking
place in the front seat between my husband and the cab driver as they both
spoke amicably with arms flailing in front of each other…(as is the
Saudi/Egyptian custom when speaking).
In my Red Top cab my husband would have been sitting in the back of the
cab beside me, and most likely even holding my hand! (Astaghferullah!!)
Anyway, I sat (quietly of course, as women are not to be heard around
here either…), alone in the back seat of the taxi holding my half-empty
(give me a break…if you were in my shoes you would say half “empty”
instead of half “full”, too…) can of Pepsi. As the taxi passed by the light-filled businesses inside the
small city (most of which are clearly meant to be frequented exclusively by
men), many of the shop owners stood in the doorways looking out into
the streets; willing a customer to drop by, even if just to chat. As we hit the outskirts of town the view
changed to that of barren mountainside illuminated by the moonlight settling
into the evening sky…I found myself feeling quite somber…
The ride
home, Al-hamdulillah, did not take long, and before I knew it, we were pulling
up in front of our apartment building at the hospital complex and stepping out
of the taxi. My husband and the taxi
driver exchanged multiple salaams and various other un-translated well wishes
spoken in Arabic, and we headed up to our apartment, at last.
When we got
inside, we placed the few bags we had on the dining room table and Mustafa
walked over to collapse onto the sofa as I proceeded to begin emptying the
contents of the grocery bags out onto the table. Suddenly I felt almost limp, and I couldn't even think or stand
there a minute longer, and I walked over to the loveseat facing the sofa where
my husband sat, across from the coffee table, and slumped down, emotionally
exhausted. I reached up to begin
tugging at my hijab in an attempt to remove it, but my arms simply felt too
weak to finish the job.
After a few moments of silence, my husband began the
conversation. He said to me, "You know, Aishah...a friend of mine
back home warned me about something before we left..."
I gazed blankly across at him, mustering up enough strength to ask him
what it was his friend had warned him about, and my husband replied, “He
warned me that bringing you here might cause you to revert back…” and
before he could even finish his sentence the tears were streaming from my
eyes. I pulled myself up from where I
was sitting and walked across to the sofa and fell down beside him, burying my
face into the warmth of chest, and as his arm fell across my shoulders to
embrace me, I just cried and cried and cried…
The only
thing I know to do right now is to keep in the uppermost part of my mind, the
words that my husband said to me, that now seem to have been spoken such a long
time ago…
If your
concept of Islam is based on what you see in people you will certainly be
setting yourself up for disappointment.
However, if you remember that the reason you are Muslim is to worship
Allah (swt)…then your focus will become clear again. And as my husband also so often says, “La’Hawla wa la quwwata
ill’a bill’ah” – or “There is no power nor strength save in Allah.”
In my two
short years as a Muslim what I have learned is that so much of what many
Muslims “practice” is not even a part of the actual religion itself, and that
somehow true Islam seems to have become so clouded, or diluted, and lost or
ignored, that what I was feeling in those moments of sadness was not sadness
for myself…it was grief for what I imagined Allah (swt) must feel as He looks
down upon us…Is He scratching His head?
Is He holding His chin and pondering what went wrong? (Astaghferullah…) When did Muslims become so
self-defeated??? When will Allah’s
(swt) patience run out? La’Hawla wa la
quwwata ill’a bill’ah, La’Hawla wa la quwwata ill’a bill’ah. How can an entire park full of “Muslims” sit
and amuse themselves; seemingly oblivious to the fact that it was time for
prayer? Astaghferullah…The good deed
of spending time with their families outside of their busy workweeks was
cancelled when they purposefully ignored the call for prayer…
Subhan’Allah…I
was so looking forward to coming to a “Muslim” country and meeting Muslim
sisters (I’m still waiting for this to happen…), and experiencing the
wonder of what it might to be like to live in a Muslim country. Al-hamdulillah…yes…I get to hear the
adhan from my apartment window, and I am free to wear hijab without glaring or
curious eyes (well, except for those who are trying to guess where I am
from…the funny thing is, people guess me from Turkey or Syria, and even London…but
never from America…I wonder what that says…). I am also free to pray without having to worry if I can get away
from my work, but the other realities are starkly different from what I might
have been imagining prior to my arrival.
Like the scene in the park during the time for prayer when everyone just
kept entertaining themselves, and the following time when the little girl
recited Surah Al-Fatihah while everyone else around her continued with what
they were doing, seemingly oblivious to the adhan…Astaghferullah…
What puzzles
me the most is that everything is accommodated here for Muslims to make salat;
mosques, the adhan (in stereo), even the closing of businesses,
subhan’Allah. So how is it that one
of the basic pillars of the religion can be ignored by so many??
Earlier this
afternoon as I watched from my living room window, I noticed a doctor coming
around the corner to the front of the mosque.
If you are walking along the sidewalk coming from the direction of the
hospital towards the mosque, immediately after turning the corner the first
open doorway is the place where men can go to make wudu. As I stood watching the scene outside from
the split fold of the curtain covering the window, I noticed that the doctor
stopped in front of the entrance for wudu and glanced inside. There happened to be several other people
making wudu, but the doctor, appearing to consider that the room was too
crowded, hesitantly moved forward as if to move to the next entrance that would
take him into the mosque for salat. But
then I noticed that the doctor stepped back again, and in hesitancy, again
moved away from the door; and, wallah, he moved towards the door yet a third time
before abandoning going in altogether…I couldn’t help it, but this
left me wondering…astaghferullah…did the physician, knowing he needed to
make wudu, abandon the act simply because the wudu room was too crowded for his
liking? Or in the least, did he abandon
the need to relieve himself (which, even still you should do before
making salat) because it would have meant making a fresh wudu? Either way, he was forced into a decision…to
go inside or not go inside…and he chose not to…and instead, proceeded to
walk into the mosque for salat.
On another
occasion on a morning after the first adhan for fajr, while standing at my
window perch (I am generally looking for my husband, in case you are
wondering…as if I have much else to do, [unless I’m writing!]…I’m not
looking particularly “at” anyone else unless something particular catches my
attention), anyhow, much to my surprise, a boy of about 9 or 10 approached the
mosque for salat. Subhan’Allah. I think school is out now, so a few of the
younger boys have started coming out for fajr.
Anyway, there is no door to the front of the wudu room and an uncovered
window beside the entrance, so there is a clear view of the front area where
you can sit down to wash your feet.
Wallah, I don’t just sit at the window watching what is going on in the
wudu area all day…LOL…but the child caught my attention…and I found myself
watching intently…out of curiosity…as he performed wudu. What I saw was a child in need of
tutoring…Al-hamduillah that he got himself up and came to the mosque (I also
noted that he appeared to come alone), but he clearly did not know the proper
way in which to perform his wudu…again, I felt saddened…
Let me
interject here that there really is another reason why I keep a lookout for my
husband during the times for salat, more particularly afterwards. You see…we have this arrangement. Al-hamdulillah…my husband does his best to
make salat in the mosque as often as possible, but in truth…sometimes he is
really pushing himself because he would prefer to just go straight to pray and
come straight back home. However, it
seems to be more customary for the general population of brothers attending the
mosque for salat to remain in small groups outside afterwards, chatting for
much, much longer than my husband cares to stay, and invariably he gets caught
in a situation that takes him much longer than his liking to get himself out
of. So…we have a deal – LOL!! If I notice that he is “stuck” – well…I dial
his pager number…and beep…beep…beep…my husband is rescued
and free to excuse himself from the conversation in order to jog over to the guardhouse
whereupon he borrows the phone to say, “Thank you! I’ll be there in a minute!”
(hee hee hee)
Okay, back to
the story.
For the most
part, I’d say roughly 6 days out of 7, my husband gets over to the mosque for
Fajr (even if I have to shove him out of bed with my foot – LOL!!!). You see…he has this thing…he tells me that
if he prays in the mosque for Fajr and Isha that it is the same as if he
prayed in the mosque all night…now I’m telling you…this is a man who likes
his brownie points! LOL!!! Al-hamdulillah! But the sad part of this is that Mustafa also reports back to me
that, while there are row upon row of buildings here housing physicians, and
the mosque is so close you can walk to it with ease…there is only one short row
of men who appear in the mosque each morning for fajr…Astaghferullah… And do you know…(of course not!)…the one who
makes the adhan, ten times a day (so as to not confuse the unlearned reader,
yes, we pray five times a day, but the adhan is called ten times because it is
called twice for each salat; once to let everyone know the time is nigh, and
once as the Imam begins the prayer), seven days a week (well, every once
in a while someone pinch hits for him…and believe me…calling the adhan is a
talent, and even if our little Asian brother’s Arabic isn’t perfect…some of the
others that have tried in his absence will make you appreciate him all the more
when he returns! {{smile}}), is a tiny
man who spends the rest of his work day in the maintenance department,
and who, I am sure, is paid a pittance of the salary that the physicians here
are paid, and yet he humbly serves Allah (swt) every morning (and throughout
the day, of course), even if it is at 4 am, while all of these men that
Allah (swt) has blessed with talent, education, free housing and relatively
nice, tax-free salaries…remain in their apartments instead of coming out for
fajr…Astaghferullah…
Incidentally,
this same mosque has a partitioned area to the far right of the main auditorium
where sisters can go inside to pray…but there is no place built for them to
make wudu…in other words…you’re welcome to come and pray at the mosque…but
not really…I’ve been inside there one time since I arrived and was so
disappointed that I never went back.
Al-hamdulillah
that Allah (swt) in His infinite mercy helps me to remember my husband's words
during times of need...because if I allowed myself to think about the things
I've described here too much...the possibility of the prediction of my
husband's friend coming true might just become more of a reality than I care to
think about. But, Al-hamdulillah, Allah (swt) gave me a husband who, even
though he irritates me sometimes {{smile}}, is kind and gentle with me, and
always seems to know when I need his gentleness the most, and who always seems
to know just what to say to make me feel better...and sometimes it's not even
words...it's just a hug. {{smile}}
I often refer
to Mustafa as my very own walking, talking, breathing encyclopedia of Qu'ran
and Hadith. Subhan'Allah. I was 42-years old when I met my
husband...we have now been married 11 months...and I guess what I want to say
here is that, Sisters...there is wisdom in everything...and Allah (swt) is the
perfect planner. I know sometimes it is so easy to try to take things
into our own hands when we are looking for a husband; I have done it
myself in the past. But you know what? What I have learned (albeit
the hard way) is that when you stop trying to hard to control things on
your own...and you let go of the reins and let God's direction fill your
life...that's when, around a corner, out of nowhere...you just might run right
smack into your destiny...just as it happened between myself and Mustafa at a
peace rally in Washington, D.C. A mere three days later Mustafa announced
to me that he wanted to be with me in Jannah. As I reflected on
these words, I was astounded...no one had ever said anything even remotely
like this to me before...it was worth more than a thousand "I love
you's" - and within two weeks we were married. Subhan'Allah.
Okay,
well...this has gotten quite lengthy, so I will close with these final
thoughts:
Al-hamdulillah that
Allah (swt) hasn’t given up on us yet…but I fear the time is drawing close…(I
guess it’s all that CNN gloom and doom I see on TV everyday). But the evidence is before us, and
insha’Allah…each of us…insha’Allah…will all be cautious of how we spend the
rest of the time we have in this dunya…I pray for each person that reads this
story…I pray that each reader will take pause to consider the shortness of this
life…and that we will each reflect on how we spend our time and, insha’Allah…we
will draw ourselves closer to the one who facilitates all our needs…the one who
is so merciful with us…and the one who forgives us when we seek His forgiveness
in sincere repentance…Ameen.
May each of us who
are Muslim seek the highest level of deen…that is Ihsan…which means worshiping
Allah, as though one sees Him; that is, a Muslim must be conscious of Allah and
should know that He sees him wherever he may be.
May those of you
reading whom Allah (swt) may guide, find the peace that truly exists in
Islam…despite what the headlines in the media say…and despite what you may
personally observe around you…and may you seek to learn and accept the
truth…thus, insha’Allah, causing you to freely utter the words that will take
you to eternity in Jannah:
To become a Muslim you only have to sincerely believe in and say
the following phrase:
"Ash hadu an
la ilaha ill Allah wa ash hadu anna Muhammadar Rasul Allah."
("I declare
there is no god but Allah and I declare that Muhammad is the Messenger of
Allah.")
(Additional information can be found at
http://www.sisteraishah.com/Islam123.htm)
Ubadah b. as-Samit
said on his deathbed: I heard the
Messenger of Allah say, ‘He who testifies that there is no true God except
Allah alone having no partner, and that Muhammad is the slave of Allah and His
Messenger, and His word (BE) which He said to Maryham, and a soul from Him, and
that Jannah (the Heavenly Garden) is true, and Hell-Fire is true, Allah will
admit him into Jannah regardless of what he did.’
Subhana Rabbe yal
Aa'la - Glory to my Lord Most High.
Wa'Salaam Alaikum.
~Aishah