FEELING UGLY? BETTER NOT

There you are. Staring at the mirror once again before turning right away. You hate it. You hate how your nose bulges and how your lips are too thin. You hate the black spots on the cheeks and how your eyes seem to sink into the sockets. You stare at your skin, too dark or too pale? You hate how your frail body always seems unbalanced like wind could easily sweep you away. You don't like your kinky hair nor your inability to be the height you really wish you had. In short, you pretty much dislike everything about your body, your physical appearance and even your existence.

We are so filled with insecurities because of the society's definition of beauty. And I said this before; the beauty industry is so ugly. It makes us apologize all our lives for not being 'beautiful enough'. So here we are, so obsessed with 'doing something' about how we look and our outer image. Spending so much money on three, four make-up kits, buying designer clothes, shoes and perfumes just so we can hide all these things about ourselves we are not proud of. Don't get me wrong, you are free to spend on whatever you like but when you do it, it should only be because it really does make you happy and not for the sake of fitting into the society's league of beauties.

I come across several people, who when you tell, 'You look pretty' they'll really be shocked and shrug it off not just for the sake of being polite but because they really think they are not. And it is sad because of how much this really affects our self-esteem. The truth is, we may all vary in our levels of attractiveness yet we all are beautiful in our own unique way and beautiful in the eyes of Allah. If Allah (S.W) considers you beautiful, why would you ever doubt that?

Let me tell you a story of a sahabi who was considered the 'ugliest'. His name was Julaybib (may Allah be pleased with him). Julaybib's family background is unknown. We don't even know what his second name is. We don't know who were his parents, his lineage or which tribe he came from apart from that he came from Madinah. His name actually means 'deformed'. He was known for his deformities and for his appearance. In fact the way he was described was, 'qaseer, wa faqeer, wa dameem' i.e. he was extremely short, extremely poor and extremely repulsive. In a world where family lineage, background, wealth and appearance are made to be so important, we can imagine what kind of a tough life Julaybib had. He didn't have friends or family or companions. No one was interested in him. He went through a lot of verbal abuse and was bullied countless times.

So one day the prophet peace be upon him meets Julaybib and asks him about him. The prophet was actually concerned about him. Julaybib replies to the prophet by asking, 'Ya Rasul Llah, do you think the only woman I get to marry is in jannah? The hur al ain (women in paradise)?' and the prophet immediately understood his agony and belief that he would never be able to get married in this world. So the prophet decides to take the matter in his own hands and went to one of the sahabas who had a beautiful daughter. He said to the other sahabi, 'I want to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage.' The Sahabi was so excited and saw no greater honour than that. In his mind, he is marrying off his daughter to the prophet peace be upon him. Then when the prophet clarified that he wants to ask her for Julaybib, the father paused in hesitation and said 'let me ask her mother'. The reaction was the same with the mother; extreme excitement when she first thought it was the prophet who wanted their child and immediate rejection upon knowing it is Julaybib. But the girl overheard the conversation and told her parents, 'How can we reject a proposal and an order from the prophet peace be upon him?' This pure lady insisted on accepting Julaybib and eventually became his wife.

On the battle of Uhud, Julaybib passed away. The prophet (SAW) frantically tried to find Julaybib on the battle ground and saw him surrounded by 7 enemies. Julaybib killed 7 enemies before they killed him. The Prophet (SAW) gets emotional, picks Julaybib up with his two hands and repeatedly says, “This one is from me, and I am from him, he is from me and I am from him, he is from me and I am from him.” He takes Julaybib and digs a grave for him with his own hands, and buries Julaybib himself. And what better honour than this? What is physical attractiveness compared to the love of Allah and his prophet?

There are several other stories about other sahabis who were deemed unattractive and the prophet peace be upon him always showed love to them for who they really are; their beauty deep inside and not how they looked. Another example is the story of a sahabi by the name of Zahir ibn Haram. His story is narated in a hadith by Anas (may Allah be pleased with him) said,

"There was a man from amongst the Bedouins whose name was Zahir bin Haram. Whenever he came to Medinah for a need, he brought something for the Prophet (saw) as a gift, like cottage cheese or butter. Likewise, when the Prophet (saw) would prepare something to give to him whenever e wanted to leave, such as dates and so on.

The Prophet (saw) used to love him and say, "Zahir is our Bedouin and we are his city dwellers."

Zahir was not very good looking. One say, Zahir (may Allah be pleased with him) left the desert and came to Allah's Messenger (saw) but did not find him. He has some merchandise to sell so he went on to the market place.

When the Prophet (saw) found out about his arrival, he went to the market place looking for him. When he arrived, he saw him selling his merchandise with sweat pouring down from his face. He wore Bedouin clothers which did not smell good either. The Prophet (saw) hugged him tightly from behing, while Zahir was unaware and could not see who it was.

Zahir became scared and said, "Let me go! Who is this?!" But the Prophet (saw) remained silent. Zahir tried to release himself from his grip and started to look right and left. When he saw the Prophet (saw) he relaxed and calmed down, placing his back against the Prophet's chest. The Prophet (saw) began to joke with him, saying to the public: "Who will buy this slave?! Who will buy this slave?"

Thereupon, Zahir looked at himself and thought of his extreme poverty, for he had neither wealth or good looks.

He said, "You will find me unmarketable, O' Messenger of Allah."

The Prophet (saw) said, "But you are not unmarketable with Allah. You are very precious to Allah." And in another narration the prophet tells him, "But you are priceless in the sight of Allah, you are beautiful in the eyes of Allah, do not worry about how you look"

In another instance, the prophet again tried to redifine the meaning of beauty to us in the story of Abdullah ibn Masood. Abdullah ibn Masood (RA) was so short he was a dwarf, and one day he climbed into a tree to grab a siwak from the Arak tree for the Prophet (SAW). But Abdullah was so small that the wind blew him into tree. The Sahaba burst into laughter, and the Prophet (SAW) asked them why they were laughing. The Sahaba respodned with, “Ya Rasululllah, his legs are so short like two little twigs.” The Prophet (SAW) said, “But you don’t understand these two legs on the Day of Judgement will be the size and weight of Mount Uhud (on the scale of his good deeds).”

And I get it. It is way tougher right now with all the cover magazines, social media personalities and superstars we idolize from all over the world. But in the end remember God never created anything ugly, again I say it, we may vary in the level of attractiveness but no one is entirely ugly. This is because Allah (S.W) mentioned it Himself in Surat Tin:

By the fig and the olive

And [by] Mount Sinai

And [by] this secure city [Makkah],

We have certainly created man in the best of stature;

See how Allah took an oath FOUR times before stating that He created us in the best form.

Whatever or however you look like, do know that it is but a test from Allah. We never really put much thought to it but beauty is a big test of its own. There is a high risk into falling into arrogance or zina or other detestable behaviours. The same way physical unattractiveness may make us fall into the whispers of shaytan of self-pity and self-loathing and sadness. So love yourself in whatever state you were created and be grateful for it. What really matters is the state of your heart and soul and imaan. And also, remember to not stigmatize, bully, laugh or point out the flaws in others. You never know how much it hurts them.

REMEMBER:

{“Verily, Allah does not look at your appearance or wealth, but rather he looks at your hearts and actions.”} -Prophet Muhammad (P.B.U.H)

P.S Don't forget to subscribe please! (the button is at the end of the page)

Sources:

The prophet's path- Youtube

The merciful servant- Youtube

https://madinailm2amal.wordpress.com/2015/06/03/the-ugliest-sahabis/

https://www.ummah.com/forum/forum/islam/general-islamic-topics/267496-zahir-bin-haram-our-beloved-muhammed-saw

YOUR TYPICAL FRIDAY AT THE COAST

Photo Courtesy: Good Samaritan

Ask anyone who has lived in Mombasa before moving elsewhere, what they miss most from home (apart from the food of course), in that same list, Jumuah (Friday) would appear. Now Friday is usually a grand day for Muslims all over the world but when it comes to a place like Mombasa, where the area is highly populated with Muslims, it becomes more than the prayer part alone, it becomes a cultural affair.

I love Fridays for many reasons. It's not just the end of the week. It's the day homes get busier than usual. The men are choosing their best sparkling clean kanzus before they get ironed, surat kahf is reciting in the room and in the neighbour's house and the neighbour to the neighbour's house too. It's the day everyone cleans up earlier than usual (apart from the earlier working class birds), the smell wafting from the homes is from the strong lovely scents of oud. The men are extra smart in their neat kanzus, trimmed nails and moustaches and well-combed beards. Women are not left behind as they clean themselves and wear their lesos/praying attires and join the friday prayers while some decide to do it at home in their own solitude and privacy. The typical Swahili neighbourhood is all about good perfumes and scents at this moment.

Now maybe that happens in some other places too, but have you seen the groups of men going to the masjid for the prayer? Have you seen the kanzus all over the streets? The restaurants taking extra orders for special biryani and from all corners, voices calling to prayer and preaching can be heard. You go to the shops at 11:55 a.m. and one door is already closed with the attendants hurriedly serving the remaining customers because 'hallo? don't you know it's Friday?!'

Messages of duas and well wishes are not to be missed on this day as people remember one another in their prayers.People who don't usually pray may appear on this day and sometimes, earlier than usual. The preacher is preaching in a rhythmic, poetic manner and the rewards of this prayer makes it a lot like the best day of the week. Once the prayer is done, see the multitudes of Muslims streaming out of the masjid, greeting one another; big smiles, big hugs, kinda like a weekly reunion.

At home, Friday means a special meal. It means eating biryani, if not, then the nearest to it, many a times, pilau. There is even extra effort to have fruits on the table and salad and kachumbari and fresh juice and hot chilli, I mean, just the sort of meal you'd look forward to every other week.

The children are home earlier than usual and this day becomes the best to invite family and even friends over for meals.  There is a lot of togetherness, love and co-existence vivid than any other day of the week. It is in a great way similar to Eid days.

Those who go abroad especially Western countries, sometimes they barely even hear the adhan because masjids are miles apart. Most of the times, families are totally separated which makes it almost impossible to have a wonderful get-together after the Friday prayer. I mean, isn't it a privilege being at home? In a place where Islam has become a way of life, we don't have to struggle to get permission from work or school to attend the prayers. It's a privilege you can put on the qur'an in the office and no one will grumpily shout to you, 'get yourself some earphones!' It's a privilege we get to hear khutbahs in our own mother tongue, Kiswahili. I mean some Muslims out there are listening to khutbahs experiencing language barrier and not understanding one word. It's a privilege that we are surrounded by mosques all over, we can even choose which one to go to. It's a privilege we are so close together in our neighbourhoods and livelihoods, we don't have to hide practicing our beliefs. We don't have to struggle to have gatherings. I think it's a privilege to be a Muslim living in Mombasa. Ever thought of it that way?

MY HAPPY PERSON

Photo Courtesy: www.pixabay.com

Now my happy person is not exactly 'happy'. He is very naughty, very stubborn, twice a cry baby as me but also very charming. So my typical day is either filled with his excited screams as he plays, jumps, jogs, matches around or violently, hysterically crying; you could hear him cry two blocks away. But he still makes me happy. Like the genuine deep joy you could ever have.

As any loving aunt, the first thing when I get home is search for him. I start calling his name right at the door. 'Haasssaaaaaannn' and I would chorus it one step at a time until I reach upstairs. Now my two year old nephew knows i'm the only one who calls him by that name so the moody him would choose whether to rush to the door to meet me or totally ignore me. When he decides to come to the door, he choruses my name back, calling me 'Abby'. Spoiler though, once he reaches to the door, he extends his hand expecting 'Chipsi kuku' (these snacks for kids nowadays smh :D ). So recently, I decided I will not buy his love and thus, not getting much of a response.

'Hassan' was actually born two days before my graduation day and thus, I always considered him my graduation gift. On his delivery night, I volunteered to be the one sleeping over at the hospital; just to receive him. Picture that. Yet our relationship is a love-hate one or should we call it a one-sided love tale? He is vehemently rejecting me 9.9 out of 10 times. He doesn't want me carrying him, sitting near him OR his mother or my mother or my father or anyone else in the family. He doesn't want me touching them, hugging them or having any contact with anyone else. So he doesn't want me but also, no one should want to be near me either. He doesn't want me to look at him or even calling his name aimlessly either. Sometimes he pulls me out of the room entirely because 'Why are you breathing my air?' I think he considers me the black sheep of the family of some sorts? :D So most of the times he is letting out a shrill scream on my face. And I scream back. And he screams back and it ends up being a scream battle and I'd force carrying him and hugging him and he'd fight to get down and run off. Too much noise. He breaks my heart every single day and his tiny little smile just tends to heal me somehow. The irony of it all is that he's got several personality traits like my own to the extent I feel like his real mother, even my family comments on the similarities. It's insane I know but it makes me happy how we just get on each other's nerves for the entire day like what other alternative did he leave me with? :D 

I almost always know what he needs when he actually comes to me or accepts me to carry him. He wants me to do him a favour. He either wants some juice, or some biscuit, or to bathe because he loves playing with water, or that I open a door for him...it just rotates around the list of things he likes or wants time to time. Yet sometimes out of the blue, he comes and hugs me, or kisses me, or just chorus my name for no reason and smile, or lets me bathe him joyfully or sit on my lap for more than one minute. At home we call them historical moments because they rarely happen. It's like we are in this bad relationship but then sometimes he gets sober and remembers to appreciate. The historical moments are quickly documented; perhaps could even end up in Guinness World book records.

The biggest joke we have at home is that when he starts school, I'll be the one to take him there because there's a high probability he won't cry for me :D Evil yeah? I wanna cry right now. But just last weekend I was in Nairobi and I got a detailed report of how he kept moving from one room to another, calling out my name. When I video-called later that night, he had a big frown on his face. I kept calling his name but he turned his face away. Trust me, I had a lot of convincing and sweet-talking to do when I came back.

One day during my normal tag of war with him, my dad told me, 'Just leave him alone. You can't force love... but he'll come to appreciate you someday.' And I think that really sank in. Like so many times in our lives we force people to acknowledge our presence, to care for us, to love us back and it never happens. But when love is genuine, it doesn't necessarily have to be mutual. Yet it will still be appreciated; sooner or later. Or maybe 16/18 years from now in shaa Allah, he'll come read this and bring me converse and a Khaled Hosseini book (yes, I have my priorities right) with a sweet note who knows? :D So for now I'm okay with this hostile almost violent relationship we have. He is just two anyway. He hasn't even started talking proper words apart from the gibberish noise and some Chinese sorta words he speaks. Otherwise, he's this cute, very charming and kind baby. Totally adorable. So i'm planning to still keep him as my happy person because really, it is these little moments with him that really make my world. Alhamdulilah.