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Friday, 22 October 2021

BEFORE DAWN (PART 1)


Before dawn, while I am still yawning and full of sleep, I see these kids trudging across the street, hunching from the weight of their school bags. I see them rub their eyes, the older one pulling the younger to move faster. Sometimes, it is just the older one, running while peeping at his watch every two minutes. I bet he has missed breakfast today too. 


Sometimes, they leave for school before their parents leave for work. And my heart sinks. 


When did we become okay with this? 


Isn’t this some form of slavery? 


Will children ever be allowed to be children?


When you walk into a therapist’s office, one of the first things they will ask you about is your childhood, regardless of whether you’re there for drug addiction or seeking to resolve your marital problems, or when grieving the loss of a loved one. It is by no chance nor for the sake of striking a conversation do they ask you about where you come from, the dynamics of your family, or even which school you attended. It has everything to do with who we are, how we view the world, and even the manner in which we deal with problems. The nurture debate in developmental psychology is proof enough that the environment in which one grows up in has a significant impact on one’s future. 


Previous research has shown that childhood experiences affect one’s health in their adulthood. Children who experienced several adverse situations are at a higher risk of developing mental illnesses like depression and anxiety, developing substance abuse habits, and detrimental health behaviours as they grow up. The opposite is also true: children who grew up in a positive environment and with supportive families are said to have better health as adults. The effects of one’s childhood don’t end here. Research has also shown that parenting styles are handed over to their children, who then parent their own children in a similar manner. Children who were abused are likely to do the same to their children, and those with unresolved emotional problems become disorganized with unhealthy attachment styles and exhibit more frightening parenting behaviours. It thus becomes a chain of unhealthy behaviours and lifestyles from generation to generation for the majority of families.


How does this relate to our school system? 


Our Kenyan education system is such that a child, of very tender age, starts spending the majority of their time within the school compound. This means that the school environment, the teachers, the schoolmates, have a great influence on a child’s growth, the shaping of their behaviours, and their worldview, sometimes more than their parents.


The truth is, we come from a society that really glorifies hustling and the idea of bending over backward in order to achieve our goals. We’re told, ‘wake up at 2 a.m. to study; arrive at school at 6 a.m. sharp; conduct prep studies until 8 or 9 p.m.: basically, do whatever it takes to be number one in class and with consistency.’ We’re led to believe that the only way to make it in this life is if you continue studying even with a torch while the rest sleep in the dorms. We’re made to think, the more you work, the more you thrive. 


We’re brainwashed to assume that skipping sleep and lying down for just three to four hours makes you a legend. 


We’re talked into believing that it is either now or never, whatever the cost is. 


We glorify the future.


We invite motivational speakers and make children feel that without 400 plus marks (out of a possible of 500 for primary school kids) or an A at the end of secondary education, then you can kiss your dreams and goals goodbye.


Most parents blackmail their children emotionally, with famous statements ranging from ‘I had to walk 20 kilometers to get to school’, to ‘I had to cross the river barefoot every day in order to acquire an education or ‘I used to stay hungry the whole day because we were very poor but I still achieved good grades.’ 


Granted, to some of the previous generations, hardships had to be endured so as to acquire an iota of a decent education. They indeed deserve all the respect for striving so hard. However, the struggle should never be glorified in such a way that we expect our children to also slave in order to achieve what society defines as success.


The past has everything to do with the future. 


And unhealthy beginnings filled with overwhelm, sleeplessness, and wild expectations can never give a child the proper foundation for a future that supports them according to their abilities, talents, and IQ. The pressure placed upon school-going children to succeed later translates to adults working merely to pay bills, with no passion, and many times, filled with sadness. 


Remember when we were young and the adults then would have us believe that we’d finally get to rest after successfully completing our primary school education? And then once we were done, we had to prepare for secondary school where the workload was twice as heavy, coupled with more intense competition for grades and as a result, more hours dedicated to study? 


The teachers would lead us into believing that this is the phase that will determine whether you will ever be somebody in life or remain invisible forever. So, everyone joined tuition or extra-school academic program, including group discussions that went on until after dusk. The non-academic extra-curricular activities were mostly there for show. Physical exercise was done scarcely throughout the year, while life skills classes were taken up as a free lesson to finish assignments. The only active clubs for several schools were drama and debating clubs, which would organize activities only once or twice a year. The only dreams we could afford to have involved Mathematics, Physics, and Chemistry. We were denied family time, with all these assignments and exams always lurking. We would come back home feeling like zombies, with eyes half-open, the only thing we’d want to see is the bed. We would barely have time for madrasa. For anyone who cared to be somebody someday, life was a robotic experience.


***


I remember when I was in primary school, we had a mathematics teacher I would now call Mr. M. As a form of punishment, he would cane us for every wrong answer in his tests (and those tests were almost on the daily!!). Those who received 98% on the tests were not spared. They would get a cane for giving an incorrect answer to that one question. That also meant if someone got a 50% they would get 25 good strokes!! 


He had this fine and strong cane that he would use on us, and he would cane us right below our thighs with so much vigour that my skin would turn greenish-black. According to Mr. M, this was for our own good. It was the best way to make us improve in maths. However, the only thing it did was make us terrified of him and maths.


Our whole day was spent dreading that it will soon be maths class. 


Other than that, it made us feel less of ourselves. 


When someone jumped or cried whilst being caned, the rest of the class laughed, even when all of us knew we would get a taste of the same cane. So, you can imagine how it must have been like for the students who would get 50% or below, as the whole class watched and laughed at them whilst receiving twenty-five strokes of the cane on their little thighs.


I for one did improve in maths slightly, but in retrospect, it made me hate the subject entirely. It made me detest going to school. I used to have a maths phobia and sometimes before an exam, I would panic about failing the subject. And this went on for my entire life, I would avoid anything that had any math or even had the slightest similarity to the subject. Sometimes I wonder what happened to Mr. M, whether he is really proud that he made us achieve better marks in maths by causing us such unnecessary dread and panic, despite the cheating that was done by some? What exactly is the point of putting these young kids under so much pressure? When will teachers understand that all kids have different abilities? 


I didn’t realize it back then but when I look back now I am convinced that that was plain old-school bullying. Mr. M broke my self-esteem, just like several other teachers along the way. I am not anti-disciplining; I am just anti-bullying. The saddest part is that several of the teachers who were known for their brutality and nastiness don’t even realize how much they have scarred students over the years; some to the extent of making their students detest school, transfer elsewhere, or drop out and gave up entirely…


***


Please stay tuned for part 2. Thank you for reading and sharing! 🙂

Saturday, 10 July 2021

IS BEING TOO NICE, TOO PHONEY?!


I recently had a conversation with a friend concerning a character in a TV competition who was sweet, very honest, and nice. Well, at least that's how I viewed the character. He was kind to fellow contestants and loyal to those he had made a connection with. Every other contestant knew for sure where they stood with him because he was as real and raw as possible. On the other hand, my friend viewed this same character as boring and going an extra mile just to be liked-calling him a people-pleaser. That was a first for me, because how?! Or is this the perfect depiction of the 6 and 9 image, where one sees a 6 yet another sees the same image as a 9?

Okay, I get it. There is a very thin line between being nice and people-pleasing. Sometimes the differences are blurry and one could easily cross the line. We, of course, don't deny that people-pleasing isn't the healthiest way to lead a life yet why do we always assume that when someone is nice, there's more to them (secret agenda) or nothing about them (mediocre or too boring)?

When a man is so nice he is considered weak. When it is a woman, she is lacking intelligence and a voice. When it is a husband, he is pretentious or too good to be true. When it is a wife, she is too submissive and unempowered. When it is an employee, he/she is a people-pleaser and when it is a leader, we consider all their nice and kind acts to be PR stunts. Is it that we have completely lost faith in humanity that we no longer believe in good when we see it?

When Ghaith of Qalby Etmaan (a charity program about a man traveling around the world helping people of all kinds) came to Kenya and the episodes were aired last Ramadhan, it was quite hilarious yet sad how the Kenyans who were approached reacted. You could see the fear and skepticism on their faces. Some were very hesitant to respond to the questions Ghaith was asking, some refused to receive the envelopes being handed and some used quite the harsh tone in their conversations. I get it, this is Kenya. We're living through tough times where a woman cannot trust her daughter with her husband, where people are kidnapped, people are killing other people in panic for fear that they're kidnappers, dead bodies are being unearthed from the backyards, bullying and cruelty are so normalized, and sometimes well covered in the name of jokes and comedy. We see it every day on Twitter, other social media sites, and the news. We are so used to being bullied, harassed, conned, and manipulated even by our own police and leaders (especially them!) that we can't trust a person asking for direction. We can't trust a stranger shaking our hands. We can't trust someone asking us who we are. When someone stops us on the way we're already defensive and alert. Consequently, this has made us not trust any form of kindness or compassion handed to us because our 'fight or flight' response is already on. We tend to think that everyone is out to harm us. I truly get it...but does that mean we have given up on kindness entirely?

Most often than not, nice people are greatly misunderstood, taken advantage of, undervalued, ignored, and taken for granted. People would sort for all ways to push their buttons just to frustrate them or make them react, just to provoke them so they can stoop low to their level. But here's the thing though, and this is the main difference between being nice and people-pleasing; Being nice means you do good to people and treat others with kindness without expecting anything in return. You see the world as a community so you offer your love, care, and support unconditionally. You forgive easily and avoid conflict in order to stay in harmony with others. You do it because you have neither the time nor the energy for drama nor chaos... not because you lack self-esteem or cannot stand up for yourself, or are not intelligent enough. People-pleasing on the other hand is a form of dependency which lacks boundaries. You do good and give to others, without being able to say no, because you expect something in return; it could be validation, attention, or acceptance. People-pleasing is a form of transaction; I will help you but you need to validate me in return. You become a doormat by allowing people to treat you badly in pursuit of their love or attention. Being nice and kind is about self-expression and having true altruism; I will help you regardless of whether you will appreciate it or not.

The stereotypes that come with being nice are many. Ask any nice person you know out there they'll tell you; if we were expecting something in return then being nice is barely rewarding in this life. Human beings can be so ungrateful, insensitive, cruel, and irritating. Yet we still keep doing it, because we want this world to be a better place filled with more kindness and compassion, and we feel happy when we're able to do so in our own small ways.

Kindness is especially hard when those on the receiving end are not appreciative of our actions; this could even be our own family members. But then it goes back to our intentions, 'why are we doing this?' Is it to seek someone's approval or because we genuinely want to express our love and concern for them?

Our religion highly recommends being nice, kind, and compassionate. The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said: 'Whoever gives up telling lies in support of a false claim, a palace will be built for him in the outskirts of Paradise. Whoever gives up an argument when he is in the right, a palace will be built from him in the middle (of Paradise). And whoever had good behavior, a palace will be built for him in the highest reaches (of Paradise).'" It also explicitly states in another sahih hadith that a strong believer is better and more beloved to Allah than a weak one, even though both are good. This shows that Islam doesn't recommend that a Muslim lacks a voice or dictates his self-worth only based on how people praise, love, or validate him. He shouldn't let himself be taken advantage of or be oppressed for the sake of pleasing human beings or seeking their love. Granted, we all want to feel loved in this life but it should never be our primary goal or at the cost of our dignity and respect. We are expected to be as kind and nice as possible but it should always be for the sake of Allah and not fellow human beings.

Harold Kushner once said: Do things for people not because of who they are or what they do in return, but because of who you are.” And I think that should be a mantra for us to adapt in our lives.

Answering our question, being too nice is not necessarily being too phony. I think we should give kind, nice people the benefit of the doubt (as our religion requires from us) for their actions unless proven otherwise. Of course, I am not telling you to hop into a car with a random stranger (Especially during these scary times, may Allah protect us!) but I am saying, sometimes we judge other people too harshly based on our own fears and skepticism and that could be unfair for the other party. I believe one's intentions always end up revealing eventually. If someone seems nice, take them as they seem. If they're not, time will tell for sure!

Tuesday, 29 June 2021

INVOCATION II


 



I come to you once again


Lord of my frail heart


and wandering thoughts


To You I belong


and to You


I seek refuge


from the atrocities


of my soul


I send peace and blessings 


to the embodiment of Mercy


The epitome of beauty


and the essence of bravery


My beloved prophet


Muhammad


Salla Llahu aleyhi Wassalam


*


I call unto you


Ya Kareem


with dear wishes 


and dire needs


that none can grant me


But You


Respond to me


My Lord


For there’s no response


more beloved to me


than Your response


*


Ya Salam


Ya Wakeel


I hand you the affairs of my mother


For her worry is too big


for the universe


and too small for You


Grant her serenity


Oh Giver of peace


when the world seems


a bit too much for her


Grant her Your Love


Ya Wadood


For she is the manifestation of widaad


donning love


in all its shapes


and all its colours


Grant her Your Highest Jannah


For You are Al Wahhab


The Great Giver of gifts


and she is Wahiba


the receiver of Your gift of giving


And what better reward than a most beautiful garden


For a lover of gardens?!


*


I pray to you


Ya Raafi’


Elevate the status of my father in the heavens


Make the angels chorus his name


Let the humans know his title


on a day that everyone 


seeks Your attention


Ya Malik


Grant Him palaces next to You


of majestic, magnificent architecture


than he’s ever dreamed of


For he has raised daughters


And sons


And grandchildren


in a way that suits 


Your love 


and grand Mercy


*


I beg You


Oh Most Pure One


Purify my sisters 


my brothers


my nephews and nieces


for they seek nothing


than Your purity


Ya Muhaymin


I beseech You to be their Guardian


and Their Light


in a world that is so wicked


and so wrong


in so many ways


Grant them goodness


Ya Barr


For you’re the source of goodness


And a Benefactor of a kind


Fill them with happiness and joy


in both this world


and the one that comes


next


*


Ya Rahman


I have loved ones in the graves


Ones that I miss dearly


Ones that I pray for mostly


Pardon them 


Oh Pardoner


Illuminate their spaces


in a way that befits You


Ya An-Nur


Grant them new homes


more beautiful


Than they left behind


Grant us a reunion


more joyful


more blissful


more pleasant


than we could ever envision.


*


I invoke you


Ya Baasit


Extend to me,


my lovely family,


my cherished friends,


and my very dear ones


Your Mercy


in all that we do


Guide us to Your path


and make us steadfast


in it


Give us wisdom


when we are blinded by the world


Grant us ease


when nothing seems easy


Enrich us, Ya Mughni


with faith 


and hope


with contentment 


and peace


with love 


and compassion


Make us among Your favourites


for I yearn for nothing


more than that


Oh My Beloved.


I pray.


I pray. 


I pray.

INVOCATION I

 


                                                                Photo by Idina Risk from Pexels


I beseech Your aid


Oh God


For my heart has become a graveyard


with withered flowers


and weeds of undesirability


I can no longer bear the weight


of the caskets carrying


the deadness of my emotions


My doom-laden pillars crumbling


at the height of my anxiety


and my tombstone


displaying engravings


of all the letters


of pain


***


I invoke you


Ya Allah


This desolation


has brought me to my knees


My hands raised high


to the sky


Save me, Oh God


For my mind has become


a battle field of abrupt wars


and hostile armies


Only this time


I am both the ally


and the enemy


Corpses of my thoughts


lie around like hungry fleas


sucking the life


out of me.


***


I beg for mercy


My Lord,


This affliction


is wrecking my soul


An air hunger seizing my lungs


amid a thunderstorm of craze


A heavy downpour of anguish


floods my entire being


while the strong winds howl


at the loss


of my sanity


***


I implore you


My Creator


For a miracle


When everything seems impossible


Let your


Light


Beam through this shadow


Turn the valley of my wounds


Into river beds


Where your Mercy


Can flow through


If my soul is in the shade that pleases you


Then I ask,


O Maker of suns,


To show me how to bloom.


I pray.


I pray.


I pray.

Tuesday, 1 June 2021

A PALESTINIAN NAKBA


 Photo Courtesy: ‘Soul of Palestine’ on Facebook


Whenever the sun sets and the thoughts set in, I ration my emotions into four

like the long-awaited hours of electricity.

180 megawatts of madness,

angst,

despair,

and frustration.

 Madness.

Sweat trickles down my back like the weak, slow drops of water from our shower. It reminds me of the last time I had a good bath. Proper bath. Clean bath. It was in a dream I had at 13 years old after hearing one of the American journalists who had come to our school answer curious Maryam’s question on whether they REALLY have electricity and water 24/7 in America.

All the light switches around the house are on as we wait for thee moment of truth. The moment we press ‘continue’ on our paused lives.

In my room, I sit and wait. Sit and wait. Sit and wait.

Half asleep. Half weighing my will to live.

And before my eyes adjust to the new light, a young boy shouts across the street in joy, “It is LIT! OUR HOUSE IS LIT! Is it lit at your home?!” Another happy voice shouts back, “IT IS!”

In less than a minute, the water pump is on.  

The washing machine is on.

The oven is on.

The fridge is on.

The blender is on.

The hoover is on.

I put all the phones and laptop at their respective chargers.

My brother irons his school clothes.

My baby sister rushes to complete her university project.

Abu Eyad, my neighbour with an amputated leg, calls out to his son to charge his electric scooter after being stuck at home for an entire day.

I think of Sameera’s mother at the hospital who’s been waiting for electricity to get dialysis.

The entire street is busy. This is the only time we are over-joyed at any kind of commotion. This is the only time we don’t really mind the madness.

Angst.

My mother tells me of her brother who left home and never returned.

And of her uncle who returned and found no one left.

I imagine I will be martyred before I turn 30 because only the lucky live this long.  

At night, we huddle together in the darkness of the night; the shahada on our tongues and hijabs on our heads. Airstrikes showering the clouds, our emergency bags close to the door.

Rahaf’s smile still haunts me; delicate like her name, bright like the future she deserved. She was the kid next door until she wasn’t.

She really loved her hair; long like the history of Palestine, beautiful, like its people. Sometimes, she comes to my dreams the same way she came to me to comb her hair the morning of her death.

Who knew that her school was going to be her war field?

Frustration.

My other neighbour’s son, Shaker, has a daily morning routine to get angry at something, anything or everything at once and shout: “What kind of life is this?!”

And his mother, in a helpless state to make anything better for him, would always respond:
“أفلا تكون عبداً شكورا؟”
(“Wouldn’t you be a grateful servant?”)

He would then walk away; his tiny fist still clenched, his eyes still weeping, and his heart still heavy.

Like many other Palestinian children, Shaker has become the embodiment of trauma; broken limbs and broken hearts.

Despair.

After 2 years, 7 months, 11 days, and 696 minutes of waiting to get married to the love of her life, my cousin Ahlam arrived home from abroad to the news of the killing of her fiancé.

All dreams of 2 years, shattered within 2 seconds of utter brutality. In total silence, she stares at her red and silver wedding gown like the monument of her despair. In over 48 hours, her lips have not moved an inch.

I guess the Zionists have stolen her speech too.

***

Soon enough, darkness takes over, and the nakba that is our life continues.
Silence occupies the rubbles of our hearts and everything slows down.

Whenever the sun sets and the thoughts set in, I ration my emotions into four; plus one.

Faith.

Sometimes I want to mourn;

For my father who was shot 5 times at the back of his head in front of my mother

For my best friend who was found under her demolished home three days after a bomb blast,

For my classmate whose entire family of 14 people has been wiped out of this earth and the registry

For the teenage boy that I saw get arrested with his entire face full of bruises from beatings

For the young man whose extremely beautiful and dream photography studio got bombed 2 days before the official opening

For the young boy running to say goodbye to his father's dead body during his funeral while crying out, 'may Allah make it easy for you baba.'

For all the Palestinians still carrying keys of their stolen, occupied houses

For the 1000s of olive trees burnt down to ashes

Sometimes I want to weep;

For the constant grieving of martyrs that has literally become part of our cultural traditions. Deeply saddened by the loss of innocent souls to the oppressors, yet happy for the shuhadaa who’ve been promised Jannah by our Lord, we sing:

“Oh mother of Muhammad! Oh mother of Muhammad! Indeed you are blessed. Indeed you are blessed! I wish it was my mother in your place. I wish it was my mother in your place!”

Sometimes I want to cry;

For all the shattered dreams and tattered souls

For the millions and millions of us displaced, distressed and dispossessed

I want to cry for all those who lost their lives

But then I remember the words of Mustafa’s widow:
“We sacrifice ourselves for Al Aqsa. We sacrifice ourselves for you Ya Allah. We accept your decree, Oh Allah so be pleased with us. Take from our blood and wealth, until you are pleased with.” 

So I swallow a bitter lump, raise my head to the sky, and mutter: “Indeed, sufficient for us is Allah. Indeed, sufficient for us is none but Allah!”

***

Please take a minute:

اللهُمَّ أَصْلِحْ أَحْوَالَ الفلسطينيين ، اللهُمَّ أَصْلِحْ أَحْوَالَ المُسْلِمِِينَ فِي فِلِسطِينَ وفي كُلِّ مَكَانٍ، يَا ذَا الجَلالِ وَالإِكْرِامِ

Allahumma aslih ahwaalal-filisteeniyin, Allahumma aslih ahwaalal-muslimeena fi filisteena wa fi kulli makaanin ya dhul-jalali wal-ikraam.

O Allah! Rectify the affairs of the Palestinians. O Allah! Rectify the affairs of the Muslims in Palestine and in every place, O Lord of Majesty and Bounty.

اللهُمَّ إِنَّهُمْ مَغْلُوبُونَ فَانْتَصِرْ لَهُمْ

Allahumma innahum maghloobuna fantasir lahum.

O Allah! They are helpless, so help them.

رَبَّنَا أَفْرِغْ عَلَيْهِمْ صَبْراً وَثَبِّتْ أَقْدَامَهُمْ وَانْصُرْهُمْ عَلَى القَوْمِ الكَافِرِينَ

Rabbana afrigh ‘alayhim sabran wa thabbit aqdamahum wansurhum ‘alal-qawmil- kafireen.

Our Lord! Pour upon them patience, make them steadfast, and grant them victory over the Disbelivers.

اللهُمَّ مَكِّرْ لَهُمْ، وَاكْفِهِمْ بِمَا شِئْتَ إِنْ تَنْصُرْهُمْ فَلا غَالِبَ لَهُمْ، وَإِنْتَخْذُلْهُمْ فَمَنْ ذَا الَّذي يَنْصُرهُمْ مِنْ بَعْدِكَ

Allahumma makkir lahum, wakfihim bimaa shi’t. In tansurhum falaa ghaliba lahum, wa in takhdhulhum fa man dhal-ladh’ yansurhum min ba’dika.

O Allah! Plot for them, and suffice them with what You please, if You support them then nobody can overpower them, and if You forsake them, then who will be able to support them after You?

لا إِلاَ إِلا اللهُ العَظيمُ الحَليم، لا إِلهَ إِلا اللهُ رَبَّ العَرْشِ العَظِيمِ، لاإلهَ إِلا اللهُ رَبُّ السَّمَاوَتِ وَرَبُّ الأَرْضِ وَرَبُّ العَرْشِ الكَرِيمِ

La ilaha illAllahul adhimul-haleem. La ilaha illAllahu, rabbul-arshil- adheem. La ilaha illAllahu rabbus-samawaati wa rabbul-ardi wa rabbul-arshil- kareem.

There is no God but Allah, the Mighty the Forbearing, there is no God but Allah, Lord of the Mighty Throne, There is no God but Allah, Lord of the Heavens and Lord of the Earth and Lord of the Noble Throne

اللهُمَّ مََنْ أَرادَنَا وَبِلادَنَا وَالمُسْلِمِينَ بِسُوءٍ فَأَشْغِلْهُ فِي نَفْسِهِ، وَاجْعَلْ كَيْدَهُ فِي نَحْرِهِ، وَاجْعَلْ تَدْبِيرَهُ تَدْمِيرَه

Allahumma man aradana wa biladina bi su’in fash-ghilhu fi nafsih, waj’al kaydahu fi nahrih, waj’al tadbirahu tadmeerah.

O Allah! Whoever wants to harm us and our lands and the Muslims, then keep them busy with their own troubles, and return their plots to their own necks, and make their plans the cause of their own destruction.

Ameen thumma Ameen.

Please never stop praying for the Palestinians and for all other countries that are facing war, oppression, and injustices. May Allah save them all, ameen.

Saturday, 24 April 2021

WAR AND FAITH

 



Assalam aleykum good people,

It’s story time! Have a seat cause it will be a long one…

I first understood about the wars in Falastin (Palestine) when I was about 10/11 years. Even at that tender age, the thought of war and the atrocities that come with it, weighed so heavily on me and it broke my heart too many times. Growing up, I always wished to go to Palestine and get a job as a humanitarian and help the people there. I had and still have such a soft spot for them because of their bravery, their courage, their strong Imaan, their resilience subhanallah…

With time, I got exposed to what is happening in Syria, Yemen, Iraq and many other countries. And just like Palestinians, they too stole my heart for how brave and patient they are. And I really really love them for the qualities they have and what they are. It has been and still is, my long time dream to help them.So on Thursday, when someone (I can’t thank them enough!) called me to tell me there are Palestinian refugees from Syria that are stranded and needed help, I was too excited. Not because of their situation of course but I was soooo thrilled because like ‘Allah, you didn’t take me to Palestine to help but you brought me an opportunity to help Palestinian refugees!!!’ You guys, I could barely sleep that night due to the excitement lol

The next day I got to hear from one of the sons their life journey briefly, and that night, I cried and cried and cried 

Today we went to meet them alhamdulilah and wallahy, we laughed and laughed and laughed. They were so jovial and optimistic, you would never think they are refugees stranded in a foreign country subhanallah. 

I was so moved and I thought ‘Subhanallah, Allah never burdens a soul beyond what they can handle’ Because how else could I explain how this man, making the most jokes, had lost his wife to the war and left a young boy with him? Or this elderly mother with a spinal condition that needs surgery, 3 of her houses bombed, one of her children got lost and they’re unsure whether he is alive or not, or of her ex-husband, the father of her children, who is suffering from cancer, still soldiers on every day? Or this young man who had to stop studying cause of the war, separated from his wife and child because he couldn’t bring them with him, can still smile despite it all?

Good people, I know that we’re currently doing a fundraising for Yemen, but I CANNOT let this opportunity go. This is a dream for me ;( I need to do it wallahy. So kindly, I am requesting that as from this evening, we will pause the Yemen fundraising until further notice in shaa Allah (we’re currently at 64,044/=) and help this family, for their situation s more dire.

Long story short: This Palestinian family are refugees who were living in Syria. Because the war in Syria has worsened, they decided to leave, with the hope of establishing a new life at a better place. However, the different countries they tried to enter, denied them access because their passports say ‘Palestinian refugees’. It is only Kenya that allowed them entry. When they got here, they realized Kenya is way expensive than they expected and for the past month they’ve been here, they tried to find jobs but to no avail. This is because they only know Arabic and no one could hire them cause of the language barrier. As such, they have decided to go to Lebanon, with the hope that they can settle there. They didn’t initially go to Lebanon because Lebanon itself is not stable either and is in turmoil. But since Kenya didn’t work out for them, they have to go back.

The kind of help needed is the following:

1. Accommodation: They are currently living at a one room guest house that charges them 10 dollars per night. We are looking for people who can give them a place to live (preferably at a place that has beds and utensils, so they can be comfortable) for the 2 months they’ll be here, or that someone pays directly at the guest house for them for the time they will be here.

2. The two young men need jobs to sustain themselves in the mean time. Any kind of job that will not need them to communicate to customers since they only know Arabic.

3. Their mother has a spinal condition called L5/S1 spondylosis. She needs an operation but she says the cost in Lebanon is much cheaper, so she will wait till they get there. In the mean time, she needs medicines that will push her for a while. The total cost as originally indicated by the doctor was 48,490/=. However, we are currently searching for cheaper options at wholesale chemists or generic ones, in shaa Allah kheyr.

4. They need to go back home before their 2 month visa ends. So whatever we can collect will be of very great help to get them to Lebanon and hopefully assist them when they get there.

Have I said that helping refugees from war countries is a dream?

Guys, please help me help them. This is very important to me and I really really really want this to work out in the best scenario possible.

The Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “The most beloved people to Allah are those who are most beneficial to people. The most beloved deed to Allah is to make a Muslim happy, or to remove one of his troubles, or to forgive his debt, or to feed his hunger. That I walk with a brother regarding a need is more beloved to me than that I seclude myself in this mosque in Medina for a month. Whoever swallows his anger, then Allah will conceal his faults. Whoever suppresses his rage, even though he could fulfill his anger if he wished, then Allah will secure his heart on the Day of Resurrection. Whoever walks with his brother regarding a need until he secures it for him, then Allah Almighty will make his footing firm across the bridge on the day when the footings are shaken." [Grade: Sahih (authentic) according to Al-Albani] 

Don't we want to be among the most beloved people to Allah? Don't we want to do deeds that Allah loves the most? Don't we want to have firm footing on the bridge on the day of judgement? Here's an opportunity for me and you, and we know the reward of charity in Ramadhan is way more than normal days. So let's do this!

Just a humble reminder: This family does qualify for zakat because they are both needy and stranded travellers/wayfarers. So you can send your Zakat too.

Please send whatever you can, help whichever way you can and please share!

Mpesa: 0704 731 560 (Lubnah)

May Allah bless you all and may He protect all those in war countries. Ameen.


Here are the mother's hospital reports:





And below is an appeal for their father who is suffering from blood cancer and also needs financial assistance:








Sunday, 11 April 2021

NEW BOOK, NEW REFLECTIONS




My Good People,

Assalam aleykum,,and hi,

I pray that this post finds you in good health and in a beautiful state of mind.

So here I am, with a new book for y’all ALHAMDULILAH. And before we go into the details of the book, I’d like to take a moment to thank you all; for reading my work always, for your constant support, and for being one of my biggest sources of inspiration. Some of you have been reading my work way before my books and blog (10+ years!), some of you have stuck with me ever since I started this blog 8 years ago and some have been around throughout the launch of the 4 books I have authored!

As for those who’re new to this blog, thank you so much for taking the time to check out my work. I never take your support for granted because if it weren’t for Allah (Subhanahu Wataala), and then y’all, then my writings would definitely be rotting in a pile of notebooks in my room. So THANK YOU!
Please keep reading, keep sharing your suggestions, positive criticisms, and feedback, for I enjoy hearing from you.

Onto our new book, below are the details:

Book Title: Reflection & Resurgence: A Believer’s Journey to Allah

Category: Spirituality & Inspiration

Format: E-book

Cost: 600/= (70% of the profit gained throughout Ramadhan will go to charity) 

Blurb: A believer’s journey to Allah is never-ending. It is fraught with constant introspection, the revival of one’s faith, and devotion to Him. This book presents a collection of contemplations for the believer who seeks a better relationship with Allah. It is a beautiful reminder of the work we need to put in to acquire His divine love.

Purchase Process: Send 600/= to Mpesa till no 5378403. Then send your transaction message to ‘strokesofmypen@gmail.com’ with the subject ‘New Book’. The book will be sent to you within 24 hours in shaa Allah.

Alternatively, you can pay 5.6 $ via PayPal to lubnah.abdulhalim@gmail.com. Then send your transaction message to ‘strokesofmypen@gmail.com’ with the subject ‘New Book’. You will receive your book soon thereafter in shaa Allah.

If you have neither, nenda kwa jirani, hakosi Mpesa 😉
***
Please take note of the following:

  1. The book is only in Ebook format at the moment. Sorry for the inconvenience.
  2. The book is divided into 30 chapters to make it convenient and a daily read for Ramadhan (although the book can be read whenever the reader wants to). The intention is to make it easier for those who dislike Ebooks like me, to read in smaller bits yet still enjoy the content. I hope that works 🙂
  3. Please let me not come find my book being sold at 50/= pale black market jamani or being ‘forwarded many times’ pale WhatsApp ;( We all know how creatives are always on the verge of starvation, don’t we? Haiya, please respect our work, at least someday I also get to take my parents and siblings to Hajj, or buy an island, or travel to Santorini cause why not? 😀 Semeni ameeeeeen 😀 On that note, if you wish to gift someone else a copy of the book, please buy another copy for them and do not share yours.
  4. Please do not request me to send you the book via WhatsApp or anywhere else. This is because I need to keep track of the sales via email in order to deduct the 70% of profits after Ramadhan in shaa Allah. It is also better for you as a reader, for you get to store the book and its password safely for future reference.
  5. To preserve my energy and time, whenever you have a question about the book, kindly check first if I haven’t already posted about it in previous posts. That will be helpful. Thank you!

I hope you enjoy the read!

Ramadhan Mubarak! May Allah make this the month of introspection, purification, and best change within our souls. May He accept our duas and grant us the best of this life and the next. Ameen.
Please do include me and my family in your prayers 🙂

THANK YOU!!!

Sunday, 28 March 2021

THIS FEELS LIKE THE BEGINNING OF THE END

 



Someone asked about you today, and for the first time, I smiled. And I smiled more at my ability to smile. I didn’t have tears in my eyes, or heaviness in my chest. For the first time, I wasn’t a time bomb ready to tick off at the very mention of your name. Instead, I talked about you the same way I talk about the moon; so far yet so near. A beauty that demands to be felt and remembered and cherished. Then it hit me; this is truly the beginning of the end.


The end of an era.


The end of the beginning.


***


I divide my lifespan into two; before you and after you. Yes, that is very much a thing. Because it is only once in a lifetime that we meet people who shift our lives; turn our lives around 360 degrees, move our souls from point A to point B, give us glasses so we can view the world from their eyes, and oh the beauty! The beauty of seeing me through you…You changed my life in ways I never thought possible. You added colour into my life, and you know, I love colours! I became a different person. I am a different person.


Grieving you has been the most painful process. It is just one of those losses you expect to carry along with you forever. You heal, but you never realllyyy heal you know? But that’s not how I want to remember you. I have been back and forth with the stages of grief; up and down with it for years, and there’s a lot of ugliness, bitterness, anger and darkness. There’s a lot that I had to unpack to get where I am today; the beginning of the end, so today I choose how I want to honour your memory.


I want to remember you for restoring my faith in humanity. For showing me compassion I never thought I deserved. A level of compassion I never thought existed, at least not for me. For reminding me that a giver ought to receive too. For being kind to me even in instances when I was extremely difficult. For giving me a new meaning of empathy and friendship.


I want to remember your loud laughter that came so easily. For the entire meme conversations we’d have. For the times when I’d be overthinking and you’d tease me for my ridiculous and wild thoughts and in turn, made me laugh too. For the moments we’d laugh at our own misery and laugh even more at our own helplessness. For the times you’d chuckle at my pronunciation whenever I said ‘Allahu Must3an’ and you’d try to imitate me. I want to recall how you could make me laugh and smile even at the very lowest points in my life.


I want to cherish the memory of you for letting me be myself, even when I was unlikable. For always telling me, ‘what if it all works out?’ when I had so much anxiety and many doubts. For making me look at myself (right after crying) in the mirror and smile for as long as it would take until I could genuinely smile. For staying around when I pushed everyone away. For staying around when I needed you around.


I am grateful for the way you saw me; my bare soul. You cherished it and honoured it more than anyone else ever did. That you understood me deeply; both my spoken words and my deep silence. That you gave me a safe haven to talk about anything without feeling judged or misunderstood. And I want to remember that. I want to remember what it means to be held dearly and be loved purely and wholeheartedly.


You pushed me to be better, always. And you cared so deeply I actually believed that anything could be possible for me. And I want to remember it all. The whole of it; the moments you stayed silently by my side till I could get a hold of my breath, the moments you talked to me for so long even when you had your own heavy burdens weighing you down.


I want to recall all the nicknames you had for me. The funny ones, the silly ones, the annoying ones. I want to remember how they came about. All the exceptional and hilarious movie characters that you thought were me. I want to remember the conversations we had on life; from travel to religion to family to our deepest selves.


Conversations on God with you were my favourite. There was only one way to describe that profoundness; that you were my gift from Allah. However temporary a gift is, it still remains to be valuable…unforgettable.


Someone asked me about you today, and I smiled. I’m sure you’d be proud of me. Proud of the growth that came from the very long, exhausting journey. Proud that I kept my word to fulfill my 2020 goal. Yet somehow, you’d still know that I am crying as I write this. You knew me painfully well, darn you! But I also know what you’d say: ‘sasa walia nini mwanamke?’ and somehow, just somehow, you’d be able to make me laugh right after.


This feels like the beginning of the end. I’m finally learning to let you go; to leave you in the hands of He who brought you to me in the first place. And it is a very bitter-sweet moment. Bitter because, will I ever be lucky to find such a deep, heart-felt friendship ever again? Sweet because, I know Allah will take way better care of you than I would ever have. Either way, I am glad of the growth. The fog seems to be settling. If I’m lucky, perhaps I’ll finally reach the light.


To say you’re missed is an understatement. But your memory will always remain intact with me, I promise. I will remember you with every sunset, and every drone taking breath-taking photographs, and every angry sheikh lecturing with so much intensity lool and every human that has to be reminded to smile and every meme collection that I would have otherwise sent you while you complain about the spams haha. The list is long but you get the gist?


My prayer is that you’re in a better and happier place; both physically and emotionally. May Allah place you under His wing of mercy. May He love you, may He take care of you like you did with me… and more, may He bless you, and may He fill your soul with peace, joy, and tranquility.


This is how I choose to let you go– You might be away but still in my duas.


I say thank you for everything. Thank you for being you.


Stay safe favourite human…please take care of your soul 🙂


Love,


Sierra.


***