WE DIE HOW WE LIVED

I think one of the scariest things in this life is that our daily actions and the things we dedicate our time to, do dictate to a certain extent how our end will be. This is not even science, it is logic. Have you ever seen how when someone dies we almost never miss to check their social media accounts and exclaim at their last posts? Sometimes we talk of how it is a strange coincidence that the last thing they posted was about death or pain or doing good deeds. But these things are never coincidences. Most of the times, if you check even the past posts of the same person you’d see similar posts. It is only that we mostly take notice of what someone said after they are gone for good (sadly).

So here comes the logic: If you love posting about food or fashion or even Islamic reminders there’s a high probability the last post before your death will be the same. If you spend 80% of your time reciting qur’an, then there’s quite a high probability that you will die reading the book of Allah and if you spend most of your time with earphones on and loud music popping, there’s also that probability you’d die in that same way. It is never a guarantee but we also can’t entirely dismiss this. One would think, what’s the big deal if I died with my earphones on? The big deal is that you’ll be resurrected in front of your Lord, not in sujood, or on a trip to do charity but in the sinning process. With what face do you stand before your God?Of course our Lord is the most Merciful and despite all our frequent sins, He is always ready to forgive us. But are we ready to accept our mistakes and repent sincerely? For how long will we be in denial?

We are living in this ridiculous century whereby everyone is ‘holier than thou’ or otherwise in the ‘don’t judge me’ phase. We always tend to forget that we are human beings and it is natural for us to sin and make mistakes but what then do we do? We deny. We deny that our lifestyles are filthy and our eyes are blinded by the materialistic world. We deny that we need to take a step back and think hard about our words and actions. We deny that we are being irresponsible and immature to think that God will JUST somehow forgive us even when we don’t try to change and sincerely repent.

I’ve seen several videos that show sudden deaths; someone died in sujood, another died in Makkah while doing hajj, another died while reciting qur’an in front of a large crowd…and yet still I’ve seen clips of people who’ve died while dancing, others who died on stage while singing and even while stealing. Yes, you read it right. A thief who died in the process of stealing. How scary is that? These people probably thought they’ll have an entire lifetime ahead of them; to enjoy life, to be happy and probably get close to God at some point? Well, tomorrow is not promised to anyone. How do we know that this bad habit we are so attached to will actually be the end of us?!

One of the scary true stories I heard is of a young lady who loved listening to music and dancing a lot. She was so passionate about it that she would indulge in the dancing whether it was Ramadhan or Jumuah or any other day, it never really mattered to her. So one day, this young lady was invited to a wedding and she was happily dancing around when someone suggested to her, ‘Why don’t you go dance at the stage?’ The young lady agreed and she went on to the stage. She folded one arm and kept her hand on the waist. She raised her other hand over her head and stood on her toes on one foot, ready to take a swirl. Just as she was taking the turn, she collapsed. Her family rushed her into the next room, splashed some water on her face but in vain. The girl was gone. Now during the ghusl time, her body remained fixated in that same last posture she was in just before her death; hand akimbo, another hand above her head and with one foot as if she were standing on her toes. The lady who was doing ghusl tried everything to force her body straight but she didn’t succeed. She then decided to call a sheikh to ask for help. The sheikh suggested that she washes her with warm water over her muscles maybe then her body would relax and straighten up. The lady said that she had even tried immersing the entire body in warm water but still, it wouldn’t budge. With nothing else possible, the young lady was buried in that same posture.

The lady who did the ghusl asked the mother about her daughter and she said of how obsessed she was with music and dancing. She would always send her younger brother to go buy her the latest releases of music. The strange thing was that after she had collapsed, her body was straight. It was only when she was taken for ghusl that her body posture turned like that during the dance. Subhanallah. And that was her end…and unfortunately, this is how she will be resurrected.

The truth is, we are not dumb or stupid. Not at all. We know of our sins and we know what habits we need to discard. But do we really even try to take a step and think of our sins or do we attack those who try to correct us? When people tell us about Miraa or smoking or hijab or anything else, do we stop for a moment and think, ‘What if they are right? What if my choices will really lead to my horrible end?!

The good news is that our Lord is indeed the Most Forgiving Most Merciful. Each one of us is struggling with some bad habits or sins that we frequently commit. What we do about them is what matters. If we sincerely put the intention to change and actually TRY to become better Muslims, then Allah will definitely help us and easen for us the path and judge us according to how we strive to get closer to Him.

Indeed life is short and we can never know in which way we will die. Best thing is to pray for a beautiful ending and a beautiful meeting with our Lord when the time comes. Let us keep praying for ourselves and even for our fellow Muslims that we may follow the right path. May Allah guide us and grant us husnul khatima. Ameen.

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This article initially appeared in the JKUMSA magazine of 2019 that was released recently. To read/download the issue click on this link: http://magazine.jkumsa.or.ke/magazine/the-light-april-2018-issue/2019/

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The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said, "(The performance of) 'Umrah is an expiation for the sins committed between it and the previous 'Umrah; and the reward of Hajj Mabrur (i.e., one accepted) is nothing but Jannah." [Al-Bukhari and Muslim].

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5 TIMES WE FAIL TO RESPECT PEOPLE’S SPACE

I believe Mombasa is one of the best places to live in Kenya. Maybe I’m biased because this is where I come from and home is home right? That aside, the culture here is so beautiful and profound, it gives you warmth. We are a collectivist society which means we mostly do things as a society rather than individuals. This can be depicted in how we conduct our weddings, our funerals, our charity and all kind of activities. There is a strong sense of brotherhood which brings together many different yet similar people from all walks of life. As much as things are not the same as they were in the past and more people have now adopted the private lifestyle, we still are one in many ways.

Nonetheless, in many of the occasions that we connect and stand with one another, we cross lines. It is never intentional and most times, we never even notice that we are doing it. We go beyond limits and over-step despite our pure intentions to help. So I’ll be the bad cop today and point some habits that sometimes aren’t as pleasant as we may think.

Note: I am VERY sure the things I am about to mention happen in other communities as well. But I don’t belong in those other communities and it wouldn’t be right to speak of what I’m not really sure of.

So, people…here we go:

1. New born babies are extremely exciting. Everyone wants to see them, touch them, smell them and hold them. They are pure joy. As soon as a mother gives birth, we rush to the hospital to see the new bundle of joy. I say it again, we mean well. I mean we are family right? So half an hour after a delivery, the hospital room is full of people and laughter and…a VERY exhausted mother. Having to keep smiling for everyone who walks in, trying to silence the new baby, listening to everyone talk. Have you ever thought how this situation is for a new mother? She has just undergone a very painful experience, probably the most painful in her life. It is a new thing. Her hormones are gushing out, milk flowing over, her entire body system is messed up and is trying to adapt to the changes. This new bundle of joy is new to her too, whether it is her first baby or the fifth, it is still a new adjustment for her because every child will be different. Every five minutes, the child is either crying or a new visitor is walking in. Of course, she can’t let her visitors alone. So she wakes up and listens to the endless, often contradicting advice on children. This will go on for days. She probably can’t even remember the last time she slept soundly. She can’t ask people not to come because yes, she does want her family and friends to be happy with her…but she needs rest too. She needs to breathe. She needs a break to make sense of what is happening and adjust appropriately.

I am not saying we shouldn’t visit new mothers, I’m just saying, a text message is good enough on the first days after delivery especially if you are not immediate family or very close to the individual. I am sure your message will be appreciated. Just make a point to inform them that you will visit them once they settle down a bit. Communicating your intention is important. Then visit them after a month or so, when they’ve had a chance to adjust. It doesn’t make you a bad cousin or friend, it makes you empathetic and human.

2. Visiting sick people is a thing for us. Go to Coast general and see the buibuis and kanzus in large numbers visiting their sick relatives. It is a beautiful trait within us; compassion. Often times we are not sure how to support and help our sick relatives which makes us helpless, so we decide to over-stay by their bed side even when we aren’t exactly needed. Sometimes we travel from other countries and stay at the sick person’s place, with the intention of being there for them. However, most often than not, we cause them further discomfort especially if we are not immediate family or very close relatives. Because now, this sick person and whoever is with them, have to worry about one more person; YOU. What will the visitor eat? Will they be okay sleeping in this room? What if they see X (the patient) vomiting or crying in pain? They now become more cautious in their own house. We mean well yes, but there’s always a limit to how much our presence is needed. Visit the sick, stay with them for some little time, pray for them or with them, support them but once you are not needed, kindly give them the space. Of course this differs according to the state of the patient but you get my point right? (I’m sure someone is saying to themselves, we have the over-staying visitors even when no one is sick too!! Yeah, those too…)

3. Newly-weds: Weddings are such an exciting thing here. We invest in them emotionally, physically and mentally. So much so that once the groom has taken his wife, we still want to be updated on every detail of their life. We tactfully visit them every other day to ‘see how they’re doing’. We want to know whether they have adjusted, whether the wife can cook good food, whether they have a fridge, whether they have consummated their marriage?!

Two people have just started a new life together. It is a very big step. They need time to know each other and to adapt. Someone has been living with their parents for perhaps twenty or more good years of their life and now it is a totally different house, with a different person, a different neighbourhood. Yet here we are, knocking on their door, as soon as they tie the knot.

Of course parents and siblings would want to assist in the adjustment and that is fine but that too has limits. And for the distant relatives and friends, we have to be even more careful not to cross the limits.

4. Asking newly-weds when they will have kids, can be very irritating and sometimes humiliating. You can never know what a couple is going through. You can never know whether the lady cries herself to sleep, wishing and praying so hard to have a child. You can never know how many doctors they’ve seen and how long they’ve been trying. It is okay to ask someone whether they have children but totally not okay to ask them why or when or even worse, joke about it. You just never know the pain they could be enduring. Be sensitive to people. You just never know…

Same applies to asking unmarried people when they are planning to get married. Huh, some youth want to end their lives because of that kind of unnecessary pressure. Also take note; there is the kind of asking where someone is genuinely concerned about you and the kind of asking that is just meant to pressurize you. The latter is what bothers everyone who is asked.

5. Funerals: Grief is a very subjective emotion. The way one will deal with a loss will be totally different with another. This includes siblings and family members. We could have undergone the same tremendous loss but one would lock themselves in the room not eating for days while another wouldn’t shed a tear. It doesn’t make either of the experiences less painful. We are just different like that.

Now when someone dies, we come together and show support to those who have lost a loved one. However, we tend to camp at the deceased’s house, forgetting what kind of discomfort we could be causing. Someone just lost her husband, but here she is, even three days after the burial, her house is filled with people. She can’t have a minute to herself because there are people lying around and chit-chatting everyyywhere. She has to think about what the visitors will eat, who will cook, do we even have groceries? Sometimes it is the immediate family of the deceased who go into the kitchen to cook for the visitors, tears streaming from their faces as they cook the stew. How unfair is that? Making someone who is undergoing great amount of pain, push aside their emotions because there are thirty people in the house with empty stomachs. How unfair is it for the widow who hasn’t had a minute to herself to let it sink in, to breathe, to cry without anyone hovering over her shoulder.

We might think that everyone wants to have a crowd patting them on the back and crying with them but that is not true. Often times we need the support at the first instance of the death through to the end of the funeral. After that we just need to be alone or be with someone really close to us.

We definitely should not disregard that the loss is for several people and not just one person or immediate family. Of course death affects many people and it is okay to grieve too. But sometimes it is better that we grieve at our own space and allow the immediate family to grieve their own way.

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I love my home and my people. Honestly I do and even more, I love how we are always ready to stand up for each other as a community. Nonetheless there are these instances and several more whereby we need to be wiser on how we deal with situations and people. Let us think of the other parties more. Let us be more empathetic as much as we are compassionate.

P.S This is but my opinion and everyone is entitled to their own. I mean no harm. Thank you.

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IF ROLES WERE REVERSED

Have you ever looked at the house help at home and thought, 'Did he/she ever have a dream to become something in life? Or do they still want to become that thing? What is their story? Do they have a family? If something happened to them, do we know their next of kin? Do we know where they live? Whether they ate yesterday evening? Did they have an education? Or did they start school then dropped out because of finances? If they were given a chance to be whoever they want to be, what would they choose? What do they feel about their current job? About working for you? About spending time with your children?'

What about your garbage collector? Or the man who fixes your sink? Or the lady who babysits your children? Ever thought about their feelings, their goals in life, their thinking? If roles were reversed, would you be satisfied having a boss like you? Would you be happy with the pay you receive? With the workload given to you? With the treatment given? Would you be okay about the leftover or almost rotten food given to you alone while they feast on the table with all kinds of fresh, tasty food? Would you feel discriminated, underestimated, unappreciated?

Most of us never think about that. We never take a minute to just think about these people who work and toil for us. Sometimes we openly mistreat them or insult them or be so harsh with them for humanly mistakes. Sometimes we publicly show them that they are not in the same league/class with us. Sometimes we don't even treat them like human beings. Sometimes we think, we worked hard to be where we are in life and they didn't. They didn't work hard enough, or they were just lazy or unambitious. Sometimes we forget that it is but a blessing to be this comfortable with our lives. Sometimes, or most times, we never think about them entirely?

So let's take a moment to think about all the manual labourers that work for us or with us or those come across. If roles were reversed, would you want to be treated the way we or you treat them? Would we want to be paid the same amount we pay them (sometimes despite having more than enough for ourselves)? Would we want to be given another type of food while everyone else is eating special meals? Would we want to be ignored like we ignore them until we have a need? Would we want to be shouted upon for every humanly mistake we make?

Do we respect them? Do we honour them? Do we listen to what they have to say? All these people with low-paying jobs, do we ever appreciate them?

Manual labour is considered noble in Islam. Abu Hurairah RA reported: The Prophet (sallallaahu ’alayhi wa sallam) said, “No food is better to man than that which he earns through his manual work. Dawud (alayhi sallam), the Prophet of Allah, ate only out of his earnings from his manual work.” (Bukhari)

We have a perfect example of how the prophet peace be upon him mingled with the slaves and the poor people. Here's an excerpt from http://www.reviewofreligions.org/2876/the-life-character-of-the-seal-of-the-prophetssaw-part-4/ on the prophet and his slave, Zaid bin Harith.

"Hakim bin Hizam, the nephew of Hadhrat Khadijah(ra), was a merchant who constantly moved about with various trade caravans. Once he purchased a few slaves during a trade expedition and gave one of them as a gift to Hadhrat Khadijah(ra). The name of the slave gifted to Hadhrat Khadijah(ra) was Zaid bin Harithah(ra). In actuality, Zaid(ra) belonged to a free family, but during a plunder he was taken captive and was forcefully enslaved. Khadijah(ra) found Zaid(ra) to be wise and intelligent, so she entrusted him to Muhammad(saw).

It was always the practice of the Holy Prophet(saw) that he would treat his servants and slaves with immense love, like his own kith and kin. Hence, Muhammad(saw) was affectionate to Zaid(ra). Since Zaid(ra) possessed a sincere heart, he also developed love for Muhammad(saw). Meanwhile, Zaid(ra)’s father Harith and paternal uncle Ka‘b came to Makkah whilst looking for him. Both of them presented themselves before the Holy Prophet(saw), and with great humility requested the freedom of Zaid(ra), so that he may return home with them. Muhammad(saw) responded; “Absolutely! If Zaid wishes to leave with you, I delightedly give him permission to do so.” At this, Zaid was called upon and was asked by Muhammad(saw), “Zaid, Do you recognise these people?” “Yes,” responded Zaid(ra), “they are my father and paternal uncle.” Muhammad(saw) said, “They have come to take you. If you wish to leave with them, I gladly give you permission to do so.” “I shall not leave you on any account,” answered Zaid(ra), “To me, you are far dearer than my own uncle or father.” Zaid(ra)’s father reacted with great anger and grief, “What? Do you give preference to a life of slavery over that of freedom?” “Yes,” responded Zaid(ra), “for I have witnessed such virtues in him that I can now give preference to none above him.”

When Muhammad(saw) heard this response he immediately stood up and took Zaid(ra) to the Ka‘bah. There he announced in a loud voice, “O People! Be witness to the fact that as of this day I free Zaid(ra) and make him my son. He shall be my heir and I shall be his.” When Zaid(ra)’s uncle and father observed this sight, they were astounded. They happily left Zaid with Muhammad(saw). Since then, Zaid bin Harithah(ra) became known as Zaid bin Muhammad(ra).1 However, after the Hijrah, God revealed a commandment that it was unlawful to take an adopted child as an actual son.2 Upon this, Zaid(ra) was once again given his original name, Zaid bin Harithah. Nonetheless, the loving conduct of the ever-loyal Muhammad(saw) remained unaltered with this ever-sincere servant..."

Imagine a slave loving their master to the extent they wouldn't want to go back to their family. How amazingly well do you think the prophet peace be upon him to make Zaid may peace be upon him, cherish him that much.

So here's food for thought for all of us...if roles were reversed, would you be pleased working under YOU?

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BLISS

When I was a child, I wanted to be like the Palestinian kid. I sympathized with them a lot but more than that, I adored them. Their resilience, their bravery, their courage to come face to face with death, with the enemy. To stand up for what they truly believe in. I think they are phenomenal. These were my heroes; these kids. Then when I grew up with a faint heart, I decided maybe the next best thing is to adopt one of them someday; a Palestinian or Syrian child. It still is a dream.

When the Ethiopian plane crash happened, I really really tried not to write about it. Because everyone was. It was all over the social media. It still is. And with my faint heart, I thought, we need a breathing moment. Just a second to breathe. So I tried to avoid the media as much as I could. Yet still, the same night I dreamt I was in the plane crash. See? Faint heart. Before I could let that incident sink in, the New Zealand bombing happened. This definitely was a worse blow because it was an act of cruel, ruthless human beings. It was agitating and heartbreaking. So again, I actively avoided my laptop. I didn't want to rant about how depressing and agonizing this world is. Because well, who doesn't know it already?

So I've been having this comforting thought that I clinged on a drowning man holding onto a straw. Jannah. Paradise. You know, most times we dwell on how terrifying this world is (which it truly is), we forget of Allah's promise to us. What's yet to come if we believe and are patient.

I find it comforting to think of a day when we'll meet our loved ones who departed and left this world before us. Imagine the first moment you see one another; the joy, the excitement, the thrill. Unbelievable, we all made it! You start updating them of all that happened in their absence. You hug and rejoice. You talk at length. You hug more.

Here are your besties seated with you under the largest, most beautiful tree you can ever imagine, its branches swinging swiftly, filling your lungs with fresh air. You are laughing than you ever did in your previous life. Laughing until your stomach aches. All of you are reminiscing of the moments you had in this life. Moments when you wanted to give up on life, on God, on people. Moments when you just wanted to die because what's the point? But here you are?! And there is food of course. All kinds of food you are so confused what to eat and what not. But it's the good kind of confusion. Not the one where you are unsure where to eat a rotten cow's flesh or the leftovers in the trash bin. The exhilarating kind of confusion. You are seeing food you never knew existed. The taste is too sweet to be true. You are so overwhelmed with joy you want to scream 'foooooooddddd.'

Across the garden is your mother and father seated on huge seats that befit the royalties. They are happy. You can see it from how your mother's face is glowing and how your father is smiling. Tears form in your eyes because it is like a dream. You always wanted this for them. This kind of bliss. This kind of peace. And there they are, earning what they truly deserve by the Mercy of Allah.

You remember a friend of yours that you haven't yet met in Paradise so an angel directs you to another garden where you'd find them. And there they are, seated next to sahabas listening to their stories while they laugh. A river passes next to them and tiny green birds fly above them. You see their palace. You are almost jealous. They are in a different level of paradise than you are. The good kind of jealous though. Your friend sees you and you embrace tightly. You take a moment to feel the embrace.

'What more did you do than I did?!' You whisper in their ears as you smile.

'What's the fun in telling you? The suspense is more fun,' they laugh. And then you both laugh.

'But you are always welcome you know. No one will stop you,' they tease you some more. You embrace again and they invite you to join their seating and listen to the real heroes.

At your next stop you meet nabii Yunus and you are so curious to ask him about the view inside the whale's stomach but instead you just greet him and stand there so tongue-tied; not from intimidation but from disbelief. You meet nabii Ibrahim and you want to ask him about his feeling when he was about to be thrown into the fire. You meet nabii Yusuf and you are utterly flabbergasted by his beauty. Ah unbelievable! Nabii Ayub is right there and you are in awe because he was your role model on earth when it came to patience. You can't believe you are meeting all these people you only read about and admired all your life long.

Hurul ains are walking graciously around and you nod in agreement; they are a spectacle. You could spend your entire day just watching them move about. And their eyes!! Wow. What a sight. The worldly description that you heard of them could never suffice describing their real beauty.

You speed up now because you really want to get a glimpse of prophet Muhammad. You want to see his Majesty. You want to sit next to him and talk to him and listen to him and and...You just never thought of the day this would be possible. You seated right opposite him having a one on one chat with him. And you know what's the best part? You won't be talking about the enemies that are about to attack or the plots of the hypocrites. Pure, good talks. Happy conversations. Joyful moments.

No tears anymore. No sadness. No loss. No sickness. No death. No pain. No fake connections. No jealousy. You have all you need and no one can take it away from you. Just bliss. Pure bliss.

I for one can't imagine a life without crying. I am a cry baby so there is barely any earthly day that passes by without me crying; whether its out of happiness or not. So I wonder what I'd be crying about in Jannah. Maybe eating all the things I couldn't in this world and I'd be so overwhelmed with joy and I'd be crying. Hey! No allergiessss anymorrreeee!!

I want to sleep on my mother's laps as she pats my hair, as we lie down watching the stars. I want to have my siblings seated next to us as they tease me for being a spoilt child. I want to watch my father enter his own palace that he prayed and worked for really hard. Mama two would be right there with us, chit chatting excitedly as she always was on Earth. I want to have my husband and my children surrounding me like a queen as they try to feed me fruits of paradise. My family scattered in different parts of Jannah like cute butterflies.

I would definitely go around looking for my best friends and we'd go explore the huge paradise with them. Find secret, undiscovered corners and make it our meet-up point. Climb on the paradise horses and go for adventures. Have brunch picnics at the rooftop of the highest palace and go visiting our other friends.

I would go find the prophet's wives; Khadija (May peace be upon her). I want to meet this magnificent woman who defined real womanhood for me. Oh myyy!! I want to meet Aisha (may peace be upon her too!) I really think I would click with her because I'm the jealous type too. I would tell her, 'You know,,that time you broke your co-wife's plates when she brought food for your husband while it was your day? I totally get that! I would do the same!' Then she'd say, 'Really?!' I'd say, 'Totally!' Then she'd like me immediately and we'd become friends. Then I'd remind her of the incident when she stalked the prophet when he left home one night all of a sudden. Then we'd laugh. It would probably be like an immediate connection and we'd sound like old buddies huhuhu! (Please note I am in no way encouraging being jealous and breaking the plates of your co-wives :D )

Then I'd find Khawlah bint Al Awzar, the warrior who fought in battles during the times of the prophet. Maaaan, I admire brave women and she's totally among the first I want to meet. Then there's Khansa, the greatest poet of her times, and we'd compare notes and maybe she'd even be kind enough to share her poetry tips who knows? Then there's Fatimah and Maryam, the mother of Issa. The women's list is so long. But who cares? There will be alllll the time to find them all. Because no jobs remember?! No Monday blues and evening exhaustion! No angry bosses and annoying workmates! Huh! How awesome is that!

Then there's the sahabas; the likes of Umar ibn Khattab and Salman Al Farisy and Abubakar Assidiq and Sa’d ibn Muaadh (radi Allahu anhu) who had seventy thousand angels attended his funeral. Then there are all those sheikhs and scholars you adored so much and never got a chance to meet them and converse with them. In short, there'll be a lot of Meet & Greet events to be done. Only this won't be like the Insta ones. This is Jannah kind. You know what I mean?!

Of course it would be wondeeerful to meet anyone you knew in this world. It is utmost privilege knowing you and your crowd were among the chosen ones. We'd congratulate one another and embrace.

Here we are! We almost thought the world would never end. But here we are! At the best of places with the best of people with the best of nature with the best of food. What more would we need? Nothing. Nothing more. Cause we'd have made it. We have made it!! Imagine it. Just imagine it.

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Ooops! Sorry to burst the dreaming bubble. It was a beautiful, soothing moment wasn't it? I bet it was. Let's pray and work towards attaining it. When this world seems so suffocating, remember the reward awaiting us. May Allah forgive us and have mercy on us. May He grant us the patience and make us and our families and all our loved ones meet in Jannah ya Rab! Ameeeeen. Let's remember to pray for one another and for the world.

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GRIEF

There are five stages of grief; Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. You know this because you heard a widow talk about it. But that is not exactly the whole story. You are immersed in your own grief, maybe not that of widowhood but the intense grief is definitely there.

You have been married to the same man for twelve long years. It was a love marriage, or so you thought. Five months into the marriage you realize you are married to a narcissist who doesn't really care about you. You are his victim. He is emotionally abusing you but that is something no one talks about right? People talk of infidelity in marriage, physical abuse, sexual abuse, negligence...but who talks about being emotionally abused? You know what people will say. They will say you are ungrateful. You have a husband who pays the bills and feeds you, what more do you want? So you are patient with him. Maybe he will change. Maybe he will see that he is mistreating you and change for the better.

A year goes by, but he is still cold, rude and arrogant. He dismisses your existence the way a patient dismisses they are about to die. They ignore it. That's what he does to you. He ignores you. He makes you feel small. He makes you feel unloved. You feel like a ghost. You wonder why. You question a lot of things. What happened to the love he claimed to have for you? What changed? Is it that he realized you are less beautiful than he actually thought? Is he dissatisfied with what you bring to the marriage table?

Soon enough, the first baby comes, and he is an excited dad for a minute. Then the rejoicing is all gone. It is all about duties once again. Buying pampers and cerelac. Then the second baby comes along. Then the third. Then the fourth. Before you know it, it has been twelve years already. You have withered like a flower. You have lost weight and your will to live life as it should be.

When you had the first baby, you thought, 'maybe this is it. Maybe he will now be more emotionally available for us' but he didn't. You thought of giving it time. You have hope. You have faith that things will get better. But four children later, your husband is still like a dead man walking. No emotions. No intimacy. No proper communication. All along, people could see your misery behind your forced smile. You never had to say anything, they just knew by how each one of you would take a different lane while walking at the road. Or how he would go to the farthest section from you in the supermarket. Or how he would quickly let his hand slip when you try to hold his hand in front of your family. People knew. You knew. But you just had a lot more to be grateful for. So you swallowed the bitter pill for years.

On your bedroom wall is a beautiful painting of the serenity prayer used in recovery programs. It says,

'God grant me the serenity

To accept the things I cannot change,

The courage to change the things I can,

and the wisdom to know the difference'

You stare at it every single morning, like it would give you answers.

'God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change' and you wonder, is your marriage and the misery within it something you cannot change? Is it something you should have given up on a long time ago? Is this simply how it was meant to be?

Several friends suggested that you pick your children and walk away. But you always had this anticipation that things will eventually change. You thought, 'But how can I walk away now when my children are young and need more parents?' so you postponed it. When they became teenagers, life became even tougher because now, your children are all moody, stubborn and aggressive. You think, 'This is the worst time to make children go through a divorce' so you wait until they become adults. But deep down your heart you know it, it wasn't just about the children. It is also about you. You not accepting that you are caged in an unhappy marriage that is not fulfilling in any way.

You stare at the serenity prayer. 'Very powerful,' you think. But do you have courage to change the things you can? Take life into your own hands. Be realistic on where your marriage is headed to? Is it something that can be salvaged? Changed? Saved? Or are you just seeking a mirage. An illusion?

It is like what happens when you are a child and can't wait to be a teenager because at that age and time, you think being a teenager is the coolest thing. Then the teenage years are as chaotic as humanly possible and you look up to the young adults and you think, 'these lads have exciting lives. Once I get there, it will be exciting too' but you get to your twenties and realize there is so much confusion than excitement. Then you anticipate being like the real grown ups with careers and families and friends. But you get there and it strikes you, 'NO ONE HAS IT FIGURED OUT.' No one can actually, in full certainty, tell you what they are doing with their lives or where they are headed to. A mirage. You too have been seeking a mirage in your marriage, always anticipating certain incidents to turn around your life. Only, life doesn't happen like that.

Whenever you think of divorce, you think of your reasons to walk away. How long is it considerable enough to have hope but also not to allow yourself drown in the sea of emptiness? How many months or years should one be in a marriage before they walk away? One year? Two? Five? When is the safest time to walk away without having blame and guilt on you? Its been twelve years and you still haven't figured this out.

You know the stages of grief because you have been living in grief.

Denial: It is not that he doesn't love me. He is just not an expressive person. He doesn't know how to show me that he loves me.

Anger: Why are you doing this to me?! Why did you marry me if you had no interest in valuing me as your wife?! I don't deserve this! I hate you! I hate that I ever met you!

Bargaining: Please love me.

Please love me.

Please love me.

Please love me.

Please love me.

Depression: I am so so tired. I just don't want to live anymore. I just don't want to live anymore!

Acceptance: ....

You are stuck here. In depression. You are yet to decide what really matters to you. You are yet to take action in either freeing yourself or saving your marriage at any cost. You are yet to decide whether an unhappy marriage is a reason good enough to walk away or patience is key here. Miracles do happen. Prayers do get answered. People do turn around and change completely. Question is, is your husband that kind of person? No one is going to decide it for you. No one knows your husband, your marriage, your children more than yourself. No one knows YOU than you. You know you need to face reality now.

You need to decide whether you want to die grieving of lost love or move to the next step of acceptance and take necessary action.

You know the five stages of grief so well, it is heartbreaking.

FACING LAKE VICTORIA

*This was in the traffic jam :D *

Sunday, 4th November

I thought I was calm and composed about this trip. I wasn't telling the world about it nor was I counting down the hours to the minute I board the plane. However, yesterday night I woke up thrice, went and put on the lights then went back to sleep. Woke up again and went back and put off the lights. The third time I put on the lights again. It was a very restless night. I woke hours later checked my phone, it read 5:33 a.m. I hurried to wake my dad's room and informed him he is late for the morning prayer. My mother asks, "How comes we are not hearing the prayer going on in the mosque?"

"Perhaps they are done."

My father wakes up and checks his phone.

"It is 3:33 a.m. not 5:33"

"Really?! But I HEARD the prayer going on in the mosque! And my phone confirmed that!"

"It is 5:33. Go back to sleep."

I go back to my room and check the phone. It is truly 3 a.m. I sigh.

Anxiety Mahn :D I should have known that staying calm for me is impossible. But would you blame me really?

This was my first time being invited for an international writing workshop. A publishing fellowship by African Writers Trust (AWT).

First time meeting writers from different parts of Africa.

First time going to Uganda.

First time meeting the writing/publishing gurus.

First time boarding the plane.

Keep calm? Not a word in my dictionary.

The flight was amazing apart from the dizziness whenever the plane bumped a bit. My mother said I'll be fine during my second flight. I wasn't. During both the flights I was still holding onto the chair, thinking of all the things that could go wrong yet still, I loved it. I realized how underrated the clouds are because I couldn't stop wondering how nice it would be to touch them and feel them.

We arrive at Country Lake Resort Garuga in Entebbe around lunch hour. I quickly go to my room to drop off my things. The room is big. The bed is bigger; I could have five mini-mes sleeping on the same bed. It has a small, lovely balcony that faces some tall trees and smaller plants. Perfect place for a cup of coffee. Only that I don't drink coffee and I am scared of being alone in this room and in this balcony precisely. The silence is deafening and the trees seem to be whispering. I don't know to whom precisely but they are definitely creepy.

I take a walk around the big resort and it is A.M.A.Z.I.N.G. This place is the definition of art and nature. Definitely the best place to bring writers to, and family, and your friends and everyone else. Everyone should see this place. It faces the majestic and grand lake Victoria and words can't explain how breath-taking it is. Someone should sponsor me a 'vacation' to write a book over here. The air just clears your head and that obviously makes it the best place to think, contemplate and come up with the best ideas. I salute the one who chose this location for this workshop. And the owner is definitely a genius!

I go back into my room as soon as the sun set.

Now here's the thing, I come from a big family so there was never a time I was ever alone by myself. Almost never. At first I was excited about experiencing this but dark has set in and sleep doesn't seem to be coming anytime soon despite my exhaustion. My heart keeps racing and I am a nervous wreckage right now like a character in a thrilling story. So much suspense with no climax. So I'm just here staring around in all corners, saying lots of duas and breathing deeply while under my blanket. Qur'an is playing from my laptop at the background. The lights are on. I want to sleep now.

Monday, 5th November

Last night I dreamt of some people breaking into my room. My big, lovely, beautiful room. The room that should see no harm yet people still found a way to break into my room out of the many rooms in this big resort. Only it was a dream; a long one nonetheless. I curse anxiety. Wouldn't let me enjoy the serenity even.

I leave the room around 6:30 a.m. to watch the sunrise. A divine scene. Stunning. Spectacular. *Inserts all the synonyms of breath-taking* It is so beautiful I want to cry. I want to cry because I haven't felt this kind of warmth in a very long time. Just chirping of the birds, the calm sea, the silence, the peace. And no people!! Oh the peace! I couldn't get enough of it. But today was the day. The D-day. The start of the workshop and I had to fully prepare for it.

It is not every day you meet legends especially all in one place. Ellah Wakatama Allfrey, founding publisher of Indigo Press from the UK, Demere Kitunga, a publisher, mentor and translator from Tanzania and Catherine Mark, a writer and a poet from the UK as well. Mama Goretti who is the founder of AWT. All these fellows from Africa. All with very valuable experience and knowledge and mistakes to learn from.

We had 18 fellows from Uganda, Kenya, Rwanda, Ethiopia, Sudan and Tanzania. I was among the 3 Kenyans selected and the youngest, or at least among the youngest. This calls for a celebration.

Everyone introduces themselves and what brought them to the workshop. We have publishers in the room, editors, writers, poets and trainers. I am overwhelmed with all the stories from everyone. No one's had it easy. No one just woke up and had an empire ready. It is really REALLY inspiring and definitely makes me more hopeful for the future and the future of my group in Mombasa 'Creative Writers League'.

The Magnificent Ellah Wakatama starts off on the editors role and the different kinds of editors in the publishing world. I am amazed. So many things I had NO idea of. For example, I never knew there were so many different editors each with their own specific role. Or that even in poetry, there's a specific way of arranging the poems such that they be in sync with each other and flow perfectly. The group works are mind-blowing and eye-opening. We go on with the life cycle of the book and many other interesting issues about bringing a book to life. The food is tasty. The interactions are hilarious and lovely!

I am exhausted but what I've learnt in this single day is more than I ever taught myself in all these years as a writer.

Tuesday, 6th November

It rained heavily last night and there was thunder too. I was scared of course. Is that even a question?! When one of our sweet facilitators mentioned how she hid under the bed and was praying desperately when she heard the thunder because they don't have thunder where she lives, I was relieved :D I am not the only scared freak.

Today we critically analyzed some short stories and it was so remarkable how you notice a lot more things when you read a story out loud and break it down into chunks and pieces. Even more interesting is how each one of us view the same things in very different ways and how one's favourite story turns out to be the least liked for someone else.

We learn a lot more on roles, structuring, responsibilities, planning and several other important aspects of editing.

Wednesday, 7th November

I am a regular morning walker now, plus I got a partner to watch the sunrise with. It was the only thing I kept asking everyone about. Have you seen the sunrise?! Oh you don't know what you're missing out on! So Rachel, the program organizer joined me. Then she joined me for the evening walks. And all the time walks. It wasn't just about the walks though. It was more about the deep talks we'd have any time we were together. Rachel and I connected immediately and I really appreciated it because I rarely have such profound bonds with people.

The learning is going on. A lot of questions, discussions and comments. Every creative needs such a space honestly. This is like meeting your long lost family because you automatically belong. You find your people and you understand one another. How beautiful is that?!

Thursday, 8th November

Mama sent me an email via my sister because she was worried, she couldn't find me on phone the whole day. This is despite me informing her upfront that the wifi is poor and I have little access to the internet. But I get it. I am highly likely going to do the same to my children. I am my mother's daughter and anxiety runs in the family :D But I am also daddy's girl because he is very patient and understanding. I mean, when I woke him up at 3 a.m. he wasn't angry despite him loving his sleep a lot. He said 'You were anxious' when I wanted to apologize the next morning. I think I'm the perfect combination of my parents. An anxious wreck with a lot of understanding. The most patient, impatient person on earth. :D I am a living paradox.

Today, I come to the realization that we, as creatives, have the same similar struggles despite living in different countries and having different backgrounds. One of the fellows mentioned he would charge 1 $ for a full-day training yet only five people came. And I was like, 'Same here bro. Same here.' Another lady also mentioned on the same struggle of acquiring trainees for writing. It is such a shame that we have so much talent within us yet still choose to sit on it because the training 'is expensive.' It is mostly a matter of priority and we choose to keep our talents out of the priority lists entirely. How sad.

In the afternoon we meet another creatives' group sponsored by British council at a different resort. It was nice since they had visual artists and graphic designers that we didn't have in our group. A great network opportunity for everyone. Lots of laughter, pictures and sharing of contacts.

Friday, 9th November

Adrenaline. There's something about adrenaline that I love. The thrill of it. The shouting-on-a-roller-coaster feeling. The sky-diving feeling. That makes me an adrenaline junkie I guess. But I'm also a stress junkie so you see the irony there :D More of a dilemma on what really makes me who I am.

Two of our fellows are ahead of us, Hiwot from Ethipia and Lucky Grace from Rwanda. Its their first time on the bodaboda and you can see it on their faces the tension. I laugh. I laugh because I have been on the bodaboda before, several times and i'm still scared; of it. But I'm seated with Fatma from Sudan who has also never boarded one. I feel like the hero in this case. Behind us is Rachel and Abu Amirah who are used to bodabodas but then they shouldn't ruin my feeling of being the hero here. So I tap the bodaboda guy and ask him to go past our fellows ahead of us. I keep nagging him to go faster. Fatma laughs, "Do you want to kill us?!" just as we go past them and I am shouting to them 'Byeeee.'

"This is the moment you shout 'wohoooo'"

She just laughs. We are in the interior side of Entebbe with so many trees around us and barely anyone passing by.

"Seriously..." I tell her.

"You start," she says.

I have never been an influence in my life. At least not on the silly stuff. I just do it myself.

"I do it then you do it," I tell her and she nods.

So I scream 'Wohoooo' as my sound disappears into the bushes, air kissing our faces. She just laughs.

I am disappointed. "You are supposed to be my partner in crime."

"Okay let's do it again. On the count of three. I...2...3...wohooooo"

We both shout but I can only hear her voice under her breath. I am probably the bad influence here because Fatma is extremely quiet and introverted like Hiwot. They both smile so sweetly, very lovely souls and it is very evident with how they carry out themselves.

I always thought I was an introvert until I met them. The other night we sat by the sunset deck watching the stars and I was talking a lot until I realized how quiet the two of them were. Each was just staring into the horizon, each in their own world. I was the noise maker and I've never really been a noise maker with anyone except people i'm really comfortable with. Man, I need a different identity. I am not introvert.

Anyway so Fatma asks me we do the titanic pose as the bodaboda speeds on and we stretch our arms open. She is learning :D

We are heading to Kampala and the journey is so long. Rachel, who is Ugandan, volunteered to be our tour guide and took us for shopping. Kampala pretty much looks like Nairobi. From the crowds to the chaos to the jam. The JAM! Took us two hours to get back to Entebbe. The Jam was so bad the driver would frequently put off the engine as we wait.

This was our last day of the training. The week went so fast or maybe it was just too wonderful it should have lasted a month?! It was sad parting ways with fierce individuals, lovely souls and very hardworking people. The Ugandans checked out the same day, leaving the international visitors who are to check out the next day.

Saturday, 10th November

We (the Kenyans) are leaving this morning together with the Tanzanians. Hiwot, Rachel and Lucky Grace came to say goodbye and Fatma was overtaken by her sleep so we didn't get to say our farewell.

I wish I could stay at this place longer. The solace you feel here is tremendous. Psychiatrists and psychologists should prescribe a visit to this place as part of the therapy sessions. Like 'Mandatory vacation at the Country Lake resort Garuga-Uganda. Failure to do so may lead to increment of number of days at the resort.' Plus it will be lovely if they sponsor the vacations. Can we get an 'ameen?' :D

I have learnt a lot from our great facilitators and honestly from all the fellows. I was quite moved by everyone's passion to make a difference and especially for the facilitators who come from far just to give back to the society. Mama Goretti and her AWT team did everything so perfectly, no one could complain. I mean, this is the most organized and timely event/workshop I've ever attended, special thanks to Rachel for ensuring the anxious me has nothing to worry about :D

Our trip to the airport is rather quiet. I remember when we were first coming to Entebbe and the three of us (Kenyans) had EVERYTHING to talk about. We were so excited and thrilled, we talked the whole way. KK (Kingwa) comments on how silent we are in contrast with how we came. We all laugh. We are already feeling nostalgic of the place and all the people we met. Most importantly, there's a lot of restructuring, planning and changes to be made in our writing careers. A lot to think about.

This will be quite a tiring journey since we have to stop by Nairobi first before going to Mombasa but I can't wait to be home. I missed my nephews A LOT and everyone else of course. Plus my mum is waiting for all the details of the entire trip. She loves details. I love details. Did I say I am my mother's daughter?

THE GREATNESS OF PROPHET MUHAMMAD (P.B.U.H) [PT. 6]

You can read part 5 of this series by clicking the link: https://strokesofmypen.blogspot.com/2019/02/the-greatness-of-prophet-muhammad-pbuh.html

DEATH OF THE PROPHET (S.A.W)

Symptoms of Farewell

Months before the prophet peace be upon him passed away, he showed certain symptoms signalling his upcoming death. Allah (S.W) revealed this ayah during the farewell pilgrimage ‘hijjatul wad’a’: "This day I have perfected your religion for you, completed My Favour upon you, and have chosen for you Islam as your religion." [Al-Qur'an 5:3] which was the signal of the completion of deen and faith and that the prophet’s duty and role on this earth was only a matter of days before it ended too. Some of the symptoms he showed were:

• In Ramadan in the tenth year of Al-Hijra he secluded himself for twenty days for I’tikaf in contrast to the usual last ten days he did in the previous years.

• The angel Jibril reviewed the Qur’ân twice with him instead of once like he would do in previous years.

• His words in the Farewell Pilgrimage (i.e. Al-Wida‘):"I do not know whether I will ever meet you at this place once again after this current year."

• The revelation of An-Nasr Chapter amid At-Tashreeq Days. So when it was sent down on him, he realized that it was the parting time and that Surah was an announcement of his approaching death.

• On the early days of Safar in the eleventh year of Al-Hijra, the Prophet [pbuh] went out to Uhud and observed a farewell prayer to the martyrs. It looked like saying goodbye to both the dead and the living alike. He then ascended the pulpit and addressed the people saying: "I am to precede you and I have been made witness upon you. By Allâh, you will meet me at the ‘Fountain’ very soon. I have been given the keys of worldly treasures. By Allâh, I do not fear for you that you will turn polytheists after me. But I do fear that acquisition of worldly riches should entice you to strike one another’s neck." [Sahih Al-Bukhari 2/585]

• One day, at midnight he went to Al-Baqee‘ cemetry, and implored Allâh to forgive the martyrs of Islam. He said: "Peace be upon you tomb-dwellers! May that morning that dawns upon you be more relieving than that which dawn upon the living. Afflictions are approaching them like cloudy lumps of a dark night — the last of which follows the first. The last one is bearing more evil than the first." He comforted them saying: "We will follow you."

Beginning of ailment

On Monday the twenty-ninth of Safar in the eleventh year of Al-Hijra, he participated in funeral rites in Al-Baqee‘. On the way back he had a headache, his temperature rose so high that the heat effect could be felt over his headband. He led the Muslims in prayer for eleven days though he was sick. The total number of his sick days were either thirteen or fourteen.

When his sickness grew severe he asked his wives: "Where shall I stay tomorrow?" "Where shall I stay?" They understood what he wanted. So they allowed him to stay wherever he wished. He moved to ‘Aishah’s room and it was there that he spent the last week of his life. During that period, ‘Aishah used to recite Al-Mu‘awwidhat (Chapters 113 and 114 of the Qur’ân) and other supplications which he had already taught her.

Five days before his death, he made a speech to his people and said amongst other things "The curse of Allâh falls upon the Jews and Christians for they have made their Prophets’ tombs places of worship." Then he said: "Do not make my tomb a worshipped idol." He also said:

"Allâh, the Great, has given a slave of His the opportunity to make a choice between whatever he desires of Allâh’s provisions in this world, and what He keeps for him in the world, but he has opted for the latter." Abu Sa‘îd Al-Khudri said: "Upon hearing that, Abu Bakr cried and said: ‘We sacrifice our fathers and mothers for your sake.’ We wondered why Abu Bakr said such a thing. People said: ‘Look at that old man! The Messenger of Allâh [pbuh] says about a slave of Allâh who was granted the right between the best fortunes of this world and the bounty of Allâh in the Hereafter, but he says: We sacrifice our fathers and mothers for your sake!’ It was later on that we realized what he had aimed at. The Messenger of Allâh [pbuh] was the slave informed to choose. We also acknowledged that Abu Bakr was the most learned among us." [Mishkat Al-Masabih 2/546]

On the evening of the fourth day before his death, he grew so sick that he could not overcome the strain of disease or go out to enter the Mosque. Whenever he wanted to stand up to go to the masjid, he would faint, over and over again. Eventually he sent that Abu Bakr should lead the prayers. Aishah (peace be upon her) tried to convince the prophet to exempt her father Abubakr from leading the prayers due to his high level of gentleness but he refused and said: "You (women) are like the women who tried to entice Joseph (Yusuf) into immorality. Convey my request to Abu Bakr to lead the prayer."

The Last Day Alive

In a narration by Anas bin Malik, he said: "While the Muslims were performing the dawn prayer on Monday — led by Abu Bakr, they were surprised to see the Messenger of Allâh [pbuh] raising the curtain of ‘Aishah’s room. He looked at them while they were praying aligned properly and smiled cheerfully. Seeing him, Abu Bakr withdrew to join the lines and give way to him to lead the prayer. For he thought that the Prophet [pbuh] wanted to go out and pray." Anas said: "The Muslims, who were praying, were so delighted that they were almost too enraptured at their prayers. The Messenger of Allâh [pbuh] made them a gesture to continue their prayer, went into the room and drew down the curtain."

This was the last prayer witnessed by the prophet peace be upon him. During the day, Muhammad (S.A.W) called for his daughter Fatima. He then whispered something to her in secret and she wept. Then he whispered something else and she smiled. After the prophet’s death Aishah asked her about the strange incident and Fatima replied, "The first time he disclosed to me that he would not recover from his illness and I wept. Then he told me that I would be the first of his family to join him, so I laughed." He gave Fatimah glad tidings that she would become the lady of all women of the world.

Fatimah witnessed the great pain that afflicted her father. So she said: "What great pain my father is in!". To these words, the Prophet [pbuh] remarked: "He will not suffer any more when today is over." [Sahih Al-Bukhari 2/641]

The prophet then requested for his grandchildren Al Hasan and Al Husain. He kissed them and recommended that they be looked after. He asked to see his wives. They were brought to him. He preached to them and told them to remember Allâh.

Pain grew so much severe that the trace of poison he had at Khaibar came to light. It was so sore that he said to ‘Aishah: "I still feel the painful effect of that food I tasted at Khaibar. I feel as if death is approaching." He ordered the people to perform the prayers and be attentive to slaves. He repeated it several times.

His last moments

Aishah (peace be upon her) was blessed to have had the last moments of the prophet with him leaning on her.

She is known to have said: “One of Allâh’s bounties upon me is that the Messenger of Allâh [pbuh] died in my house, while I am still alive. He died between my chest and neck while he was leaning against me. Allâh has mixed his saliva with mine at his death. For ‘Abdur Rahman — the son of Abu Bakr — came in with a Siwak (i.e. the root of a desert plant used for brushing teeth) in his hand, while I was leaning the Messenger of Allâh [pbuh] against me. I noticed that he was looking at the Siwak, so I asked him — for I knew that he wanted it — "Would you like me to take it for you?" He nodded in agreement. I took it and gave it to him. As it was too hard for him, I asked him "Shall I soften it for you?" He nodded in agreement. So I softened it with my saliva and he passed it (on his teeth). In another version it is said: "So he brushed (Istanna) his teeth as nice as he could." There was a water container (Rakwa) available at his hand with some water in. He put his hand in it and wiped his face with it and said: "There is no god but Allâh. Death is full of agonies." [Sahih Al-Bukhari 2/640]

As soon as he had finished his Siwak brushing, he raised his hand or his finger up, looked upwards to the ceiling and moved his lips. So ‘Aishah listened to him. She heard him say: "With those on whom You have bestowed Your Grace with the Prophets and the Truthful ones (As-Siddeeqeen), the martyrs and the good doers. O Allâh, forgive me and have mercy upon me and join me to the Companionship on high." Then at intervals he uttered these words: "The most exalted Companionship on high. To Allâh we turn and to Him we turn back for help and last abode."

This event took place at high morning time on Monday, the twelfth of Rabi‘ Al-Awwal, in the eleventh year of Al-Hijrah. He was sixty-three years and four days old when he died.”

His Burial

There was a lot of confusion and disruption after the prophet’s death. The sahabas were at unrest and were unsure who deserved to take lead after the prophet. With all that arguments and dialogues that were happening between the Ansar and Muhajirun, time went by fast while the prophet’s body was still lying on his bed covered with an inked-garment. He was locked in the room.

Finally they acknowledged Abu Bakr (peace be upon him) as a caliph due to his special status in the prophet’s eyes as well as the fact that the prophet let Abu Bakr lead the prayers during his ailment period (among other reasons). They spent the whole Monday there till it was night and to the next day Tuesday.

On Tuesday, his body was washed with his clothes on. He was washed by Al-‘Abbas, ‘Ali, Al-Fadl and Qathm — the two sons of Al-‘Abbas, as well as Shaqran — the Messenger’s freed slave, Osamah bin Zaid and Aws bin Khauli. Al-‘Abbas, Al-Fadl and Qathm turned his body round, whereas Osamah and Shaqran poured out water. ‘Ali washed him and Aws leant him against his chest. They shrouded him in three white Sahooli cotton cloth which had neither a headcloth nor a casing and inserted him in. A sort of disagreement arose with regard to a burial place.

Abu Bakr said: "I heard the Messenger of Allâh [pbuh] say: ‘A dead Prophet is buried where he dies.’ So Abu Talhah lifted the bed on which he died, dug underneath and cut the ground to make the tomb. People entered the room ten by ten. They prayed for the Prophet [pbuh]. The first to pray for him were people of his clan. Then the Emigrants, then the Helpers. Women prayed for him after men. The young were the last to pray. This process took Tuesday long and Wednesday night (i.e. the night which precedes Wednesday morning). ‘Aishah said: "We did not know that the Prophet [pbuh] was being buried till we heard the sound of tools digging the ground at the depth of Wednesday night.” [source: the sealed nectar. Page:549-561]

We may look in the books of history, we may look at the up-coming legends, we may look around us to find the best role model and the most amazing of mankind, but no one will ever be better than Muhammad (peace be upon him). May Allah guide us and make us amongst those who follow the footsteps of the Rasul and be a positive influence to mankind. Ameen.

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We have now reached the end of our series. I hope and pray that you have gained something from this in shaa Allah. Kindly remember me in your duas :)

P.S I am not a scholar and this is my little effort in spreading the knowledge therefore in case of any mistake/correction/addition needed in this article about the prophet (p.b.u.h) and his life, kindly email me at: info@lubnah.me.ke.

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Concerning the fundraising for our sister Nuru Salim, we are currently at 80,000/= However, we have organized an event this Sunday and a food bazaar to make more money for her treatment in shaa Allah. Kindly avail yourself and share with others. Shukran.