Sunday, July 27, 2014

With Every Ramadan, There Is A Mark Upon My Soul

Originally published at OnIslam.net. I originally wrote this at the beginning of Ramadan, which explains the optimism at the end of it; were I to re-write it, I would end it much more soberly. Nonetheless, enjoy!

2007, aged 16:

Giggling, tripping over my friends in excitement, darting from room to room of the house that served as a masjid to our small island community in Victoria, Canada.

Welcoming the adults who entered with whooping exclamations of “Ramadan Mubarak!” and lovingly serving them with cool glasses of water between every four rak’aat, eager for the barakah of these blessed nights. Shoulder to shoulder and foot to foot with my closest friends, supporting each other in prayer as we did in everything else, our supplications earnest and na├»ve about our futures.

{The month of Ramadhan in which was revealed the Qur'an, a guidance for the people and clear proofs of guidance and criterion.} (Qur’an 2:185)

2009, aged 18:

My bare feet warm the smooth marble tiles in the courtyard of a hundreds-of-years-old masjid in Heliopolis, Cairo, listening to the voice of my then-husband as his recitation of the Qur’an streamed into the hot, earthy Egyptian air, leading over a hundred people in Taraweeh.

Smiling, nodding, gesturing helplessly as I was embraced by enthusiastic young Egyptian women my age, who weren’t put off by my inability to communicate. Raising my hands in takbeer and folding them over my slowly swelling stomach, terrified of motherhood but struggling to place my tawakkul in Allah, searching for Laylatul Qadr and the answer to my prayers.

{The Night of Decree is better than a thousand months. The angels and the Spirit descend therein by permission of their Lord for every matter. Peace it is until the emergence of dawn.} (Qur’an 97:3-5)

2011, aged 20:

Cloistered in a beautiful masjid richly decorated with ayaat carved into silken wood; just one of the many women clad in swirling abayaat, the murmurs of their voices between units of prayer revealing the lilt of Kuwaiti Arabic.

Clouds of smoky bukhoor wafting between each saff, tickling my toddler’s nose, embracing us as we knelt in sujood. Delicate crystal finjaans filled with dark, bitter gahwa or liquid amber chai, sweetened with dates and du’a, savouring these precious moments of fragile peace.

{It is He who sent down tranquillity into the hearts of the believers that they would increase in faith along with their faith.} (Qur’an 48:4)

2013, aged 22:

Breathing in the tropical breeze dancing through the open-air masjid in my parents’ neighborhood in Malaysia, splashes of pink and gold calligraphy tint the edges of my vision. My heart smiles with the contagious cheerfulness that the locals exude and letting me forget, a little bit, the lingering heartache of divorce. A reminder that after hardship comes ease; verily, the promise of Allah is true. Inna wa’dAllahi haqq… the imam’s voice rises, swelling, a Divine sign.

{So be patient! Indeed, the promise of Allah is truth.} (Qur’an 30:60)

These, then, are my memories of Ramadan, in four different countries over the span of several years. Truly, the earth of Allah is vast, a planet upon which we undertake hijrah of both the body and the soul. This Ummah is strong and fragile, beautiful and flawed, as are we all.

From girl to woman, wife to single parent, I have grown and struggled and failed and succeeded – all through the Wisdom of Allah, all through His Mercy and His Ni’mah. Every Ramadan has changed me, every Ramadan has marked my soul with the Qadr of Allah.

And this year?

2014, aged 23:

This Ramadan was another gift from Allah, the beginning of a new me. Mother, writer, entrepreneur, and much more, bi ithnillaah. This Ramadan was my lingering farewell to Malaysia, a second parting from my family, and prayers of eager anticipation for the next chapter of my life.

The blessings in my life are numerous, uncountable; this month, I have only gratitude, only love, only joy. I plead for the forgiveness of my Lord, the pleasure of my parents, the future of my child, the love of my soul mates.

For myself, and for the Ummah of prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him), this Ramadan is the beginning of the rest of our lives.

{So which of the favors of your Lord would you deny?} (Qur’an 55:13)

Zainab bint Younus is a young Canadian Muslimah who has been active in grassroots da’wah and writing about Islam and the Ummah for the last eight years. She was first published in Al-Ameen Newspaper (Vancouver, Canada) at the age of 14; became a co-founder, writer, and editor for MuslimMatters.org at age 16; and began writing regularly for SISTERS magazine at the age of 19 until today. She also blogs at http://www.TheSalafiFeminist.blogspot.com and is the mother of a four-year-old girl.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

it woukd be great if you could write about your divorce sometime, and how you decided to get out of that marriage. i believe it would be beneficial to quite alot of people in such a situation. when is the right time to leave etc.

jazakAllah

AnonyMouse said...

I've previously written about my divorce, here:

http://loveinshallah.com/2013/11/14/divorced-ramblings/

As for the details, it's a long story. InshaAllah I'll be able to write about it more sometime in the future.