Hijab: Faith not Fashion

ﺒﺴﻤ ﺎﷲ ﻠﺮﺤﻤﻦ ﻠﺮﺤﻳﻤ

I have just finished reading an AWESOME book, called “From My Sisters’ Lips” by Na’ima B. Robert. It is such a beautiful book, and I encourage every Muslimah to read it!!!  After all the negative stories of “cultural” Islam gone wrong, with its oppression of women, I found this book to be so refreshingly positive. It really is a gem!

After finishing it, I got thinking about my favourite subject again – hijab. I don’t want to write a long post again, but I just feel like sharing some concerns I have…

The sisters in Nai’ma’s book described their journeys with hijab so delightfully, and, in the end, they went all out to please Allah Ta’ala.  They really understood why they covered. Yet, sometimes when I go on internet and look up about hijab – or see some young ladies at gatherings – I sometimes wonder if the purpose of hijab has become forgotten. It seems as if it has become too fashion-oriented for many. Don’t get me wrong – I do not see anything wrong with wearing beautiful things, but I wonder to myself what the purpose of wearing hijab is, if the scarf worn in public places is as glitzy and attractive as the uncovered hair would be…

It seems that many Muslimahs believe that as long as its covered, that is all there is to hijab. Or if it is loose or opaque enough. But what about the ruling, saying that hijab shouldn’t be an attraction in itself? I see all these abayahs and hijab sold at the shops and worn, but they are so attractive with all their sequins and bright colours, it makes me wonder if it is worth covering up in them on the streets. They would be fine for the house, the husband and the family – and perfect for that ladies’ party! But for the streets, market and mosques? No!

In the Qur’an, Allah Ta’ala tells the believing women to wear an overgarment (jilbab) in public places – one which has muted colours and doesn’t attract attention. (This is the highest level of hijab covering.) Is it not time that we as Muslim women remember that our outer covering must be modest – not only in covering, in looseness and opaque material – but in colour too? Hijab is not a statement of Fashion (leave that to the clothes worn underneath) – it is a statement of Faith.

Salaam

Saadiqah

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My First Year Without Christmas - Just Another Ordinary Day

ﺒﺴﻤ ﺎﷲ ﻠﺮﺤﻤﻦ ﻠﺮﺤﻳﻤ

I’m sitting at the laptop now, a CD of the Qur’an playing in the background and a bowl of (halaal) trifle pudding on the table next to me. It’s a really hot summer’s day down here in Cape Town, a little more humid than usual. (I had to laugh – I heard on the radio that it was slightly cooler in Makkah today!) My parents just left for a family Christmas gathering. Funny how I am not with them… But my life has changed, and, as the implications of this continue to play out throughout my first year as a Muslim, I have come to see just how much it has changed.

Becoming Muslim has changed not only my beliefs, dress and practices, but it has changed how I approach my culture. Some things I could do before, I just cannot do anymore – and one is joining in the Christmas festivities. It’s a real culture shock!

As December approached, I began to think about how to approach the coming festive season. How would I behave? How would I deal with my family who still celebrate it? How would I respond to people wishing me “Merry Christmas”? How would I respect people and yet have nothing to do with their religious holidays? And how would I try and put it across to my family that I don’t want any gifts for Christmas? After a while, I found the constant festive barrage of the TV rather stressful. I would need to make plans to be with Muslims on Christmas – that was for sure! I wanted to feel what it was like just to go on with life.

Because for me, December 25 was now just an ordinary day…

After consulting Muslim friends and emailing an eminent Mufti about how to deal with Christian loved ones this season, I felt little consolation. Everyone seemed to differ in how to approach Christmas. These approaches ranged from having no association with it at all, even down to not greeting (and, if greeted, responding by merely saying “May the Peace of God be with you”) – to going to join in festivities with a niyyah of just being with the family.  As I sought to form my own opinion, I believed it was going too far to be joining in festivities if one could avoid them. What was a niyyah when actions contradicted it? However, if someone went to trouble to give me a gift, I would accept it. And I would greet in neutral terms: “Have a special day!” etc.

A few weeks before Christmas, the cards started coming to our postbox. To my surprise I received one from a convent where I stayed as a Catholic trying out my vocation. I mentioned my reversion to the nuns, in a letter I had previously written to a friend there, but here the nuns sent a card, making my reversion to Islam seem like it never happened. It felt really strange! Nevertheless, because they wanted to know how I was doing, I wrote a short letter wishing them well – and reminding them I was Muslim.

Lately my mother has become so considerate to buy halaal food for me so I can eat with her and my father (may Allah SWT bless them for that!). On Christmas Eve, she decided to make her wonderful lasagne, and suggested I make a separate halaal version for myself. Unfortunately it was impossible to find halaal meat in the area where we stayed (besides chicken), otherwise she would have bought it. In the end, I chose to make a lentil and spinach lasagne which turned out to be really delicious! It was wonderful to experiment and also enjoy something which substituted for my very favourite dish – now I would also have an idea to try out on my own family one day, insha’Allah!

As in all Christmases gone by, my mother made the traditional Christmas trifle pudding – complete with liqueur-soaked swiss roll beneath the layers of jelly, fruit and custard!  Imagine my surprise when I saw that she had made me one in a separate dish – without the haraam ingredient! She also insisted that I receive a gift from her as she didn’t want me to be left out. On the giftwrap, she wrote “Happy Day!” I had to smile… J

In the past month, I realised that reversion to Islam is a process – not only for the revert, but for their families, too. Recently I did a lot of research about Christmas, and even birthdays – how they come from pagan origins, and how Muslims must not celebrate them. I can imagine how hard it would be for reverts convicted of this, to tell their families not to hold birthday parties for them or get them birthday presents anymore – it would be so difficult for their families to understand at first! It would certainly take some time to adjust mentally – both for the revert and their family. Perhaps to downplay the party the first year, then make it into a visit for tea the next, before it becomes another ordinary day of the year… Plenty of sabr and tolerance would be required in the adjustment phase…

As a seeker of an Islam pure from any pagan feasts, I resolved to leave behind the concept of Christmas and birthdays. However, it would take time before my family would remember that I did.  I must say, though – after 10 months of being Muslim, it seems as if they are adjusting pretty well to their new life with me. Alhamdulillah!

Salaam

Saadiqah

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The Blessings of Niyyah

ﺒﺴﻤ ﺎﷲ ﻠﺮﺤﻤﻦ ﻠﺮﺤﻳﻤ

I’ve been meaning to write this post for over a week already, but didn’t get around to it yet with all the book editing to do! At last I have found a chance to, early on this bright Saturday summer morning.

Before I get down to it, I would first like to wish all my Muslim brothers and sisters Muharram Mubarak! I make du’aa that Allah Ta’ala bless you abundantly this year of 1433 with all that your hearts desire, with all that is good for you, and with greater imaan and taqwa, ameen. And for any readers who are very recent reverts to Islam, or not yet Muslim but thinking about Islam with a greater love than before, I pray for you too, that Allah guide you into all Truth and grant you courage to take the big step, inshallah, ameen!

The idea I had for this post came about as an unexpected slip of the mind whilst performing wudhu one day. I was washing my hands, nose and mouth, my mind progressively wandering off, when suddenly the next moment I came to, I was wondering if I had said the niyyah for the fard (compulsory) of wudhu. I may have, but I didn’t remember… My mind was brought sharply to order when I was washing my arms. I wondered why my face felt so dry, looked into the mirror and oh my word – I forgot to wash my face! J

With dawning realisation I knew then why the niyyah (intention) was so important to have whilst doing any action – it helped one to remember why one was doing it. All the time I knew this mentally from all the fiqh studies, but now it was the first time I really experienced its significance. If I didn’t need to make niyyah, I may have forgotten about washing my face until drying myself.

Niyyah is a mind-activator; it is an awakener. Without the niyyah, actions become automatic and meaningless; the mind becomes dull and forgetful. Niyyah is a focus; it helps us to remember to dedicate the actions to Allah SWT, for His pleasure alone. In a way, it is a form of thikr, because in making it, we remember Allah. It enables life to become rich and meaningful – every action becomes worship.

Salaam

Saadiqah

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Hijab - Our Family's Uniform

ﺒﺴﻤ ﺎﷲ ﻠﺮﺤﻤﻦ ﻠﺮﺤﻳﻤ

Today I was so blessed – I experienced the profound bond of Muslim brother- and sisterhood. And it came to me, all because of wearing my hijab…

I went out this morning with my mother, further than my familiar route to the neighbouring suburb. It was lovely to get out a bit after feeling rather isolated again at home. After lots of studying and work, completing my sewing course and doing some final editing on my book, I was thirsting for some more Muslim company. The last time I saw Muslims had been the week before in the fabric shop, and further back, on Eid-ul-Adha. I once again longed for the time when I could leave home to study Islam – next year January, insha’Allah. In our suburb, going out in public did not mean I would encounter any Muslims, let alone see any; it is a rare sight.

So imagine my delight when going to the second-hand clothing shop; the first stop on my itinerary with my mother. We had not even parked when I saw a fellow Muslimah wearing a grass-green knee-length khimar with a matching skirt – a khimar even longer than my waist-length ones, which have the potential to be noticed like an island in the Christian sea of people! In my excitement, I found myself involuntarily pointing out the lady to my mom (who has been wonderfully tolerant of my Islam, masha’Allah).  I was so excited; at last I could share my salaams!

The lady did not see me as I entered the shop, clothed in my chocolate-brown wrist-length veil and black skirt, and soon disappeared – but not before I quickly waved a silent greeting in her direction.

Having looked around at the clothing, to my amazement, I saw yet another Muslimah in yet another knee-length khimar, light brown in colour; this time in the shop! I had a special opportunity to make eye-contact with her, and shyly greeted her with “Salaam!” as I walked past. I glimpsed the beginning of a smile as I walked on. I felt myself in company; I was not alone in my hijab; there was another wearing the same.

We were sisters, who had not met until now…

After going to the shop, my mom and I went to the library. In the parking lot, I glimpsed yet another khimar-ed lady in the distance; this time the khimar was of a dark blue colour. I couldn’t help marvelling that I saw so many ladies wearing veils like me – all in one hour! J Wow…

I walked on to the library, ahead of my mother. To my surprise, I heard someone to my left, say: “Salaam aleikum!”

I looked and there was a man; he had greeted me!

“Wa aleikum salaam!” I replied

“How are you?”

“I’m fine, alhamdulillah!” I said with a smile, as I walked on, feeling honoured and with my gaze lowered in bashfulness.

Wow, what amazing barakah the morning held! I thought to myself, before entering and taking out some awesome books I wouldn’t have found in my local library – having practically exhausted the reading supply there, I had gone to the library in the next suburb, which was bigger.

As I returned home, I was eager to share these special moments with you, my readers. Why? Because it was too good to leave unsaid. Once again, I felt so happy that Allah Ta’ala has guided me to Islam, and blessed me with the gift of hijab. It is truly our uniform as Muslims – and what makes it such a lovely one, is that we could wear it in our own style and colours. It is an uniform without uniformity; diverse in its style, yet homogenous in its essence.

Wearing the uniform of our hijab – or, for men, dressing modestly, and wearing a beard, fez, skullcap, topee,  kurta, etc. as a symbol of Islam– we show our membership of the Ummah; not only do we identify ourselves to other Muslims around, we do silent da’wah, inviting non-Muslims to ponder on the reality of Islam, as well. If me and the other ladies I saw today (who were Africans) were not wearing hijab, how could one have known if the other was a Muslim? How could the man have known that I – a Western lady, from Christian, European stock – was actually a Muslim? How could we have said our salaams?

Hijab binds us together; it brings total strangers from different cultures and races, to a level of familiarity. I didn’t know the ladies at all, yet I felt as if knew them from somewhere… it was like déjà vu.  I am such a shy person; I don’t usually talk readily to strangers unless they speak to me first – yet here I was waving to a lady I never saw before and greeting another just-as-unfamiliar face! Then in turn a stranger greeted me; a brother I didn’t know.

All because of a common faith; a common ideal…

Never before have I felt such a kinship with others; not as a Christian, or even a Catholic. On the contrary, even as a Christian, I felt a greater kinship with Muslims. Now, as I found my way home through the grace of Almighty Allah, I thank Him for being a part of such a wonderful family, wearing such a wonderful uniform. Alhamdulillah! Islam is truly an awesome Deen!

Salaam

Saadiqah

(*

P.S. I began reading one of the two exciting library books I brought home; it could be a good subject for a future post, insha’Allah… J

"Masha'Allah!"

ﺒﺴﻤ ﺎﷲ ﻠﺮﺤﻤﻦ ﻠﺮﺤﻳﻤ

This morning, I once again recalled to mind an episode which happened a few months ago. I had not related it before, but wanted to share it with you, as it makes me smile each time I remember that day… J

I was still living at the Home at the time; it was Ramadaan. Choosing to change my name to celebrate my becoming Muslim, I went out one wintery August day to apply for my new ID document – something I wanted to do for months already. I wore one of my favourite wrist-length khimars,  black in colour, along with a black robe – my most conservative outfit. Afterwards, having fetched me, the driver had some of his own business to attend to. As we walked down a busy town street, the drizzle falling in a gentle mist, we prepared to cross a narrow side street.

Suddenly I heard a man’s voice behind me: “Masha’Allah!” I turned, and saw a small group of men on the street corner, taking shelter under a roof  from the rain. One of them saw me look back, and smiled at me – probably the one who spoke. I lowered my gaze, turned and carried on walking, wondering why he behaved in the way he did.

Then I asked the driver if he knew, and he said that it was most likely due to the way I was dressed – in full, conservative hijab. The men, who were clearly Muslims, expressed their joy at seeing a woman in full hijab. To a modern Western mind, it may seem offensive: “Yes, they like their women to be shut up in oppressive secrecy!” but to me, it made my heart soar. I felt so truly liberated! Here I was, practising something I firmly stand for – modesty – and it was appreciated by men, whom, I believe, felt so tired of lowering their gaze in the face of the shameless female nudity of modern times. I felt respected by men; at the same time respecting them by covering. It reminded me that we as brothers and sisters – not only in the Deen, but in humanity –  must help each other on the good path. Judging from their remark, I must have brightened up their day.

One thing I’m sure of – they definitely brightened up mine.

Masha’Allah! J

Salaam

Saadiqah

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Experiencing my First Eid-ul-Adha

ﺒﺴﻤ ﺎﷲ ﻠﺮﺤﻤﻦ ﻠﺮﺤﻳﻤ

Salaam aleikum dear readers! I am writing so little these days, even though I returned home and have more time on my hands. Yet, I have used that time to complete my dressmaking course – it is 99.99% finished, alhamdulillah. I have also practically finished the draft of my book about my journey to Islam! If I haven’t mentioned anything about this, it was born from a day back in June when I chatted to a social worker at the Home about my reversion journey. With tears in her eyes (and knowing I want to be a writer), she said that this must be my first book, insha’Allah. That very month I began work on it, and have now completed its format. At the moment, I am looking for a publisher before anything can come of it! Please make du’aa for me… J

I wish all my Muslim readers a rather belated Eid Mubarak, and hope that Allah Ta’ala answers all your du’aas. For all my readers who will be returning from Hajj, may Allah Ta’ala accept your Hajj, forgive you all your sins, and grant you a safe journey home. Ameen!

This special time in our Islamic year has been such an emotional time for me – especially as it is my first as a new Muslimah; watching the Hajj images on TV and listening on the radio as the pilgrims chant “Labbaik Allahumma labbaik…”  I felt tears come frequently.  My heart thirsted to go to the Beitullah… Fasting on the Day of Arafat, I was aware of my attachment to food, and my sorrow at not being able to tuck in a good meal! I realised with a jolt, just how attached I still am to the pleasures of this dunya. I also realised my need to sacrifice of that which is dear to me; all that distracts me from the remembrance of Allah – things like, which pretty, new materials to buy for making skirts – or that novel which I can hardly put down, even though the athaan for Ishaa salaah went off an hour ago! Yes, I admit it: I am guilty of delaying salaah without good reason! :O) Astaghfirullah! I need to change my ways… Then, what sweetness it is to weep tears of taubah and make the most intense, meaningful and attentive salaah in a long while! It is as if Allah SWT gives us a taste of Himself, calling us to come closer to Him.

If only we can keep on coming…

After a week or two of not being with any other Muslims (apart from another visit to the material shop!) I was determined to get out and be with them when Eid came around. Fortunately it was on a Sunday this year, so most people were relaxing at home or with loved ones instead of working. I went to my friend’s house for an informal visit after lunch, and was so delighted when she said that they were planning to go to a qurbaan sacrifice later that afternoon! I couldn’t have asked for anything better; it was the central rite of the day, and provided me with an opportunity to delve into its meaning. Fortunately, I had seen an half-hour documentary on TV earlier that afternoon, about the significance of the rites of Hajj and Eid-ul-Adha. With a little education, it made the rites just a little more special.

The qurbaan took place in the grounds of a big house. There were lots of people there; they had been there all day, slaughtering 14 sheep. When I arrived there with my friend and her husband and daughter, there were only three more sheep to go. We greeted others, before going outside to see the action.

A deep hole had been dug in the middle of the garden, and planks were placed on its one edge on the opposite side to the qiblah. Surrounded by the men helping with the slaughtering, a sheep was fetched from the pen out of sight, and placed on its left side, facing the qiblah (the sunnah practice). It was given water from a jug; I was told this is due to the thirst that the dying experience. I remember thinking just how humane this was; to comfort the sheep and make it a little more calm.

Aware that I was going to witness my very first slaughtering –  and that I was a rather squeamish type – I got a little nervous, but also felt some excitement. I kept on saying to my friend and another lady that the sheep are blessed, even though they are going to meet their death; that they are like martyrs, because they are part of a sacred ritual – not merely a routine slaughter for the dinner table!

Then the knife was sharpened, brought and placed in position. My heart began to flutter. Not even a second later, the blood began to pour into the hole in torrents; the men taking up the chanting of the Takbeer recited on Eid: “Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar, La illaha illallah, Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar, wa lillahi hamd.”  I looked away, before taking another glance, joining in the chanting. The nausea abated in my interest at how they massaged the body to drain out the blood. I saw how perfectly the jugular vein was completely severed. Not a sound was made by the sheep; it was so swift. After a few post-death spasms (resulting from the blood draining out), the sheep was still; it was then dragged to the garage which was turned into a temporary butchery! When the two last sheep were sacrificed, I stood a bit further to the side. Despite my squeamishness, I was fascinated, especially when they began skinning the last one on the spot.

Experiencing this ritual sacrifice of the sheep, I saw firsthand that Islam indeed has the best and most humane manner of slaughtering animals. I was convicted of this. The animals were understandably nervous, yet they were given water to drink; they were handled gently; and when the knife cut, they uttered no sound at all. What could suffer pain and not utter any sound –  except that which dies instantly? Allahu Akbar!

One hundred people could feed off each of these sheep; that made food for 1400 people. The significance of the day came to mind. Nabi Ibrahim was on the brink of sacrificing that which was very dear to him – his son, Ismail (alayhimus salaam), and was rewarded by Allah SWT with a substitute – a sheep, which he slaughtered in the way we Muslims still use nowadays. He was willing to give up something dear, and was rewarded with keeping his son alive, as well as being provided with a sheep to sacrifice in his place. Not only that, but, because of his obedience and faithfulness, Allah Ta’ala’s favour was upon him. He became the friend of Allah SWT. In remembering this episode on Eid-ul-Adha, we are reminded to sacrifice of that which is dear to us, thereby earning Allah Ta’ala’s pleasure, as well as helping the needy. In doing so, we, too can become friends of Allah.

“By no means shall you attain righteousness unless you give freely of that which you love; and whatever you give, Allah knows it well.”  (Sura Imran 3:92)

Salaam

Saadiqah

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Quick Decoration Idea - Kalimah Calligraphy

I just thought I’d share another homemade idea with all those who are interested in making art… (See also my May post “My ‘Allah’s Names’ Wall-Hanging Project” for the other idea J)

I was reading up about someone who painted Arabic calligraphy on their walls directly, and felt in the mood to do something similar. I wanted to write La Illaha Illa Allah, because it is one of my very favourite phrases I keep on finding myself repeating in thikr.  Yet, because I don’t expect to remain long where I am (hoping to soon move out again) I didn’t want to do a permanent job of it. I couldn’t see my non-Muslim parents being keen on having their soon-to-be spare room looking like a mosque! :-D

Then I came up with a quick idea, which brought a bit of cheer into my dreary and weary day – to write it on a transparent, plastic sheet, so that when it is on the wall, it looks like it is written directly on the wall. Not only that, but it is portable, and looks invisible on any wall – in any place.

So I first wrote out the script small in pencil on paper, in order to design it. Then I made a bigger size and pasted a plastic sheet over it (I cut out one from an old Flip File), tracing it on with a black permanent marker. After that, I stuck it up – and voila! There I had my script on the wall above my picture of Makka.

Of course, one can choose any phrase – and also make a better job of it, like putting a fake frame around it, or putting it up on a window. Feel inspired, inshallah!

Salaam

Saadiqah

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Rules, Rules, Rules...And The Happiness Beyond Them

ﺒﺴﻢﺎﷲ ﻠﺮﺤﻤﻦ ﻠﺮﺤﻳﻢ

Rules, rules, rules… if that was what Islam is all about, who would want to become Muslim? Not me!

I mean… why on earth would I want to deny myself that delicious bacon with the eggs, or not have a sip of wine to warm my insides on a cold winter’s evening? And what about that savoury parmesan cheese which I wanted to use with my pasta dish – until I saw it had animal rennet in it? And how could I deny myself my mother’s delicious pumpkin fritters –  only because she frequently cooks pork in her pans? Or her amazing lasagne or spaghetti – just because the beef mince is not halaal?

On the other hand…why would I want to pray five times a day at set times, having to wake up at sunrise for Fajr – even when it is at 4am? Why bother washing every time you need to pray and every time you break a little wind? And why would I want to wear all-enshrouding, loose clothing which makes me stick out a mile around the non-Muslims in the mall? Or why would I have give up dating men, or limit my choice in husband to a Muslim man – and obey him on top of it! I could just hear the feminists in uproar: “You’re free to do what you want! You don’t need a man to maintain you!” And then – what about the rule permitting polygamy of all things… surely not something for “civilised Westerners,” is it?

Rules, rules, rules… No, Islam is not so much about rules, as it is about the joy, happiness, beauty and peace of the

Straight Way

. The Shari’ah given to us by Allah Ta’ala is not mean to bog us down and make life boring, restrictive and devoid of fun – it is a very powerful reminder that He knows best what we need to be ultimately happy. We search for so much happiness in things that may not be good for us; following the crowd and our own short-sighted desires. Yet…do we really know best in the long-term? Just look at all the failed marriages. Look at the harm of dating various partners. Look at all the promiscuity and prostitution. All the increasing statistics of heart disease, cholesterol, obesity and other illnesses. All the abuse of the earth’s resources and the animal kingdom – and the heartless materialism of today’s existence.

To put this into perspective, let me use the examples which I cited above. Why would we as Muslims need to avoid pork, alcohol, animal rennet, and meat which is not halaal – but could potentially be? And why would we need to pray five times a day – even if it means waking up early – performing wudhu before each prayer or before touching the Qur’an, or wear hijab? Or why would ladies marry a Muslim man and obey him – as opposed to any man we ladies want, and doing anything we want? Why couldn’t we date men? And why would polygamy be permitted when it seems to be something so primitive and backward in the modern age?

After much reading, I came to the conclusion that if these rules are followed, society would be nigh on being Paradise…

Pork is the fattiest and most unhealthy meat that humans consume. Therefore it would contribute to heart disease, cholesterol and obesity. It contains harmful parasitic worms in it, and causes various allergies. Pigs eat filth, which is deposited in their muscles – which we would then eat. That means that all that filth they eat is transmitted to us. Some people even hold the opinion that the promiscuous sexual habits of pigs cause us to behave promiscuously, too – as the saying goes: “You are what you eat.”

I don’t even have to stress how much harm alcohol has done to society… But there are those who say they don’t drink too much. TV adverts advise, “Drink Responsibly.” But is society showing that they are drinking responsible as a whole? It is a case of letting the devil slip through the crack in the door. Better to abstain altogether until we are in Jannah, where the river of wine spoken about in the Holy Qur’an will not make us drunk, and no sin and physical lust exists.

Meat, like beef and lamb – which is usually considered halaal – becomes haraam when either sacrificed to another God besides Allah, or the animal is slaughtered in any way besides the Islamic way which is the most painless. To slit the throat with a very sharp knife kills them instantly – and they are not to be slaughtered in front of other animals either. When we abstain from eating this meat, we show that we are animal rights activists, who do not tolerate animals being subject to abuse in the abbatoirs where they are stunned or shot  - in front of other animals, which wait in terrible fear for their turn. We also avoid some animal products, like rennet, which is taken from the stomach of an unweaned calf – probably slaughtered too, to get to it. Not only do we benefit the welfare of animals by eating halaal meat, but we benefit ourselves, too. There are health benefits in eating halaal meat – the blood drains out, enabling the meat to stay fresh for longer.

Salaah and wudhu are given to us as a mercy from Allah SWT. He gives us a chance to purify ourselves from our sins. Wudhu is the key to Salaah, and Salaah is the key to Jannah. Ultimately – as I showed in a previous post “Islam – and ditching bad habits!” – to cultivate the habit of salaah and wudhu, causes us to naturally move away from some rather bad behaviour, whilst at the same time remembering to fear, love and respect Allah Ta’ala and His Absolute Sacredness.

Then we come to hijab – one of my favourite subjects. J There is no need to expound on the need for this in a world where women are cheapened to objects; their value and dignity transformed from that of diamonds to pebbles. To veil is for us ladies’ own good – and to uphold our hijab, is to uphold our dignity. I’m sure decent men would respect women who don’t physically provoke their desires, either – and would love to know that their wife’s beauty is for them alone. What a wonderful secret! Then there is some benefit for ourselves, too - no more body issues and bad hair days to worry about! If Islam brings together black and white peoples, it brings together fat and thin ladies, too. Each one’s personality shines, no matter how many flaws they have. Masha’Allah!

To the dissenting Feminist voices in society, we Muslimahs would say: “Look at our life and then look at yours.” When a woman obeys her husband, she maintains peace in the home and family – and obedience is only asked from us within the Islamic bounds. If one’s husband tells her to do something contrary to the Divine Law, she is even commanded to disobey him! Muslim women only marry Muslim men, because they want to prevent their children from suffering in a household of divided values and beliefs. Like it or not, men really are the maintainers and protectors of women, because Allah SWT designed them to do this. And they are not without their duties. When I see all the responsibilities men are burdened with, I am only too happy to be a Muslim woman who is given such wonderful rights by the Shari’ah! The West has put so much pressure on women to be ambitious and career-minded as much as men are, and this is against their nature. Let the ladies be proud housewives if they want to be! We are not obliged to work as men are, but we are allowed to if we want. As for dating… it may seem harmless, but look at the risk of promiscuity when a woman is left alone with a strange man.  Finally, polygamy is an exceptional measure to ensure that the women who cannot find a husband – or give him much-desired children – are taken care of in an honourable manner.  Admit it – mistresses may have “fun”, but are they really and truly respected by their men?

Rules, rules, rules…No,  just a lot of good. I didn’t became Muslim to give up pork, alcohol, fitting in with the crowd, wearing “sexy” clothes and dating. Nor did I become Muslim to imprison myself in a rigourous schedule of washing and praying. I became Muslim, because to give up the haraam things and take on the hijab, salaah and Islamic lifestyle is better for me.

In the end, there is so much beauty and inner wisdom in the Divine Law, that to follow it becomes a pleasure. It is only an outward manifestation which increases our consciousness of the inner Reality. It also increases our consciousness of our actions and intentions. We come face-to-face with why we act the way we do, and how we are to act. And in the end, we live in the all-embracing Reality, walking in the Truth, being with Allah our Maker, Who loves us infinitely. What greater happiness could we ask for than to live out our purpose and destiny?

And Allah knows best.

Salaam

Saadiqah

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Adjusting to Islam as a Way of Life - Not so Easy!

ﺒﺴﻤ ﺎﷲ ﻠﺮﺤﻤﻦ ﻠﺮﺤﻳﻤ

What a story it is for each and every revert, and how different – the first year as a new Muslim. Mine has not yet reached all through the calender back to Rabi-ul-Awwal where it all began, but looking back these last seven months, it has been quite a time! I don’t want to bore you with personal details of my life, but I thought I’d share some experiences in case there are any reverts who are struggling with their new life, and who will feel encouraged reading mine. To be honest, I need to write for my own sake, too, because I need encouragement too!

Seven months into becoming Muslim, I have come face-to-face with a crisis of some sorts. The novelty of the new life – the ‘honeymoon’ if you want to call it that – has worn off somewhat, and the hard reality has set in. In plain English, I am coming to realise just how different my life is now. I think that is why it was said that the first year is the most difficult. It is the year in which your life changes forever and you go through various strong emotions; first of ecstasy and joy at what you gained, then of grief at what you lost, and finally of peace and integration. I suppose if I tell you my version, dear reader, it may make more sense, because what I wrote above seems to be just a jumble of conceptual ideas!

In the beginning… there was light (excuse the pun! J). The joyful light of new Imaan.  And the light separated from the darkness and showed it to be dark indeed… Pork? Wine? How could I have consumed that stuff? How could I have dressed in such revealing clothing? How could I have believed that we could pray to others besides Allah? La illaha illallah, Muhammadur rasullullah… Now I am a Muslim, with a whole new exciting life ahead of me! New eating habits, new dressing habits, new toilet habits, new washing habits, new prayers, new Scripture, new language! Lots of new things gained – and yet more to come in the form of new friends, new books and new clothes! J

But, there was the other side of the coin too – lots of old habits to break, comfort zones to abandon, belief systems to unlearn and perhaps even old relationships lost along the way, too… I was lucky – my parents didn’t kick me out, even if they didn’t want to get involved. Nevertleless, I felt the distance growing between me and my Christian family – and the dog!

A new revert seems invincible – at first. Trials –  like adjusting to new daily laws and being cut off somewhat to their old life and loved ones – don’t seem to faze them too much in the beginning. They are blinded by love. the gain is more than the loss. As for me, it was difficult at first to live in a non-Muslim household, but after a few months, I got used to it. After all, I was in love with Islam! I wanted to learn the prayers, the Qur’an and Arabic as soon as possible; I didn’t want to crawl if I could leap and jump – after all my heart was jumping in joy all over the place! Eventually – after a few times of feeling the weariness creep up on me – I realised I was not Superwoman and would have to wait for my mind to catch up. I would have to take it easy; I cannot expect to know as much as a born Muslim yet! Oh, the joy of new love… J

When I moved out to stay at the halfway-home, I was elated to be in a Muslim environment. However, it took adjusting to that, too. Yes, I gained freedom from trials with haraam foods and dogs, made many friends and attended awesome classes, but I also lost freedom to be in my own environment and the peaceful silence it feeds me with. There were noisy housemates – and worse – often there was a lack of Deen. Seeing un-Islamic habits practised around me, and sitting in a near-empty salaah room, used by only a few, I kept to myself, questioning the reality of Muslims who didn’t wear hijab and make salaah. It was sad for me as a revert to observe. I was told to be an example to those around me, and I tried my best. Whilst others went out, wearing their headscarves with tight jeans, I wore my favourite style of hijab – flowing khimars reaching to the wrists, in black or other dull colours, along with abayas. I made my salaah. I went to Jumu’ah prayers. I tried to be gentle and considerate of the others, and I did my duties. But then I wondered… I am a revert – I must be the one who is supposed to be taught! Why do I have to do the teaching? In the end, the loneliness I escaped from by leaving home, found me there at the Home, too. I began to lose more than I gained; I went into eclipse.

What to choose?

To be at home on an island,

Or a stranger in a familiar sea?

Whilst I was there, the honeymoon ended. One day, I woke up, and was hit with cold reality. I think it was the day when I saw a mualimah who was teaching me to recite the Qur’an. I pitched up there for a lesson and, instead, I poured out my heart. Tears turned to sobs, and sobs to shakes. I said to her how terribly alone I felt; how destitute I was. I said to her that I wished I could get out; that I even wanted to return to my parents, as I couldn’t take the stress anymore. Then she said to me: “But you can’t go back; you’re a Muslim now.”

You’re a Muslim now… those words hit me like a sledgehammer. (Duh… as if I didn’t know I was Muslim! But that day it hit me – I was Muslim.) I am Muslim. And my life will never be the same again.  The choices I needed to make in my life with regards to my future overwhelmed me and I began to panic. I was on my own and needed to find a secure place. I increased my salaah, but soon realised I needed to help myself in this major adjustment. I could feel it taking its toll on me.

This was the first real test I had in learning to have sabr and trust Allah SWT. For the first time since I became a Muslim, I was tempted to get angry and rant at Him. It was hard to put into practice what I was told – to not question Him, but to accept His decree. This required a shift of belief systems. When I was ill and was told that it was “Allah’s sickness” and we must accept it and say “alhamdulillah,” it challenged over twenty years of being told that sickness is from Shaytaan and that “faith alone will heal it” – unrealistic but comforting.

Living with so many others, after living all my life as a loner, had affected me – their sorrows became mine until I was too weary to carry any more. I already had the burden of coming face-to-face with my own difficulties, and I think they felt the same, too. My ambitions were to stay at home and work from home, doing my sewing and writing. Being a traditional-minded woman, I wanted to follow what Allah Ta’ala enjoined on the Prophet’s (SAW) wives: “…and stay in your houses”. And it was impossible to stay there unless I was out all day.

Then there was the scary face of my nafs staring back at me. Living with others, even for a short time, is one of the most foolproof ways to get to know yourself. The experiences I have had,  taught me about myself – and some of them have reminded me of my hurts and weaknesses, which was not easy to admit to myself! People are like a mirror for your soul – you see yourself in them and in how you relate to them.

Despite all the opportunities I had there – and despite being a Muslim –  in the end, after nearly three months, I  left and returned to my parents’ home for the sake of my now-fragile health. So here I find myself, back to square one – back at the place where I began. I felt really defeated. If at any time I still thought that I was invincible, and that nothing would faze me as a revert –  I was now certain that I was not any more invincible than a drop of water! It was really humbling for me. However, I knew I needed to attend to myself first before being able to help others.

I also knew I needed my health to be good in order to pursue studies next year, insha’Allah. For I do not intend to remain here and be in isolation again.  With the help of friends I made in that area – and only with the Will of Allah Ta’ala, I hope to return to that side of the city next year and find a new place to stay whilst studying Islam full-time. 

On a lighter note, it has been quite an experience to return to a largely non-Muslim area where ladies in hijab are about one in three thousand! I went to the local shopping mall one day, and it was so difficult to wear the hijab I had worn on the other side; I was jittery and very self-conscious! Then something funny happened…

I was browsing in a bookstore, when suddenly a man working there put a book in my hands. I looked at him, then at the book. It was called “Disgraced” and was about a Muslim woman who was used as a sex slave and was terribly abused. The first thing that came to my mind was: “Did this man wish for me to leave Islam? Did he give a silent message that Islam was oppressive? Did he really think Islam condoned sex-slavery?” I looked at him, and he looked back; a serious expression on his face. Surely if he meant well he would have found a more positive book? After all,  how would he know I was looking for Islamic topics? I have other interests as well… Whatever he intended, it made me feel truly part of a minority. For one moment I felt so small – and even lost in the sea of non-Muslims.

It was a strange feeling. I put the book down, looked at him again and thought: “You won’t take me away from Islam; it has set me free and I wear the hijab with pride!” I felt so terribly self-conscious, but nevertheless, found a part of me being so excited to do silent da’wah again!

Back with my parents, I have found it much easier to talk about Islam now than before, and they have been good about it; very tolerant. My dad had even encouraged me to wear my hijab when he mentioned one day that it is a free country and I could wear what I like; that others could even possibly admire me for it! Alhamdulillah, and I am so grateful for that! Someone only recently said to me: “I don’t know how you do it; I really admire you.” And with that, I hold my veiled head up high, despite the nerves and lowered gaze. Yes, I am a Muslim, and no matter what I go through, it is so worth it!

Salaam

Saadiqah

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My First Ramadaan!

Salaam aleikum dear readers! It has once again been a long time since I last wrote, and I am so happy to be typing away once more! I missed writing so much… I had planned to write about my first Ramadaan as a new Muslim, ever since it approached, and, masha’Allah, now I can get down to it at last, as I take a break staying with my parents.

How exciting it was to anticipate this blessed month! All these questions ran through my mind: Would I cope with the fasting? Would it be too difficult? How would Taraweeh prayers be like to experience? What would I feel on Laylatul Qadr – and would I find it amongst the last ten nights? The answers proved to be surprising; I learned so much in Ramadaan…

As the end of the month of Sha’ban drew to a close, excitement built up at the halfway Home where I stayed. The radio was tuned to the Muslim station and we waited for the announcement of the moon-sighters. The evening was clear, so there was a good chance we would fast on the next day, Monday the 1^st August. As the sun set, I tried my hand at spotting the thin crescent in the blue-yellow light. And to my utmost amazement – as I never expected to see it so soon –  there it was; a hairline crack in the sky of a smiling crescent! I rushed to tell the other housemates: “I saw the moon, I saw the moon!” They squinted and said: “Where? I don’t see it!” After a time as the sky grew darker, they also saw it above the roof of the outhouse.

That evening, I tried doing twenty rakats of Taraweeh by myself in the (unfortunately not-very-used) salaah room at the Home. It was exhausting, but I was enthusiastic. After that, I slacked off, due to wanting to concentrate on keeping my energy for the fast. I also thought it was so much better to do with others in the mosque. Unfortunately I only had the opportunity to go once in Ramadaan to the Taraweeh prayers at mosque, and even then the prayers at that mosque were done so speedily that it was like a sprinting race! Nevertheless, the feeling of being in congregation was awesome!

The first day of fasting was the hardest. This was because I did not eat my usual “low GI” sehri (pre-dawn meal) which usually consists of two slices of wholemeal seed loaf or a bowl of oats, along with two cups of water, raisins and a fruit. (I had made some sunnah fasts before Ramadaan to practice, and found it quite manageable if I ate properly in the morning.) Instead, I had white bread (or something close to it!) and coffee. By the afternoon, what a headache I got! The next day, I managed to get some oats, which I had every morning from then. The headaches never returned. In fact, I had more headaches in the morning from tension and sinus, and by the afternoon, I was feeling WONDERFUL.

The best part of the fasting day for me, was the afternoon after 2:30pm or so. By then, my hunger pangs switched off and the feeling of lightness made me feel like I would fly whilst doing salaah. It was awesome, because prayer felt effortless. I grew addicted to it, and made a habit to do extra sunnah salaahs – partly because I had to keep my mind busy to not think of lunch! J I loved doing Salaatul Duhaa in the midmorning, and began to make a habit of something which I had always wanted to do ever since becoming Muslim – Tahajjud salaah in the night. I found that waking up an half hour earlier was enough. If sehri was at 5am, I would rise at 4:30. And as Ramadaan ended, I would rise a half-hour before Fajr. What a lovely time to pray – the house is quiet; the blanket of night thick, and the silence tangible. I grew to love Tahajjud and Fajr more than any other Salaah times.

I decided that, as Ramadaan would be 30 days this year, and there are 30 parts (Juz) to the Qur’an, I would read one per day in the English translation. I was blessed as I completed my third English reading of the meaning of the Qur’an this Ramadaan. I used to start reading after Isha, and complete any remaining section of the Juz the next morning after Fajr. I also used to practice my Arabic recitation as well, and made some progress in my reading of Arabic, sitting and slowly working my way through Surahs Yaseen, Mulk, Waaqiah or Sajdah, reading 15 ayahs or so at a time.

Then on the 18^th of Ramadaan, things changed drastically – I fell out when I got my hayd. And when I get it, it is a big deal, because it usually lasts a long 11 days. How I missed the fasting, the salaah, and the Qur’anic reciting! I realised how important these practices are in a believer’s life. As I couldn’t do them now,  I increased my thikr, having my tasbih beads in my hand often. Laa illaha illallah… Muhammadur Rasullullah… Subhanallahi wal hamdulillahi wa la illaha illalah wa allahu akbar… Nevertheless, after a week, the void of no salaah got to me and I began to almost forget it was Ramadaan, not being able to fast. But one thing kept me reminded…

It was the second part of Ramadaan for me, when I learnt completely different lessons – that of the amazing generosity and charity of my fellow Muslims. Being in a Home for the destitute, many came with Eid gifts for us, especially the children. I was overwhelmed with all the generosity I encountered… never was I so overwhelmed with generosity as when I became Muslim, but now it was incresed tenfold. Strangers coming to give us things, well-off friends buying me so much things, been taken on a shopping spree, receiving money gifts to start me off in a new life… Subhan’Allah; I was speechless…

Two days before Eid, purified and having resumed salaah, I was able to fast again. One blessed day of yet another fast on the 29^th day, then I learned abother lesson – that of the importance of intentions above all actions. I fell ill with terrible sinusitus and was forced to give up my last day of fasting before Eid. Sigh! I was not very happy about it, but then I was reminded that it was my intention that counted more with Allah Ta’ala, than my actual fast, so I could still get rewarded for good intentions. 12 days I would need to catch up, but 12 days of good intentions and yearnings to please Allah.

So, as I entered Eid, I carried three memories with me – the 17 blissful days of fasting and praying, the stupendous generosity of my fellow Muslims, and the knowledge that intention was the most important foundation. Yes, I did fail sometimes to control my nafs (ego), sometimes getting into arguments with others, and I did fail to do as much prayer and thikr as I could have (astaghfirullah), but for a first Ramadaan, it wasn’t so bad at all.

I spent my first Eid at home with my parents, visiting the first Muslim friends I made. Still weak with sinus trouble – as spring approaches down here in SA, it means hayfever and sinus time! – it was a very quiet Eid, but blessed all the same. Wearing my best dress; midnight blue, with a lot of silver embroidery down the front and sides, and a white khimar (or as we locally call it – a burkha) with lace edging, reaching to my wrists, I visited my mualimah and family, having lunch with them. That evening I had supper with another good friend and her family.

I hope that whoever celebrated their first Ramadaan and Eid this year 2011/1432, had a blessed time too! May Allah SWT increase us all in our Imaan and Taqwa, and may we never forget those wonderful lessons we learned in Ramadaan. Just because it is over doesn’t mean we can return to our former life. No, it is yet another step higher on the ladder to Jannah. May the blessings of this Ramadaan last us until the next, insha’Allah, ameen.

The Power of Laylatul Bara'ah

I just HAVE to share about last night; it was an incredible experience! Before I do so, I wish all my readers baraka in these last two weeks leading up to Ramadhaan. May Allah SWT answer all your duaa's and may your year to come be filled with His abundance, insha'Allah, ameen!

Ever since I moved to a Muslim environment, I have been privileged to attend the Jumu'ah prayers every Friday. I had never had the opportunity before, and have since been to three. I have learned so much in a short space of time, and I can feel at last like I am getting more acquainted and comfortable with prayer in congregation. Subhan'Allah!

As many of you know, last night was Laylatul Bara'ah, or the Night of Emancipation, which falls on the night of the 15th Sha'ban. As a new Muslim, I am still learning the significance of each special day (or night). As I came to understand, it is a night of asking Allah Ta'ala for forgiveness, and pleading with Him to have mercy on us and grant us baraka and hidayah (divine guidance) in the next year of our lives.

It is also the night wherein He records what will happen to us in the next year. Pretty scary isn't it? Just imagine: there is this Book up there in Jannah in which Allah Ta'ala writes out our future. What does it say about mine, and yours? If I had to know all the trials I would have to go through... I don't think I could bear hearing it. It is one thing to endure trials as they come, but to know (for example) that you are going to lose your job or your mother is going to die, or you are going to be in an accident, etc. before they happen, is quite another!

We cannot change our destiny, but what we can do is appeal to Allah SWT to have mercy on us. Our sincere duaa's soften His already merciful Heart, and only He knows how they can direct our lives. It is a time to repent and move on to a life of increased remembrance of Allah SWT. What is so wonderful about Islam, is that it is not only about spirituality and doctrines, but every day living. Due to its involvement in our ordinary life, even down to our hygiene and which sock we put on and take off first, we are able to call Allah Ta'ala to mind more often - well I certainly hope so!

Last night I went with a group of my housemates to one of the local mosques for a special service to commemorate this night. I had fasted the whole day, and took some food along - dates, fruit juice and scones - in my "mosque bag." (Fellow new Muslims, this is a good tip - when you go to the masjid, it really helps to take a bag along, containing the following: a dry facecloth in a plastic bag, prayer kitaabs you may need, tasbih beads, and some tissues or a handkerchief. Then if by chance your wudhu breaks you have something to dry yourself off with if the masjid doesn't have towels.)

It was so beautiful inside; we ladies sat upstairs in a big and spacious gallery. Next to my friend, I sat in front, and so had a view of the imam. As the athaan went off, I immediately broke my fast, only having enough time to eat two dates, a few sips of juice and half a scone, before Maghrib began. Once Maghrib was finished, we did two rakahs nafl salaah before reading Sura Yaseen once. This was repeated thrice - after the two rakahs we recited Sura Yaseen again, did two more rakahs and then Sura Yaseen a third time. Each two rakahs had specially-prescribed surahs like Sura Iklhaas, Kaafiroon and Falaq to read after Sura Fatihah.

Once we did the six rakahs nafl salaah and recited Sura Yaseen three times, the emotions in the masjid became more intense, adding to my already-emotional heart. It is something incredible for my soul to pray fardh salaah in congregation (jama'ah) and hear the Ameen resound after the Fatihah. Each time I hear it, I feel as if I am transported beyond myself. When we all hold the same body posture, it is incredibly powerful, too. The gallery we women were on had wooden floor, so each time we went down into sudjood, there was a resounding thump as our knees hit the floor. The sound of shuffling bodies and rustling clothes is like a magnified echo of my own. Then, after the salaah in jama'ah is finished, to hear the salawat upon our Prophet SAW, elevates my soul further. The men's voices rise in such sweet harmony it feels as if we are all spiralling up to Jannah or flowing as one river. I don't know the salawaat very well yet, but when I come to a part I know and join in, it is as if I step into a stream which sweeps me along with it, and all physical effort is taken away, the power bearing me up. Who needs musical instruments when the human voice is enough to bring one to ecstasy? Again I thought: I am Muslim, and at last I am HOME!

When I told my friend next to me that it was so beautiful, she said it would get more intense. She was so right! The imam (who was a sheikh) led the congregation in a series of supplications to Allah SWT, in Arabic. Even if I couldn't understand all what he was praying about, the emotion that burst from him began to affect my heart. I could hear the desperate cries of his heart and the absolute submission of his voice. He humbled himself as a speck of dust, and I longed to worship Allah Ta'ala the same. After all, I knew I needed Him! I joined in hearts with the sheikh, crying to Allah. The tears began to fall and I grew hot inside. It was a cloudless winter's night (albeit mild), but the fans had to be put on, as the room grew so warm some of the ladies went out for some air. The air smelt like incense; it was so sweet!

Actually, as I think of it now, I read somewhere in one of my kitaabs that Laylatul Qadr (the night in Ramadhaan when the Qur'an first came down to our Prophet (SAW)) was on an unknown date. Some even believed it was not in Ramadhaan. Funny enough, it was said that on that night one of the signs would be that it would be unusually mild and the sky would be clear... Just like last night! The atmosphere was so powerful that I wouldn't be surprised if we encountered Laylatul Qadr, too...

Allahu Akbar!

After the supplications and cries to Alla Ta'ala, we prayed Isha salaah and I also did Witr afterwards, too. Then the sheikh gave us a khutbah on the significance of the night. All in all, we were there for three-and-a-half hours before returning home at 9pm, hungry for our supper. From yesterday morning's Fajr until Witr last night, I don't think I have ever made so much salaah and duaa in one day... Wow, what a time to experience!

Oh Allah, make us faithful servants close to You. Have mercy on us and forgive us our faults and sins. Give us the strength, sabr and baraka that we need to serve You ever more faithfully in this year to come. Ameen, Allahumma, Ameen!

Salaam

Saadiqah

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