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.