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TURNING FEARS INTO DUAS (PART 3)

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To read part 2, kindly click here.

Losing of loved ones

I am very familiar with grief. With its smell that lingers and its sour taste on the lips kissing you with every remembrance and every memory. It is something inevitable that each one of us will experience; whether it is separation in this world because of conflict or changes beyond our control, or because of death.

When it comes to worldly separation, we’ve seen families separate, take each other to court and some even kill each other because of wealth or other kinds of fitna. Sometimes beloved companions become detested enemies because of betrayal, envy, or revealed ill intentions. It truly breaks the heart when family or friends who were once closest to you are now the ones against you.

Yet despite all that, the loss through death is the one that hurts the most. It is inevitable. It is permanent. And death- you never really get used to it. There is no point where you can say you have lost enough people that it doesn’t hurt anymore. It hurts. It always will. This is why Allah Subhanahu Wataala gives glad tidings to those who are patient with such tests; their reward is going to be enormous in the hereafter.

"We will certainly test you with a touch of fear and famine and loss of property, life, and crops. Give good news to those who patiently endure."

Surat Al Baqarah, Verse 155

Naturally then, the fear of losing loved ones is so vivid within me. Whenever death struck and depending on the dearness of the person to me, it would last me many months and even years before I could even say I am over it. Yet the worst fear of all is losing my beloved parents. The dearest people to my heart. The two individuals that I am absolutely terrified to lose.

I grew up witnessing my parents struggle with major health complications for a big part of their lives that had both of them take pills like sweets to be devoured morning, noon, and night alhamdulillah. Yet whenever either of them got more ill, I would always think, ‘Is this it? Is this goodbye now?’ And my heart would remain in distress until I could finally see them better.

I remember during the Corona period, my mother lost two of her siblings to Corona in less than a year; one of whom was my favourite uncle. This was in addition to several other relatives who had also contracted the virus and had been very ill from it.

Within the months that followed our entire home was affected with flu, sore throat, and several other symptoms of Corona. My mother was the worst for she was really struggling to breathe and her coughing would be heard throughout the day and night. The initial tests she did stated that she had pneumonia with an indication of Corona. This was exactly what had happened to my uncle. My fear tripled and I spent my days crying endlessly. I really thought this is it. My parents having Corona and major health conditions? It was only by Allah’s mercy that they would survive. My tears would flow effortlessly and with no warning but I tried to hide them as much as I could.

But then one day it became too overwhelming for me to keep it to myself. I remembered mama two during her last days; how I stayed away because it was too painful to see her waste away. How that haunted me for many years after, because I kept thinking did she really understand I stayed away and couldn’t meet her eye to eye because I never wanted to lose her? And that I felt so helpless for I couldn’t take away her pain? Did she really know how much I loved her?’ Questions questions…

I, therefore, decided to talk to my mother about it. But when I got to her, I was weeping and the first thing that came out of my mouth was, ‘What if you die?’ In retrospect, I now realize how wrong that question was for it to be directed to a sick person. But in moments of weakness, we rarely think clearly before speaking. Now my father- who is such a firm and brave man- awoke from his sleep from my crying, thinking that someone had literally died. When he was told I was crying because I was worried about them, he clicked his tongue and went back to sleep 😂 (I love my dad because he reminds me of Umar Ibn Khattab; tough people with unwavering strength and perseverance. It is he who has taught me to never fear anyone or accept any kind of injustice. Whether I implement that is another story 😂) And even though he knows when to be gentle and merciful, I could sense that he expected better from me.

My mother on the other hand hugged me and she said, ‘Then we’d be dead. You must prepare yourself for it because it is inevitable. We’re all going to experience it sooner or later. You have to be strong.’ Then to comfort me, she went on to mention people we know who were (previously) critically ill yet still made it through and others who died for no other reason than that their time had arrived. She wanted me to be more hopeful of Allah’s mercy and keep making dua for them.

My elder sister, whom I consider the epitome of patience (Allah ybarik feeha) said, “It is like we’re all on a journey on a train. And at some point, different people will have to alight at different stages because their journey has come to an end. Yet that doesn’t mean the rest of us will come to a halt because someone alighted from the train. We go on with our journey regardless, because we haven’t yet reached our destination. We have no choice but to move on.”

I still marvel at their words because despite knowing the reality of death and what our Deen requires from us, I am in awe of their firm faith. With their strength. With their good expectations on acquiring better with Allah in the next life. Most times I wish I was as strong as they are.

I am still trying, and mostly failing at being that strong. My mother says she is most worried about me among her children (despite being a middle child) after they’re gone because of my fragility. And of course, it is something I will perhaps have to work on throughout my life yet I realize I should always seek Allah’s help through it all.

“The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said: ‘The strong believer is better and more beloved to Allah than the weak believer, although both are good. Strive for that which will benefit you, seek the help of Allah, and do not feel helpless. If anything befalls you, do not say, “if only I had done such and such” rather say “Qaddara Allahu wa ma sha’a fa’ala (Allah has decreed and whatever he wills, He does).” For (saying) ‘If’ opens (the door) to the deeds of Satan.'” (Sunan Ibn Majah 79)

I strive to be stronger with firmer faith. This is why I bring those fears to Allah Subhanahu Wataala. The only One with answers. The only One with relief. The only One who can really strengthen me.

For those who’ve died…

Ya Allah, Ya Rahman, Ya Rahim…there are people in the graves; people who loved us dearly and we loved them just as much. People who we continue to miss even years after their demise…Ya Allah, please forgive them. Please have mercy on them and make their graves to be beautiful gardens from the gardens of Paradise that are filled with wonderful scents never smelled before. Ya Allah please elevate their status, make them among those who will enter Jannah without accountability, and most importantly Ya Allah, reunite us with them beautifully in the highest level of Jannah, Ameen.

For our loved ones in this life…

Ya Allah, please protect our loved ones from all harm and evil of this world. Protect our bonds with them from betrayal, ill intentions, misguidance, envy, and any kind of fitna. Enrich our relationships with your love and nurture within us sincerity and compassion towards one another. Ya Allah, allow us to stay in good relations with them till our death and reunite us thereafter in your eternal paradise.

Ya Allah, when it is time for us or our loved ones to depart from this world, grant us (and them) the strength and patience to bear the loss. Grant us firm faith and comfort in the belief that we shall meet once again at a better place with better lives in your Jannah Ya Rab.

And Ya Allah, if anyone pretends to love us while they backbite/slander/envy/have ill intentions towards us, we seek your protection from them, Ya Allah. Grant us insight in recognizing them for who they really are and as early as possible, ameen.

For our parents…

Ya Rab, before you take away our parents grant us an opportunity to serve them, assist them, make them happy and make their dreams come true. Ya Allah, please grant them long, healthy lives filled with your love, mercy, and peace. Allow them to witness and be part of our success and prosperity in this life while in a good state of health and mind. Allow them to be present during milestones of our lives; career advancements, marriage, parenthood, and the growth of our connection with you. Guide us to serve them without any hesitation or complaints or exhaustion. Ya Rab, please bless us with an opportunity to visit your Holy Lands Makkah and Madina with them and all our siblings, while in good health and make us among those whose ibadat will be accepted. Ya Allah, protect us from being among those who neglect their parents during old age.

Ya Allah, when it is their time to depart from this world, please take them without testing them with illnesses that will humiliate or shame them before other people. Ya Allah, make them die gracefully without suffering or needing anyone but You. Only take them when they are very pleased with us and you are very pleased with them. Ya Allah, grant them and us, beautiful endings.

Oh Lord, for any good that we do, let them have a share of it for they have nurtured us in the best manner as you required of them. And when you do take them, grant us the strength, patience, and comfort to bear their loss. Guide us to remember them with dua and sadaqat after their departure and reunite us thereafter in your Jannah, in the most beautiful way. Ameen Ya Rabbal Alaameen!

*

Whenever calamity strikes and we lose one of our loved ones, may we always remember this hadith and may we be among those believing slaves, Ameen!

Abu Hurairah (May Allah be pleased with him) reported:The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said: “Allah, the Exalted, says: ‘I have no reward except Jannah for a believing slave of Mine who shows patience and anticipates My reward when I take away his favourite one from the inhabitants of the world.”‘ (Riyad as-Salihin 923)

***

P.S: Alhamdulilah my parents and family survived the Corona virus. Alhamdulilah. Please keep them in your duas.

That said, I am also kindly requesting that you make dua for one of my loved ones who’s been critically ill, admitted to the ICU for a couple of days now. I will realllyyy appreciate your duas.

Thank you so much for your time! May Allah accept our good deeds, strengthen our imaan and make us among His most beloved servants, ameen!

Kindly subscribe below to stay tuned with part 4 of this series: Broken Homes in Shaa Allah 🙂

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Creative Non-Fiction

WAR AND FAITH

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Assalam aleykum good people,

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

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

With time, I got exposed to what is happening in Syria, Yemen, Iraq and many other countries. And just like Palestinians, they too stole my heart for how brave and patient they are. And I really really love them for the qualities they have and what they are. It has been and still is, my long time dream to help them.

So on Thursday, when someone (I can’t thank them enough!) called me to tell me there are Palestinian refugees from Syria that are stranded and needed help, I was too excited. Not because of their situation of course but I was soooo thrilled because like ‘Allah, you didn’t take me to Palestine to help but you brought me an opportunity to help Palestinian refugees!!!’ You guys, I could barely sleep that night due to the excitement lol

The next day I got to hear from one of the sons their life journey briefly, and that night, I cried and cried and cried 
Today we went to meet them alhamdulilah and wallahy, we laughed and laughed and laughed. They were so jovial and optimistic, you would never think they are refugees stranded in a foreign country subhanallah. 

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

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

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

The kind of help needed is the following:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mpesa: 0704 731 560 (Lubnah)

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

Here are the mother’s hospital reports:

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

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Creative Fiction

THIS FEELS LIKE THE BEGINNING OF THE END

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

The end of an era.

The end of the beginning.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love,

Sierra.

***

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Poetry

THE LONGING OF A SUPPLICANT

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Image Courtesy: https://weheartit.com/entry/334051433

Whenever I miss you,
which is as often
as the sun rising from the East,
the dawn of your thoughts
take possession
of my brittle mind
penetrating through the cracked, glass window
of my soul
like the early sun rays
ready to conquer my heart
yet one more time.
The adhan is but a symbol
of the timelessness
of my love
waking me up from
the depths of my fantasy
The wudhu’s cold touch
hauls me back to reality
washing off me
the residues
of yesterday’s ache.

Whenever I remember you,
a strong tide
of sorrow
takes over the
ocean of emotions
within my soul
pulling me further out
into the embrace of distance.
In absolute agony,
I lay down my mswallah
that you once gave me
and make i’tikaf on it
talking to My Most Beloved
of you,
my beloved.
There is only one pure way
to love
so I raise my hands
to the Almighty
and place you
in His loving hands.
A testament of love
that none can dare
come between.

My tongue is wet,
heavy on the
Allahu Must3an
because God knows
only He can extinguish
the turmoil engulfing the
heart of a lover
with flames
of grief.
I call on the Lord of Ibrahim
to save me
from the blaze set on my being
I call on the Lord of Ayub, and the Lord of Ya’qub
to grant me
a beautiful patience
I call on the Lord of Yunus
to rescue me from
the hollowness of the darkness.

The hadith says,
‘The guider towards good
is like the doer’
so I recite every letter of the Qur’an
with reflection
with deliberation
hoping that for every 10 rewards,
you get a share of it.
With every mention and longing,
during the wee hours of the night
you are raised in status
With every dua
that I beg Allah
to grant you,
the angels can say
‘And for you is the same’.

If we’re not meant to be
in this world
then I am content
cherishing your very existence
in the same universe as I do
loving you at a distance,
through my prolonged sujood.
Let the ground that I prostrate on
be a witness
of all the times
I ask Allah
of His Mercy
Upon you.

***

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Creative Non-Fiction

BETTING THEIR WAY DOWN TO POVERTY

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I’ve met gamblers before. I’ve sat with them, eaten with them, worked with them. They always amuse me. One because most of them are people of middle or low class so they know what being broke is. Two because of their strong faith in the whole thing. Faith could be a strong word in this case but I lack the precise words to describe what they do.

I’ve seen several of them skip lunch or gulp down water to quench themselves and hopefully stop their stomachs from rumbling. I have seen them deny themselves a proper meal and budget their lunch for anything less than fifty shillings so that they can bet. They would do it everyday, endlessly, with so much anticipation. They would become so engrossed with it that they wouldn’t hear what you are saying especially when someone is telling them how the betting is ruining them.

I would watch and just for a moment, a small tiny moment, envy their faith. How they would dedicate their entire lives to this one thing with the hope that just one day, one brilliant day, one perfect day, they would win more than they ever dream. They would sacrifice their meals and walk to save the fare and cut down any expense that could save them just one more coin for betting. I often picture it like a beggar going to this mansion to request for food. They would arrive at the gate and the dogs would bark so loud chasing them away. They would go back and this time the guard would ask them to leave. Yet, this persistent beggar would use all his means and ways to go back to the mansion and beg. Before they know it, the house owners are slamming doors at him but guess what, this poor man is very insistent on getting anything from this mansion even if it is the left-over food. All this time though, he forgets that he is using up all his energy and remaining coins to go beg instead of using what he has in a better investment. Well, the food beggar is still better than the gambler though. I always wondered how much better their lives would be if they that kind of faith in something else, maybe in their own potential, in God, or their own hard work.

One ex gambler told me his story of how he started betting since he was in form two. Being a football fanatic and wanting an easy way to earn money, he decided that betting would be the best way to channel his passion and focus to. There weren’t many betting sites then but his friend helped him register to one of the sites. Slowly he started betting every other weekend when they would sneak out from the dormitories to go watch football outside. When he got a hang of things, he graduated to betting every day on champions league in mid week and EPL on weekends.

At times he’d lose hope when he lost the bets but later the loses just pushed him further into making multiple bets in a day especially on weekends when many games were being played. He started using up almost all his pocket money on it and seeing that he was losing only by slim margins, he’s be under pressure to get back his money. At that time the bets were 100 Kshs each so he was losing quite an amount for a student, thus, he would put more bets the next day with the hope his money will be regained.

He went on that like that and when he was in form three, he would be too broke that he would call his dad every Monday to ask for money. His father was convinced that his son was smoking bhang, or why else would he need money all the time? Being a notorious boy himself, it was hard to believe otherwise. Spending all his money on this, his pocket money used to be over by the first week of school.

Soon enough he started sneaking with the phone to class so that he could bet during the day. This led him to being suspended from school several times for phone possession and finally in the third term of form three he was expelled.

Sometimes he would earn some money from the betting but he would still use the money on more betting and taking out his friends when they sneaked from school.

When he joined campus, he went on with the same habit and ended up using his fees for one entire year without the knowledge of his father who in his mind knows he has cleared his son’s fees. Campus gave him more freedom and of course more money. The second year he spent an entire semester’ fee on the betting. His idea was he’s invest on the betting and then earn enough for the fees and more for himself. Before he knew it, he had used up thirty thousand out of the forty seven he had for fees. He was now under more pressure to get back the money and he did not know any other way to earn money except by betting.

Soon he was losing friends because he was always on the betting sites, sometimes for a whole day. He wouldn’t want to spend time with people and conversations were bothering him because his mind was always absorbed with the betting. He was avoiding going home lest they ask him about campus and his studying. There was a time he spent his hostel rent on the betting and opted to be sleeping at the entertainment area in the campus. He missed exams due to unpaid fees. Prayers became non-existent to him. Every thing he ever wanted to buy, his mind would automatically go back to betting, like, ‘Let me bet then the profit is what i’ll use to buy the shirt’, ‘Let me bet then if I win I can buy the boots.’ He even sold his phone, bought a cheaper phone just so he could bet. That is how serious it was. Maybe faith isn’t the word after all; addiction it is.

After losing all the fees for the second year, he applied for an academic leave and went somewhere else to stay while his parents believed their son is in campus studying.

He was in his third year; his friends were ahead of him, he was sleeping on the benches and he was ashamed of himself he couldn’t face his dad. At this moment he was just alone.

It wasn’t until last year when campus was being closed and he had to leave the campus when it finally dawned on him. Staying away from home, he went to a friend’s place to stay in the mean while. His friend told him how broke and wasted he seemed and how he really looked like a bhang smoker. His friend would sometimes buy him food because he knew he has nothing. Time came his friend also got tired and started avoiding him. When he’d request for money he’d tell him to go and get it from his father. He didn’t want to go home yet because he was ashamed but his friend too was already bothered with his betting habit.

This got him to keenly look at himself; how rough he looked and he decided it is high time to stop the habit. He would stop for a while but when he’d get money he’d still go back to betting. It was a hard addiction to let go so he had to put more effort to not go down that lane again. He would avoid watching the games in public, he stopped putting money on Mpesa, and would avoid receiving money in big amounts at once.

Last December he lost twenty two thousand in less than a week and that became his last blow. He didn’t play again since then. Its been 8 clean months and that’s huge progress for him. Alhamdulilah.

I would say this is a brave man for coming out openly to share his story so the rest of us can learn from his. For being able to learn from his own mistakes and to let go of his strong addiction. He is among the lucky ones because as he says, many know how damaging it is yet still opt for it. Not everyone gets that chance to start all over again and make lemonade from the lemons they had.

High time we started having these conversations amongst ourselves and with our friends and younger brothers and sisters. May God guide and protect us all from being the enemies to our own souls. Ameen.

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Deen (Religion)

SABR, OH DEAR HEART

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A man will be tested according to his level of religious commitment. If his religious commitment is solid, his test will be more severe, but if there is any weakness in his religious commitment, he will be tested according to his level of religious commitment. And calamity will continue to befall a person until he walks on the earth with no sin on him.

-Prophet Muhammad p.b.u.h

I’ve intentionally been avoiding to write about this. No, not about sabr, about Shekuwe’s story. I feel no words can really paint the real picture of the situation. My own imagination fails me but then it keeps haunting me. The thought of someone losing his entire family at once? I think of how I make a fuss out of nothing, how me and you, break down because ‘I lost a job’ or ‘My car was hit today’ or ‘The cake I made turned out too sour’. The thought of this fills my heart with shame. I mean, have you even thought about it yourself? Take a moment and picture it please. Imagine all your family members succumbing to high tides and waves of the ocean; watching them die. One after another. And then nothing. You are left alone. All that darkness like a heavy cloud on your head. The numbness, the trauma, the disbelief that you are even breathing. Coming back home to only find emptiness? With echoes of laughter and cries and memories that are no more? How many of us could actually handle that?

But here’s the flip side to it.


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When you believe in Allah, and when Allah loves you back just as much as you do, then He’ll put you in tests over and over again. You will be pushed to be edge until you cry ‘why?’ But there are a few answers to this dreadful question:

1. “And know that your wealth and your children are but a trial and that Allah has with Him a great reward.” ~ Quran 8:28

2.“And certainly, We shall test you with something of fear, hunger, loss of wealth, lives and fruits…” (Qur’an, 2:155)

3. “Allah does not burden a soul beyond that it can bear…” (Qur’an, 2:286).

4. “Say: ‘Nothing shall ever happen to us except what Allâh has ordained for us…’” (9:51).

5. “We shall certainly test you, until We ascertain those of you who (sincerely) strive and those who are steadfast (in Allah’s Deen); and We shall test your affairs (to distinguish the liars from the truthful)”: (47:31)

6. “Most certainly you will face tests in your wealth and in your persons. You will definitely hear much painful abuse from those who have been given The Book before you and from those who worship many gods. But if you are patient and fear Allah, then that will be the determining factor in all affairs.” ~ Quran 3:186

7. The prophet p.b.u.h said: If Allah wants to do good to someone, He afflicts him with trials. ~ (Bukhari 75/5)

8. The prophet p.b.u.h said: If Allah intends for a servant to reach a rank he is unable to reach by his good deeds, then Allah will put him to trial in his body or his wealth or his children, and he will be patient until he reaches the rank intended for him. [Ahmad]

9. The prophet p.b.u.h said: Nothing befalls a believer, a (prick of a) thorn or more than that, but Allah will raise him one degree in status thereby, or erase a bad deed. ~ Bukhari

10. The prophet p.b.u.h said: On the Day of Judgement, when the people who were tried (in this world) are given their rewards, the people who were pardoned (in life), will wish that their skins had been cut off with scissors while they were in the world. ~ Tirmidhi 36/100

11. Mus’ab ibn Sa’eed reported: His father asked, “O Messenger of Allah, which people are tested most severely?” The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “They are the prophets, then the next best, then the next best…”

12. “… and be patient over what befalls you.” ~ Quran 31:17


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Shekuwe’s story is something you’d probably imagine to be something extracted from an emotional, heartbreaking Bollywood movie. But it isn’t. How much do you think Allah loves this human being to put him in such a test? How much strength of imaan does he have that Allah put him through such kind of pain? How much do you think Allah loves YOU to put you in the pain you go through?

Truth is, everyone is undergoing something. It only differs with magnitude. Some have it easier than others and others have it waayy heavier than you could possibly imagine. But don’t we all want Allah’s love that bad? Don’t we want to reach that kind of status that brings us closer to Him?? We can only pray for Shekuwe, and for ourselves and for each other. We can only support and be there for one another because behind every smile is an untold story of sabr. So let’s keep making dua over and over again; we pray for strength and imaan and taqwa to keep walking however bad the storm gets. May Allah easen it for him and for us all.

One of my favourite ayahs is from Surat Ankabut, 2nd verse: “Do people think that they will be left alone because they say: “We believe,” and will not be tested?” And I keep reciting this ayah over and over again like it is my mantra. It has a deep meaning that strikes right into the heart. It gives us a purpose to soldier on to prove our love to Allah.

Dear heart, dear you, Do you believe?? Then have sabr oh dear heart. Have sabr. Because sabr is indeed beautiful (Assabr Jameel).

May Allah grant us sabr like of Ayub aleyhi ssalam. Ameen.


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WHERE IS MY BABY

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The only thing I constantly dream and anticipate of my future, is to be a mother. Not just any kind of a mother; a very dedicated one. I live for that. And I hope that God makes it come true. Ameen. I don’t know what it feels like to lose a child or to be in marriage and await for children, but I can only imagine and pray that God doesn’t test me with that and to grant those who are still having faith and praying for a miracle, a good offspring.

This is a rather special post for me because here, I narrate two different stories of two different individuals who lost their children. This gave me a heart ache but I do realize the need for people to hear other people’s stories; to appreciate their own journeys and to be patient in whatever they are going through. It is not going to be an easy read. Take heart and know that if you are/were in this same journey, you are never alone.

***A PREVIOUS NARRATION BY A DAD WHO LOST HIS FOUR UNBORN BABIES***

“Not many have the courage to speak about their disappointments in life, it hurts to lose people you love but it hurts more to lose people you expect and they don’t materialize. As we celebrate my 29th birthday, so do we celebrate the lose of our four unborn kids that never even had a chance to have a breadth of life through miscarriages. It’s the most devastating and disappointing event that has ever met our lives, and the worst of it all, the doctors can’t explain the cause of the miscarriages even after spending chunks of bills for tests and medication.

Recently, Mark Zuckerberg posted his experience with miscarriages and now expecting a baby girl, this is reassuring that there’s calm after storm. The comments and replies the post received were amazing, I came to learn that as I find it difficult having lost four babies, many other families have lost more than ten before they finally got a baby or more thereafter. And the least pleasing fact is that a huge number of couples have not even had the experience of the miscarriage itself let alone having a baby and passes on after successful birth.

Allah SW provides to His subjects what they need and not what they want, for what they want may not be beneficial to them or rather harmful in their lives and religion. For as much as we don’t know is in store for us by destiny, we shouldn’t stop trying and exploring available halaal ways of finding solutions to this problem. Allah has given mankind brains and resources to find solutions for such medical conditions, and the best of the mankind are those that are patient and those who depend on Allah for their lives and their hereafter.

The miscarriages issue has come with it many disappointing and devastating events. Young couples divorcing, wrangles in families and lack of happiness in homes. Yet the problem may be a medical condition that is treatable or may be chromosomal that is not, but in the long run, couples must remember it’s Allah SW who decides who gets what and when and in what form, so it’s not upon you to question the deity. The best of your response should be to thank and remember Allah SW during all moments. Allah tests His subjects both in hardship and pleasure, so the have are no better than the have not. Children come with responsibilities, so for the one who have, it’s also a great challenge for them too since the responsibility comes even harder for who they become is a reflection of what their parents are!. Lastly, as I pay tributes to the gone babies of ours, we missed you though we never had the chance to hold you in our arms, perhaps the right time hasn’t come. Or may be, better babies are yet to come. We shall always remember you and cherish the feeling of your few weeks with us. You gave us a lot of hope and joy but Allah Has the better plans for them and the many that have gone before and after you.”

***A NARRATION BY A MOTHER WHO LOST HER SON***

“Two months into my marriage, I was already pregnant. There was excitement in the house. It’s every woman’s dream; any couple’s dream and mine was finally going to come true. I was happy and counting down of the nine months began. Then one day we went out with my husband to a hotel at Diani and I hit myself at the abdomen with the swimming pool slide. The complications started right after that. My abdomen started aching and all the hospitals I went to, I was told nothing is wrong, the baby was fine but I should have bed rest. My scans were clear too.

By then I had already resigned from my workplace so as to take care of my health. Nonetheless, I got better and I applied for another job of which I was accepted. On the same day that I reported to work, I started feeling unwell and had to ask for permission to go see the doctor. By the time I got to the ferry, all I was seeing was black. I went and held a pole nearby to support myself as I tried to regain my strength. Two ladies came to me and asked if everything was okay. When they noticed I was pregnant and helpless, each of them held one arm and helped me board the ferry. I was still feeling nauseated and I started throwing up. The two ladies noticed I was vomiting red they thought it was blood although it was because I was from eating watermelons. That worried them and a nurse came to their rescue. I couldn’t clarify it wasn’t blood because I could barely open my mouth. So the lady nurse came to us and decided to carry me. Since they considered it an emergency case, the ferry immediately left to take me to the other side where my husband was waiting for me.

After the three ladies got me to my husband, I went for check-up, the doctor insisted that this time round I should have a bed rest for one whole month. As such, my husband had to go to my new workplace and inform them that I can’t make it.

My grandma decided to take me with her, to ease it for my husband since he has to go to work. But then one day, the pain revisited my body, this time more painful than ever. Nearby, there was a mid-wife so we went to her and she gave me a massage. I was told that the baby was leaning on my abdomen and thus the pain. But the massage was like adding charcoal to the fire. I had to be rushed to the nearest hospital which was Coast General and was told that my baby’s path was already open. I was about to give birth. At six months.

The nurses injected me and prepared me for birth. It was going to be a pre-mature birth and chances of survival was 50-50. But we were hopeful and I had faith. All my relatives were told to wait outside the ward. I still had some time before I could give birth, so the nurse left me alone. But then the bone-breaking pain came and I was confused. It was my first time, with absolutely no idea how things work. I just pulled off my hijab, kept it under my thighs and started pushing and pushing…extreme pain, sweat…then black…

“Ah! She has given birth already!” I could hear the nurses calling out from afar. “Ma’am, ma’am…do you know that you have already given birth?’

I didn’t know,but I just nodded. I checked the time, it was almost 1 hour 45 minutes later since I started giving birth and lost my consciousness. There was frantic movement for some time. Then cleaning me up, then cutting of the umbilical cord. One nurse then came to me, ‘Ma’am, you gave birth to a baby boy…but i’m sorry, he passed…Do you want to see him?”

I said no. I requested for my family instead. My aunt who raised me came in with my mother in law. They found me crying. I could now feel the emptiness in me; in my heart, in my stomach.

“Have you seen your son?” My aunt asked as she went on consoling me. When I said no, she insisted I should, “This is your son and you are never going to see him again. So take heart and hold him and kiss him. Be strong.”

And I bid farewell to my son; my only child, my only flesh. For a long time, I was never going to forget that moment.

Almost two weeks after giving birth, the abdomen pain struck again. It was too painful. I went to see my gynecologist and after yet another scan, they noticed a leakage, though they couldn’t tell where it was from until I was operated on. The assumption was that it was bacterial infection from the post-birth. So the next morning, first thing I was taken for the surgery. After being cut, is when my gyno, another general doctor and a nurse realized that my appendix had ruptured. There was a lot of pus inside and the baby had been drinking that. But my situation freaked them out. They had never handled such a case so they called another fellow doctor who directed them what to do. When they were done, four hours later, they called in for another nurse to take me to my room and they disappeared through the back door.

My family followed me to the room with worry, but the doctors were nowhere to be seen. One hour later is when my gyno appeared. Upon being asked where he was he said, “In my entire 20 years in this career, i’ve never seen such a thing and i’ve never had such a surgery.” They had removed 3 liters of pus from the leakage and some pus was still left. While I was about to leave the hospital, my nurse asked to have a private word with me and said, “My dear, if you ever feel the need to cry, then cry. No one should tell you you have to be strong. Let it out. Scream, shout, do whatever will make you feel better but don’t let it eat you up inside.” And that was it. Weeks after that I was still going to the hospital to have some more pus removed. You can’t imagine the pain. Both the physical and mostly the emotional torment.

Months later, I went for my final check-up and I met my gyno and he said, “Has anyone ever told you that God is great? That was a very risky operation, I have never been that scared in my life. I never even imagined you’d get up and be well again…Your baby saved you. He was drinking the pus which was poisonous all along. Hadn’t you given birth to him, we wouldn’t have known of the leakage…” He then quickly summoned for the other doctor who had operated on me to come into the office.

“You remember this lady?” My gyno asked his fellow doctor.
“How can I forget this girl…” Looking at me, “When we did your operation, I asked doctor here, can I just cry for this girl? I went home that evening and told my children, ‘before you sleep, there is a special patient at my hospital, we have to pray for her condition. You are a very strong lady!”I just nodded with a smile.

It was such a rough time. For months after that, I cried. I had a difficult time whenever i’d see relatives and friends with their children. My husband and I had to move to a different house to avoid the questions and the despair. For years after that we were still praying and hoping for another baby…but nothing happened. It got to a point I told my husband he can marry another woman if he willed. I was broken. But he was supportive and still is. I remember when I told him about marrying another woman he said, “Say audhubillah. Go take ablution and pray two rakaats to your Lord…” It’s been five years since we got married. We still don’t have a child. It may be a hard test but as my husband always reminds me, “God doesn’t give you except what you can handle…and maybe, He is preventing some harm into our lives by all this.” When you ask my husband about our gone son he would say, “I did not only have a son, but an angel who saved the life of my wife and gave up his own. He was our hero!”

I have faith in God and I still pray for what is best for us. Yet I have this beautiful memory of my son for I gave birth to him, I felt him and I experienced labour pain.”

****

All I know about this life is that it wasn’t meant to be heaven. You will be tested; in one way or another. He will give you wealth but test you with lack of health. He will give you children but test you with a difficult spouse. He will give you health but with lack of children. He will give you wealth but you will be tested with early death of parents. Everyone, and I mean, EVERYONE, is fighting some kind of battle. Even those happy people you see spending money and acting all classy like they got it all…they also have something missing in their lives. It’s pretty much difficult for everyone in this life, but we need to pass these tests. We need to believe that God knows what is best for us, He knows the answers to your questions, He knows why He gave you this instead of that…We need to be patient and strong. We need to have faith that God only gives us what we can absolutely conquer. So whatever you are going through right now, soldier on.

I pray that Allah grants children to all those who’ve been waiting; a good, pious, healthy offspring that will be close to Allah. May Allah grant you higher reward for your patience and grant you strength in all stages of life. Ameen!

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OF LOSS AND LOVE

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About a week ago, my father went missing after Isha prayers. How that went down is a story almost like the ‘Don’t breath’ movie…

My sisters and I were all seated in our room together with mum. Each of us was in a different corner studying for their own exams that were approaching while mum busily texted our other sister abroad. Just out of nowhere mum started, “Your father is really late from the masjid today.” None of us replied because mum always got anxious easily and she had such a talent at making me panic too. I, for one, didn’t want to hear of anything to excite my heart with anxiety at that moment, so I just sat calmly and read on. Some minutes later, mum walked to the window where she could directly see the masjid, “Your father isn’t back yet!”

“Relax mum, relax. He will be back any minute,” I told her as I went on studying. Soon enough, my elder sister’s husband came back home from work and they left, leaving two paranoid creatures alone with one younger but stronger one to keep us sane enough.

As mum kept worrying about dad being late, I kept checking the watch in my phone.

“Ma, it’s just 9 p.m. Say ‘audhubillah mina shaytan rajim’ (I seek refuge to Allah from the Satan). There is probably a meeting at the masjid, or he is talking to one of his friends, or someone needed his help urgently…all that is possible,” I said as I patted her shoulder.

“Audhubillah mina shaytan rajim,” she repeated after me.

Mum thereafter convinced my sister to go check if he is still in the masjid. It isn’t far so it is safe enough especially since we could see her movement. She came back and stood right beside our car, looked up at the window where we were waiting and said, “the masjid is closed.”

Now one thing about my father, which I really admire is that, he was never the kind to roam around places or talk to friends for hours. He was either out for a purpose or inside his home with his family. He is never late home unless it is beyond him. If he wants to go somewhere a bit far from home he wouldn’t go without informing my mother or at least one of us to inform mum. So this was kind of odd. Our masjid is just 3 minutes away. What could have kept him out for more than one hour?

So nowadays, i’ve been reading several self-help books to conquer anxiety and such, and since I know mum’s anxiety is enough to knock me off, I tried really hard not to worry. Time to time, I kept telling her that he will be back soon. My 17 year old sister was in control. Not showing her worry nor saying much, she was just by the window waiting for him to appear. His phone was at home that meant that he had no plan to go anywhere after the prayers and it also meant, we couldn’t call him.

It was already getting past 10 and now I was the one chanting, ‘audhubillah mina shaytan rajim’. I was really struggling not to allow the anxiety get to my head. My sister and I went to the next door neighbour who is also his friend to inquire if he was there or if they had seen him; but they hadn’t. My mum called my brother to inquire from my dad’s friends whether he was with them. His two closest friends said they hadn’t seen him that day let alone that hour. LOL now you know what that means. It means me allowing my super-active anxiety hormones start doing what they have to. My mother? Don’t even ask; she was already having stomach upsets.

We were all reciting duas now; seriously praying, each one of us at a different window. I kept pacing from the window in the bedroom to the one in the sitting room, just hoping to see him appear. Thoughts were now flowing like a waterfall. What could have happened between the masjid and home? An accident? No, it is so close home we would have known by now. Kidnapping? Raid by the police? Perhaps took him as Al-shabaab suspect? Lol but then why would my dad be a suspect anyway?! I started thinking of the families in news crying for their missing persons, of the facebook posts of people missing their dead dads, of what if my dad had gotten into a fight which ended at the police station??

My sister’s baby started crying in the room, barely thinking clearly I walked to him and fed him, “I have to remain sane,” I said to myself. “Things could get worse here…and I am the eldest available. If anything is wrong with dad, mum would need a sane person.” Now my anchor during my panic attacks has always been my best friend. She was the only one who could make me think rationally at such situations. So I was texting her while still checking one window to the other. Making me stay positive, to calm down bla bla bla…lol those are the perks of having a doctor as your best friend 😀

My mum insisted that I should call my elder sister and her husband to come join us in the search. But I told her, “What help can they really offer now? We can’t do anything ourselves except wait. We would just be making two more people anxious like ourselves.” And trust me, waiting helplessly without doing anything is the biggest test of patience.

We were barely exchanging words now; my sister,mum and I that is. Each one was either deep in thoughts, deep duas or deep in conversation with the people who could have information about dad. Mum didn’t want to create a fuss so she tried to only ask the closest friends and the neighbours who pray with him. My brother had already arrived by then. He went back to the masjid. checked again, went to ask the neighbours…no sign of him…

Several minutes past 11 I saw my brother, his friend and dad’s friend walking past home. I knew what that meant. They were going to the police station. It also meant, no good news will come out of this.

Only one thing was in mind now. If something has happened to dad, if he is dead…what would be the situation here?! How would mum be? Does he have any debts we don’t know about?…Drowning in the thoughts and after several hours of stopping myself, I broke down, silently…

I could hear my mother move some utensils in the kitchen of which she explained to me later. “I knew I couldn’t be sure what news was coming then; maybe a dead body so I started clearing the place…”

As I stood by the window, stomach upset and tears in my eyes, I saw my dad appear from the direction of the mosque. I just shouted, “Mum! dad is here!” before running downstairs to open the door. I wasn’t planning to cry in front of my dad but when our eyes met, I just started crying and hugged him.

“Where were you?!! We were worried?!” I said, still in his arms. He remained silent and patted my shoulder, which made me fear that maybe something had been done to him . But by then my mum was already downstairs too, her voice shaky. He looked at us with surprise, like he was confused why we were crying.

“I was in the car. I dozzed off unintentionally…”

Mum said this after she heard that statement, “Upon seeing him, I was already about to cry but when he said he was in the car, I forced back my tears” like ‘what??!!’ So she kept complaining and complaining how worried she was and how she had thought of worst of the worst.

“It isn’t my fault. I came here and rang the bell for almost an hour (which apparently had a problem). No one opened the door for me. It was getting pretty cold out here. I didn’t have a phone to call any of you. So I just got into the car knowing Saeed (my brother) would be here any minute now and we can come in together. But then I just suddenly dozzed off and right now the only thing that woke me up was a noisy car that passed by.”

By the time he woke up he didn’t know that it was already getting to midnight. My mum quickly called my brother to stop them from going to the police station. My elder sister and husband had already been informed that dad was missing just a few minutes earlier by my brother and coincidentally, while mum was dialing my bro’s number, my sister’s call came in and thus both of them were in the call when mum said, “He is back home. You don’t have to go to the police.”

For a few minutes after dad was home, we were still contemplating what was going on.

“Imagine if they had already reported to the police…in fact the police would have wondered who reports a missing healthy, normal, grown-up man after just four hours? Then afterwards going back to inform them that he had just dozzed off in the car.” We were now laughing about it but after every statement, each one would say, ‘alhamdulilah’ (Thank God). That was a mighty scare. But for people like me and mum, we believe there are lessons to be learnt in everything that happens.

“Imagine I stood right beside the car when I was telling you the masjid was closed, I didn’t even notice he was in there. And when Saeed went to ask the neighbours he passed by the car more than three times and still…We just weren’t meant to see him,” my younger sister said.

“Oh my, Imagine the power of Allah. How He can shift just something really small in your life and how it can mess you up. Imagine just how all this happened because of the bell that we didn’t hear…God was testing our patience and the value of dad amongst us,” I told them.

“He wanted us to just have a taste of what it would feel like if He took him away from us,” Mum said.

We remained silent for a moment, contemplating that statement. It was heavy…and it made me dread the day I will lose my dad…or any of my family members.

We could barely sleep after that, we were just narrating how we felt during the trial, laughing at how silly the end is, at the wild thoughts we had, at how we made other people anxious too, telling the story to our sister abroad and keeping her in suspense just like I did to you right now 😀 …We slept late that night and in the morning, we had so much to tell to our elder sister and her husband.

If I have learnt anything from this experience is that, perhaps if it were not for this, my dad wouldn’t have known how much exactly I love him or how we all do. And that the worst words are those left unsaid.

P.S I love you dad!

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