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Love


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OF BROKEN DREAMS AND FAILING MARRIAGES

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My marriage has been rocky and it feels like I’m in the middle of an impending divorce.

It just happens; the drift I mean. One day you’re married, and suddenly it’s 15 years. And when you’re married for that long, there’s a certain weight of pressure and expectation from you from the society. You’ve been the icon of love for generation X, and the #Couplegoals for the Millenials, you cannot afford to disappoint them with love, can you?!

There is nothing I can pinpoint as the exact reason for our failing marriage. Life just happened. I got busier, and he stopped waiting for me. Meals are quieter nowadays. I see him look at me like he’s expecting me to say something. Do something. But I continue nibbling at my food, feeling like a failure. He sighs and moves away from the table. I can feel him slip his fingers away whenever I try to hold his hand. I can’t even remember the last time we shared a joke, or a bed, or a decent conversation like we frequently used to do. It is sad.

It is sad because I can feel him walking away. Like he wasn’t the love of my life. And the sadder part is that I’m letting him go.

We’ve had our ups and downs. We’ve been happier than ever. We’ve also cried a lot along the way. But we survived, we emerged stronger. But right now? The candle is burning down. The silence is alarming. The future is scary. And this, this right here is a desperate attempt to rekindle what was once a fierce, passionate love.

I have betrayed my husband in unimaginable ways- writing. Yes, writing is a lifetime commitment, very much like a marriage. What did you think I was talking about? SMH.

Anyway, as I was saying, life has been happening.

There was a time when I used to write twice a week! Can you believe that? Twice a week! Mashallah mashallah. It blows my mind to think about it now. I used to be the icon of persistence, J.K. Rowling would have been proud. Nowadays I write once a month after many many pep talks and postponements.

I want to blame it on adulting or use my final year excuse card that I am violently throwing around nowadays to any commitment or meeting or my several rejection letters from the literary world that make me question whether I am really good at this.

The most painful thing about rejections is the ‘almosts’. You almost made it. You’re almost there. You are so close to getting a hang of it. But when you’ve been an almost for more than a decade, what does that make you? It really does feel like you’re in an unrequited love situationship.

I however do not want to be ungrateful. I’ve come such a long, long way. I’ve had awesome milestones in my writing. I’ve had great feedback from my close people and people I’ve never even met too. I’ve seen myself grow alhamdulilah.

I remind myself of one of my readers who once asked me, ‘what’s success to you as a writer?’ And I said something along the lines of ‘I want my work to shake the literary world, you know, write something that will be a classic and be read like 100 years after my death.’ And I genuinely think most writers want that, you want your work to be noteworthy with the very sense of the word. I am no exception. I want that too. I want someone to read my work in France or Moldova or a remote Island somewhere that’s unheard of and be speechless for how amazing the book or novel was. I want my work to be translated into 28 languages or something. I do want that. And it’s not about the fame really, it’s about knowing that your work made such an impact, the whole world had to read it. But my reader’s response still strikes a chord, he said, ‘Isn’t it enough that one person read your work and was positively influenced by it?’

And I think about that response often. It should be enough. It doesn’t really have to be the whole world. If just one person is moved, positively impacted by my words, then I should count it as a win. A big one in fact.

I guess as human beings we always want more. We want to touch the sky even when our ladders can’t get us there. And it is not necessarily a bad thing.

I am not saying I want to give up on my dream. I still want my work to someday shake the literally world. Be so mind-blowing it becomes in everyone’s a must-read booklist. I deserve that for all that the hard work into this journey. But me writing this piece is a reminder to myself, and you who’s reading this, that it’s also okay to be where you are right now and I believe that’s what my reader meant by his response. I mean life is life and regardless of how big our dreams are, we shouldn’t forget to appreciate the smaller, bigger wins and the baby steps and the milestones.

I do not want to give up on this dream despite how hard it is becoming for me. I want to remember why I started. Why I never stopped even when life got really hectic and I had very valid excuses to stop. I want to remember why this marriage is important to me. And me admitting that I’m struggling with it is the first step to get back on track.

Dear reader, thank you for taking this journey with me throughout the highs and lows. I never take that for granted. I really appreciate you!

Cheers to being human, to working on our marriages, and to fulfilling our dreams!

P.S: I finally released hard copies of my full glossy book, Reflection & Resurgence. It is 1500/= only. You can buy your copy at 0704 731 560. The copies are limited! Don’t miss out!!

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Poetry

THE ORCHESTRA OF JOY

By

Have you ever seen a nightingale sing?
When the clouds are white
and gray
and orangish blue
When the sun is still peeping shyly
through the sky
like a child who’s still learning
to carry
the weight of her mother tongue

There are some things you notice
only when you’re in glee
When the heart is at rest
with its existence in the world

Like the first touch of fresh, cool air
when it reaches your lungs
Cleansing you of all dust
and ashes
Blowing your noodle-like hair around
Strands of it lingering on your radiant face
The gentle swishing of leaves
dance to the reviving melody of the nightingale

The sun rays,
a strong energy of red
and the happiness of yellow,
piercing through your ebony eyes
glittering
like they were dipped in perfect shades of olive
and brown

Your mother’s honey voice
hums silkily
in the vastness of her love
She sings a song of enchantment
A tune already engraved on your soul
Her maroon white hair rests weakly on her shoulders
You stand side by side
Fingers interlocked delicately
as you watch the tan beauty
perching on one of the branches
in the lush green forest

It serenades your souls
with the procession of rippling whistles,
and trills,
and gurgles
that makes the entire universe stand still
Listening to the powerful performance
of an exquisite bird
A gentle trickling sound
of a river
meanders by
Possessing your entire being
with a solace
unknown

A poet stands to watch
and a writer
and an artist
The muse is in front of them
unraveling
all the magic of dawn

And you stand there too
You glance at your frail mother
as she raises her head from
the wheelchair
to look at you
Her eyes twinkling
as she beams with bliss
And it just seems like God
has pinned you as a favourite today
Because suddenly,
everything has a tune of joy
to it.
On this day,
It feels like the universe
is shining
on you.

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Poetry

FATHER

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I don’t think they give you enough credit

Father

That you’re a man beyond 

the role of a provider

A protector

shielding us from the world

that is vile

and evil

A man whose sole purpose

is to exist as a rock 

for the whole family 

to lean on

And even when you’re crumbling inside

you’re not allowed to

be anything less than a lion

*

I don’t think they appreciate you enough

when you carry us;

heavy, grown teenagers

weighing a soul and bags of bones

to our beds

Our eyes asleep

to the love in your eyes

Our hearts deceived 

by the definition of you

A man whose value goes lower

with every gift you’re unable to buy

and with every problem you’re unable to solve

I believe you’re brave to hold the world

of your one

Two 

Ten

children

on top of your head

Balancing it 

with your steady feet

on a very shaky ground

No one gets to see the melancholy in your heart

when things are falling apart

Because everyone depends on you

to hold them together

Be their string and glue

Be the man you’re expected to be

*

I don’t think they cherish you enough

Father

When you smile and act like a clown

to crack us up into wild laughter

Making us believe that this world is indeed

rainbows and unicorns and ice cream

Your love is something else

out of this world

You put your entire well-being aside

to be there 

for the people you hold dear

I don’t see a better definition 

of love

than your love

Father.

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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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Creative Non-Fiction

THIS TERRIFYING THING CALLED ADULTING

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Adulting is reaaaallly scary. Spoken like a true human with anxiety right? 😀 You should hear my best friend and I talk about life as we see it right now. You’d think we’re the script writers of The Exorcist or the documentarians of the Ted Bundy Tapes, no in between. I admit, I’m the bad influence here; perks of being friends with a human with anxiety for too long; you start magnifying the terror too!

Is it though? Am I the only one utterly terrified about how life has turned out to be?! Is it just the magnification of my wild, wild imagination?

Absolutely not.

Okay, maybe a liiittle bit. But from what I know, every human from my age group (at least those that I interact with) are in this phase of utter daze. WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON??!! (or maybe I just hang out with very weird people, that’s a possibility too 😀 )

But here’s the thing: we now see the world as is. No curtains, no secret passage ways, no short cuts, no shades to protect us from the storms. We now understand why our parents are who they are. Why they raised us the way they did. We understand why home meals are not thaaaat bad. Why they would be so pissed when we stayed out late. Why they would lecture us endlessly about the friends we have. Why sleepovers were such a big no for them. Because truly, life is not how we perceived it. AT ALL. Because even if we had some hurtful and dark experiences in our childhood, most of us didn’t expect things to escalate this way surely ?

And maybe, our elders and teachers shouldn’t just have warned us, because at that age we see warnings as threats and unfair treatment. They should have made us understand what really awaits us too. Maybe that preparation would have helped; to know that the big, wide world is not as sweet and things are not as easy peasy as we thought. I get it, I would want to protect my children too. But hallo?! Not even a disclaimer?! 😀 Strangely, despite coming from a family that armed me with enough education, I still find myself perturbed by this age ? Or maybe no amount of understanding is enough for what really awaits us until we experience it ourselves? It could be so.

So now we have stepped into adulthood and realize that paying bills is actually a huge responsibility. That awesome grades do not necessarily guarantee success in life. That acquiring a job is very, very tricky. That hard work sometimes is not enough to get you to your goals either. That love is never enough in a marriage. That incest, rape and homosexuality is very real. That human beings are very, VERY complex, and sometimes, very cruel. That war, drought and poverty is way worse than we imagined it. That wealth does not always grant you happiness and peace of mind. That the closest people to you could harm you in very unexpected ways. That our education system is like a form of slavery. That health is a huge blessing that we really take for granted. That most connections and friendships don’t last as we’d hoped. That our parents too have their own scars and wounds that most often than not, we know nothing about. That our parents had to sacrifice a lot more than we initially thought to give us the life we have. That they’re aging very fast and the reality of their looming death haunts the mind. And not just their deaths, but the departure of all our loved ones. We now understand the depths of loss and grief. That as much as our Lord is fair and just, human beings are not. That people carry so much baggage and dark, unimaginable secrets with them; you’d neveeer guess.

Sometimes I think to myself: “Wow, someday I will bring a child to this world?!” A world where he could get shot by a stray bullet any day at any age by a reckless police officer. A world where even the religious teachers can’t fully be trusted because sodomy?! I still get very amazed by the people who say they hope to live to a hundred. Hoooooowwwww?!!! Well good luck buddy. You’re my hero!

Maybe some blame for all my terrifying thoughts is my brave old habit of watching documentaries and reading books on real life events, mostly crime. Brave because who has anxiety and still watch/read this stuff?! 😀 Yet when you interact with other people, these same terrifying stories come up. It is true; this world sometimes gets really dark.

Of course all this makes me utterly terrified, but on the flip side, it has made me very, very grateful of the seemingly small blessings. Arriving home safely, having understanding parents, slow, boring days, trustworthy and supportive friends, the ability to pay bills, the small achievements, the ability to understand the world and its people, days where no body part aches, having food daily, having goals and dreams to look forward to, meeting kind, selfless people, the ability to love oneself and push for positive growth and so many other good things.

I see human beings and realize they are much much more than what they dress, or how they look or the bright smiles they flash on social media or even how famous they are. That what is external could never define them justly. I see others struggling and putting so much effort to reach their goals and it warms my heart because I know for sure, their journey might be long, but God never abandons those who truly strive. I see those who have faced major abuse in their lives and how scarred they are, and I understand why they don’t trust other people and I pray for their healing. I understand that life is not simply black and white. There are so so many colours within. There’s still so much we could never fully comprehend.

Let’s just say, I keep being amazed by the things I learn from the universe every single day. From the horrifying stuff (Allahu Must3an) to the heart-melting ones.

Truly, adulting is like attending a major reveal party only to find out it’s a monster with so many layers that is awaiting us. But beneath all the layers of frustration, hurt, angst, and terror, there lies love, compassion, empathy and most importantly, faith. If we all look within ourselves and nurture our souls then we’d definitely have better lives and better resilience. The problems will not stop existing but we’ll have the eye that still sees the good even when all seems very ugly. We will have all it takes within us to soldier on, to still dream, to choose what battles are worth our time, to create a better world, to plant trees of hope and to fully believe in a God that never sleeps and is always watching over us!

***

Dear teenager reading this, pardon me if I have terrified you but I hope by the time you clock into your twenties you’d have armed yourself with over-flowing faith, empathy, gratitude and bravery. Be the ambassador of hope and love. But most importantly, don’t ever think you know better than your parents or elders. Because you don’t!!! Appreciate their input in your life while you still can 🙂

***

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Creative Non-Fiction

A TREE FOR EVERAFTER

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2020 hit me like a train. From the word go, from the very beginning of the year, even before Corona, everything seemed to be falling apart. I have a feeling it has been like that for most people, and on my side, I was holding by the thread. I remember when I was young, my mother would often tell me ‘don’t carry those mountains on your shoulders’. I was the cesspit of every worry. Every sadness. Every wound. I would carry it all, the scars evident all over my soul. Sometimes I look at my nephew (my happy place 1, remember?) and I see how intense his emotions are. As a highly sensitive child, he cries too passionately, you can literally feel the sob come from the deepest part of his soul, and my heart breaks a little, or maybe a lot. I want to tell him, ‘oh baby, this world is cruel, it will ruin you’ and I want to hug him so tight. I want to protect him from the world. And God, it worries me a lot. But then I do know that I have to let him have his journey like I’m having mine. Let him live, do mistakes, fall, stand up again, perhaps get his heart broken,feel all the emotions in his heart and live with it. Such is life I guess.

Then amidst all the Corona chaos, several family members got affected. Not the first time when Mombasa was allegedly a hotspot for the virus. During that period almost none of the Mombasa residents knew anyone who’d been affected. It is now that we are seeing people dying right, left and center, and everyday, more people are succumbing to the virus. And you know, with these things, even when you are taking precautions with the virus, you never really realize how bad it is until it hits directly home.

One of my favourite humans died then. Just three days after he informed us that he was ill, he was gone. At first I seemed okay. I cried as any bereaved would but I was mostly okay. I talked to my friends about his death. I prayed for him. I remembered him. But grief for me, comes like a trickle of blood. Thick, heavy and very slow. A week after his death, we were remniscing about good memories of him, and we laughed and smiled and joked about him. Then that night, it all came down with a thud. Curling up in bed, I cried and cried and cried. I couldn’t stop. I was trying really hard to suppress my weeping so no one would hear me. But it was too much. I was crumbling and I felt like I was falling apart. I desperately needed someone to hold me. To just hug me tight. To hold my pieces together. So I went to my mother and cried to her. She and my elder sister talked to me for a while before my mother led me to her bed to sleep with her. For hours, she held me in her arms, patting my hair, encouraging me to sleep yet all my eyes could do was wander around the room. I had lost someone so important to me. We all did. But no one prepares you for such a sudden death.

A day before he died, he called me, and funny enough, he was the one asking me how I was. It was such a short conversation. He seemed to be struggling to talk, so I made a dua for him and that was it. I wish I had told him I loved him. I think he knew, but I wished I had said it. I can barely even remember the last time seeing him or what we talked about that time when he was healthy. But I have all these many memories of his inspirational advice, his oozing, extremely sweet kindness, his laughter, oh his laughter! When I was a teenager, he would do this loud, funky laughter that I just found to be too hilarious so sometimes I would try to imitate it and my family would burst into laughter too. He had this good sense of humour that I will forever miss, his magical, mind-blowing, creative ideas, his beautiful smile, his many many jokes, his pride of me-and us all-I can still see him in front of me. His voice still rings in my head. More than once I have dreamt of him and sometimes,thoughts of him keep me awake at night. Out of blue, I’d notice tears coming down my cheeks, so randomly, so easily, I can literally feel the emptiness in my heart.

Just two years ago, it used to be the four of us around the small dining. There were two phenomenal women; the storyteller, the heart of the family and several times, whenever he was free, he would join us too; the tree lover. I was there frequently; in between meetings, waiting for someone, resting before going for another errand, a place to pray, or eat, sometimes with my friends…I got too comfortable I even started taking naps in the bedroom when I was tired. It felt like home. Sometimes I was there as early as for breakfast meal or brunch or lunch, on lazy afternoons, sometimes even dinner. 2018, the story teller left us. Then last year, the heart did. This year it was him. And now, whenever I think of that table, my heart sinks. Their faces still so vivid in my memory, and our conversations, moments, jokes, the meals we shared, still so fresh. There are people who die and we mourn them and we move on, and there are people who leave this earth and the world shifts a bit. It will never be the same. Never.

My favourite human was very passionate about trees. He was extra-ordinary and phenomenal and no words could ever suffice to describe him. I pray that his grave is a garden from the most beautiful gardens of Jannah, with trees and flowers so beautiful he has never seen, and that we get to meet again, the four of us, and all our loved ones in a bigger table, with more laughter, zero worries and absolute bliss. Ameen.

I won’t curse the year. After all, whatever Allah wills for us is the best for us. This year has been life-changing for me and so many of us. I pray for ease, patience and better days for us all. Ameen.

Please do take care of yourself. You have the information on Corona please act responsibly. As the prophet said: ‘Tie your camel then pray to Allah’ So do the necessary to protect yourself and your families. I met a friend who told me they buried four people from their family and friends within a week and on the day we talked, there was one more, all Corona deaths. Doctors keep sharing even worse news on Twitter that they have run out of beds and there are many Corona patients walking around. Please take care. May Allah protect us all. Ameen.

P.S: Please do remember to make a dua for my person. Thank you 🙂

***

As you might have realized, I haven’t written in a long while. I have probably lost my ‘mojo’ but please bear with me.

Thank you for taking the time with my blog. I appreciate it 🙂

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Creative Non-Fiction

WHEN ALL IS SAID AND DONE

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Once, I was at the reception of a hospital and I kept on insisting that I wanted to see a specific doctor. There were two nurses right there and one of them mentioned a different doctor. I wasn’t even listening to what they were saying but I requested for the third time that I want to see this specific doctor. The nurse then assured me they’d heard me. However, I was taken aback by my own insistence and thought, ‘It must suck for the other doctor doesn’t it? Always being ‘the other’? The second option?’ Perhaps he doesn’t even care one bit about that. Probably never even crossed his mind. I mean, he’s still getting his checks at the end of the month, doesn’t he? Fat, huge checks. But then, I know what it feels like to be overshadowed by someone else. Be an extension of who someone else is, rather than being a complete human on your own. Be a separate figure yourself without necessarily being associated with another human being.

Without ever meeting this other doctor, without knowing what he is capable of, or what his experience is, I just decided that he wouldn’t be as helpful as the other one. Based on what? Simply because the other one is reknown for his abilities and he isn’t. Instead of giving him the opportunity to be himself, I automatically placed him adjacent to his colleague; who he is (unfairly so because he has never treated me) compared to this reknown doctor. Yet, if this specific doctor wasn’t available, I would still see the other one, wouldn’t I? The other doctor…For a moment there, I felt bad for the other doctor. He really doesn’t need it but I couldn’t help but think about him. That small thought grew into a stream of other, sometimes unrelated, thoughts. About us humans, beings shadows and extensions of other people or things or even events. For example, how we refer to a lady as ‘So and so’s second wife’ even when the first wife was long divorced or dead instead of just calling them by their name. How are we minimizing someone’s existence to simply being an extension of the first wife? Or you know how we would keep referring to someone as ‘the one who was raped’ or ‘the one whose mother drowned’ rather than who they really are? Someone with traits and dreams and lots of magic.

It made me think, if someday I stopped being strokes of my pen, stopped being friends with the people I am friends with, stopped being thee professional beggar, stopped being someone’s daughter, teacher, student, helper…what am I then? If all these connections, relationships, titles, achievements, events were stripped off me, who will SEE me? If my face became disfigured and my cheek muscles wouldn’t let me smile anymore…If I stepped out of the shadow I have always been engulfed in, when I stop being what everyone knows and expects from me, when my glory and youthful days are gone, will I be pleased with what I will see? Only skeletons and soul, how good am I then?

I was reading the trending story of Stephanie (Tanqueray) on ‘Humans of New York’ page and there’s this particular bit that really struck me: “I can’t tell you the last time I danced burlesque. It wasn’t some big thing. They don’t throw a retirement party at the Sheraton. The phone just stops ringing. It gets quieter and quieter until one week it’s so quiet that you sorta decide you can make more money doing something else…” It moved me because I realized we’ll all get here someday, one way or another, whichever profession you are in or whichever way you live your life. Someday, your beauty will be gone, your profession that you worked so hard for will be gone, most people you knew or cared about will be mere memories and even when you’re surrounded by loved ones and family, you feel lonely (no new information here really but do we really understand the depth of it all?). All your life you held onto this identity of who you are; a writer, a doctor, a mother, a student, a friend, a baker…whatever it is that you are. Or you stayed under the shadow of one event that changed the entire course of your life; an accident, abuse, a major success, a child, love, a friendship, a career, and once that is gone, once you detach yourself from this event or person, you realize you don’t know who you are without it.

Stephanie’s story was really a survival story of a girl who ran away from home at the age of 18 (now 76) and became a very famous dancer. She eventually gained the fame, the glory and the money. She was and is without a doubt, beautiful, yet at some point she says: “Everything was fine when the music was playing. When people were laughing and clapping and shouting for more. But I knew I was tanking. Even when I was on the stage, and having fun- I was tanking. Some nights I’d go back to the dressing room, and look in the mirror, and I’d realize that I don’t even exist. Nobody’s clapping for Stephanie. They’re clapping for Tanqueray (her stage name). And sometimes I’d get so depressed thinking like that, I’d just start crying. I’d feel like running away and hiding from everyone. At least when I was a kid, I could crawl under the card table with my dolls. But that pretend s*** wasn’t working anymore. I was too old to fake like someone cared for me. But whenever I started to fall apart, I’d pull myself together and think about how lucky I was to be Tanqueray. At least I was successful. At least I had a career. At least when I’m Tanqueray, and I’m around people, I make them smile. I make them laugh with my stupid jokes. They’re not trying to hurt me. But Tanqueray never came home with me. She always stayed out on the stage. It was Stephanie that walked out the back door, and nobody cared about her…” (You can read the very intriguing story ‘Tattletales from Tanqueray’ on ‘Humans of NY’ Instagram page)

When you’ve lost it all in life, when you can no longer afford fancy lunches and expensive getaways with friends, when you’re too tired your feet hurt, when conversations exhaust you, when words can no longer suffice, when the romance with your spouse has died, when your children have grown to have families of their own, when your career is but a cherished memory, who will SEE you then? When all is said and done, when you’re frail and helpless, when all you have remaining is memories of the past, will someone still care about you? Who will love you; this bare, naked soul of yours then? As Rumi once said, “I am not this hair, I am not this skin, I am the soul that lives within.”

Mitch, Stephanie’s son says at the end of her story: “At all times, people are doing one of two things. They’re showing love. Or they’re crying out for it.” He is right. We just want to be SEEN.

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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.

***

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog! Please do subscribe if you haven’t 🙂

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Deen (Religion)

WOMEN OF JANNAH: FATIMA BINT MUHAMMAD (S.A.W)

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To read the third part of this series, click on the following link:  https://lubnah.me.ke/women-of-jannah-khadija-bint-khuwaylid/

#The love and compassion between father and daughter

Fatima, may Allah be pleased with her was only 5 years old when the first revelation occurred. She therefore grew up in Islam. She was the 5th child of the prophet and his last daughter (according to some narrations). There was once, when Fatima was still very young, the prophet peace be upon him was praying in front of the Kaabah and Abu Jahl, Shaybah and Uqba Ibn Abi Mu’ayt were nearby watching him. Abu Jahl then asked one to volunteer to pick the guts of a camel and all of its filth and dump it on the prophet’s back while praying, just to humiliate him. Uqba ibn Abi Mu’ayt volunteered and brought all that filth and dumped it on the prophet’s back while in sujood. Fatima, this very young, tender girl, seeing her father in this state while the people around laughed and cursed him, goes to him. She starts scraping all of the filth on his back while crying. The prophet peace be upon him then said to her: ‘Do not cry oh my daughter. Allah will help your father and give him victory.’ And this is when the prophet started cursing the individuals who had taken part in the humiliating action. It is narrated that these same individuals were among the first to be killed during the battle of badr.

The love and compassion between father and daughter was so vivid that Fatima, may Allah be pleased with her was nicknamed ‘Umm Abeeha’ which means ‘The mother to her father’. This was due to how much she took care of her father, as if she was his mother rather than his daughter.

When Khadija peace be upon her died, Fatima was the one who comforted him and handled the home affairs. Fatima was also nicknamed ‘Al Zahraa’ to mean ‘the illuminated one’ or ‘the shining one’ due to her radiant face as the prophet’s was. In fact it was well known how the two resembled each other so much, even in the manner of speaking and walking. And the prophet peace be upon him was never hesitant to show his love for her. Whenever Fatima came to him, he stood up, welcomed her, kissed her hand and made her sit in his place. And when the prophet peace be upon him went to her, she would do the same for him.

Whenever the prophet came back from a journey, he would pray two rakaahs in the masjid as is the Sunnah then go to Fatima’s house before going to see his wives.

How beautiful is this kind of relationship? Don’t we all wish we had such connections with our fathers? Unfortunately very few men adopt the prophet’s way of living with his women, and some feel it makes them seem weak if they showed affection to their children publicly or even privately. But here was the prophet, treated his daughter like real royalty despite the jahiliya culture of the Quraysh to belittle their women.

#Jannah is the goal

Now despite the prophet treating Fatima, may Allah be pleased with them both, as royalty, she and her husband Ali may peace be upon them lived a very simple life.

When he first wanted to come to propose to the prophet for Fatima’s hand, he came while being very nervous. He sat by the prophet but couldn’t say a word, so the prophet asked him if he had come to propose for Fatima’s hand and Ali said yes.

At that time Ali had nothing apart from a shield. So the prophet asked him to sell the shield and give the amount as dowry to Fatima. The prophet could have chosen any wealthy sahaba to marry him off to his most beloved daughter. Yet he accepted Ali’s proposal for he knew him to be a great man and an appropriate husband for his daughter. Their home was so humble and they slept on sheepskin.

“In another occasion, it is reported on the authority of Ali that Fatima had corns in her hand because of working at the hand-mill. There had fallen to the lot of Allah’s Apostle (ﷺ) some prisoners of war. She (Fatima) came to the Prophet (ﷺ) but she did not find him (in the house). She met A’isha and informed her (about her hardship and wanting a servant). When Allah’s Apostle (ﷺ) came, she (A’isha) informed him about the visit of Fatima. Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) came to them (Fatima and her family). They had gone to their beds. ‘Ali further (reported):

We tried to stand up (as a mark of respect) but Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) said: Keep to your beds, and he sat amongst us and I felt the coldness of his feet upon my chest. He then said: May I not direct you to something better than what you have asked for? When you go to your bed, you should recite Takbir (Allah-o-Akbar) thirty-four times and Tasbih (Subhan Allah) thirty-three times and Tahmid (al-Hamdu li-Allah) thirty-three times, and that is better than the servant for you.” (Sahih Muslim)

From this narration, we also see that despite the prophet’s ability to provide for Fatima a servant and make her live like real royalty with great comfort, he chose to teach them what is better i.e. what will be of benefit to them in the hereafter. In these several occasions, we see that the prophet, despite his grand love for his daughter, still chose to nurture the love for the akhera within her rather than for this dunya. And this is definitely something worth pondering for us. It is not impermissible to want to be wealthy and comfortable in life, but remember not to seek the dunya so much, instead, let Jannah be the goal.

#Standing for one another

So in different occasions whilst the prophet was at Aisha’s house (it was her turn to be with him), the sahabas would bring gifts to her house more than any other wife’s house. The other wives of the prophet were not happy about this so they sent Fatima, may Allah be pleased with her, to talk to the prophet on their behalf. In short, the wives wanted the prophet to put a stop to this matter for it seemed unfair. But this was not the prophet’s fault or any injustice from him. The people themselves preferred to do that. So when Fatima went to the prophet while he was with Aisha, she said to him: “Your wives have sent me to you in order to ask you to observe equity in case of the daughter of Abu Quhafa (Aisha).’ Aisha kept quiet and the prophet then said to Fatima, ‘Oh my daughter, don’t you love whom I love?’ She said: ‘I do.’ The prophet said: ‘I love this one’ (meaning Aisha). So Fatima stood up and went back to the other wives and told them what had ensued. They told Fatima: ‘We think that you have been of no avail to us. You may again go to Allah’s Messenger and tell him that his wives seek equity in case of the daughter of Abu Quhafa.’ Fatima said: ‘By Allah, I will never talk to him about this matter.’ (Sahih Muslim)

From her love for her father, Fatima decided not to pursue anything that would go against him and we can see the prophet doing the same for his daughter in another occasion when Ali bin Abi Talib, may Allah be pleased with him when he wanted to marry the daughter of Abu Jahl.

Ali, may Allah be pleased with him, wanted to marry the daughter of Abu Jahl. When Fatima heard about this, she went to the prophet saying: “Your people think that you do not become angry for the sake of your daughters as `Ali is now going to marry the daughter of Abu Jahl.” When she said that, the prophet stood up, said the shahadah then said, “I married one of my daughters to Abu Al-`As bin Al- Rabi` (the husband of Zainab, the daughter of the Prophet before Islam and he proved truthful in whatever he said to me. No doubt, Fatima is a part of me, and whoever makes her angry, makes me angry. By Allah, the daughter of Allah’s Messenger and the daughter of Allah’s Enemy cannot be the wives of one man.” So `Ali gave up that engagement. (Sahih Bukhari)

It should be noted that the prophet didn’t just stop Ali from marrying another wife alongside his daughter. This was the daughter of the enemy of the prophet and the enemy of Islam and it wouldn’t befit that Fatima, be in such a situation (of co-wifing the daughter of an enemy of Islam) so please don’t use this hadith to prevent polygamy 😀

#Piety and Modesty

Fatima, may Allah be pleased with her was known for her piety and modesty like her mother. This is the woman that the prophet peace be upon him named, ‘sayyidat nisaa’ al-jannah’ to mean, ‘the queen, the leader of the women of paradise’. Fatima is among the four women who perfected their faith alongside her mother (as we mentioned in the previous parts of this series). She was held in high esteem due to her character and imaan.

According to some opinions is that surat Insan was revealed concerning Fatima and Ali, may Allah be pleased with them. The family had fasted for 3 days to fulfill a vow they had made. In each evening, during iftar, someone knocked on their door asking for food. Once it was a prisoner of war, then an orphan then a poor person. In all three occasions, they gave out their food and were left with barely anything for themselves. And it is because of this selfless act that Allah subhanahu wataala revealed surat insan and He says:

“And they give food in spite of love for it to the needy, the orphan, and the captive. [Saying], “We feed you only for the countenance of Allah. We wish not from you reward or gratitude. Indeed, We fear from our Lord a Day austere and distressful.” So Allah will protect them from the evil of that Day and give them radiance and happiness. And will reward them for what they patiently endured [with] a garden [in Paradise] and silk [garments]….” (Surat Insan: verse 8-12) And Allah goes on to give an in-depth description of jannah and what will be available for them therein.

In another narration is that, when Fatima was on her death bed, she looked up in the heavens and smiled. She then called for Asmaa bint Umays who was the one going to wash her body. Fatima then requested Asmaa that after doing her ghusl upon her death, that her janazah be done at night so that there aren’t many people and also, she will be concealed. In another narration, Asmaa had mentioned of a tradition she had seen in Abyssinia where the dead are covered in a bier with a cloth on it whereby the body is concealed and cannot be seen. So Fatima requested that this same bier is used for her burial so that people will not see her body curves.

# ‘After You’

“Narrated `Aisha: Mother of the Believers: We, the wives of the Prophet (ﷺ) were all sitting with the Prophet (ﷺ) and none of us had left when Fatima came walking, and by Allah, her gait was very similar to that of Allah’s Messenger.’ When he saw her, he welcomed her, saying, “Welcome, O my daughter!” Then he made her sit on his right or his left, confided something to her, whereupon she wept bitterly. When he noticed her sorrow, he confided something else to her for the second time, and she started laughing.

Only I from among the Prophet’s wives said to her, “(O Fatima), Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) selected you from among us for the secret talk and still you weep?” When Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) got up (and went away), I asked her, “What did he confide to you?” She said, “I wouldn’t disclose the secrets of Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ)” But when he died I asked her, “I beseech you earnestly by what right I have on you, to tell me (that secret talk which the Prophet had with you)” She said, “As you ask me now, yes, (I will tell you).”

She informed me, saying, “When he talked to me secretly the first time, he said that Gabriel used to review the Qur’an with him once every year. He added, ‘But this year he reviewed it with me twice, and therefore I think that my time of death has approached. So, be afraid of Allah, and be patient, for I am the best predecessor for you (in the Hereafter).’ “Fatima added, “So I wept as you (`Aisha) witnessed. And when the Prophet (ﷺ) saw me in this sorrowful state, he confided the second secret to me saying, ‘O Fatima! Will you not be pleased that you will be chief of all the believing women (or chief of the women of this nation i.e. my followers?”) (Sahih al-Bukhari) It is also at this point that he confided in her that she would be the next companion to die right after him, which is what made Fatima laugh from joy, knowing that she would join him soon enough.

On her death bed, Fatima shared some moments with her husband Ali and asked him to marry Umamah after her death, the daughter of her sister Zaynab to take care of her children. Fatima is said to have died in the month of Ramadhan, 6 months or less after the prophet’s death. She was just 29 years old and left behind 4 children; Hassan, Hussein, Zaynab and Umm Kulthum. According to some narrations, her fifth child Muhsin had died before her. All in all, Fatima was known for her purity, piety and chastity. Moreover she was known as being the Prophet’s big supporter and caretaker.

#Ahlul Bayt

“Many came to the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ, asking whom he loved the most, including Ali (ra) and Fatima (ra). He had the most eloquent answer, while maintaining his character of honesty. Even though Fatima was very dear to him and his heart was very attached to her, he didn’t want to answer in a way that would hurt Ali, whom he loved as his own son. He looked at Ali and said, ‘She is more beloved to me than you, but you are more precious to me than her’, making them both very happy.”

‘A’isha reported that Allah’s Apostle (ﷺ) went out one morning wearing a striped cloak of the black camel’s hair that there came Hasan b. ‘Ali. He wrapped him under it, then came Husain and he wrapped him under it along with the other one (Hasan). Then came Fatima and he took her under it, then came ‘Ali and he also took him under it and then said:

“Allah only desires to take away any uncleanliness from you, O people of the household, and purify you (thorough purifying).”

(Sahih Muslim 2424)

And indeed, Allah purified them and elevated their status.

May Allah grant us an opportunity to be with them in Jannah. Ameen.

***

Alhamdulilah this brings us to the end of our Ramadhan series, ‘The women of Jannah’, the four women who perfected their faith (May Allah be pleased with them). Thank you so much for joining me for the entire month and for taking your time to read. May Allah accept our fasts, our ibadah, our duas and our tawbah. Ameen. Taqabala Llahu minna wa minkum. Eid Mubarak my good people 🙂

SOURCES:

https://sunnah.com/

Women Around The Prophet ﷺ‎/Part 14/ Fatima Bint Muhammad, Daughter of Prophet ﷺ‎- Assim al hakeem: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=04w-IgujIYU

Role Model for Modesty (Fatima bint Muhammad) – Women of Paradise – Omar Suleiman: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oXi0xqfiBfk

Fatima Bint Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him) ᴴᴰ ┇ Must Watch ┇ by Sheikh Dr. Tawfique Chowdhury : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QG0VIR2dWSg

https://www.al-islam.org/enlightening-commentary-light-holy-quran-vol-19/surah-al-insan-chapter-76

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WOMEN OF JANNAH: KHADIJA BINT KHUWAYLID

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To read the second part of this series, click on the following link: https://lubnah.me.ke/women-of-jannah-asiyah-bint-al-muzahim/

When we commonly say we want a marriage and companionship like that of the prophet peace be upon him and Khadija bint Khuwaylid, and write down #goals under any mention of them, do we really take time to reflect on the characters of these two very noble individuals?

#Noble Lineage

Khadija bint khuwaylid was a pure Quraishi and was born from a very noble and wealthy family. Her tribe was the Banu Assad and her father was the representative of the tribe. Khadija had 3 brothers and 1 sister; Awwam, Hizam, Nawfal and Hala.

Interestingly, Khadija peace be upon her had a link to the prophet’s lineage. He was, Muhammad Ibn Abdillah Ibn Abdul Mutwalib Ibn Hashim Ibn Abdi Manaf Ibn Qusay Ibn Kilab. And she was Khadija bint Khuwaylid Ibn Asad Ibn Abdil Uzza Ibn Qusay Ibn Kilab. Therefore their link was Qusay Ibn Kilab who was the prophet’s 5th ancestor and Khadija’s fourth ancestor.

Also, Khadija’s cousin Barra was the grandmother of the prophet i.e. mother of his mother (Amina bint Wahhab). Interesting right? The Arabs especially those days were known for marrying within their own tribes and as such, it is no surprise that there are such links between the prophet and Khadija may peace be upon them.

Khadija is said to have been previously married twice before her marriage to the prophet peace be upon him. One was Hind Ibn Nabbash (Abu Hala) and another was Atiq ibn A’idh Al Makhzoum (also a Quraishi). Both were successful businessmen and she got to inherit the wealth after their death. There is a bit of confusion on whether both died leaving Khadija a widow or she was once divorced. There is quite some information missing especially about Khadija because she lived during the early Makkah period and not much was recorded. It is said that she had two children; Hind and Hala from her previous marriages, yet there isn’t much recorded about them either in the seera of the prophet peace be upon him. The assumption is that they either died early on or were not around, Allahu a3lam.

#A Blessed Union

From the very beginning, these two were very special individuals. Khadija was nicknamed as al-Tahira (The Pure One), Ameerat-Quraysh (Princess of Quraish) and Khadījah al-Kubra (Khadija The Great) even BEFORE Islam while Muhammad may peace be upon him was called Assadiqul Ameen (The Truthful and Trustworthy). Both of them were known for their exemplary and excellent mannerisms within the community. She used to feed and clothe the poor, assist her relatives financially, and even provide for the marriage of those of her kin who could not otherwise afford.

Khadija was a very wealthy woman and a merchant. Many men had wanted to marry her, yet she rejected the proposals. She used to send caravans to Syria and Yemen. She would hire young men to do business transactions on her behalf for a certain percentage of the profits. At that time, the prophet had no particular job and was reported to have worked as a shepherd for Bani Sa’d and in Makkah for a wage. It is then that Abu Talib, the uncle of the prophet peace be upon him approached Khadija and suggested that she hires Muhammad to manage her caravan trade. Khadija then accepted and sent Muhammad to Syria with her servant, Maisarah.

When the prophet peace be upon him returned to Makkah, Khadijah noticed more profits than usual. She asked Maisarah concerning Muhammad and he praised him of good manners, honesty, faith and sincerity. This moved Khadija deeply and she spoke to her friend Nafisa about him, who thereafter approached the prophet and asked him what she thought about Khadija and marriage to her. The prophet accepted and discussed the matter with his uncles who then made a proposal to her uncle It is commonly said that at the time, Khadija was forty years old while the prophet was twenty five years old. However, in another narration, Khadija was just 28 years old, only 3 years older than the prophet peace be upon him.

Now within the 15 years of marriage between the Khadija and Muhammad peace be upon them, not even a single fight or argument is recorded between the two. In fact, their marriage was praised in the community and this was due to the impeccable personality of both husband and wife. Mind you, when the prophet married Khadija, he had nothing while she was one of the wealthiest people in Makkah. The prophet lived in HER house and she supported him financially and emotionally as well (as we’ll see in a bit). This is to remind us that it takes two to tango. When both husband and wife are of good character and strive for goodness, their marriage will succeed by the will of Allah. Of course it can never be perfect as theirs was, but we can always look up to them and learn from their outstanding behaviour and personalities.

#Emotional and psychological support

The start of divine inspiration was in the late 30’s of the prophet’s life. He used to have dreams which would become true the following day. He started going into seclusion in the cave of Hira where he would meditate, worship and contemplate the creation. He would carry with him food and go away for days on end. It is said that sometimes Khadija herself would go up to cave Hira to deliver food for him, which is really not an easy task especially considering if she indeed was 15 years older than the prophet. Khadija never stopped the prophet from taking these trips, nor did she question his behaviour or have doubts on him. She did not complain for his long time away, instead, she supported him whole-heartedly and even encouraged him on his spiritual journey. It is also said in other narrations that Khadija did sometimes join him at the cave and worshiped together. This is the utmost level of trust and loyalty any woman can have for her husband.

When Muhammad peace be upon him was about forty years old, the angel came to him while he was at cave Hira and asked him to read. The Prophet peace be upon him replied, “I do not know how to read.” The Prophet added, “The angel caught me (forcefully) and pressed me so hard that I could not bear it anymore. He then released me and again asked me to read and I replied, ‘I do not know how to read.’ Thereupon he caught me again and pressed me a second time till I could not bear it any more. He then released me and again asked me to read but again I replied, ‘I do not know how to read (or what shall I read)?’ Thereupon he caught me for the third time and pressed me, and then released me and said, ‘Read in the name of your Lord, who has created (all that exists), created man from a clot. Read! And your Lord is the Most Generous.” (96.1, 96.2, 96.3) Then the prophet returned with the Inspiration and with his heart beating severely.

Then he went to Khadija bint Khuwaylid and said, “Cover me! Cover me!” Khadija embraced Muhammad and covered him till his fear was over. Now the mind-blowing thing here (Sheikh Yasir Qadhi was discussing this so beautifully and in depth in his series; links are below) is that normally, walking down from a cave as from cave Hira to Khadija’s house, which is about two miles away, would be enough to make one calm down. However, the prophet was still cold and terrified and only calmed down while in the embrace of his wife. This is enough to show us how much support and love the prophet got from his wife.

After that he told her everything that had happened and said, “I fear that something may happen to me.” Khadija replied, “Never! By Allah, Allah will never disgrace you. You keep good relations with your kith and kin, help the poor and the destitute, serve your guests generously and assist the deserving calamity-afflicted ones.” See, she doesn’t question his sanity. She doesn’t panic. She doesn’t tell him you should stop going to cave Hira for worship, instead she affirms him and reassures him that Allah would never disgrace him. Khadija had so much faith in God even before pillars of Imaan came about. And this just shows us how pure this woman was and how much emotional maturity she had.

Even after having affirmed him, Khadija went on to take Muhammad peace be upon him to his learned cousin Waraqa bin Naufal bin Asad bin ‘Abdul ‘Uzza, who, during the pre-Islamic Period became a Christian and used to write the writing with Hebrew letters. He was an old man and had lost his eyesight. Khadija said to Waraqa, “Listen to the story of your nephew, O my cousin!” Waraqa asked, “O my nephew! What have you seen?” The prophet then described whatever he had seen. Waraqa said, “This is the same one who keeps the secrets (angel Gabriel) whom Allah had sent to Moses. I wish I were young and could live up to the time when your people would turn you out.” Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) asked, “Will they drive me out?” Waraqa replied in the affirmative and said, “Anyone (man) who came with something similar to what you have brought was treated with hostility; and if I should remain alive till the day when you will be turned out then I would support you strongly.” But after a few days Waraqa died and the Divine Inspiration was also paused for a while. (You can find this narration in sahih Bukhari)

#The First

Khadija was the first to embrace Islam. The first to perform Wudhu and pray. Yahya ibn `Afeef is quoted saying that he once came, during the period of Jahiliyyah (before the advent of Islam), to Mecca to be hosted by ‘Abbas ibn ‘Abd al-Muttalib, one of Muhammad’s uncles mentioned above. “When the sun started rising,” he said, “I saw a man who came out of a place not far from us, faced the Kaaba and started performing his prayers. He hardly started before being joined by a young boy who stood on his right side, then by a woman who stood behind them. When he bowed down, the young boy and the woman bowed, and when he stood up straight, they, too, did likewise. When he prostrated, they, too, prostrated.” He expressed his amazement at that, saying to Abbas: “This is quite strange, O Abbas!”. “Is it, really?” retorted al-Abbas. “Do you know who he is?”, Abbas asked his guest who answered in the negative. “He is Muhammad ibn Abdullah, my nephew. Do you know who the young boy is?” asked he again. “No, indeed,” answered the guest. “He is Ali son of Abu Talib. Do you know who the woman is?” The answer came again in the negative, to which Abbas said, “She is Khadijah bint Khuwaylid, my nephew’s wife.” This incident is included in the books of both Ahmad ibn Hanbal and Al-Tirmidhi, each detailing it in his own Ṣaḥīḥ.

It is for her loyalty and deep faith that she has an elevated status and received greetings from Allah and Jibril. No other woman/wife during the time of the prophet ever got such a special recognition.

Abu Huraira reported that Gabriel came to Allah’s Apostle (ﷺ) and said: “Allah’s Messenger, lo. Khadija is coming to you with a vessel of seasoned food or drink. When she comes to you, offer her greetings from her Lord, the Exalted and Glorious, and on my behalf and give her glad tidings of a palace of jewels in Paradise wherein there is no noise and no toil.” This hadith has been narrated on the authority of Abu Huraira through another chain of transmitters with a slight variation of wording. (Sahih Muslim 2432)

In another narration by Ali bin Abi Talib, may peace be upon him, that the Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said: “The best of its women is Khadijah bint Khuwailid, and the best of its women is Mariam bint ‘Imran.”

#Loyalty till the last breath

Then came the time when the Quraish held a confederation hostile to Bani Hashim and Bani Al-Muttalib, all in an attempt to harm the prophet and the Muslims. They all took an oath not to have any business dealings with them nor any sort of inter-marriage, social relations, visits and even verbal contacts until the prophet was given up to them to be killed. This treaty was attached to the wall of Kaabah and thus the two tribes were boycotted. Banu Hashim and Banu Al Muttalib withdrew to a valley on the eastern outskirts of Makkah for a period of three years (7th year to 10th year of Prophet’s mission).It was such a deadly siege and food was very scarce. The Muslims faced great difficulties that they had to eat tree leaves and animal skins. They only survived by the will of Allah through the few non-muslims who still chose to be kind to them and send them food in secret. One of them is the nephew of Khadija, Hakim Ibn Hizam who would smuggle food to his aunt and was once found by Abu Jahl who tried to stop him as well. It was only when Al Bukhtari intervened, did Hakim manage to reach his destination. This was how tricky it was to even get someone to send them food. This was the hardest period for the two tribes and the Muslims.

After the three years, the boycott was dissolved and the two tribes returned to Makkah. During this entire period, Khadija stuck by the prophet and supported him with all that she had financially, emotionally, physically and spiritually. She was without a doubt, the prophet’s biggest support system.

A few months after their return to Makkah (after the boycott), Abu Talib passed away, then Khadija followed. It is believed that the effects of the boycott had affected her immensely and eventually led to her death. It is said the gap between the two deaths was either 3 days or 3 months as per the different narrations. The losses were extremely huge for the prophet and he experienced grief so much so, that year was called ‘The Year of Grief’. These two people were the most important in his life and their departure affected the prophet greatly. Khadija was 65 years old when she died and in the other narration, she was 53 years while the prophet was 50 years old.

#A wife worth all the love

‘A’isha (peace be upon her) reported: Never did I feel jealous of the wives of Allah’s Apostle (ﷺ) but in case of Khadija, although I did no, (have the privilege to) see her. She further added that whenever Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) slaughtered a sheep, he said: Send it to the companions of Khadija I annoyed him one day and said: (It is) Khadija only who always prevails upon your mind. Thereupon Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) said: Her love had been nurtured in my heart by Allah Himself. (Sahih Muslim 2435 b) In another narration he would say: he would say, “Khadija was such-and-such, and from her I had children.”

Narrated ‘Aisha (peace be upon her) : Once Hala bint Khuwailid, Khadija’s sister, asked the permission of the Prophet (ﷺ) to enter. On that, the Prophet (ﷺ) remembered the way Khadija used to ask permission, and that upset him. He said, “O Allah! Hala!” So I became jealous and said, “What makes you remember an old woman amongst the old women of Quraish an old woman (with a teethless mouth) of red gums who died long ago, and in whose place Allah has given you somebody better than her?” (Sahih al-Bukhari) Then the prophet peace be upon him responded to her: “No, indeed; He has not compensated me with anyone better than her. She believed in me when all others disbelieved; she held me truthful when others called me a liar; she sheltered me when others abandoned me; she comforted me when others shunned me; and Allah granted me children by her while depriving me of children by other women.” After that Aisha said ‘I will never ever say something negative about Khadija’ and she never did.

Khadija may peace and blessings be upon her gave birth to 6 children: Al Qasim, Zainab, Ruqaiyah, Umm Kulthun, Fatimah and Abdullah (also called Taiyib and Tahir). All their sons died in their childhood and all the daughters apart from Fatimah, died during the lifetime of the prophet. All the daughters witnessed Islam, embraced it and emigrated to Madinah.

Once after the battle of Badr, Zaynab’s husband Abul ‘As bin Al Rabihadn’t yet accepted Islam and was one of the prisoners. Zaynab, the prophet’s daughter then sent some property to ransom her husband, one of which was a necklace of hers which Khadijah had before giving it to her when she married Abul ‘As. When the prophet saw the necklace he was really moved by Khadija’s memory and said to the sahabas: “If you consider that you should free her prisoner for her and return to her what belongs to her, (it will be well).” The prophet requested this to the sahaba because he didn’t want to seem like he was favouring his daughter. The sahaba said yes. The prophet made an agreement with Abul ‘As that he should let Zaynab come to him (in exchange for his release), and the Messenger of Allah sent Zayd ibn Harithah and a man of the Ansar and said: “Wait in the valley of Yajij till Zaynab passes you, then you should accompany her and bring her back.” (The narration can be found in Sunan Abi Dawud 2692). Abul ‘As did accept Islam eventually, several years later. He went to Madina after being separated from his wife that he still loved dearly, accepted Islam and resumed their marriage with Zaynab.

Khadija also had 8 grandchildren: From Fatima and Ali Bin Abi Talib: Hassan , Hussein, Muhsin, Umm Kulthum and Zaynab (named them after her sisters). From Zaynab and Abul ‘As: Umama and Ali. From Ruqayya and Uthman Ibn Affan: Abdullah. After death of Ruqayya, Uthman Ibn Affan married Umm Kulthum but had no children with her.

Khadija was the first wife of the prophet peace be upon him and he never married any other woman until after her death whereby he married Swadah bint Zam’ah.

There is definitely a lot we can learn from Khadija, may Allah be pleased with her, especially on her role as the most supportive and loving wife. May Allah guide us and make us among His most beloved. Ameen.

Note: This is just my small effort in trying to research on this topic in the best of my ability. Kindly pardon me for any mistakes and don’t hesitate to correct me if anything. Stay tuned for the next part of this series on the 4 women of Jannah!

Sources:

Hadiths from https://sunnah.com/

The Superstars series by sheikh Omar Suleiman: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IKASMwUWV9c

Mothers of the Believers pt.3 | Khadija bint Khuwaylid (pt.1)| Sh. Dr. Yasir Qadhi: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZZcZZGnS6M&t=420s

Mothers of the Believers pt.4 | Khadija bint Khuwaylid (pt.2)| Sh. Dr. Yasir Qadhi: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iRdYlrIwPT8

Mothers of the Believers pt.5 | Khadija bint Khuwaylid (pt.3)| Sh. Dr. Yasir Qadhi: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DXXL3HkX7N8

Islamic Guidance channel: Khadija Bint Al-Khuwaylid [RA]: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D2jVrAlv1x8

The Sealed Nectar by Safi-ur-Rahman Al-Mubarakpuri

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