230: 20.5 The Hardest Goodbyes (Ramadan Reflections IV)

It is almost the end of Ramadan already. Where has time gone? This year especially - Ramadan has meant so much to me. I have found peace in its stillness, ease in its days and felt God's love through its nights. Thinking about the end of this month comes with a certain heaviness - a reluctancy to return to normalcy. It is a similar feeling when leaving home after my short trips back.

Anyone who lives far away from family can surely relate. The busy nature of Ramadan is akin to the busyness of my yearly trips home. Amidst catching up with friends and extended family, despite travelling many many miles, all I feel when I arrive home is to do absolutely nothing but stay home. I feel the heavy responsibility to make up for lost time with my parents, grandmother and siblings. 

Mundane everyday activities like having dinner around the dining table or falling asleep in front of the television or playing board games with my ever competitive siblings are all additional memories to hold on to - to be used when we are apart. I would have a need to stock up on these precious moments to last me another 11.5 months of the year.

Also very similar to Ramadan is the feeling of being acutely aware of how short this trip home is. The longest I've been home since starting work is three weeks. Three weeks in a year is really not long at all. With every passing day, I would think of the number of days I have left. There is just not enough hours in a day.

Then there inevitably comes the gut wrenching goodbye at the end of the blissful trip home. The one that I have experienced too many times before, yet never get accustomed to. The waking up in the early morning with luggage packed outside my room. The checking my bag for my passport and house keys, doing my utmost best to keep my head down. I don't want to make it apparent to my family how broken I feel. Then there will be the calling for a taxi (we don't say goodbye at airports anymore because its too hard). And as the taxi approaches the gate, there are the final goodbyes. 

There will be me hugging my siblings first, then my grandma, then my parents last. With every goodbye, it will take even more strength for me to hold back my tears. As I embrace my my mum one last time, I will always wish that I had more time, "Just five more minutes, please."

And as I head down the driveway into the taxi, with every step forward I take, every atom within me will increasingly want to stay. Looking back is painful but I would take a small peek through the window and see my loved ones waving. And as the taxi starts to drive off, the floodgates of tears will open and I would feel simultaneously heavier and lighter at the same time. Through this I would pray that this was not the last time I see them, and that God will bring me back to them some time soon.

And as we approach the end of this sacred month, this is exactly how I feel. Leaving this month is like leaving my family. Beautiful reunions make even harder goodbyes. And as I embrace this month in a long, strong hug one last time, I hope our memories together will sustain me and give me strength to go at it alone until we meet again, inshaAllah.

229: 7.5 A Blessed Ramadan Routine (Ramadan Reflections III)

After more than half a decade spending Ramadan and Eid away from home, we have been accustomed to our small celebrations in London. But this year, although we are still geographically far away, I have never felt so at home in Ramadan as I have felt this year. Alhamdulillah Alhamdulillah Alhamdulillah, I have been off from work for the first 2 weeks of Ramadan. I finished off the last of my night shifts on the 1st day of fasting. Then I had a week of being on-call from home where I wasn't once called in to cover a shift, then 4 more days off - making it a total of 14 days.

This has meant that I have had more time at home with family (online and offline), more time for religious practices and learning. For many reasons, this has been the best Ramadan of mine so far. These past few weeks, God has given me the opportunity to break fast with my husband (something that has historically been just me eating a chocolate bar alone on a train or in a doctor's office). Everyday we have also woken up for our daily suhr. Experiencing the tranquility of the early morning together is a true blessing.

Then, after Fajr I would (with my laptop open in bed) continue learning with Sheikh Omer Suleiman and Sheikh Abdullah Oduro on their amazing Quran 30 by 30 series (may Allah swt reward them for their efforts!). Then as the sun slowly begins to stream in through the windows, I sneak in a little Spanish practice (si, yo aprendo español ahora!) before heading back to sleep.

I will be awoken sleepy-eyed everyday by a Facetime call by my beloved mama at 11am for a Quran study circle with my siblings. With my family gathered around the dining table at home in Malaysia, mama would go through the three last surahs of the Quran - word by word - written on a large whiteboard. Many discussions about life's purpose, our duties in this world and our relationship with God and each other has started here - and I am so grateful for all of it.

Then at noon, I will get up from our (air mattress) bed to take a shower and get ready for the day. I would find A at our make shift work desk (actually a coffee table) on a conference call with work. As the afternoon passes, I would join him at the coffee table, sitting on a (pillow) chair on the floor. Our laptops open across from one another. I would pull faces or distract him from his work from time to time, just because I can.

If this was the weekend, at 2pm, I would with joy and excitement, log on to my Zoom sisters' circle (Chit Chat Chai) where we exchange beautiful reflections and stories about the characteristics of God, charity and the power of dua. I cant fully put into words to describe how uplifting it feels to have this community. It is truly my safe haven where I can connect with other like minded young women - all united by our love for God and each other. So many mind-blowing aha moments too, mashaAllah! May God accept all our efforts, Ameen.

Then everyday at 3pm, another Facetime video call from home. Everyone around the dinner table again, this time with our matriarch grandmother at the helm. We will take turns reading the Quran aloud to one another and Embahmak will take a few verses from what we had read to reflect on. Through this we have discussed so many things. Some of which include the stories of Prophet Adam (as), the importance of being grateful for God's blessings, the many signs of hypocrisy as well as attributes of Ihsan (excellence). I greatly cherish these opportunities because it literally feels like I am there - back home, with my family at the dinner table, talking about God. Nothing feels better.

After concluding the tadarus, I would then either help A prepare for iftar or if we had enough to eat from the night before, we would go out for a walk in the nearby parks (with social distancing measures, of course!). Some days it would be so nice to be out in the fresh air, amongst the green grass, beautiful flowers and calming rivers, that we would clock in 6.5 km on a single walk! Then we would go home and break fast together at our small coffee table with a bite of our humbly home made chocolate chip cookies or curry puffs; or the dates that A ordered online. With cups of tea in hand, we would chat about life, the world and what we've learnt that day to later then retire to bed after our tarawikh prayers.

This has been the routine of my day almost everyday for the last two weeks and in it, I have found so much joy, happiness and tranquility. In times when people are spending their last few days alone in hospital without their family and community, it has made me appreciate my time spent with loved ones that much more (even if it is only through video chat). Despite having to move back in to our empty apartment (as most of our belongings are still in storage) in the beginning of April due to the pandemic and being in a state of having very few material possessions, our hearts have never been so full. 

There is no doubt that I am currently running on a Ramadan high as I wish that everyday felt like today. And as I return to normal working life tomorrow, the thought of disrupting my routine feels daunting. But as this work weekend concludes in (a hopefully short) three days, I am excitedly counting the hours to reunite with my family and friends through the interwebs for another session around the dinner table, inshaAllah.

Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah, Alhamdulillah for all His blessings.

228: 29.4 Prescribed Solitude (Ramadan Reflections II)

I was listening to a talk by Sheikh Abdel Hakim Murad yesterday where he was talking about how the whole world is in a prescribed state of solitude. Without really realising it, this Ramadan, we are all performing our own i'tikaf within our own homes. We are temporarily cut off from things that our souls have learned to desire and crave - such as material wealth and the feeding of our need for instant gratification. A trip to the grocery shop is no longer easy nor is online shopping for things like clothes, stationery or books. And the space in our hearts where those previous desires took root are now left vacant. 

Streets are quieter, everyday life is slower. And our minds that of which were once constantly bombarded by distraction are now almost reluctantly and awkwardly asked to stop and ponder. After realising that our thirst for meaning and connection cannot be quenched by mindlessly bingeing shows on Netflix, we are now left asking, "Now what?" Our thoughts and feelings are given a larger podium, a louder voice. An emptier mind is a vulnerable place to be in - we are not used to such silence. Inwardly, we are forced to face our fears and anxieties which we normally burry deep. Whilst outwardly, our world has visibly shrunken - with our lives revolving between rooms as opposed to between cities and countries. 

There is little place to hide your deficiencies from your loved ones, let alone yourself. And as we live between our four walls, we also come to a larger realisation that the freedom that we used to have was a privilege and gift we all took for granted. Within the uncertainties in today's world, we are left completely dependant.

Whilst we are depending on one another to do the right thing by following the rules of self-distancing and staying at home, a larger dependence on God is manifested and physically palpable through this pandemic. We depend and trust Him to get us through this, and we seek His help in every step of the way because honestly, (especially with the leadership of lunacy that we have at our disposal currently) we cannot get through this on our own.

As the hadith of the Prophet (s.a.w) states as he (s.a.w) taught this prayer to his beloved daughter, Fatima (r.a): 

"Ya Ḥayyu ya Qayyūm (The Ever- Living, The Sustainer of All Things), by Your Mercy I seek help, rectify for me all of my affairs and do not leave me to depend on myself, even for the blink of an eye."

Thus, whilst there are many challenges this year, I am grateful for the beauties of spending Ramadan under lockdown. It has enabled me to be unburdened from the unimportant weights I use to carry and it has given me the space and opportunity to reflect and reconnect to God. Alhamdulillah for all His blessings.

227: 25.4 I'm Not Special (Ramadan Reflections I)

It is quite strange to be in Ramadan during the COVID pandemic. All that we knew about the month and all that we associate with it has been abruptly upended. Everyone is advised to stay indoors and when out for essential activities, we are to keep a far distance away from each other. A far cry from the packed mosques with brothers and sisters praying tarawikh after breaking iftar together, sharing food - an atmosphere that we are unfortunately not granted this year. Whilst many acknowledge the wisdom of sticking to the rules, others in America are gathering in the thousands protesting the lockdown. As they shout, "I need a haircut, open up our city! The virus is a media scam!" I am left perplexed at how they seem to be completely unfazed by the fast increasing death tolls reported in their state and worldwide. Some people even had the audacity of proclaiming that those affected were already sick anyway - as if they were somehow magically protected from the wrath of the virus.

As ignorant as they seem, I think I too fell prey to the fallacy of self exceptionalism. When the pandemic first hit the world, it was reported as being far away in Wuhan, China. As if the logistical distance wasn't enough for me to dismiss this issues as "not my problem", the media initially kept reporting that only the old and those with co-morbidities were those dying from the disease. As the infection crept closer in proximity to our front door, I held on to the fact that I was young and healthy. I felt confident that if I got it, that I would be ok. Thankfully that turned out to be true - but as I finished my night shift last night, a baby who was admitted to our unit changed my perspective. The baby's mother who was younger than I am now had emergency C-section because she had to be admitted to ITU for her worsening symptoms secondary to coronavirus. The baby was born into this world alone - his mum intubated and his dad self-isolating at home. The only thought running through my mind was: that could have been me.

The recklessness of thinking I was strong enough or young enough to beat the disease was faced with a stark, unforgiving reality which made me question "Why her and not me? Why was I spared?" Scientists to this day still don't understand why some people fair worse than others. But what we do know is that the coronavirus hunts indiscriminately - irrespective of age, wealth, health, colour and gender. At the end of the day, flesh is flesh. In the eyes of the virus, we are all the same.

This pandemic has truly humbled me. I have learnt that no, I am not special - my body is as vulnerable to attack as anyone else's and it was truly only by the mercy of God that I was spared from a worse fate. The true question is: what am I going to do now with the health and time that I have?

226: 10.4 A Coronavirus Story

It has been a confusing and harrowing couple of weeks. About a week after we got back from our trip to New York, A and I started to exhibit symptoms of coronavirus infection. Surprisingly, despite my work in hospitals, A took the fall first as he started to get night sweats and fevers. As his symptoms persist, I was given a choice to either self isolate for 2 weeks at home or to move temporarily to a paid-for hotel room so that I can continue working. I decided to take the latter option because the department was so short on doctors due to staff illness already. 

But only after 2 nights at the hotel, I started to become ill too. I thought it would be beneficial to jot down my suspected coronavirus story (I say suspected here because test swabs are like gold dust in the UK) in order to highlight the subtlety of its symptoms. Everyones story is different - not everyone has a cough or shortness of breath or even a high fever - this is just one of the pieces in the confusing puzzle that is COVID-19.

Day 1: Runny nose

I often get sinusitis attacks - so didn't think much of it. I began to develop sneezing and a runny nose with phlegm. I took an anti-histamine tablet and nasal spray - the combination helped alleviate the nasal secretions. Felt fine otherwise. I remember going to bed really early that night in my hotel room - woke up in the middle of the night to go to the toilet and I remember feeling fairly weak. These thoughts were quickly dismissed because it was 3am in the morning anyway - who feels normal at this hour?

Day 2: Lethargy, fever

I woke up at my normal hour on a work day. Felt a bit tired despite sleeping 10 hours - but thought nothing of it. Walked 20 minutes to work; perhaps slower than usual - but again, this is me trying to piece things retrospectively. I remember not feeling quite right the whole day at work but not being able to put my finger on what was wrong. I couldn't stand up for too long during ward rounds without feeling dizzy and out of breath. I had to sit between patient reviews which was really unlike me. "I am having really heavy periods today - maybe I am anaemic?" I thought. Then I started having muscle aches and really cold hands which prompted me to check my temperature. A nurse on the ward kindly obliged but my temperature was 36.9C which was no where near fever level. But another nurse commented, "Are you alright? You look really pale." To that I responded that I did feel unwell, but I had no cough or fever. 

Amidst all this, we had a sick baby admitted onto the unit which took away my attention on the evolving symptoms. But thankfully, my consultant let me go home early and said to let him know if I spiked a temperature overnight. I took home some of the disposable thermometers and when I reached my hotel room - it read 38.4C (as the picture above). I called in sick, thus commenced my 7 day isolation. Checked out from the hotel and went back home.

Day 3: Night sweats and evening fever

Woke up the next morning in a cold sweat. Took some paracetamol and checked my temperature and thankfully it was normal. Strangely felt fine throughout most of the day. Then evening came, and I felt ill once more. Took some paracetamol again and noticed that my smell is going. Still there though.

Day 4: Can't smell, can't taste

Woke up again in a cold sweat. Ate some cereal in bed and noticed that I have completely lost my smell and taste. Not even a tinge of flavour - zero taste, nothing. I got up and brushed my teeth to realise I could not taste the mint from the toothpaste. Throughout the day, I could only tell whether something was hot or cold and through their differing texture - but everything tasted of plain water. Evening crept in, and back was the illness. I remember thinking that this was a strange illness as the fever and lethargy seem to only come at night. With other viral infections, the fever would mostly be constant. But with this, it was sly in how it manifests - it would trick you into thinking that you were getting better only to punch you in the gut when night fell.

Day 5, 6, 7: Getting a bit better everyday

Sleeping 12 hours every night but the symptoms were getting slightly better each day. Still can't smell or taste which adds to my anxiety. As a food enthusiast, I find myself thinking will they ever come back? No cough, and my chest feels fine. Still have the lethargy and muscle aches in the evening - but haven't had a true fever in the last 24 hours. I tried standing up to pray but every trial made me too tired, it was like all the strength in my body built up through running the streets of New York vanished. I prayed sitting down instead the whole week.

Day 8: Chest tingling

Today there was a new symptoms - chest tightness. I hadn't a fever for a few days which was a good sign. The muscle aches come and go but with it was also intermittently a sense of breathing really cold air. In normal circumstances, I don't take notice when I breathe, but this sensation was hard to ignore. Sometimes it also felt like there was a band across the front of my chest. This also came and went - sometimes staying for quite a while but it wasn't severe enough for me to feel short of breath.

Day 9: Back to work

Because I was feeling a lot better and I fulfilled all the criteria for going back to work (7 days from start of symptoms and more than 48h fever free), I returned to work. The lethargy was still there albeit mildly. In the afternoon, during a departmental meeting, the chest tightness reappeared. Thankfully it self resolved when it reached the evening. It was hard to enjoy the free sushi roll donated by a local restaurant because my taste had yet to return. Thankful that it wasn't a busy day, so I wasn't on my feet too much.

Day 10, 11: Back to normal self (minus senses)

Had the weekend off to recuperate and feeling like my old pre-COVID self. Emailed occupational health to test A and I only to get a reply that they are only prioritising those who are symptomatic on Day 3-5 of illness. Seems like we'll not get tested. Looking on the bright side, at least we are symptom free this weekend.

Day 12: I can smell perfume!

Smelt a whiff of familiarity when I picked up A's perfume bottle - oh, bliss Alhamdulillah!

Also managed to cycle home from work - so grateful that I had enough energy to do so!

Day 14: My taste is coming back!

Could taste the cheese on beef lasagne - that means my taste is returning Alhamdulillah! Cried tears of joy when I tasted salt at home. After weeks of not being able to taste anything, I'll take what I can get.

Day 16 (today): Grateful
Taste buds are still on their road to recovery - rediscovering flavours again has been a journey in itself. Maybe this is what babies feel like when they start eating solid food. A and I had a nice government approved walk outside in the sun near the lakes. Having come out the other side, we are feeling extra grateful for the mild symptoms that we went through (A had similar symptoms to mine but in a milder form); everyday acknowledging that it could have been much much worse.

What we learnt going through this is that this infection is truly a marathon. Symptoms disappear to only reappear later. It will intensify when you think you have turned the corner. And compared to other viral infections, it takes a really long time to recover. Alhamdulillah, we are young with no underlying illnesses so we could recover at home with minimal support. But we also realise that so many have lost their lives to this virus despite being in the position we are. There is no special reason for us to be spared from its more violent form.

When we thought back to what the year 2020 will initially bring, we would have never thought that 'recovering from coronavirus' will be on that list. Either way, Alhamdulillah for all His blessings. Stay safe everyone, lets get through this year together.

225: 16.3 New Zealand

On Friday morning I woke up to the news that 49 brothers and sisters died in the hands of a white supremacist in Christchurch. I was appalled, shocked, disgusted and felt an aching pain in the pit of my stomach. Throughout the day at work, I was unable to concentrate. Pictures of the victims, some young children, played in the back of my mind. I echoed the thoughts of many other Muslims living in the West: “That could have easily been me.” Feeling very vulnerable and raw, I texted A to be extra vigilant at the mosque today at Friday prayers. Despite the horrors of what had happened, never did it cross both our minds that he would not attend Jumaah prayer that day at the mosque that he goes to every week like clockwork - the same mosque that experienced its own version of a terror attack a few years ago.

As time passed, I have had the opportunity to process what had happened and how I feel about it. Trying my best to piece my thoughts together, this is what I managed to come up with.

Racism and Superiority
As disgusting as the event in Christchurch was, unfortunately it has many precedents dating back to the first ever event of racism - Iblis and our Prophet Adam a.s. Racism is the reduction of the other and the inflation of oneself. And even in the beginning of human history, this was the case when Iblis refused to bow down to Adam as he thought fire was more superior to clay. Self superiority (may it be race, religion, sex, nationality, etc) is always coupled with the reduction of others - sometimes, as in this case in New Zealand, the complete reduction of human beings to nothing but the label “Muslim Immigrants”. An inflated ego has no place for nuance or complexity - anyone who isn’t him or her, is by default inferior, and sometimes deemed not suitable to the basic right of life itself.

We have seen this is in the expulsion of Bani Israel in the era of Firaun, we have witnessed this in WW2 Germany and in pre-civil rights America. And we are frustratingly still seeing this in Syria, Palestine and Burma today. Painting a group of people with the same brush and the reduction of human beings to mere labels are dangerous things to do. When the tables are turned, the media has been quick to ask the Muslim ummah as a whole to denounce the act of a few. But using the teachings of our faith, one that hold no prejudices and one that teaches us that no one person is better than another, this time, we refuse to play the same game. We are not asking for all white people to burden the faults of a few white terrorists - but we do want recognition that there is a systemic problem at play. There are double standards that are hard to ignore, especially when leaders of powerful countries are not openly admitting to this matter themselves.

How should we react?

There is a Prophetic saying, “The parable of the believers in their affection, mercy and compassion for each other is that of a body. When any limb aches, the whole body reacts with sleeplessness and fever.” As our brothers and sisters in New Zealand are left in pain and grief, the ummah as a whole feel wounded. Being a Muslim in the UK, I feel connected to the community in Christchurch - in them, I see myself, in their families, I see my family.

However, if it was the perpetrator’s intention to divide us or for us to denounce our faith, he has failed like the many that have tried before him. In the light of tragedy, our ummah unites - as we did on Friday where in defiance, millions of people turned up at their local mosques for Jumaah prayer in solidarity with our brothers and sisters in Christchurch. In tragedy, we turn to one another and we turn to God. And at a personal level, I feel even more drive to wear my Islamic identity on my sleeve and to be a representation of my beautiful religion in my community. At work, at home, in public and in private, I am a Muslim immigrant living in the UK. Say it loud, say it proud.

But ultimately, we should emulate the Prophet (saw) and spread good and forgiveness. In the Battle of Uhud, Hind was a woman whose blood boiled against Islam and Muslims. She had hired a hitman to kill and mutilate the beloved uncle of the Prophet (saw), Hamza. She gouged his liver and made his ears and nose into a necklace. Upon seeing the body of Hamza, the Prophet saw weeped like he never weeped before and bade farewell to someone that he loved whole heartedly. Five years later, after failed attempts to resist the surrender of Makkah to the Muslims, she pledged allegiance to the Prophet saw. Instead of seeking revenge for the heinous acts that she had done to his uncle, the Prophet (saw) said, “By Allah swt, there was no household that I wished to destroy more than yours, but now there is no household that I wish to honour more than yours.”

Hatred drives hatred. The cycle can only be broken with love, forgiveness and kindness. So in times like these, let us continue the legacy of those who had come before us and continue to spread light. Let us hold strong to our faith and take comfort in the fact that they will never hate Islam as much as we love it.

224: 10.1 The Nuance of Gray

A few days ago, I was listening to a podcast by Brother Abdelrahman Murphy. He was talking about how easily we think things in a black or white fashion. Some things that we, as a community might say include, "What is the point of her wearing the hijab if her attitude is so poor?" or "Why bother praying extra sunnah prayers if he doesn't pay zakat?" or "What is the point of learning the Quran if he treats his parents that way?" This way of thinking even extends to how we think of ourselves: "I am not ready to wear modest clothing, there are so many things of myself I have yet to work on first."

The sad thing is that these all or nothing expectations that we put on ourselves and on others are not something that has been placed or mandated by God. He never asked for perfection, and being human, we will never reach perfection. What He does ask from us is effort - to try and inch closer to Him. So if it is starting off with wearing the hijab once a week or going to jamaah prayers on a Friday or even reading the Quran once a month, the point is to start somewhere. And not to let the fear of not reaching perfection deter you from taking the first step.

And do good even if you know you are doing bad - do what you can even if you are doing what you shouldn't. For in the end, good acts will eventually cancel out the bad. Have faith and continue on striving. And to those who deem others not good enough or not holy enough to participate in practices that could bring him or her closer to Him, please realise that you are just being an annoying obstacle to someone else's spiritual journey.