After Hardship There is Ease

Unbelievable

2012-01-26T14:51:00.004-06:00

Egypt is often unbelievable.

This fall we traveled through Ismailia. This is the Suez Canal city where the planners stayed during the construction. I wasn't sure what to expect. In the guidebook, it looked very European in style so I was a bit let down that it was still totally Egyptian.

One of the reasons for going was its museum. We were the only visitors that morning. Shelf after shelf of mind-blowing antiquities. It was so worth the effort.

Do you see the sarcophagus? It is a transitional piece between the Ancient Egyptian and the Roman. The body is in the typical style. However, the face looks more like Alexander the Great than King Tut. I loved seeing something so instructive about the different Egyptian ages and stages.

I learned in Ismailia why we should all be grateful for traffic jams in Cairo. If there was as much open road in the capital, as there is in Ismalia, then every driver would be zooming 70 miles per hour. Yes, I told every taxi driver to slow down or I was going to throw up. Alhumdulillah for crowded streets.

We didn't only take taxis. My husband took a ride from a man...a stranger in his private car...even though you're not supposed to take rides from strangers. He told us we could cross the Suez by ferry as a fun little trip. This nice man drove us to the spot just because he was a nice man. He was right. Going over the Suez was this wonderfully freeing moment (and it cost us nothing which is the best kind of free there is).

We crossed over; and as fans of Eat, Pray, Love know, that's "attraversiamo" in Italian. We crossed over for no good reason. We celebrated that fact by drinking guava juice and watching Mr. Boo unintentionally cover himself in ice cream.

There was a war memorial a short hike away so off we went. Some whiney minutes later, we came to the entrance of the war memorial. In we went because we'd come this far so we might as well go all the way. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew that it wasn't good logic. It kept being a long way to walk. When we got there, it was an insane construction of the butt of a gun with a bayonet sticking out of it. I'd walked a million miles for an ode to weaponry.

The walk back was decidely grumpy; whiney gives way to grumpy after about half an hour of a 6-year-old's complaints. I was wondering why I had thought that the ferry ride was a good idea let alone the war memorial. Down the hill we went.

There was a ferry and there was a large ship going through. It was American! How cool! Our moods changed. We snapped photos. The ship's name was "Resolve". I thought that an appropriate moniker.

We walked onto the ferry boat and waited. Seemed like we could just leave but yet we waited. What were we waiting for?

Like a bat out of hell, or a pick-up truck out of a wedding celebration, zoomed a local newlywed couple and their families. Whooping! Hollering! Music blaring. They boarded the ferry prepared to get the party started.

So, there we were on a hijacked ferry forced to get down and get funky. It was wonderful! I can't even begin to tell you how amazing that moment was. The pick-up driver was singing into his mic which blared out the speaker on top of his roof. Men were dancing. The people clapping.

It came out of nowhere and was both magical and transformative.

It suddenly didn't matter how hot it was, or how long a walk we had suffered. We were on the Love Boat sailing across the Suez.

I take pictures when I'm happy. I took so many pictures of that moment. It will remain inshahallah as one of my best memories of Egypt.

When we got to the other side, the happy couple marched off the boat with their wedding procession. We were all happy and even a bit giddy. Immediately after enjoying that good feeling a fight suddenly broke out between two of the party goers and we had to make a run for it.

Egypt can be absolutely unbelievable.

Last night, it was true once again. Our neighborhood was adjusting to the one year anniversary of the Revolution when gunfire erupted. It was definately guns. I stopped and listened then moved a sick Mr. Boo from his bed to ours. No, he couldn't be near any windows.

I called for my husband. He had been sleeping after dinner. He woke with a start and realized that this was not normal. This was unusual; definately unbelievable. In fact, that continuous amount of gun firing had never happened before in our little area next to the pyramids.

For about half and hour, it wouldn't stop. It surrounded us. I really was scared. There were no police coming. We were alone. I did have Twitter and used it to cope. You can read more about it there.

The funny thing is, many people on-line didn't believe me. They were so sure that it couldn't be happening because no one else had reported it. They discounted me.

Later, Twitter reports of women being sexually assaulted in Tahrir were also scrutinized. Who were they? Were they Egyptian or foreign? As if it mattered.

What I have come to see is that Egypt is often unbelievable. It changes so quickly from awful to wonderful; from celebratory to insane. As much as it feels unsettling to live amidst unimaginable change, it keeps me feeling alive. I have never felt more alive than when I'm forced to live in the "now" of Egypt.

Either unbelievably good or bad, Egypt will keep you feeling the truth of "inshahallah".

Playboy Model Reverts to Islam

2012-01-21T02:31:00.000-06:00

This video shows (once again) that anyone can come to Islam. Even people who have been high with success to the point where they didn't fear Allah. Even people so low they forgot that there was a God.

Coming to Islam isn't for those who are pristine clean angels. God already has angels. The Quran tells us that if Allah had wanted to, He would have populated the earth with angels but he didn't. He chose to have faullible human beings.

I like what Jaime says in this video. I like that she has lived and suffered and given up that suffering for Islam. She has found peace and yet still remains fully herself--a better version of herself and one she can be proud of.

She is our sister in Islam.

If you are reading this as someone who never ever would ever think to be a Muslim, realize that she felt the same way once. It is possible but you have to believe that it's possible.

With God, all things are possible.

May Allah reward our sister Jaime and grant her the highest level of Paradise for providing dawaah (the spread of Islam). May Allah protect her and her son. May Allah show her father the truth of Islam and help him reconcile his fears regarding his daughter's reversion.

75-year-old Revert to Islam

2012-01-21T02:30:00.001-06:00

Subhanallah! She is totally right on with her comments. I had my doubts when opening this video that she might be too elderly to understand what she got herself into. NOPE! She's a true Muslimah and she absolutely is a fully functioning member of the ummah.

Listen to her describe how she has been welcomed by her community.

Think who you could welcome in your life.

The Funniest Revert Story

2012-01-21T02:19:00.001-06:00

Abu Bakr in the video is a charming and disarming speaker. He is very skilled at communication and able to help educate about Islam while making you laugh.

Whether you are Muslim or just interested in how people revert to Islam, watch and smile.

MAKING HIJRAH 40: Running My Own Race

2012-01-20T12:51:00.000-06:00

The summer of 2010, school finished and I was on my own time. I could do as I pleased once again. I had made the decision long ago that I would not be traveling to America that first year. I knew my expenses would not allow for it. Besides that, I needed more time to perfect who I was---not that I'd ever be perfect.

A lot was weighing on me even though I was weighing less than I had in a long time. I was thinking of getting myself ready for the one year anniverary of making hijrah. I wanted to be better. Better at what? I wasn't exactly sure but I wanted to have achieved some kind of proof that I made a good decision coming here; some kind of concrete affirmation.

While I was sitting home, organizing my life for the first time in a long time, I was slowly getting depressed. It was depressing to suddenly not have friends. My British gal pal had decided to leave and not come back. She and I packed up her things in her apartment and talked over life and love, careers and futures. It was a big moment for her but it really was big for me too. I was saying goodbye to not only her but to her way of leaving independently. I could not and would not be leaving.

My gal pal gave me a bunch of stuff to cart back to my apartment. We signalled a taxi and loaded it up. There was so much: bags of clothes, kitchen goods, some food and even a vacuum! I chatted with the driver a little. He wanted to ask me about Obama. I told him how good Obama was and commented that he himself looked a little like Obama.

The driver got Mr. Boo and I back to our house and the stuff was unloaded. In the house it went, my husband paid and off the taxi went. I kept trying to figure out where everything was. Where was the vacuum? Where was the frozen food? I called my gal pal to ask if I'd left it at her place by mistake.

No. She was sure that I'd been tricked by the trunk. It had happened to her. The driver loads the things he wants under the false bottom in the trunk and then when you're unloading you don't see it. He was now the proud owner of shrimp and a Hoover.

If I ever see him again...

but you know what? I probably won't. So, it's best to leave it to Allah. I must not have needed that stuff. Alhumdulillah for what I got. I got clothes for me and for the nieces. I got some spices. Really, there was so much and it was nice to have it even if I couldn't have my friend.

What was depressing is that I didn't have internet either. I couldn't connect with friends and family back home. I didn't have internet because my laptop had malfunctioned. There was a whole coping mechanism/addiction in my life which was removed at a time when I was also losing a friend and out of work.

Wow.

That summer was a real test of who I wanted to be. I got very quiet for the first time in a long time. I did simple things like reading and writing. I took walks and had talks and learned more Arabic. I spent time having a little life. It was boring! I knew that I couldn't sustain it but it was okay for a short time. I needed that slow lane to cool my engines.

We went shopping for used books.

We went to the village Kerdasa to see their market day. They are known for their galabiyas and I bought three.

Ramadan was coming. I was beyond excited. That turned out to be a problem. When we anticipate too much, our expectations go too high. I was picturing a life of family fun during Ramadan. I had been cut off from friends and family that summer and really needed the family to rally round me.

They didn't.

They were used to their Ramadan routines and none of those included me. They were busy doing their rituals. I was not. I wasn't really invited in. No blame. It simply was that clash of old and new.

I went to bed early...

but they stayed up late.

I ate suhour after I woke up...

but they ate suhour before going to bed.

I prayed fajr...

but they were often too tired to wake up for fajr.

I spent my days busy...

but they slept alot.

I prayed magrib first before eating...

but they had the food on the table before magrib and then immediately ate.

I didn't like to watch dramas after the fast...

but they got engrossed in the special Ramadan programming.

I prayed the night prayers at home...

but my husband prayed them at the masjid.

There were differences to put it mildly. I was as alone as if I had been unmarried. So, there I was a sad revert at Ramadan---and of course you know you're not supposed to be sad at Ramadan. You're supposed to have this great connection with God. Yet, my days and nights were full of wondering why I had made such an effort to come to Egypt.

Honestly? I missed the masjid, "back home" in The States. I NEVER thought I would feel that way but I did. I was missing friends and connections; women who would invite me out or give me a hug in the parking lot of the local halal buffet. I missed bumping into moms and grandmas of kids I once taught. I even missed how my mom would suffer through Ramadan grumbling all the way. I missed dunya.

"Dunya," is Arabic for the world. It has a connotation in Islam of loving the things and the people more than Allah. Astragferallah. As Muslims, of course we can love good food and good friends but we can't love them more than God. At Ramadan we re-evaluate what is a priority to us and inshahallah we chose our faith.

In my imaginings, I thought that Ramadan would bring my husband and I closer but instead we were at odds. I jumped at the invitation from a co-worker to join her for iftar dinner. I was absolutely sick of the dysfunctional way things were going at our house.

When I went over to her posh apartment full of antiques and old money, it was very quiet. Though it was late in the afternoon, everyone else was asleep. It was only my friend and the servant. After a while it was one sleepy boy and then another who came out to greet me. Right before the sunset, her husband woke up. As a smoker, he needed to handle Ramadan that way. My friend had spent the day alone in a house of sleeping people.

"It's not a cultural difference, Yosra," she told me. "It's not about you being American and your husband being Egyptian. Look at us! Each family deals with the month of fasting in their own way. Even within one family, each person does it differently. Some sleep all day and some don't. I don't but my husband does. The kids do. And some watch TV afterwards while some go to the masjid. I take the kids to the club."

I'm not sure if you can visualize me in that moment but something clicked in my brain. There were maybe even a few clicks. I realized some huge aspects to my Islam were in need of adjusting. I was not going to link up with a man or with his family and become a better Muslim. I was not going to be able to "fix" them and their ways of observing. I had to run my own race.

Yes, even though I was now part of a married Muslim couple, in an observant family and in a country full of believers, I was alone in my Islam. Though I had looked at that as a negative, I started to really see that as a positive. Each one of us is to be judged alone by our merits. I didn't have to be the same as everyone or make everyone the same as me. We truly could be different people; different Muslims and let Allah decide who did their best. I could let go of my efforts to be a bandleader who knew all the notes. I could be a solo act.

Having said that, when I let go, I started to love everyone more and love Ramadan more. I accepted life as it was. These people had put up with a lot from me and my son over that first year. I didn't have to be upset with them. In many ways, they had accepted me and respected me. I needed to find a way to do the same for them. That process connected us better over time.

It hurt to let go; to stop trying to control the world. Yet somehow the world kept functioning fine with me settling down into my new life. I did have a new life.

Alhumdulillah for a new life and a new chapter. Even though I'll end this series on chapter 40, I'll keep living this story. I'll keep figuring out a way to be a little bit better today than yesterday. I'll keep praying that I don't leave this life until I've reached the highest level of iman.

Ya rab.

Thank you for reading and for being with me in spirit. If you wish to make hijrah in your own life then I pray that Allah makes it easy on you.

Alhumdulillah, Allah made it easy on me.

After hardship there is ease.

MAKING HIJRAH 39 "Really Living"

2012-01-17T11:55:00.000-06:00

My father, God bless him, has had many women who have loved him but only a few of those women seemed to love me: my grandma, my mom and Judy. Judy was a lady love and a really caring giver who shone with serenity and continued to be a positive force in my life until her death.

It was Judy who listened to me the winter of 2001. That was the year when I was contemplating so many life changes. We sat together inside a log cabin deep in the Wisconsin woods. The fire was burning (out of necessity not for quaint effect). She heard me when I said, "One of my favorite movies is The Year of Living Dangerously. I think that could be my motto for the new year."

Judy had gone through cancer and was doubly wise. She had that gift of taking in my words and savouring them before speaking. Not many people can actually love you enough to accept your thoughts.

"Why not, 'The Year of Living'?"

That was her response: "The Year of Living". It was as accurate then as it would be nine years later.

When I started Spring of 2010, it had been under strained circumstances. I was a new bride in a new home within a family house and my new husband had just had surgery. That's a lot of change---and stress. It came at the end of a long line of stress. Making hijrah is stressful.

By May, I had to admit that I was no longer in the process of making hijrah. It was now in the past tense. I had made hijrah. I had forged a new life. I was no longer living dangerously. I was living. I was living in Egypt.

This feeling of accomplishment gave me a new sense of freedom. I no longer had to manically search for ways to stay afloat. I could relax. For the first time in a long time, I could actually settle down into a calm. I knew where my next meal was coming from. I knew where I would live. I had a job! I had money. I had a husband. Alhumdulillah I had a halal life.

So I stopped surviving and started thriving. I began buying things for our new life which could never it in a suitcase. We purchased that cool bedroom set with all the storage. Nothing says, "I'm here to stay," like getting furniture.

We started going out to explore more of Egypt. Sure, we had seen things together but we'd never taken a full day excursion. Our first big trip was to the Step Pyramid of Sakara. It was a quick bus ride to the remote location. As we walked up the enterance, what a magical moment to see it appear up on the hill. The museum was spectacular with the oldest royal mummy on display. The winding walk up the hill was going to be hard but alhumdulillah we got a ride. There weren't many tourists. We enjoyed ourselves immensely.

The tombs of the rich families were amazing.

I took so many photos because I couldn't believe my eyes.

It felt so good to be doing normal things as a family.

One very normal activity was bringing a pet for show-and-tell. We didn't actually have a pet per se. We had a new baby goat which we named Snow White. She was adorable! I was on the letter Gg for my Jolly Phonics lesson so it made sense to bring her in. Would my husband do it?

Yes, Ahmed would, though he was a little nervous. He asked me what he should wear; pants or galabiya? My husband Ahmed normally wears galabiya (the long men's shirt) while around the neighborhoood. He wears pants when we go out of the Al-Haram area. I told him, "It doesn't matter. I married you; I didn't marry pants or galabiya."

It was going to take quite some effort that day to load Snow White in a taxi (along with some clover) and make his way to school. I was so excited! Not only was this a fun activity for the kids, this was going to be Ahmed's first visit to my school as my husband. I could introduce him to everyone.

My class got ready to go outside. The other kindergarten classes had been invited to come too. When they saw my husband and the goat they decided against. No one else came. I was shocked. I had a docile animal to pet and feed and yet the other two teachers declined. I had to let it go. My son was allowed to spend time even if his classmates were not.

I loved taking pictures of the children enjoying something so simple and sweet. Later, those pictures would be used in marketing the school. I still get to see Snow White in those pictures even though she left us this Eid.

I was so happy with the whole event. I was happy that my husband had gone to such lengths to make me happy and to make the children happy. There was only one problem.

That galabiya on my husband had caused talk in the office. Why had he worn a galabiya? That's what they were asking me. The only men at school who wear galabiya were the guards at the gates. So, why would a teacher's husband wear galabiya?

My righteous indignation rose up my spine and made me stand up straighter. I started to understand why the other teachers weren't interested in giving their students a great learning opportunity. There was an undercurrent of classism and a backlash against anyone who seemed too religious and far beneath the upper-middle class.

I smiled as I answered, "He was so nice to come to school. It didn't even occur to me to tell him to wear something different. I had no idea that it would be so surprising to others since...you know...we're in Egypt."

It was then that I received a most unwelcome comment. I was told that Ahmed would be nice in my life for a couple years...maybe three...and then I could move on. I could get my fun and then find someone else with more money.

I felt sad for sure. I felt sad that Muslims could act and talk this way. I knew the difference. I knew that insides were more important than outsides. I knew that our commitment was sincere and far above the level of silly diversions. Honestly, I felt sad but not for me. I felt sad that someone could be so shallow.

Alhumdulillah, from that day I got a better glimpse of the life I was building. It was a good moment to remember that there is no Muslim country really; there are only countries with Muslims in it. So, I would accept another year's contract to stay in Egypt because I could find Islam better here---though not necessarily with every person I met.

Chapter 40; the last chapter...coming soon!

Validation

2012-01-13T07:16:00.000-06:00

I have been digging into everything from film maker Kurt Kuenne these last two days.

This short movie is around 16 minutes long. I promise that it goes at a quick pace and the plot is interesting. You will enjoy, inshahallah, the feel-good aspect to the piece.

No, it is not an Islamic movie but it is in keeping with our belief that even a smile is a kind of charity. I hope it will make you smile.

In the Pits

2012-01-12T13:30:00.002-06:00

"Life is made up of all that you lose

Can't even choose the color of your blues"

"You get a different kind of relationship with God after this kind of thing, because...I was a Pollyanna.

I thought life was wonderful.

I had a great childhood. I had lovely family.

I had a job I loved.

I had a husband I loved.

I had a son

I used to think--it was easy to thank God.

And then suddenly you're in the pits,

and then you have to learn that

God is in the pits with you.

Kate Bagby

Sounds of the City

2012-01-10T14:30:00.004-06:00

Allahu Akbar!

It's the most beautiful sound of the azan calling believers to pray. It happens five times a day with the times varying from around 3:00 in the morning to around 8:30 at night during the longest days in June.

What surprised me in Egypt is that you don't just hear the azan five times a day; you hear the iqama as well. The iqama is the second call to prayer in order to line up in the masjid. So, that's ten calls over a loudspeaker. Alhumdulillah that I like it! Can you imagine if I didn't?

Clank! Clank! Clank!

It's a wrench hitting a metal tank to signal the portogas cart rolling through.

I used to see family businesses bring the heating and cooking fuel to our neighborhood but not lately. There is a shortage of the propane fuel in Egypt this winter so the delieveries aren't coming. Instead, the men of the family (and sometimes the women too) wait for hours in the street to get a government truck to drop off a load of tanks.

Squeak! Asel! Asel!

It's a megaphone (and some feedback noise) in the hand of the honey seller.

Foooooul Abiyat!

It's the woman calling melodiously as she sells white beans from a basket she carries on her head through the streets. Her call is usually the first one I hear in the day. I knew, after the Revolution, that life had returned to normal when I heard her voice once again.

Ring! Ring!

It's a bell rung by the man with foul medamnes in his big copper urns. He ladles out the hot beans into bags to be eaten for breakfast around 10 am.

Pataaata wa Tomatum!

That's a cart with potatoes and tomatoes. Fruit and vegetable sellers with powerful lungs call their wares throughout the day. Though it varies from season to season exactly what they are selling. Right now, it's tangerine season.

It's not always easy to decipher what exactly the sellers are advertising. One man seriously sounded like he was pleading, "I lost my red kimono!"

I decided to ask my husband what was being said and he surprised me by telling me that he didn't know either.

Rabibekia

Megaphone again. That call of "Rabibekia" sounded so official to the husband of an American co-worker of mine that she got an anxious call from him at home. What were they announcing? She must find out! So, she asked her Egyptian co-workers and found out that the man with the megaphone was picking up reusable rubbish. In other words, he was the junk man.

Inna wa Llahi wa inna wa rajalun

Loud speaker attached to the top of a van slowly cruising through the populated areas to announce the sudden death of a neighbor, friend or family member.

AYSSS! AYSSS CREEEEEEEEEAM!

It's the man with the bicycle cart who brings us gelati. No, it's not ice cream and I'm happy it's not. It tastes delicious. All the flavors of chocolate, mango and guava are mixed-up together. I pay a pound for two cones. The ice cream seller usually comes afterschool. We were giving him such good business that he made our house a normal stop. He worried about us when we were gone to the U.S. this summer.

Toot!

It's a child's horn blown by the cotton candy seller. These colorful bags are so eye-catching that it's tempting to allow Mr. Boo to buy one. However, my Egyptian-American buddy told me that it's not wise. There is so much hepatitis in Egypt that having an unknown person blow into a bag which will hold food is unsanitary at the least and could even be life-threatening.

Silent Scent of Wood Burning

It's the sweet potato seller. He doesn't usually call out. He has a push cart with a wood burning stove. Inside he bakes the patata asfor; yellow potatoes or what we call sweet potatoes. They are the best! They are so tender!

When you buy the potatoes, he wraps them up in discarded paper which I find almost as worth my money as the edible offering itself. I've gotten English lessons written by Egyptians, French fashion magazine ads, and handwritten notebook pages.

I can buy a lot of potatoes and save them in the refrigerator for future use. My 5 EP goes a long way and I can carry home a big pile of them. When I last showed my haul to my husband, he got irate, stomped out and re-introduced himself to the potato seller. Oddly enough, the potato seller quickly decided that he hadn't actually given me my full money's worth and added a couple more to my husband's out-stretched hand.

Helaois! Lissa!

The children are outside playing hide-and-go-seek. Kids are actually safe enough to play together outside in Egypt. It's a simple pleasure.

YANY YANY YANY! MISAMAL KIDA TANY!

It's one of the numerous tuk-tuks weaving through the backstreets blaring music. It's not always Arabic. Sometimes it's hip-hop or rap. I missed hearing the tuk-tuks when I was in America.
Ah! One just went by with a simulated rocket launch sound effect. You've got to love a three-wheeled vehicle with a Napoleonic complex.

Occasionally, the neighbors will demand a tuk-tuk driver to turn down his music or they'll tell his father. Most tuk-tuk drivers are too young to shave. I do love when the azan starts and all music (tuk-tuk or otherwise) is immediately shut down all over the city. That is some respect for deen!

Binti Ayah!

Around midnight, it's time for the mom of the neighbor girl to yell for her daughter to come home. It's been a long day.

Swimming in the Modest Sea

2012-01-06T03:41:00.000-06:00

Yosra: Even before coming to Islam, I felt shy about appearing in public wearing a swimsuit. It had nothing to do with my body size or shape but rather about my need to cover up more.

As a teen, I actually bought a vintage 1960s cotton playsuit which came down longer and didn't cling.

Later, in my twenties, as a new daughter-in-law at my inlaws' pool, I bought swimsuits with skirts.

In my thirties, I came to Islam and really wondered how in the world I could still go swimming. I tried wearing an Indian shalwar khameez (and you wouldn't believe the amount of drag all that material has). I tried piecing together Nike sports apparel (and ended up looking like an unattractive blob).

Finally, in my forties, I have admitted that I really needed a swimsuit designed for modesty. I needed to swim comfortably and not just in terms of physically moving but also in adhering to my own sense of modesty and that of my religion.

It isn't always easy to find the right mix of fashion and function. So to help us today, we have Lori from Modest Sea.

Lori: Thank you. I was hoping you could introduce our colorful, quality and designer collection to your readers. We are a new brand, yet stand behind the quality and believe it is a great alternative to other available swimwear.

Yosra: I'll give the website so readers can see what we're talking about:

http://modestsea.com/full-cover-swimwear

It is a very clever name. Who thought of that?

Lori: The name Modest Sea was simple to arrive, for we wanted to provide a Modest line for Swimsuits (Sea). After playing around with a few variations, this one was simple and stuck.

Yosra: What came first for you: working for a swimsuit company and then thinking about modesty or thinking for modesty and there after working for a swimsuit company?

Lori: Our designers have been active in high fashion and swimwear for quite some time, and then were presented with the need to add such color and fashion to the Modest section.

Yosra: Where are you located?

Lori: We are a U.S. based company but we design our swimsuits at our studio in Bologna, Italy.

Yosra: On-line, your swimsuits look very fashionable. Have you seen modest swimsuits from other companies? Some of them look quite alien. Who is designing your suits?

Lori: Yes! We have seen other suits, which is how we noticed the need for some fashion sense ;) Our designers have noticed the need we presented and took it upon themselves to solve the challenge and provide such a colorful solution.

Yosra: What about the nano-technology you're using in the fabrics?

Lori: Our solid color designer pieces are constructed of AcquaZero by Sitip, an innovative Italian-made fabric featuring advanced water repellant technology. AcquaZero is a fast-drying fabric, with high breathability and superior moisture management for a lightweight, comfortable feel when wet or dry. Its strong resistance to chlorine makes swimwear by Modest Sea durable and long lasting.

Yosra: I really learned the hard way in that shalwar that lightweight fast-drying material is key.

When I look at your website it is decidely Non-Muslim. When was it that you realized how big of a market there is within the Muslimah community?

Lori: When searching for modest swimwear, we saw the many results and options available Online, and also realizing the lack of fashionable designs available

While the need may be more apparent in the Muslim community, additional women have shown great interest for such high quality fashion.

Yosra: Who are your customers?
Lori: Modest Sea's customers are worldwide from all religions and beliefs. While the need may be more apparent in the Muslim community, additional women have shown great interest for such high quality fashion.

At Modest Sea, we have actually attracted women of various demographics and without any specific religious affiliation, who have just showed an interest in modest covering. We have seen this with new and returning clients who were simply looking for something to provide additional covering and still remain fashionable.

I have many friends who own Modest swimsuits and absolutely love them. Besides giving us great compliments, they appreciate the high quality, the comfort, the color and ability to dress modestly when going to the beach.

Yosra: The caps with the scarf look like a cute accessory. Some Muslimahs wear caps like this as normal streetwear. Are the scarves able to pin under the chin? Other Muslimahs, like me, wear their scarves like this.

Lori: Yes! It is also shown as so when clicking on the caps in the accessories area; caps can be worn in different ways and also cover the chin

Yosra: One criticism I have is that your model is very bone thin and very white. It would be nice to have other shades of skin and ethnic features on a woman's body. Is that possible for the future?

Lori: All our current swimwear models have already had images and promotional items created for them. In the near to far future, when we add additional items, we have already considered additional models to better illustrate it for the audience.

Yosra: Have you ever thought of adding a girl's line?

Lori: We have considered it but have yet to receive sufficient interest to make it a regular design. Perhaps in the near future we would add it to our ongoing selection.

Yosra: Lori, I really appreciate you answering my questions and really best wishes for Modest Sea in 2012.

Readers, I'm going to open it up to my readers in the comment section. Obviously, we've got Lori's ear. Take a look at what Modest Sea is offering and give some constructive feedback.

The Pledge Under the Tree

2012-01-04T13:28:00.003-06:00

Surely, Allah was pleased with the believers

when they took the pledge under the tree.

Allah knew what was in their hearts.

He sent down tranquillity upon them,

and rewarded them with near victory.

48:18

This moment was so important in the history of Islam. I read about it when I was researching Uthman (ra), the third Caliph. Back in the Spring, I had tried to picture the Sahabi under a tree but I couldn't. I mean...there are so many trees.

Which tree was it?

This morning, in my Mohamed Asad translation of The Holy Quran, I started reading Surah Al-Fath . In the introduction, I found my answer. It was the Acacia Tree!

So, as great as that was, I had no idea what it actually looked like. I meant to google "Acacia tree" but I had to leave for a promised excursion . We were going to spend the day traveling back in time to the days of the Pharaoh.

We three were in a group with all Egyptians. There aren't tourists in Egypt (well there were two in shorts I saw later). We trudged along from exhibit to exhibit. We perserved from starting fire to glass blowing. It was a beautiful day and good fun.

Yet, half of the group hemmed and hawed when the tour guide reached The Islamic Museum. They checked their watches and made excuses and walked off. I told the tour guide that I was ready to see the museum because Islam is better than the pharaoh. We were richly rewarded by all kinds of interesting displays including replicas of Mecca, Al-Quds, and Saladin; President Sadat's prayer beads and Quran; and even tiny fragements of the moon!

After a sensory overload, I almost forgot about my reading this morning, when I found myself in a garden with a tree marked, "Acacia".

You've seen it before. I know I have.

Most of us have seen Acacia trees when we've seen pictures of giraffes reaching their long necks upward to eat leaves. Those are Acacia trees!

I found a really interesting blurb about Acacia trees on the Boise State University website:

"In a similar way, trees communicate – maybe not so “consciously” (no, not at all!) but it happens. When giraffes eat Acacia tree leaves, the trees release pheromones that waft downwind to other trees, in a sense “warning” them that the giraffe may be headed their way. The trees then emit toxic tannins to prevent the giraffe from eating its leaves."

Subhanallah, right?

Actually, there is a connection between Ancient Egypt and the Acacia tree. It was known as, "The Tree of Life". Here is a papyrus with lots of birds showing the different stages of human beings. For more explanation click here.

Part of what I was shown today was the making of papyrus from reeds to paper. My day really has come full circle. It's at times like this that I honestly feel God's presence in my life.

And what just seems miraculous to me right now is how much of what I wondered, learned and experienced is so seamlessly interwoven. Subhanallah, really.

Can you picture the believers under the tree?

I can.

Subhanallah, I can.

Superlative 2011

2011-12-31T08:15:00.003-06:00

Time to look back at 2011

Proudest
Of our little family when we traveled to Luxor a year ago.

And proud of this country; its history, beauty and people.

Closest
I've been to living through a war.

The Revolution was a frightening, uncertain test of endurance. Alhumdulillah that the worst inshahallah seems to be over.

First
time I've owned a rabbit.

This was also the first time I've decided not to own a rabbit.

Saddest
I've been at losing friends and not finding new ones.

Most
Shocked
to learn that my father with Alzheimers had gone missing.

He was gone with the car for nine hours last Christmas Eve but I wasn't told about it until this March. Alhumdulillah he found his way home. I was shocked again when his plan to see me this summer fell through.

Biggest
television contract I've ever been offered.

Alhumdulillah that my abilities were affirmed.Alhumdulillah that my common sense prevailed in turning it down. I wasn't who they wanted me to me.

Oldest
I've ever been in my life.

That's only kind of a joke. I realize it's true every day but it feel truer this year.

For my birthday, just to feel younger by comparison, I saw the oldest boat in the world.

Best

hugs from my kids in America.

Longest

I've been away from my husband.

This was a challenge and alhumdulillah we passed it and it made us stronger.

Most
Excited
to get my new Kindle.

Alhumdulillah, every night I first read to Mr. Boo and then read my Kindle. Reading Eat, Pray, Love was a real treat.

Heaviest
luggage I've ever carried onto a plane.

Alhumdulillah I got my Mohammed Asad Quran translation with me!

Least
numbers of days I've ever fasted in Ramadan without being pregnant or nursing.

Alhumdulillah I've just finished making them up.

Most
Relieved
to take my son back to the Egyptian coast this Eid.

He was able to revisit his Grandma. They could speak in Arabic together and pray together.

Happiest
I've been striving for and achieving a halal life.

Alhumdulillah, I think (Allahu alim) that this moment in my life is the most halal.

Readiest
I've been for death.

At this point, I've accepted death as an eventuality and found my burial place.

Alhumdulillah we were all given a year to improve our lives. May Allah allow us to live through 2012 and give us all another chance at living this year better than the last.

Giving Dawah to Your Computer

2011-12-28T21:57:00.001-06:00

Language is power.

When I use Word Documents on my computer, I get reminded by the Spell Check that I'm not part of the mainstream. I use words like:

alhumdulillah

astragferallah

asalamu alaykom

ayah

azan

hadith

hijab

hijrah

hajj

inshahallah

Islamically

Jannah

Kabba

masalama

masjid

Quranic

Shaytan

shariah

subhanallah

surah

tasbeeh

That's a list of words which have been tranliterated from Arabic letters to English letters. Sounds are basically the same. We Muslims use these words every day yet on Spell Check it's as if they've never existed. If you've written these words on any Word Document, then you know what I mean. A wiggly red line appears underneath to tell you that you're wrong.

You're wrong.

This isn't a word in our culture.

You're wrong.

You're not in our culture, are you?

So, I'm going to tell you a very empowering thing to do: copy my list of words (above) and paste them into a Word Document then do a Spell Check. Watch all the wiggly red lines appear. Then with each word go ahead and click, "Add" to your computer's dictionary. The red lines go away! You can now type any of those words and have the computer know what you mean.

It is no longer their computer; it's YOUR computer.

And you're not wrong. You're Muslim.

Now go use some words which help define you as a Muslim.

Let me know in the comment section if there are more Islamic words which Spell Check needs to be taught.

The First Night of Hijrah to Medina

2011-12-26T22:21:00.005-06:00

When Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) left his home in Mecca, he did so with a heavy heart. He had hoped to change the minds of his neighbors but felt saddened at their inability to accept Islam. Many of the mighty were indignant that the rich were asked to belong equally alongside the poor within one common group. Their haughtiness at loving dunya, the world, instead of Allah was upsetting to Muhammad.

It is said that Allah Subhana Wa Tallah sent comforting words to Muhammad on the first night of his hijrah. Can you imagine how amazing that would be? Think of all those moving days you’ve had when you’ve been overwhelmed and tired. How reassuring it would be to get words from Allah!

Verse 13, Surah Muhammad

And how many a community of greater power than this thy community which has driven thee out [O Muhammad] have we destroyed, with none to succor them!

It is meaningful to me that these reassuring words were given to Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) on his hijrah. I feel them holding me and lifting me up as well. We are not alone when we make hijrah. God knows our journey.

Those words were given to our Prophet but they are ours as well. If you feel driven out of your home, know that another community awaits inshahallah.

Candy Klefty

2011-12-26T08:47:00.001-06:00

Mr. Boo is a funny guy.

He's six years old now but still as mischievous as ever.

I don't know what it is in his genes which makes him so dangerously clever. I'm not sure if it was the ancestors who helped design the Pyramids or his ancestors who escaped the Irish Potato Famine. Maybe it's a molotov cocktail of both.

He's very independent and I try to encourage that, while not letting him get out of control. When he wants something to eat or drink, he can help himself after getting permission. He's usually good about getting permission...unless it's something really good that he wants very badly.

He knew that we had been given chocolates from Twinky's in lovely gold tinfoil. Because we live in Egypt, I've gotten used to putting candies on the door shelf of the refrigerator. This way they don't melt in the heat.

"Can I eat one chocolate?" He begged in that really tired, whiney voice which lets you know it's time for bed.

"No."

"Pleeeeeeease?" He tried being endearing but it came off as annoying.

"No chocolate after dinner. It's a rule and you know it." And the subject was closed.

Okay, so because he's tenacious, the next morning after breakfast, he comes to me in the salon and he's rapidly unwrapping gold foil and asking, "Can I have a chocolate now?"

I was busy and he had already unwrapped it anyway.

I sighed, "Go ahead."

He takes a big bite and chews away happily.

Then a confused look comes over his face.

"This is salty."

I stop working. "Salty?" A thought occurs to me, "Dude, does it taste like chicken or chocolate?"

He's now got his tongue hanging out of his mouth and he's trying to speak. "Get the taste out!"

Yes, he's taken a big bite of bouillon cube.

I tried not to laugh as I got him to rinse his mouth out.

"It's not funny!" he chastised me.

Well, of course it was but I knew that he didn't see it that way.

He was fine after I gave him an apple to eat.

And I was fine after telling the story over and over. It still cracks me up!

The Light Shone Through Jesus

2011-12-24T23:03:00.001-06:00

Every day is a good day to remember Jesus, son of Mary (peace and blessings upon them both).

Jesus came into a dark world and brought light. He was a kind of window to seeing clearly. Through that window people became in touch with the reality of the world. They came to believe in his words that there was One True God worthy of worship.

Over time, people forgot that the window was a way out of the darkness. They began to focus their energies on the window itself. They dressed it up with fancy drapes. They blocked out the light. They began to admire the golden embroidery on the heavy fabrics; forgetting that the utilitarian window behind it was simple and plain. They forgot to open the window to let in the fresh, clean air.

None of that changed who Jesus was. He was a Prophet who brought the message of God's Merciful Love. He reminded us to forgive and love one another. His example of praying to Our Creator was what we were told to follow. Never once did he ask to be worshipped.

Muslims remember Jesus (peace be upon him) as one of the best of men the world has ever known. We acknowledge that his mother Mary (peace be upon her) was among the best of all women. We take joy in his virgin birth. We marvel at his miracles which God granted. We feel sadness that he was not believed by all and was treated badly, as were so many of the prophets (peace be upon them all). We believe that he is not dead and that we will see him again, God willing, if we are admitted to Paradise.

Muslims respect Jesus. We do not allow for any depictions of him. There are no statues in our religion. We do not bow down to stone or wood. We do not kiss pictures of a man. We also do not make jokes about him. We do not use him in advertising. We do not curse using his name. There are no movies we make hiring an actor to play him. There was only one Jesus, son of Mary and we honor him---often times above the level of his worshippers.

We do not worship Jesus. We do not pray to Jesus. We do not pray to anyone but God; or in Arabic Allah. We do not place Muhammad (peace be upon him) above Jesus. They are to be side-by-side on the Day of Judgement and remain in our minds as equals.

On this day, when so many are thinking about Christmas, I want to remember Jesus, son of Mary (peace and blessings upon them both).

Missing Muslim Girl

2011-12-23T01:53:00.003-06:00

A covered Muslimah from a traditional family.

An anxious phone call.

Suddenly and frighteningly a young woman has disappeared.

Because this beautiful girl was so modest, respectable and above reproach, the hunt for her feels that much more important. The police, the news media and the social media buzz about the need to find her quickly.

Alhumdulillah, she is found.

Subhanallah, she is alive.

She is, however, reluctant to meet with her family.

Though the family's media representative thanks the community, there are no thanks from the girl. She remains silent on why she went missing, where she was and what she was doing.

She is therefore shunned by the very some of the very same people who once prayed for her safe return.

This is, of course, a synopsis of the Aisha Khan news story which played out as a high tension drama this week.

It's actually a replay. I've seen it all before. Read my blog post about Etidal Abdullah. and see what I mean. Every single aspect I've listed above was true in that case as well.

What is in such turmoil within first-generation American-Muslimahs that they run away from troubles rather than face up to them? Sure, it's only two national cases. I realize that while, alhumdulillah, it's not an epidemic, it is worth questioning. We should come up with some answers before there's a third case.

People felt drawn to Aisha's fragile beauty. They wanted to help her despite any differences in ethnicity or religion. That's great! So they prayed for a girl they never knew. Maybe they prayed for the first time in a long time. They prayed that the suffering for family would cease. It felt good to open their hearts and to ask God for help.

After she was found, Media Coordinator Sara Jawhari posted this message:

"The Khan family is ecstatic. Their daughter is ALIVE and safe. I cannot begin to express how much of an honor it has been getting to know them, even if it were a tragic event that brought us together. Isn't that what humanity is? Caring, helping, giving selflessly to our brothers and sisters ESPECIALLY in time of grief? Our prayers that she would be located safely, regardless of background, have... been answered.

I witnessed something beautiful this past week. Our community -local, national and global- setting aside all differences and banding together as one for something. It was truly what kept everyone motivated and positive throughout the whole ordeal. I received phone calls from people I've admired my whole life asking ME how they could help with efforts. I also received calls and emails from priests, rabbis and imams across the nation letting us know that they are all praying for Aisha. It was absolutely beyond inspiring.

Please, let us not forget what we have gained from this. We are at times vicious beings that are so quick to be critical and judgmental of others and this is certainly not a time to allow anything to dissolve this new-found global community, ESPECIALLY when the full story has yet to be announced.

Aisha brought us together. All efforts, all sleepless nights and exhaustion was worth it. Why? Because we found her, and she is alive and NOT DEAD.

Sincerest "thank you" to everyone for your selfless efforts. It has not gone unnoticed and each and every one of you was extremely crucial toward this goal. So proud of you all. Thank you."

I was really relieved to get the news. I almost cried and prayed two rakhas. When God gives us what we ask for, we need to say "thank you" so I posted, "Alhumdulillah!"

The message boards were as equally full of "Alhumdulillah!" elation as they were full of hate. There was name calling and anger. That vulnerability people had allowed inside themselves had left them feeling hurt and cheated. Even though their prayers had been answered, they felt let down. They forgot that they really didn't have a relationship with Aisha. They had a relationship with Allah which had improved through this time. Subhanallah!

The hundreds of negative comments moved me to write another comment,

"Asalamu Alaykom,

Every single person commenting today has cared for Aisha's well being and safety. That's thousands of people! Most didn't really know Aisha but they FELT like they knew her. In a way, they claimed a part of her by keeping her in their thoughts and hearts during the days she were missing. Because they took her and her problem to heart, they felt really tenderly towards her.

In today's society, I bet that they prayed more about her than about their own family. She didn't ask them to do that. It was something they felt compelled to do. It felt good to pray and to care. They prayed for her to be found. Alhumdulillah that she was found! Because the circumstances were different than they imagined, they felt that they had been wrong to open their hearts to Aisha. It hurt them even though she never meant to hurt anyone. They forgot that loving and praying are beautiful and isn't something which diminishes us EVER. They felt that they had lost something in a kind of transaction.

I want to remind all the people who feel upset that your prayers were answered. Thanks be to God! We never really know how many people have prayed for us through the years. We might not have even known it. Maybe the circumstances for you or me are very different but we all have made mistakes along the way and disappointed others. It's best to have forgiveness of faults and acceptance of "what is" rather than wishing for "what isn't." I will continue to keep Aisha and her family in my prayers during their time of sorting through what really matters in life."

I read through the other remarks and found something really well written from Nadia Ahsan. With her permission, I'm posting it here:

"We felt something for Aisha because of some goodness that still exists in the world by the mercy of God. Thank God I still have the ability to feel someone's pain. We are constantly travelling in life... along comes a person that catches our attention and we do what we think is right to help them out. Our deeds and intentions are between us and God. It doesn't have anything to do with Aisha.

Her family will deal with her...plus we don't even know the reality. What if you were told she was raped but they wanted to hide it. So just let it go! I don't want to undo my good deeds by falling for this kinda talk. I am NOT sad that she didn't end up dead or that she didn't announce every detail to the world.

I thought Aisha was in trouble and I couldn't bear her parent's pain. My prayers aren't wasted. Her deeds are with her and mine are with me And I for one am not gonna undo my deeds.

Those of you who would rather get your gossipy details. Is that why you prayed? Were those your intentions? Was there anything pure in that intention? If so, use those pure intentions to give her her privacy. Whatever the reason, background story, etc., her parents WERE in pain; feeling the worst pain. There you go, Aisha's punishment...feel satisfied."

What Nadia wrote echoes the great wisdom of The Holy Quran:

"Whoever does what is just and right, does so for her own good; and whoever does evil does so for her own hurt; and in the end unto your Sustainer you all will be brought back."

45:15

Honestly? When someone is injured in their iman, we don't need to wish them any bad. It feels badly enough for them. Whether the Shaytan was working from the outside-in or from the inside-out, it is a freeing from evil that these runaway Muslimahs went through. We can really thank God that both Aisha, from this week, and Etidal, from years ago, found their way back.

Alhumduillah.

Oh Allah, please protect the Muslimahs all around the world both from others and from themselves.

Things We Lost in the Hijrah

2011-12-22T13:21:00.001-06:00

This picture is not any place I've ever lived---that I know of. Actually, there have been so many houses, apartments, townhouses, and even a few homes. I can maybe be excused if I've forgotten.

This last move was going on hijrah; a faith-based move to a Muslim country. It was a doozy! As I've written, we had four suitcases stuffed with stuff. I wish that I had brought a few cartons too (since I later found out that they cost $150 for 50 pounds).

However, I knew in my heart that going on hijrah means leaving a lot of baggage behind---both figuratively and literally. I was going to land in Egypt with a lightened load. No, I couldn't take it all with me and I didn't want to.

Now, it's well over two years into my hijrah and, as I look around, I have to admit that somethings never got over here from The States. I've had the chance to buy some new things and have not. Somethings are missed and some aren't. It's not the same life I once had (which doesn't mean this life is bad but it is different). I'm adjusting to a new existence.

Here is a list of

Things We Lost in the Hijrah

in alphabetical order

Car

Nope. I don't plan on getting a car either. People assume that to be successful means having a car. Not so! I feel very successful taking taxis, thank you very much. We have the freedom to walk, take a bus or a taxi. I don't have to worry about driving or about parking. There is no upkeep. It's better for me. Except for bumper cars, I have not driven in over two years.

Even if I got access to a car here, it would most likely have a stick shift instead of an automatic. I didn't start driving until I was 23 and can really only handle an automatic.

I am wondering about getting a Vespa. A girl can dream!

CD Player

No stereo system here! I can play CDs on the DVD player and in my computer so it doesn't really matter. I only wish that the radio station we turn on (to hear Quran) was better. Inshahallah, we'll get something else.

China

None of our dishes are fancy breakables. I brought only Melamie and have bought only stainless steel here.

Clothes Dryer

I'm not sure who has a clothes dryer in sunny Egypt. It sure isn't me! Usually this works fine---but less so in the cold winter months (November through February). Clothes on the line might take all day and into the next morning (if they're heavy).

Couch

This cushion on the floor is my seat. I have a couch, loveseat and comfy chair all picked out at a upscale store. I am waiting to make sure the money set aside is fine before proceeding with the purchase. This is what I've done with every big ticket item (like our bedroom sets, our refrigerator and washing machine).

Desk

Yes, I'm writing to you from an end table. My papers are crammed onto Mr. Boo's top shelf. I wish very much for a desk. This will come, inshahallah, when the time is right.

I saw some beautiful desks at a furniture store right off Tahrir Square. They were French reproductions and I just oozed bourgeious longing all over them. Once I got home, I realized how impractical those tiny desks with tiny drawers were. I really need something more modern, professional and utilitarian.

Hair Dryer

Living in the cold climate of the Midwest, I really relied on my hair dryer. Of course, I washed my hair all the time. I don't do that now. In the Egyptian winter, I do miss having a hair dryer. I've learned to wash my hair at night, put down a towel on my pillow and let it dry overnight.

Microwave

If you would have told me that I would have to do without a microwave oven for two years, I would have told you, "NO WAY!" I used to heat up all our food in one of these. Now? I heat up our food on the gas stove. Doesn't really take that much longer. I no longer worry about radioactivity.

Scale

I have no idea what I weigh. I know only how my clothes fit (or don't).

Sewing Machine

Where I live here in Giza there's everything you could ever want, including a blacksmith, a cobbler and a tailor. The candlestick maker is at school. Our local tailor is right down the street and does all the work I need done. Sure, I have given up some control over my clothes but it's worth it because the quality is so much better than anything I've ever tried.

Shower Curtain

It isn't really something important to my husband (who has never known black mold). So the water goes all over the tile floor, we squeegy it into the floor drain and end of story.

Toaster

We don't really use the same sliced bread as in The States. We use aish balady; pita bread, so it doesn't really matter I suppose. In my house, I heat up the bread in a pan on the stove. Downstairs, my mother-in-law heats up right on the propane gas tank (which gives it a "special" flavor).

What else...

I can't remember them right now. They must not be that important in my day-to-day existance.

There are things which have to be left behind in order to move ahead. Some things I still wish for and obviously some I've forgotten. Things can be replaced.

Being Muslim---even a Muslim on hijrah----doesn't mean you have to live in austerity. You can have what you need but you need to determine what it is that you actually need...instead of what you assumed you couldn't live without.

This list is not meant to stop anyone from making hijrah. It's meant to show how I've left things behind and found a way to cope. I've coped without carrying everything forward from my past. In the end, things aren't really as important as experiences.

Sheik Adel Abu Saleeb

2011-12-20T12:19:00.002-06:00

I woke before fajr and prepared a meal of eggs, cheese and tomatoes on dark bread. I ate an orange and some leftover cake. I was going to be fasting. I prayed fajr and stayed up to write on the blog.

This is Sheik Adel Abu Saleeb. I featured this picture of him in my blog post about the Giza Elections.

The Sheik went back to bed after praying fajr. He had been so busy the day before; arranging for the slaughter of four cows. These cows were in thanks to Allah for his recent win in the Giza election. The beef was to be distributed as a sort of zakat to the poor.

He invited the man who did the slaughtering to enjoy lunch with him. It was a decidely modest meal. While Sheik Adel had many kilos of meat available, he himself would be eating lentils.

The Sheik was always being kind to the poor. He was known to pay money to the single-mother families without support. He worked hard to stop families from fracturing by counseling troubled marriages. He paid money to those who could not afford their propane tank needed to cook food. He was loved by many.

That's why he was voted into office not just once but twice---although he never served. The first time he got elected was during President Hosni Mubarak's regime. Mubarak wouldn't allow any bearded galabiya-wearing sheiks in government and so Sheik Adel Abu Saleeb was thrown out.

This time? There was no more Mubarak. The Sheik could run for office without fear. Funny that those across the Atlantic feared him. Yes, he was a Salafi; some would say an Islamist. He did follow Sunnah. Part of him following the sunnah was to smile.

He had a smile which radiated warmth and goodness. His picture was all over Giza these last weeks. I didn't mind seeing him. Actually, seeing the Noor of Islam shine from his face gave me hope that maybe Egypt would be alright afterall.

So he and I prayed fajr together in Giza this morning---of course not on the same rug or even the same house. We prayed fajr in our seperate homes but we were connected in our hopes for a good day and for a chance to serve Allah. We prayed for our families and for Egypt. I stayed up and he went back to bed.

Later, when his wife went to wake him, she found that he had passed away in his sleep. Inna la llahi wa inna rajalun. From Allah we come and to Allah we return.

I heard the masjid's loud speaker announce a death three times. I didn't know who it was. I asked my husband later. When he told me I was shocked; shocked and saddened. So was everyone else.

After the noon prayer, he was buried. He's gone. He leaves behind his wife, four daughters and two sons.

The only thing which keeps me happy is the thought that perhaps the Sheik reached the level of iman needed to enter Jennah. Allahu alim.

May we all leave this life upon reaching iman and not before.

May Allah forgive any short comings in the Sheik and reward the him the highest level of Paradise.

Making Up Our Fasting Days

2011-12-20T02:06:00.004-06:00

Go ahead and say it: SUBHANALLAH!

This is the Masjid As-Salam in Malaysia. Thanks to the photographer.

The Chinese have a saying, "When someone shares with you something of value, you have an obligation to share it with others."

Nice!

Okay, now I'm going to share something else with you: these are the shortest days of the year. The fewest hours of sunlight will be this week. This also means that the fewest hours of fasting possible are this week.

Do you have days to make up from Ramadan? I do.

The best times to make up our fasting days are:

right after the first day of Eid Al-Fitr (after Ramadan). It is sunnah or following the ways of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) so there is added blessing.

the first ten days of the month Dhul Al-Hajja. This is at the same time the pilgrims are making their way to Mecca. The most important day of those ten is the last, "The Day of Arafat."

the 9th and 10th in the month of Muharam. This is the first month of the Muslim calendar which happens after Dhul Al-Hajja). This is also sunnah but according to the Prophet Musa/Moses (peace be upon him) which Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) followed as well.

Monday and Thursday are also sunnah to fast according to Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him).

13th, 14th and 15th of the MUSLIM months on the Hijrah calendar; not on the Gregorian calendar. This is another sunnah of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him).

Click here to learn more about the different calendars systems. You can see what today is according to many different calendars.

Today, I'm fasting and I'm not getting any extra blessings. It's well after Ramadan and Hajj. It's a Tuesday. But it is one of the shortest and therefore easiest days to fast. There is no shame in fasting a short day. A fast is a fast. What makes is even easier is that it's cold in Egypt and we have Winter Vacation from our international school.

If you have not made up your fasting from Ramadan, please consider getting this obligation done now in December. You will never find an easier time. I need to count up my days missed, post it on the refrigerator and then mark them off. My goal is to get all of them done during this break from work.

Two words of caution:

Fridays must not be fasted alone. If you want to fast on a Friday, you must fast either the day before and/or the day after.

Also, if you married you need to ask permission from your husband since his rights with you need to be postponed during the fasting time. It's a good way to get his mind prepared for the following day. He will be more understanding if he is part of the process. Actually, when the man isn't fasting and the wife is there is a kind of "off-limits" fascination he develops for her again.

The best way to actually do the fast is to make the intention the night before. Set your alarm for 30-45 minutes before the fajr prayer. Get up and chow down. Stop eating, brush and floss, then drink one more sip of water. Make wudu, pray, and read Quran. Then, keep busy doing good works. Avoid romantic intimacy and those things which bring lust or anger to your mind.

Inshahallah your fast will be accepted.

Can Men and Women Be Friends?

2011-12-18T12:02:00.001-06:00

I wrote a response to a Muslim blogger who wanted to reconnect with male friends she knew before Islam. Many readers told her that it wasn't a good idea. I also stated that opinion. However, you won't be able to read my response on her blog because she deleted the post.

So, I am posting here what I wrote:

Asalamu Alaykom,

You do seem up and down and then up and down with alarming frequency. This is only obvious to us who read you because you tell us. If you didn’t tell us then we wouldn’t know. You are announcing your moods and thus are locking yourself into a mindset.

I gave up the notion that “happiness” was really that important to me any more. It has helped immensely. I am no longer a slave to my emotions. Sure, I still swerve from the calm I want but it isn’t such a long detour as it used to be. I want peace. I work for finding and maintaining peace. This isn’t as HIGH a feeling as happiness but it sure beats the resulting lows. Being Muslim and making a commitment to Islam means giving up some of our old notions.

That whole idea of “just friends” is not just un-Islamic; it’s illogical. Watch this video to see some proof from Non-Muslim, Utah college kids.

I realize that you want to stop us readers focusing on your desire to reconnect with male friends from your past. Well…that’s not possible. You threw something out there which is really a bombshell. It’s like a call for help that we responded to and then you want us to stop seeing it as a big issue. It is!

You aren’t really single—from what I’m understanding (and it is convoluted). You seem to still be legally married. That brings a couple of issues into play.

Don’t give the father of your child any rope to hang you. If he finds out that you are still legally his and you are in contact with men it could mean a custody grab. Men do strange things when they think another man might have some sort of closeness or influence with their child.

And maybe MAYBE if you are not fully divorced then you could still save your marriage. Been known to happen! Not an outlandish idea. So, you being seen to jump ship into the emotional arms of a former male friend could upset everything. Leave it alone.

But why do we have to adhere to your thinking that, “I’m a Muslim woman writing this blog, but this blog is not about Islam”? If you are a Muslim then everything you do and say ESPECIALLY in a public forum is about Islam. You are representing Islam. With every post and response we give we are living out our Islam. There is no way for a true believer to separate ME from MY FAITH. We are our faith in our every move, moment and membrane.

You want to write a blog which has in its title an piece of Islamic clothing, and discuss your life in Saudi, which is a Muslim country, and yet you don’t want us to call you out when your decisions run counter to Islamic principles? You can’t have it both ways.

And “no” you can’t be a Muslim woman and have male friends. The closest I get to this is my writing partner Ben on our blog http://www.yosraben.blogspot.com and even that I constantly question.

Life should be about questioning who we are NOW—not who we were. We weren’t actually that great before. We weren’t! And the people who stayed in that “not so great” place will only encourage us to stay there with them. Though your hub has qualified in your mind as a shlunk, he is still a Muslim man and closer to you than any of those Non-Muslim men will ever be.

I’ve truly “been there and done that”. I’ll tell you what happened for me after my divorce from my Mister.

Those short, funny conversations with a Non-Muslim man will start playing in your head. Those men are closer to our original culture and the interactions are therefore comfortable and comforting. We then wonder if that’s a big loss to have given up. We can’t have these cute little chats about Rog from “What’s Happening” (such an obscure referrence to a 1979 sit-com) with our former foreign-born hub. No pop culture referrences! No simmilar backgrounds. Eventually, we start to wonder if we’ll have to leave Islam somehow to find that connection. Because, as we know, we can’t marry a Non-Muslim man. So, it takes a really awful experience to shake us from playing with fire. And, I believe that, if you did venture out of your Islamic principles, you would get that moment which burns you.

All of us who are advising against this idea would rather you didn’t get burned. We, and I believe I do speak for everyone who reads you, really care about you because you are this sweet, honest woman striving through adversity. We wish the best for you.

I See My Mother Every Morning

2011-12-16T04:24:00.001-06:00

          I see my mother every morning.

          Yes, it's her face I see.

          I can't describe my surprise

          for she's where she shouldn't be.

          I see her eyes and mouth;

          the lines around them too.

          When I stare into the mirror,

          she says, "It's not me. It's YOU!"

Maher Zain - For The Rest Of My Life

2011-12-15T02:11:00.003-06:00

This is worth seeing. I realize that not everyone who reads my blog listens to music. That's OK. But I'm going to ask that you view this video without the sound. Why? Because this director, Lena Khan, (who not incidentally is a woman), puts together images of Muslim couples which are meaningful.

We, as Muslims, need this video to be part of the fabric of modern society. Yes, we are women who live and love just like other women. But we look for our love within the framework of halal; that which God allows for us.

When I see this beautiful video, I thank God that my life and my love are closer to halal than I've ever been before. Alhumdulillah.

If you are able to listen to the music, then you hear the simple clarity in the lyrics:

"I feel so blessed when I think of you

And I ask Allah to bless all we do

You’re my wife, and my friend and my strength

And I pray we’re together in Jannah"

Maher Zain is the singer. I first heard him singing "For the Rest of My Life," and had to hear more. Mashahallah. There is a truth coming out from him which feels so calming and purifying.

For those who live in Indonesia, here is the same song and video in Bahasa. Remember that Indonesia has a larger Muslim population than any where else in the world. 12 percent of the world's Muslims (or 209 million) call Indonesia their home.

To see more of Muslim life in Indonesia, view Maher Zain's video for Baraku Allahu Lakuma. The song is in English but the visual images are of a wedding in Indonesia. Culturally, it's fascinating! Very beautiful bride, mashahallah. Again, if you are against listening to music, you could just view the video with the sound off. There is a lavishness to the proceedings which goes against the teachings of Islam. There is mixed dancing. I say this because it isn't the same level of sweet simplicity of the "For the Rest of My Life," video. I can't recommend it 100%.

If you read about Maher Zain's story, you'll see that he's a "Born Muslim" of Lebanese descent. From the age of eight, he grew up in Sweden. Unbelievably, mashahallah, he's got a degree in aeronautical engineering. He got into music and spent time pursuing that in New York. He only came to Islam once he had matured. His journey shows us all that even those with a Muslim father need to find their own way.

Listen to his song, "Thank you, Allah," to understand more about his return to Islam.

"I was so far from you

Yet to me you were always so close

I wandered lost in the dark

I closed my eyes toward the signs

You put in my way

I walked everyday

Further and further away from you

Oh Allah, you brought me home....

I never thought about

All the things you have given to me

I never thanked you once

I was too proud to see the truth

And prostrate to you

Until I took the first step

And that’s when you opened the doors for me

Now Allah, I realized what I was missing

By being far from you...

Allah, I wanna thank You

I wanna thank you for all the things that you’ve done

You’ve done for me through all my years I’ve been lost

You guided me from all the ways that were wrong

And did you give me hope..."

There are a lot of people, stories, and videos. Find the ones which lift you up.

Islamic Beauty: Hands

2011-12-10T07:04:00.002-06:00

This is the second posting in my Islamic Beauty series.

First, we thought about our faces. We are mandated to cover everything except our faces and our hands. We'll think about our hands next.

Limit the Exposure

Our hands, unlike our faces, reach out and explore our world. Our sense of touch is fulfilled mostly through this part of our body. Since we are so busy with our hands we need to be careful that we don't over expose them.

One of the ways a Muslimah can be careful with her hands is to limit who gets to touch them. Hands are beautiful, soft, tender and warm. We don't need to share them with everyone who reaches out to us. We don't have to shake the hands of men.

Women shaking hands with men is a cultural norm in the West. It is not done everywhere. And, like most cultural norms, it is not something we should adhere to blindly. The Quran admonishes us time and again to walk the straight path and not simply follow the footsteps of the past. We need to stop, think, and reassess. Does shaking hands with a man help or hurt my Islam?

For me, I made the decision years ago to forgo this act of closeness. My hand is not for any man who thrusts his arm out. It is actually against Emily Post's ettiquette for a man to suggest a handshake first. So, for any woman who thinks that it is rude to not take a man's hand if he offers, please realize that it is rude for a man to innitiate.

When we limit who touches and holds us, we reign in our power more. We are owning our own beauty; not giving it away. No, not every man gets to touch us. Being aware of our beauty and our right to keep it from public consumption is protecting ourselves. When we feel that protection we are able to feel the safety and freedom to be ourselves. Being ourselves is beautiful.

What to do when a man puts out his hand? I smile sincerely, place my right hand on my heart and say, "It's nice to meet you, sorry but I don't shake hands."

Do I shake hands with women? Yes.

I don't need to describe to Non-Muslims every move I make. It is implied but not spelled out. This is a quick interaction; a blip. Usually there is some short-lived embarrassment on the part of the man. It is a learning moment and often we do learn from our mistakes. I bet that the same man will not offer his hand thoughtlessly to the next covered woman.

Keep in mind, that in most of the world, men do not shake hands with women. So, if you are in doubt about your right to politely refuse, then know that a large percent of the world's citizens understand and even support your stance. I understand.

It's a chance for dawa the spread of Islam. We do not spread Islam by being the same as everyone else. We spread Islam by explaining that there are both simmilarities and differences. The differences we adhere to are to keep us closer to what is good and healthy for us; for the pleasure of Allah.

If you have any doubt, think if you would like your beloved husband shaking hands with every woman in the room or if you'd rather he told them that he doesn't shake hands. Later, the two of you could hold each other's hands in private knowing that just you two are able to share something special.

Gloves

We need to cover up our hands from the cold. Cold leads to sore, chapped hands. Not taking care of our hands in the cold leads to more interventions later. It's far better to use preventative measures.

We also need to cover up our hands when we do the housework. This is hard for a lot of women. I've seen it! I've felt it myself. When we put on laytex gloves, we feel subservient. We hate to feel like a housewife! Yet, without the gloves, we touch many harsh cleaning chemicals, detergents, and soaps.

When I was a new mom, I went to the dermotologist for help with my hands. My hands were in rough shape! I felt so much discomfort from them; they were so itchy and dry. With winter setting in, the skin was actually drying and splitting from itself. I needed help!

The doctor told me that it was a typical symptom of new motherhood. Moms are changing diapers and washing hands. Moms are doing more laundry. Moms are trying harder to keep the house clean for baby. In the end, he told me how I had to wear gloves for every cleaning job. I could not allow the chemical agents to touch my skin any more. He also told me to apply a small amount cream after every time I used hand soap.

Since that time, I've been able to keep my hands free from problems by using gloves. The only time I have problems is when I think I can actually handle doing the dishes quickly without gloves. I can't. It's life.

Avoid Harshness

How can a soft hand be subjected daily to harsh soaps and gels? It can't. Avoid them. There are hand soaps which kill germs and also rob us of moisture. We don't need them. What we need is to practice proper procedures in hand washing. Rubbing your hands vigorously with a mild lathering soap, using a nail brush, and drying hands afterward is enough.

We don't need germ-killing hand gel throughout our day. Yes, there are times I open my purse, pull out the gel bottle and squirt up the whole family. But I've seen ladies constantly use hand gel as if they were warding off evil spirits.

Cure Cuts

Cuts on our fingers and hands are hard to cure. I have never had much success with band-aids on my hands. I have, however, been very happy with Nu-Skin. This is a thin, clear, coat of antiseptic which needs maybe one or two applications in order to heal your wound. Subhanallah, it has helped me many times.

Nails

Keep nails short. Really.

When I was searching for just the right image for this posting, I had a hard time finding hands with short nails. It is seen as beautiful to have long nails.

Nails are dead. Nails are not living parts of ourselves. Just like hair, we don't feel any pain when they are cut. To worship something dead on us is strange, isn't it?

The practice of growing long nails was famous far and wide for Chinese royalty and nobility. Long ago, for a Chinese woman to have long nails meant she was a kept woman. Her man was rich. She was not necessary for any work. She was a showpiece kept by her man for his enjoyment.

Islamically, we are warned against keeping long nails. Nails should not extend beyond your fingertip; the shorter the better. They should be trimmed once a week in deferrence to good hygiene and health.

One of the most dramatic real-life detective stories I've ever heard involved long nails. This is a true story (though I am unable to find substantiating links at this time). There was a hospital nursery in which a healthy baby suddenly caught an infection and died. The administration investigated the ventilation system. It checked out fine. They thought that maybe the baby picked it up from a visiting family member. While this first death was still being grieved, a second baby died in very simmilar circumstances. Now there were two dead babies, two families in mourning and no answers. What was killing the babies?

What linked the two deaths was one nurse. Yes, she had long nails. The undersides of her long nails were depositories of disease-spreading strains of staph. The hospital staff knew that it was healthier to have short nails but they let societal norms for "beauty" dictate to them.

In my own life, I had to be Mama Bear when a hospital worker came to change the IV on two-year-old Mr. Boo back in 2007. She showed up with her long nails and I stopped her.

"Are you going to wear gloves?"

"No."

"Then I want someone else."

I later complained to the Ombudsman of the hospital. She agreed.

Yes, long nails are not healthy. As Muslimahs, we need to make decisions for our health and for the health of our families. Good health is the most beautiful.

Nail Polish

Yes, we can wear nail polish

BUT we have to remove it to pray.

For those of you who say, "Muslimahs can't wear nail polish, " please ammend yourselves. We can wear it but we have to remove it to pray.

We have to remove it in order to make a successful wudu washing for prayer. A wudu is only valid if the water touches the surfaces of those body parts: hands, face, arms from elbows down, hairline, ears, tand feet. Without a successful wudu, our prayer is invalid. If you have been praying while wearing nail polish, and only now realized your mistake, then perhaps Allah (in all His Mercy) might accept your prayers. However, now you know.

I never was big on nail polish. I was fine putting it on but I didn't like taking it off. The smell of the polish remover is hideous! And I always managed to stain something with it.

Yet, when I came to Islam, I didn't like to be told, "YOU CAN'T!" So, during my periods (when I couldn't pray) I would paint my toenails. When my period was done, I'd take it off and make ghusl. I felt some of my freedom to have my limits but not your eliminations. Later, I got tired of this routine and I stopped wearing it all together. I did it from my own volition, however, and not from someone screaming at me.

I've had two close friends in America verbally attacked at their local masjid for showing up in nail polish. These are two separate incidents, by the way, in two seperate states. "HARAM! HARAM!" Wow, Girls, let's be a little better in our approach with new visitors to the masjid. These two friends went to the masjid in pain and hoped for some relief from the hardship of their lives. Did they find it? NO! They found harsh critics who were ready to pounce on them for some perceived flaw in their appearance.

I would rather that we approach ladies in nail polish while making excuses for them. They might not even be Muslim! Not every person entering a masjid has taken shahaddah. What if we jump on them with our "HARAM! HARAM!" spiel and alienate them immediately by showing how judgemental "sisters" can be. Please. Let's be advisers not crucifiers.

Henna

Henna on hands is a cultural norm in many countries. Just as I said that Americans shouldn't follow cultural norms without questions neither should those from Muslim countries. Muslim countries don't necessarily practice Islam. They usually practice a mix.

Intricate henna hand designs are beautiful. I admire them. They attract the eye for sure. So...they cross the line. They bring attention to a woman in public and that isn't the goal of Islam.

Henna is also used on fingernails as a halal stand-in for paint. It is a dye and can accept a layer of water over the nail. Does it look good? I don't think so. It's an option, though.

Preventing Arthritis

Painful joints can create a crippling look to our hands. Arthritis is best avoided through exercising your joints. Muslimahs already know one of the best excercises around!

Tasbih is the remembrance of Allah through repeating the names "Alhumdulillah" 30 times, then "Subhanallah" 30 times and then "Astragferallah" 30 times. A lot of people assosciate this activity with a string of prayer beads. However those prayer beads will not testify for you on the Day of Judgement. If you do the tasbih on your finger joints you get more benefit---maybe even preventing arthritis!

In Conclusion

Our hands are such an important part of how we connect with the world. We are allowed to show them. What are we doing with our hands? We need to take care of them, protect them and use them to help ourselves and others.

"Beauty is as beauty does."

Actually, the most beautiful hands in the world won't be worth anything if they can't testify on Judgement Day that the Muslimah used her time wisely.

Our Companions

2011-12-06T14:07:00.003-06:00

We have some really awful friends.

We keep them because we don't want to feel lonely.

Do you know what AbuBakr said?

"Solitude is better than
the society of evil persons."

Think about that.

Do you have someone in your life who is not good for you?

Do you feel better or worse after associating with them? Do they add or subtract from your life?

Often we don't even think of these subtractors as friends. We think of them as acquaintances. They are the hangers-on in our life. They aren't really people we would choose but somehow they fell into our life. They don't represent our highest hope; they are the people we can't "unfriend" though we loathe to deal with them. They bring us down.

A sheik on TV asked us the viewers if we had good friends. He asked if those friends would be the people we'd want in the last minute of our life. Could those friends be trusted to help guide our final moments?

That hit me hard.

If I couldn't trust that person to help me in my final moments (by helping me to say, "La illaha il Allah wa Muhammadar Rasullulah") then why would I want them in any of the moments leading up to it? There are many watershed moments in our life, which actually seem like a kind of dying, when we need to slough off an old way of life and adopt a new one. We need the best of people surrounding us to help us be the people we are capable of being.

The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) was surrounded by the best of men. These men were his companions; the Sahabi. I am very happy to find a pdf collection of many wonderful stories about these friends. http://www.jamiamasjid.com/hikayate_sahaba.pdf

There is also a lot of information about the companions on this website of Islamic Landmarks.

This site might surprise you: It's about a final resting place of a sahabi in China.

Learn who these people were and find out why they were allowed into the inner circle of The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him). We can ask ourselves if there are lessons we can glean for our own lives. Can we be better people? Lastly, we can examine those in our inner circle and truly question if they are a help and a guidance for us.

I did that with a former co-worker last week. I hadn't spoken with her for so long. I hadn't seen her when I was back in the States over the summer. I hadn't even traded messages over the computer. Zero contact. I saw her name come up on my chat list and I greeted her.

"Asalamu Alaykom," I wrote.

"WAS," she answered.

I wondered what really I had to say to this lady. She was another Muslimah. We had been in the same place at the same time. She had shown me a lot of kindness back in 2008. Did we have much to say now?

She did.

"I make du'a for you and your family every day. I pray for your safety."

I saw those words appear on the screen. They shocked me. I had forgotten her but she had not forgotten me. Astragferallah that I was not a better friend for her when she was such a good friend for me. It was then that I asked her about her life. There had been so many changes and all of them positive. Alhumdulillah. I felt so good after our short chat.

She remains on my list.

Who is on your list? Who are your companions?

Are they in your prayers? Are you in theirs?

May Allah forgive us the desire we have for companionship which often over-rides our common sense. May Allah forgive us the many times we have good friends who get forgotten even though they always remember us.

Islamic Beauty: Face

2011-12-02T07:42:00.004-06:00

This is my first post in a planned series.

What is Islamic Beauty?

Muslimahs are the women who follow Islam.

Islam is the submission to The One God.

Is it within the teachings of Islam for Muslimahs look beautiful? Of course!

We are all beautiful creations of Allah.

"Islamic Beauty," is what I am entitling a series of posts which will address the specific concerns of the Muslimah. Our needs are different than the mainstream and need to remain so. We don't have to ape the celebrities on People's latest cover to satisfy what others need from us. We have to stay in touch with what Allah wants for us.

The Quran, which is the word of Allah, has guided us to cover our awrah. Our awrah is anything which is private. Remember that men have an awrah too! A woman's awrah is anything except her face and hands. The way we accomplish this covering up is with hijab. A hijab is not just the scarf on our head but the complete covering up of our body. Alhumdulillah, the hijab removes the focus from our bodies. Just our face and hands are left showing.

Our face, therefore, becomes the major focus of others' attention during our interactions with the world. Many Muslimahs neglect their face because they feel that a woman must downplay her looks completely in order to observe the religion. This need not be the case.

Take a look in the mirror.

Our faces tell others a lot about us. Not looking in the mirror and not taking time to observe ourselves means that we are not understanding how we are presenting ourselves to the world. Because we are Muslimahs, we are also presenting Islam to others. A Muslimah's beautiful face is a chance to make dawa without even having to speak.

So how do we acheive Islamic beauty on our face?

Eat Healthy Food

Allah wants us to be healthy and has given us a huge array of halal foods. Yet we ignore Allah's creation and turn to man's processed excess to satisfy our wants instead of our needs. We need five fresh fruit and vegetables servings each day.

When we put healthy food inside our bodies it shows in our face. The vitamins and nutrients provide our skin with the needed building materials to create new layers of radiant skin.

A person who indulges in pre-packaged chemicals and preservatives is slowly embalming themselves. Whether it's cheaper, easier or handier, those bags of fill-in-the-blank are keeping you away from Allah's plan for us. Allah's plan is fresh fruits and vegetables.

Get Enough Sleep

Allah has mandated that there is a day in which to work, play and pray and a night in which to rest. Electricity has enabled us to work (but mostly play) throughout the night but that doesn't mean we should neglect this mandate.

When we don't get enough sleep, it shows on our faces with dark rings under our eyes. "Beauty sleep" is not a silly remark but an actuality.

Stress-induced wrinkles are caused by repeated nervousness which can be calmed by enough rest.

Another reason to sleep is that is helps our metabolism burn excess fat which can hide your face's bone structure.

Pray

Prayer gives the believer the "Noor of Islam" which shines forth. This beauty is something which you cannot gain through any material means. In order to have this glow, you must do the daily humbling before The Creator.

Slough Off the Old

Our skin is layers, as I've said, and our top layer of skin is dead. It's DEAD! We can collect many dead layers of skin without realizing that we are wearing a kind of death mask. We no longer look lively and young but take on a older appearance.

Time for exfoliating! Sloughing off those old dead layers of skin once a week brings sudden renewal in appearance. It can be through a facial scrub, mask or peel.

Hydrate

There are two ways to hydrate your skin; from the outside in and from the inside out. Drinking water is the best way to keep our skin supple. If we allow ourselves only caffeinated soda pops, sugared tea and coffee then we not giving our bodies what they truly need.

At the same time we can get water into our skin from the outside in. When we wash our faces, that water enters into our pores. I wash my face with soap and water only once a day (in the morning). I feel the water enter in. Within three minutes our face starts to lose that moisture. How do you retain that moisture?

Moisturizer! Since I was a teenager, I've been using a moisturizer every morning after washing my face. This has varied by name. I used to use "Kiss My Face" products in the U.S. but now use "Eva" products in Egypt. I use only plant-based moisturizers containing things like Olive Oil or Honey which work with the skin. Using mineral-based products like Vaseline or glycerine on your face will clog your pores and cause break-outs.

Here's the most important piece of information from this section (and maybe from this entire post): you must hydrate with a mositurizer within the first three minutes after you wash. That means you wash with a mild soap, pat dry and mositurize immediately. This prevents that tightening feeling on your face.

My mom used to think that was a good feeling until I told her, "No, Mom! That's your face losing moisture!"

Admit to Acne

I once had acne. This shocked me! I was entering college and my face broke out. I was so sad because I did theatre and prided myself on appearance. One of my headshots from that time shows every little bump and it looks awful.

Acne is a problem which needs assessment from a professional. Go to a demotologist and get treatment. Don't rely on over-the-counter medications. I realize that this costs money but this is your FACE we're talking about. It deserves proper attention.

Sometimes, we get a little zit. That usually happens once a month for me. I don't use any skin medication for that. Know what I use? A little dab of toothpaste! I put the toothpaste directly over the pimple and let it absorb the oils. I would never leave the house that way but it helps at home.

Never-ever pick at your face. The bacteria under your nails will likely enter into the sore you've picked and cause a worse problem. Scaring on the face is a very serious matter. Picking at pimples is very risky. Don't risk your face. Be patient and know that every pimple God gives you is a challenge which you can handle.

Wear Sun Protection

I never liked sunbathing. It always seemed to me to be one of the lamest of activities. So, I would go out into the sun to do things like garden (with a hat) or go biking (with a helmet) but I didn't get into "sun worshipping" (astragferallah). Alhumdulillah, at 43, my skin hasn't aged as much as my contemporaries who liked to roast themselves each summer.

Now here in Egypt, I felt the dangers of the sun like never before. When I first moved here, I would sporadically put on my Clinque City Block with SPF 25. I would use it when I was going to be out in the sun for a long period of time. However, I realized that the cummulative times of watching the children on the playground, waiting for a taxi, going up to the roof, walking to the store were all adding up to skin damage. The area being hit the worst was the tops of my cheeks. Every time I smiled, I raised them up to the sun for increased exposure and my skin began showing the effects.

Now? Every day, I use the SPF 25 immediately after I moisturize. I use this as a kind of foundation. I do powder after it to reduce any kind of shine it produces. Since using it every day, I have seen an improvement in both my skin's tone and my skin's softness.

It is worth mentioning, of course, that skin cancer can also be avoided by using an SPF.

Make-up

This is controversial.

Kohl outlining the eyes is considered halal in Islam but most other efforts at coloring the face is not---at least not publicly. Remember that there is beauty which we can show to the public and beauty which we can show only in private.

I do wear some make-up. The make-up I wear is so little as to be non-conspicuous. I wear make-up to look pleasant but not to look attractive. So, for instance, I do wear lipstick. I tried wearing only lip moisturizer but my lips got so chapped. I found that lipstick was the only substance to keep them from painful dryness. I wear colors which are as close to my natural as possible.

I avoid any lipstick with sparkles or gloss. Those would attract attention and, as I said, the goal for me is to look pleasant not to attract the eye.

I do line my eyes but not with kohl; I use eyeliner. I do not usually wear mascara. If time permits, I may curl my eye lashes with an eyelash curler. I do use eye shadow and try not to be too obtrusive with it.

This is my decision to wear make-up. I am not recommending it to others but rather putting it out there as a truth. My intention is to create a pleasant face which fully looks like me. I am not interested in becoming a heavily made-up Robert Palmer video chick. I still remain me.

Facial Hair

This is also controversial.

Some Muslimahs believe that correcting any facial hair is wrong since God gave it to you; you should keep it. I disagree. I believe that there can be some hair on a woman's face which detracts from her beauty in such a way as to be unsightly.

Hormonal changes can really start dark hairs growing on a woman where before there was none. It can be very upsetting. It was for me after the birth of my first child. I thought that, since it was natural, then it was acceptable and I had to learn how to live with it.

Eventually, when I came to really love myself more, I knew that those dark little hairs hurt my self esteem. They were only a few in number but they needed professional attention. I did use electrolysis. This was sometimes painful and costly, but in the end, highly effective. I no longer have any dark hairs around my lips.

I know that lots of women in Egypt use Halawa a kind of sugar-based hair ~~ripping~~ removal product. I have no intention of ever using that on my face. I've seen the pockmarks from women who have used that on their face. It can cause permanent skin damage.

There are other women who shave. I know one actress back in the States who has to shave regularly. She has appeared in TV and movies and has to shave each morning because she started the process long ago. Don't start this. It isn't healthy for our faces. There are other ways to eliminate unwanted hair which don't encourage dark, thick regrowth.

Then there's plucking and threading. I do pluck stray hairs around my eyebrows with a tweezer. Stray hairs are those which creep up in between your natural brows or show up around the edges. I do not try to shape my eyebrows into the latest trend. My eybrows are basically the same shape they've always been. Others would not even realize I pluck anything.

Use a magnifying mirror to see what is out of place. Actually, a magnifying mirror is good for applying eyeliner as well. Tweeze at the base of the hair and pull quickly. Some like to ice the area first. Afterward, you might want to apply a pore soothing Witch Hazel or other tonic.

Smile

"You're never fully dressed without a smile." This is an age old truism for others. Is it true for Muslimahs?

There is a kind of smile which we share with those we select. We don't flash those pearly whites to the masses. This is a kind of downplayed version. We smile from our heart and not from our ego. We are not trying to attract others with our dazzling teeth; so again we're attempting to be pleasant and not attractive.

In order to have a pleasant smile, we really need to take care of our teeth. This is having good dental health. It isn't really important to make your teeth glow-in-the-dark white. However, be smart about brushing at least twice a day. Floss regularly.

I also use a stain removing toothpaste once a week. Just like a facial exfoliant, a teeth whitening toothpaste gets rid of an unwanted layer. This has become really important in tea-drinking Egypt. I have also tried to reduce the browing of my teeth by rinsing my mouth with water after every tea time.

Conclusion

Your face. My face. The face of Islam. We have the ability to make the most of our faces and the way we are perceived. We can be more positive about ourselves by learning to accentuate the positives and changing the negatives. We can present our face to the world in a pleasnt way and therefore become better servants of Allah. Practising good health and hygiene and making conscious decisions about this important part of our body will enable us to be better people and better Muslims; beautiful Muslimahs.

Actress After Hajj

2011-12-01T12:14:00.002-06:00

Queenie Padilla was nobody to me until today. That's when I saw this video. She's only a young lady but she's come a long way to fully embracing herself as a Muslimah.

"When I was in showbiz, I was very unhappy. I was lost and I always felt I never belong. But now that Allah is in my life, Alhamdullilah, La illa illalah, I am so happy and content in my life,” she is quoted as saying .

This is the first part of her interview. There are going to be parts which are in her native language but most of it is in English. Through the interview you will feel that she's been through something POWERFUL.

Mashahallah.

May Allah accept her Hajj and forgive her the sins of her former life. May her time ahead be one of learning for herself and of teaching others.

Egyptian Elections

2011-11-26T08:02:00.000-06:00

Elections are scheduled for Monday in Cairo. All the schools in the metropolis are closed (even in Giza) because of the anticipated disruption.

This is a political flier for a man running for office in Giza. I know nothing about him so this is not an endorsement.

What I find interesting is the political groups. The bearded man in a galabiya belongs to the Fanoos Lantern group. This totally connotates Islam because the lanterns are hung here at Ramadan. This half page of paper is flimsy and the quality is not as important as austerity.

The next flier is really a study in contrast.

This clean-shaven man is dressed in a suit and tie. This small photo of his flier belies the fact that it's a full glossy page. It's very professionally done. That takes some money! He belongs to the acoustic guitar group. Which renders us thinking of Folk Music from the '60s or MTV Unplugged. Stringed instruments are forbidden by the most strict of Muslims so it's kind of a dis on them.

But please don't think that only men run for political office. During our really short vacation this fall to the North Coast, I snapped a quick pic of Bill O'Reilly's worst dream.

Yes, it's a niqabi participating in Democracy!

What I loved about this poster was that she's "one of the guys". She's just another person, which is what covered women strive for anyway. She isn't spending thousands on her hair care and make-up like Michelle Bachman or Sarah Palin. Hey, I'm not going to be partisan here---she's not spending thousands on pant suits like Hiliary Clinton either!

I'm sorry that the above picture wasn't clearer but it was taken from a hantour a horse carriage ride. I can't tell which political party they belong to.

Here's a picture I took last year in Cairo.

This hijabi is part of the Grapes Party. I'm really so sad that I didn't get a picture of the flier from the man who was part of the Banana Party. Bananas are funny! Who in the world was thinking that's a great idea for someone running for political office?

I love this last picture. This woman is serious and sincere and is facing you with all her humanity. She is not dolled up or made to look attractive. She is an Egyptian first and a woman second. Again, I don't know anything about her politics. I only know that she is a covered woman who is ready to serve her country.

That's beautiful.

May the elections run as smoothly as possible with the outcome being fair and just.

Deja Vue All Over Again

2011-11-21T12:24:00.003-06:00

"If you got it today you don't want it tomorrow, man, 'cause you don't need it, 'cause as a matter of fact, as we discovered in the train, tomorrow never happens, man. It's all the same f---ing day, man."

Janis Joplin

Yes, it's alll the same day...especially in Egypt.

We could sing:

"Yes, it's beginning to look a lot like Revolution everywhere we go."

Or we could sing this round I was trying to teach Mr. Boo:

"Cairo's burning! Cairo's burning!

Fetch the engines! Fetch the engines!

Fire, Fire! Fire, Fire!

Pour on water! Pour on water! Pour on waaaater!"

Sing it, say it, blog it out...hey! Even Twitter it!

In fact, please Twitter it, because then I get some idea of what's going on in Egypt----at least from one point of view. Some of what I read is really twisted dreams of what SHOULD happen in a reforming country instead of what history tells us DOES happen in a reforming country.

This picture at the top is actually from the Twitter feed. It shows you how Egypt is right now. Egypt is a mix. Egypt has an angry mob burning down the city and army soldiers and police fighting them to the death. It also has a cotton candy man. It makes me laugh. Even knowing the huge toll this latest uprising is taking, that picture makes me laugh and it makes me hopeful.

There's a human spirit which drives us to keep going here in Egypt. It's the dad I see every morning bringing his daughter to school on the handlebars of his bike. He's not young and she's no longer so small. It's not a joy ride for him yet it's a ride of joy. He keeps going because he has hope for the future. God bless him.

I didn't want to go to school this Sunday. I wondered if it would be cancelled. It wasn't. Some schools closer to Tahrir were. Remember that I'm very safe in Giza. So I went. When I saw the people, like the dad on the bike, I felt like I was not alone in my fears or my hopes. We are together in a unified mission to keep the country running; to keep our families getting their needs met.

Why? Because someone has to.

Someone has to teach school during a revolution. Ironically, I am teaching about the Pilgrims and the Native American Indians befriending each other. These two groups came together to share a place and time. They gave thanks. We remember them each year on Thanksgiving.

There is no school for us this Thursday. I'm thinking of fasting during the day and then eating pizza that night. It will mark five very full years since my son's father left us and flew to Egypt. It is hitting me as sad and momentus. Fasting seems a good way of marking the day.

Friday? I don't know.

Saturday? Not sure.

Sunday, once again I'm supposed to return to school.

Monday, inshahallah, is the election. It was just announced that all the schools will be closed.

Today, another American teacher asked me, "Do you see yourself here forever?"

I answered, "I have seen myself being forever with marriages, homes, jobs, friends and been wrong. So, I've stopped thinking of forever. I don't know what will happen."

I like what Fadel Soliman said. He said that being a Muslim isn't being happy or sad. Being Muslim is just accepting. I'm doing a pretty good job accepting this latest melee.

I thought about my hometown. It really isn't much safer than here. There are gang warfares from drug deals gone wrong. I am no where near those danger zones. I only hear about the killings on the news. It doesn't really affect me.

This is how it is here. Bad things are happening. Not here. I'm safe here. It's happening somewhere and I know about it. Yet, I need to keep my life in perspective and stay focused on building our life not getting distracted by those who want to tear the world apart.

It's going to happen. Again and again.

Playwright Bertolt Brecht in "Mother Courage" said a most revolutionary thought. It struck me so when I was still a teenager. Most people view the world as peaceful until a war breaks out. The reality is that the world is warlike and every now and then peace breaks out.

After a hardship there is ease.

Late for Duhr

2011-11-14T13:29:00.001-06:00

I was late for my appointment with Duhr. He had started waiting for me at 11:40, which was not a good time for me to meet. Sunday through Thursday I'm busy at work and I can't always meet with him. Sometimes I get washed up to meet him and then have to bail out due to other pressing concerns.

He's really so nice about it. He waits for me until around 2:30. He gives me all that time to see him for those six minutes. That's all he's asking for! Can you believe it? Every day he waits patiently even though he knows that I may or may not be making time for him.

Of course I'm sorry when I find myself too busy. I always ask myself later if I really was too busy or if I could have made more of an effort. Was there any way that I could have removed myself from the kindergarten room for that short break? Those of you who are teachers know that it's harder than it sounds! However, it's not impossible.

Duhr stays until Asr comes. They are never waiting for me at the same time. I basically lose the chance to have a good meeting with Duhr if it's actually the time for Asr. Asr doesn't hold it against me if I haven't met with Duhr. It's not like I can't meet with Asr if I haven't met with Duhr. They don't play like that.

However, I feel badly that I missed Duhr's time. Usually, I feel badly all the way home. I get home, knowing that I need to be on time for my appointment with Asr. I'm hardly ever late for Asr. It's not that I like Asr more. I like Duhr just as much as Asr!

So, when I get home I want to get back on track. I used to call up Duhr first and try to do right by him. I couldn't see him face-to-face any more. I told Asr to wait while I was calling up Duhr. I don't think Asr liked that one bit. I had upset Duhr and now, while I was trying to appease him over the phone, I had to deal with Asr losing patience with me as well.

What to do?!

My husband told me that I should really be good to Asr right away. Come home, get together first with Asr and really keep that appointment on time. Afterwards, he instructed, I could go backwards in my day planner and make sure everything was OK with Duhr. It wouldn't be exactly as good as it could have been but it's necessary to keep in touch with him every day no matter what.

It was a different approach and I decided to try it. The next time I stood on the prayer rug ready to meet Duhr first, I stopped. I closed my eyes and really focused my intentions. No, I would meet with Asr first since that is who was ready to meet me right now. No, I would not call Duhr first since that window of opportunity was closed.

When I connected with Asr first, I really felt an energy shift. I felt quickness in my movements and a re-vitalization in my soul. It was an improvement over dragging my limp, lifeless body through the motions. When I was with Duhr after that, it didn't seem to take so long; it was a breeze. Somehow, I felt that I'd put my prioritizes in order and that eased the whole experience.

Having said that, not everyone agrees who should get your time first. Do your own research. Make your own decisions. An unexaimed life is not worth living. So examine your life and specifically your relationship with Duhr and Asr, as well as their friends Fajr (who always comes so early in the day), Magrib, and Isha (the night owl of the group). These are five friends who really deserve your time and effort.

A Dream Deferred

2011-11-11T12:58:00.001-06:00

Langston Hughes asked,

"What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up. Like a raisin in the sun?"

It's hard for me to write about this. To write about my dream deferred is like writing an obituary of sorts. The funny thing is that it was really my choice ultimately. No one got in my way and prevented me. I stopped myself. I stopped going after my own dream.

Or maybe I woke up from my dream and decided that it wasn't really what I wanted.

Sorry.

Maybe I'd better go back and explain. I have been in Egypt for over two years now. Six months into my stay, a satellite network began to discuss the possibility of me hosting a show. I didn't go forward on it because I had enough going on (new country, new job, new home and new marriage).

Then, this Spring, I was contacted again and the offer was made again. Would I be interested in hosting my own show? If I could build a show what would that include? How would I like to project Islam to a Western, non-Muslim audience?

Obviously, I was very excited about this possibility. It was very real. There were meetings and proposals. Emails went back and forth. I met with the head of the network when he flew to Egypt. That was all going on this Spring and I prayed about it.

Then all was quiet. I didn't hear from anyone. I didn't know what was going on so I went ahead with my plans to go to the U.S. As Allah would have it, the call came after I bought tickets. They wanted me to film all of July and August.

I felt that I'd been in this situation once before. Back in 2008, God had showed me the way to Egypt, but I had gotten a chance to teach in America and jumped at the offer. That decision had been a miserable, gut-wrenching experience. I wasn't going to do that again. I went ahead with my plans to go for six weeks in the U.S.

When I came back, I took my camera test for the station. It was approved and I was congratulated. I would be the new host of their talk show. I found this out two days before school started this fall. It was a very chaotic time made even more crazy when my new assistant was in a car accident (alhumdulillah she was alright).

All the meetings for this project ended up being cancelled, re-scheduled, and always at times inconvenient to me and my family. I lost sleep. I missed meals. I missed being with my son. I became tired, cranky, nervous and angry.

Why, God? Why am I doing this dawah for Islam when it takes me away from the ones I love? Why try to talk to others about peace when it's lacking from my own life?

I was barely putting my big toe into the pool of the project and it was upsetting me greatly. At every turn, I was fuming. No one told me that we'd be filming on the weekend until a few days beforehand. I didn't get those two scripts until the day before. Oh, and there was going to be a co-host (whom I'd never met) but surely we'd get along on screen without problem---right? I'd do my best and it felt awful.

The kicker came the day before filming. Remember: I was having all these emotions without even filming one show! I went in to meet the producer again. He handed me the two scripts he wrote (and I had to magically memorize by the next day) and he told me that his assistant would take me to the abaya shop.

"The what?"

"Abaya shop."

I tried to explain to him that my explicit understanding with the manager of the network was that I was to appear both modest and modern. I felt it was very important to show me in clothes which looked like me; a mix of both American and Muslim. This is the way I dress normally. My appearance on the show was not incidental but crucial. If I looked like I had on an Arabian costume, then I could actually repel women from Islam.

I could imagine some lady flipping channels and remarking, "I get what she's saying but just look at her! That's not me! If I have to dress up like that, then count me out. I'm my own person and I have my own style, thank you very much. I've lost myself to people or causes before. I know who I am now and I am not changing the way I look for anyone! I'm an American, baby!"

I told the producer that I couldn't wear an abaya on the show. Why did they hire an American if they wanted me to dress up like a Saudi?

Look, I have no problem with what women chose to wear in their personal life. Please don't get me wrong. For the work of dawah, on an international satellite program, that is something to be careful about. It was something I had written out and spoken to the station manager about a few times previously. I thought he had heard me.

I talked with him again over the phone on that day.

"Can't you be flexible?" He wanted to know.

"Not on this. I can not. I'm looking at your assistant and she's wearing a modest shirt and skirt. That is Islamically appropriate and not off-putting like an abaya. That's what I would normally wear to work. Why can't I wear something like that?"

"We have an agreement with this shop to use their clothes so we have to use them, " was his explanation.

That really stuck in my craw. A financial agreement was more important to them than presenting Islam the best they could.

"Besides," he tried to reason, "they have abaya shops in America and the U.K."

I was mad. "You haven't lived and worked in those countries and I have. I know what a woman can wear to work and no one wears an abaya to work in mainstream America. To show that a woman must wear an abaya in order to accept Islam will actually stop someone from coming to Islam. I explained my reasoning a long time ago and I thought you understood. If you don't, then I don't want to continue with anything."

I handed the phone to the stunned assistant and walked out. She followed me out and tried to make me stay. I didn't. I walked. I walked out of a TV station which wanted me to host a show.

It hurt. It hurt to feel so close to making a dream into a reality. It hurt to feel betrayed by someone who acted like he listened to me and agreed with me only to go 180 degrees in the other direction at the last minute. It made me reassess the entire process. I felt like I had wasted my time, my family's time and my life energy.

On the way home that night, I bought cranberry juice from the only store in the area that sells it. It's like a special secret. I bought it because it reminded me of being a little girl in the U.S. and I was desperate to connect again with good feelings. I bought it but I didn't drink it yet. I didn't want to drink it when I was mad.

Honestly, I didn't have time to stay mad. I was a teacher, a mom and a wife. I had responsibilities. The night of the filming, I was sad to know that it wasn't me but subhanallah my son had so much homework. I wondered who could have helped him if I hadn't been there? No one. I am irreplacable in his life. They can find another clothes hanger/mouthpiece but my son needs ME and only ME. That goes for my husband too. He missed having his wife who had once enjoyed simple moments together.

Now?

Well, I've drunk my cranberry juice.

The station has gotten word to me that they still want me to work with them somehow. They still want me. I don't know if I want them. I am not missing the crazy chaos that they brought to my life. I would rather have peace in my mind and my home than to have some kind of pseudo-stardom.

I realize that another woman might read this and think me ungrateful. I had a chance. I had an opportunity. If I was reading this back in the States, I might have said, "Put me on a plane and I'LL DO IT!" Yet, I have actually lived the moments and I couldn't do it. I couldn't suck it up and endure; not if I wanted to stay me.

So, my dream dried up and that's OK.

May Allah be pleased with my decision. If I have made the wrong decision, may Allah forgive me.

Vast Differences Between Religions

2011-11-07T08:05:00.001-06:00

Thanks to http://www.thinkatheist.com/ for the great photo.

The Day of Arafat

2011-11-05T00:14:00.000-05:00

Snow White as a little girlie, Spring 2010

I've just come down from the roof. It was a beautiful sunrise today. It's so quiet in Egypt in the early mornings before tuk-tuk music and street vendors calling out their wares.

I had to say "goodbye" to our lovely goat. After we prayed fajr together, my husband had let me know that she was leaving us today. Seeing her one last time was to remember the time we've had and to cherish Allah's creation. She is a beautiful creation! Yet, only Allah remains; the rest of us perish. The Pyramids rising up behind her pen reminds us of this as well. Even if we remember the powerful pharoahs who ordered momuments built, the pharoahs themselves have all left this world.

He is now changing into the clothes he wears to slaughter.

Everyone of us is fasting. He is. I am and I'm very happy I am, alhumdulillah. What makes me even happier is that my 6-year-old wanted me to wake him for suhour. I hesitated. He's little! Yet, I want to respect and value his journey of faith. I woke him and rousted him from his warm bed to drink some milk and have some oatmeal with dates and almonds. He did a great job of sitting and eating it all down. He will not eat or drink again inshahallah until magrib around 5:00. We all brushed teeth and he fell back to sleep.

I can hear some noise upstairs and I know my husband is preparing for the task.

I'm happy that I spoke with my mom last night. She could hear some of what's happening at work and comiserate. She could also tell me how she collected children's coats from neighborhood garage sales and dropped them off at a school with a lot of impoverished families. She didn't want them to be cold. God bless her. I think it's a great idea which others could follow. It made me really proud of my mom.

One of the things I'm also happy about is that I deleted an old google account. It was "me" before I was out of a bad marriage and a really sad situation. The many emails, attachments, chats and documents were reminders of that life before. It was a part of me which needing a kind of slaughtering. It's gone. I'm less fractured and more whole in my endeavor to be a part of this new day---

The Day of Arafat.

May Allah accept all of our efforts this day.

Feeling a Little Melon Collie

2011-11-04T02:19:00.005-05:00

I am feeling down.

A lot of this has to do with not being healthy and having to keep waking up, going in, and working my hardest. Alhumdulillah I have a week off now. That's a real blessing in Egypt that we get time off for Muslim holidays.

It is The Day of Arafat tomorrow. That marks is the last day of Hajj. Millions of Muslims from all over the world are in Mecca right now pouring out their hearts and praying that God will renew their lives. Anyone who is blessed with this mercy, gets their slates wiped as clean as when they were a baby

...or when they took shahaddah. That saddens me a bit. Because I had that clean moment in my life. Twice! It was precious and I wasn't able to hang on to it. In many ways, I was led astray.

Fasting usually helps me when I'm feeling disconnected to goodness. However, this sickness has made it impossible to fast. I had a cold for one week and now this has been another week with a sore throat; it closes up if I don't drink. I found that dates helped me more than Halls cough lozenges, Subhanallah.

I actually lost my voice for a few days---which is the one thing a teacher can't lose! Thank God that I work on lots of non-verbal commands from the beginning of the year (it made our farm field trip doable). Maybe my inability to communicate lately is why I want to write today. I wish, however, that I could have been able to fast this week; maybe I still can on The Day of Arafat because that helps me get in touch with The Source.

And the next days will have the slaughtering inshahallah. This is a hard thought for me this year. We've had a little white goat since she was a baby and she will be leaving us inshahallah. Snow White is this beautiful creature who trusts my hand. We've been feeding her scraps from our kitchen for the last year and a half. She is the one who came to visit my kindergartners. She is a kind of friend for me. I wish we could keep her as a pet but there's no such idea here. No, Yosra, you can't keep a goat on the roof as a perpetual pet. She...it...gets slaughtered tomorrow.

Antd I think of the temporal nature of life. It's another Hajj and another Eid. It's another year for me in Egypt. There is a new feeling settling into me that I'm here. I'm not new here. I'm really here. I'm here even when both my children appeared in plays back in The States. I missed their plays the way my father missed mine.

My father. I am not hearing from my father like I used to. His Alzheimers must be taking over a new area in his brain. He is not emailing me and asking me "Where are you?" Now he doesn't think of me. Soon, there will be the time which he doesn't remember me at all.

There are so many casual referrences to Alzheimers because people like to joke about forgetting and blaming it on having Alzheimers. It's funny to them. It's not funny to me. My father is slowly shutting down from me in a kind of mental death. One of our family members had heart surgery yesterday (God bless him, his wife and children during this time) and I reassured others by telling them that my father had that same surgery and was fine. Except, he really isn't fine. He's loosing his mind which used to be this really inspiring gift from God.

I think about my gifts from God. I think of my ability to teach. The first quarter is done. I am so tired from that hard start. Every year is going to be the same challenge because it's the nature of kindergarten. This year, I faced more drama than I'd bargained for. My assistant was in a car accident two days before school started. I had to arrange for alternative help. The class includes some very time consuming kids and I've really had to tap into my reserves to find the strength, understanding and patience.

Also, I think of the number of assistants I have had over these years. It's tiring. It's tiring to be the first or second boss these young ladies have. They are so inexperienced. I remember being their age. Actually, at this point, I'm old enough to be their mom. Yet, I am their boss and I need to help them find their potential as much as any of the students. It's also somewhat thankless, because of the nature of the assistant job, our little classroom is only a stepping stone into something bigger and better. The one assistant who wanted to stay was not asked back. That was due to the classism in Egypt where school degrees and social standing mean more than commmitment to teamwork.

Commitment. I've got one other thing which has me feeling unsettled in my heart. I made a commitment years ago to Mr. Boo's father's family. I promised that I would always do my best to keep my son close to them. This has been very hard after remarriage. My husband needed almost two years before he trusts my resolve to move forward with my life and not backwards. I have shed so many tears wishing that my son could make the three hour journey to see his grandma. Every time he is able to get cuddles with the grandma in this house, of course I think it's great but I feel sad that there's another woman who is missing out.

My plan, this Eid break, is to go to see her. Islamically, my husband can prevent me. He can't prevent anything which relates to my son (since my son isn't his son) but my son needs me to facilitate the meeting. It's hard. I've presented my plan for next week. He's thinking about it. I'm praying about it.

I'm praying about a lot of things.

I pray that all the Muslims in the world take a moment today to find a kind of renewal. It's time to do what we can (even without Hajj) to admit the things which we are doing which hurt others and get in touch with the things others are doing which hurt us. We can ask God to forgive us and to forgive others. We can find some kind of new day dawn inside us.

We can.

An Essential Article of Clothing

2011-10-28T06:30:00.004-05:00

A local level CAIR Civil Rights Director named Taneeza Islam has written something which I feel is worth sharing. I've added some photos to illustrate her words. To read more, click the "credit" link.

"A Muslim woman's practice

of wearing a headscarf

is a sincerely held belief

which is a protected exercise of her religion.

credit

Asking her to remove her headscarf

credit

is asking her to be naked in front of others.

A headscarf, unlike a crucifix or other ornament,

credit

is not a mere accessory

credit

but an essential article of clothing

credit

for those Muslim women who practice it."

Making Guava Juice

2011-10-25T17:56:00.001-05:00

When I first came to Egypt, I tasted fresh guava juice for the first time. It was immediately refreshing. The taste was neither too sweet nor too abrasive. It was this smooth soother. With milk it was incredible.

So, making guava juice was one of my first kitchen catastrophes over here. I was determined! I was also clueless. This was before I had enough sense to ask locals how to prepare their cuisine. With my super-huge ego, I was going to bluster in blindly and figure it all out on my own.

I had my half kilo of guavas and I began to cut away the skin and then cut out the seeds. I cut and cut and eventually I had this really small amount of guavas to use. That didn't seem right! They had dwindled down to nothingness. Then I thought that I should cook them to make them soft. I mean...the whole thing was a disaster.

The funny thing, at the time, was that I should have skipped cooking the guavas and cooked the milk instead. The milk I bought was fresh from the dairy and needed to be boiled before drinking. I hadn't known and nobody had told me yet. Somehow, my son and I drank that concoction and lived.

Afterwards, I knew I had done it wrong so my super-huge ego got bruised. Even though I really wanted to make the drink, I didn't try making it again. I let my sisters-in-law be the ones who could make it. I would drink their juice and wish I wasn't so bad at making it. I allowed myself to bounce between thinking I could do no wrong to thinking I could do no right. For the last two years, I stayed away from making guava juice.

Then, this week, my son was sick with a cough. I wanted him to drink more and flush out that yuck from his system. I had guavas in the refrigerator. I had a sister-in-law in the kitchen downstairs. I went to her and asked. She was, of course, very happy to share the recipe.

So, the funny thing is that you don't skin them and you don't cut out the seeds. I hadn't realized that before. You only get rid of the bottom part. Wash and cut and plop everything in the blender. Put in water and a little sugar and pulse it about five times. If the guavas are very hard, you might have to pause for them to float down again before pulsing it again.

Now you have the seeds in with the juice. You have to get a strainer and pour the juice over it while kind of banging it to make liquid seep through. It doesn't really work to do this over a glass. It's best to have a wide-mouthed pitcher. This takes some time but the effort is really worth it. If I had wanted to, I could have added some milk too.

My son really enjoyed the juice. I do think that it helped him (even in a small way) to recover, alhumdulillah.

It also helped me to get over a moment of being stuck in stupidity. While it's good to try new things, we don't need to be so solitary in our attempts. We can gather information from experts in our midst and we can submit to their knowledge. That's better than being wrong. Admitting we don't know is better than pretending we know it all. The results which come from submission to the truth are infinately superior

--and tastier!

Leaving the Table

2011-10-20T11:55:00.000-05:00

Bida is any innovation which was not covered in the Sunnah or Hadith from The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him). It's not necessarily a big, scary evil. It's something new. I worry for Muslims who avoid bida the way the Amish avoid electricity and telephones. It's okay, peeps. It's okay!

Well...maybe it's okay and maybe it isn't.

That's the problem with bida. Because the newest technology was not discussed during the time of our Prophet (peace be upon him), we need to examine it for ourselves. We have to listen to Islamic scholars who weigh whether or not an innovation is halal or haram. Honestly, as fallable people, they could be wrong on a ruling so we have to consider their logic.

Let's consider Facebook--or as Mohamed Saed called it, "Facefook," in his latest movie. Obviously, this is a new way of communicating. There is no exact Islamic ruling regarding it.

Lately, I've been going through (yet another) hard time on Facebook. A bit of fitnah over there, eh?! My friend Ben and I had a falling out over something haram which was posted on his wall and seen on my feed. You can read more about it here. It troubled me greatly. It should! There are some truths which we Muslims need to hold onto no matter what.

So yaddah, yaddah, yaddah and nothing was getting resolved between us. I had to find the resolution ---but not between Ben and me; between God and me. Afterall, my primary relationship in this life is with Allah. I need to please Him and feel his closeness in my days and nights.

I made the intention to get clean from this mess and it felt messy alright. I was absolutely sad----doubly sad (but more on that another time). It was the opening up of my heart and mind to what Allah wanted for me that made it possible for me to hear and understand His guidance. Alhumdulillah.

We were blessed this past week with our very own satellite dish for our apartment. This is GREAT for me because I can finally enjoy programs QUIETLY ENJOY programs in my own home. We are no longer sitting downstairs watching the TV with everyone: the baby, the visiting neices and nephews and the old lady who comes by to sell bread and so on.

Now, I have the choice to watch a lot of different shows. What's surprising me is that the shows I was hoping to see I'm not watching. I was dreaming of watching CNN, American movies and some MTV MADE. However, when I actually started flipping channels, I became transfixed on the English language Islamic programming.

When I heard the hadith, about not sitting at a table when others are drinking alcohol, I knew that this was important for me right now. No, Facebook isn't exactly a table. In an analogy, nothing is EXACT. People who pick apart my analogies drive me nuts. It's a metaphor! Work your brain around it because that's the only way you're going to understand what I'm trying to say.

Ok, so Facebook is like a table; we come together and meet. Our words and postings are like what we consume. If someone at the "table" is imbibing things haram, do you stay Facebook friends?

Ben is free to do as he pleases. He did not come to Islam. He follows a different code of ethics. "To me my religion and to you yours." I'm not saying that he should change anything he does on Facebook. He really is a fine person who will be judged ...but not by me.

Somehow, for me and my faith, I feel I need to leave the table. Somehow I have to stop being together with my friend who doesn't understand my needs while we are sharing. That's my decision and it's Islamically based. Even if I fail in my mission to be wise and fair AT LEAST I did my best to follow Islam as I decided. May Allah be pleased with my decision.

No one has mentioned that, as a Muslimah, I should not be in communication with a man but (believe me) I know that too. It is yet another factor in my decision. Eventually, I need to be clean from those parts of my life which are not feeling crystal clear. I don't want murky. I want transparency.

How exactly I go about putting this into action is left to be seen. For real, life is a process. It's a step-by-step transaction which is difficult and time consuming. It's not clear yet how change this moment but I am so happy to have realized:

I didn't like what happened.
I wasn't powerless.
I could inact change.
If the other person doesn't feel the need for change then I can still follow through and change what I can.
Islamic guidance is best.
Figuring it all out is a slow process but as long as I'm not at a standstill, then we're OK.

MAKING HIJRAH 38 "Repair Work"

2011-10-15T16:19:00.000-05:00

I started writing this when I was so mad at my husband that I couldn't sleep.

That's pretty mad for a tired teacher on a Thursday night!

So, I took to the blog to tell a story about him. No, I didn't want to backbite and discuss our problems. I wanted to tell about a time when I really loved him and cared about him:

Four months into our marriage and only weeks into living at the family house, I got a bit of a shock. My husband had already told me before we engaged that he would be needing an operation. So, I had come to terms with this. Don't worry---I wasn't going to be paying for it.

When he went to his doctor's appointment that Spring of 2010, I was getting mentally prepared for eventuality of setting a date. When would he go into the hospital? That's when the doctor told him that it had to be done right away. He could no longer delay.

That shocked me.

We had only just moved into our new home. We were newlyweds! It wasn't in my plans to be without my husband this soon.

That thought led to another thought. Could I lose my husband on the operating table? I knew that I could. Allah's plans are not our plans. I really didn't know what the outcome would be. I prayed that it would be successful and that my husband's life would be improved.

Yet we are alhumdulillah both practical people so we talked. We talked in hushed tones after my boy was in bed. We talked about death and about plans. He told me what I would have to do if he died. From our discussions, I had to think about a possible life alone again. I felt scared. I felt scared for him going under anesthesia and being cut open. I felt scared for my boy and I in jeopardy for losing not only our caretaker but our home. Without my husband, I would have no home.

The timing was awful. There was a big Open House day planned at school. Every day was busy with the kids and busy preparing for our invited guests. I could not take time off.

The day of the operation approached. We had said our "goodbyes" and we knew it might be our last. I'm not trying to sound overly dramatic. Really, we felt the power of God in the moment and we were not sure of the outcome. We could only do what we had to do.

So, I went to work to do my best. Guess what? My assistant didn't come in! She had something else going on in her life. Me? My husband was having surgery and I still made it in because I'm committed to being a teacher. I have a work ethic and a need to do my best. My assistant not coming in that day was so upsetting. Later, she was not invited back (and deservedly so).

I went home with a heavy heart. I had no idea what kind of shape he'd be in. I walked in the door and saw him laying there on the cushions. He looked OK!

"Bokra," he told me. Tomorrow! The surgery had been postponed. So, now I would have another day of watching the clock and wondering while trying to teach four-year-olds.

The next day came and it was the Open House. I had everybody and their auntie coming to see me. It wasn't just moms and dads; the principal of our school, the principal at the National School, and the Headmistress all came. They even sent over teachers to observe me because the Headmistress thought they could learn from me. PRESSURE! All of that was going on ON TOP of the fact that my husband was in the hospital.

Again, I went home. I thought that he'd be sitting on cushions again. Maybe the operation would have gotten cancelled another time. No. He wasn't there. He was still recovering at the hospital. He hadn't even woken up yet!

I was supposed to eat with the family but I couldn't. Later, I would get the call and hear his voice. He sounded both awful and wonderful. Alhumdulillah he was alive. He would be coming home. We would still have that chance to build a life together. It felt really good.

However, our time to be together wasn't going to be for at least a week. He wasn't coming home to me. He was coming home to mama. This is going to sound really foreign to American readers but men over here love their mothers very intensely. A wife could never give her Egyptian husband (especially her sick Egyptian husband) all the tender loving care he needs. This was especially true for me; a working woman. So, my husband would be living downstairs for the time being and I would have to deal with it.

At first, I didn't like the idea but then I tried to see the blessings in it. I could re-adjust to life in the apartment without him for a while. It would be about a week until he could climb stairs again. No problem. I could go down and see him.

I forgot: Egyptians love to visit the ill. It's Islamic to visit those who are suffering illness and ailments. Somehow, though, the good intentions get lost and long visits become a burden. The family has to pay for special drinks and food----not for the bedridden patient but for the visitors! And those visitors stay and talk and prattle on as the person who they came to see gets forgotten. It's truly BAD for someone's health to be visited for long hours, yet it happens.

On the first day, my husband looked bad. He was so weak and pale; almost lifeless. He was under extreme pain and discomfort. I was next to him trying to help him at the same time as everyone else was trying too. I didn't know what to do. I felt like I should back off and let them help Ahmed.

So, on the second day, I stayed away from him a bit more. All the visitors would be company for him. I could not compete. I saw him on the third day and was alarmed. He looked horrible! What had they done to him?!

I yelled at the family that it's insane to have a party while he is recouperating. I yelled and then cried. I was so upset. They all thought I was insane. I think there's one aunt who still avoids visiting the house to this day because of that tirade. When I saw her during last Eid, she eyed me as if I might explode at any minute.

From that point on, I made sure that my knowledge and assistance was felt in my husband's life. Though others laid claim to it, I had to hold the title as "Main Caregiver." So, I helped him to the bathroom. I helped him eat, drink and dress. He was a big baby in many ways but he was still my man.

I found a new level of loving him during that time. Though we never spoke the vow, "In sickness and in health," it played time and again in my head. We found a way to connect which was very dear and precious. It was with love in our eyes and an aura of sweetness around us. We were only able to spend short moments alone together before someone rang the doorbell. Every moment we had was savored.

I miss that, in a way, today as I type. We all get busy with our lives and we forget the many levels of love. We think about affection and we envision kisses and cuddles. What do you do when that's not allowable? You find a new way. You don't run away. You find a new way and you find it together.

After about a week, he could climb back to our apartment for sleeping and solace. He missed the quiet of a locked door. He missed being able to let his guard down and relax with me. The public and private persona in Egypt is so different. If you don't have true alone time, you really end up missing your husband.

For months and months, we had to be careful of his health. He couldn't stand too long, sit too long, lift anything too heavy and so on. I remember buying our ironing board during this time. It was something I really needed but after we bought it I realized that I would have to carry it home. I struggled with it through the streets and I knew that some people would stare and wonder why Ahmed wasn't carrying it. With every step, I tried to remain cheerful because it wasn't enough for me to carry the heavy burden---I wanted to do it with happiness in my heart.

Alhumdulillah that time passed. Alhumdulillah his health was greatly improved. Alhumdulillah it's part of our interwoven history of events which have made us stronger.

My Bloggin' Buddy

2011-10-07T08:54:00.000-05:00

Take a look at my other effort on blogger: http://yosraben.blogspot.com/

Ben and I have a controversy going on between us and (rather than keep it to ourselves) we are sharing it. I've written my thoughts first and inshahallah Ben will follow with his.

Comments are welcome.

Prayed as First Aid

2011-10-04T12:55:00.000-05:00

Hoping is almost like praying.

I was trying to explain the difference to my son. I felt I knew the difference. However, like most important subjects in life, I realized how little I knew when I tried to be a wise parental figure.

Alhumdulillah. It really got me to thinking.

I came up with an analogy to help me figure it out. Islam is full of analogies, since it's very hard to grasp new truth without anchoring it in our own reality.

When I took First Aid training, I was taught that that it isn't really that effective to yell, "CALL 911 !" That call for help, though others hear it, doesn't seem meant for any specific person. Human nature makes us all assume that someone else will soon be stepping in.

In order to truly get the help we need in an emergency, we need to stop, direct our plea to a specific person and call out their name, "Seif! CALL 911 !" That (imaginary for analogy purposes) person feels that it is a special request meant for them alone. Their role is to listen, to understand, and to aid.

So, back to hoping versus praying.

Hoping is that shout out to the masses. Hoping is being indirect and non-specific. It is less focused and less likely to succeed.

Praying is specifically to God. It is a a moment in which we realize that only Allah is the administrator of our affairs. God is the only one we need and the only one we need to address. It feels direct, purposeful and the most we could ever ask for assistance.

Next time you need something, remember to pray and not just to hope.

Stupid Things Muslims Say

2011-09-30T15:45:00.003-05:00

Muslims focus so much on the stupid things Non-Muslims say.

Yet, it's best to look to the plank in our own collective eye. We say some pretty stupid things too.

Here are some of the most irksome to me:

"God will forgive me."
Actually, we have no idea what will be forgiven and what won't. If we are truly sorry for a bad deed, then we get clean from the moment, pray and in sujud ask forgiveness. We promise to not do it again AND WE DON'T.

"He's going to Hell"
or the converse
"He's going to Paradise"
We don't know. Only children who die before maturity are promised Jennah. Okay, ya, and martyrs shaheed. Here's the deal on that: only Allah knows our intention or nia when we died. Were those killed really shot while fighting for the cause of Islam? Only God knows. If anyone tries to second-guess the weighing of a believer's good and bad deeds, then that is shirk (trying to add co-equals to Allah SWT, who needs no partners). I'm tired of so many people declaring the end result of a long life. We don't know. We don't even know our own fate! And we lived it! How can we pretend to know the lives of someone else?

"We're like husband and wife."
But you're not exactly, are you? I will never forget the woman who told me this for years. No, she had not gotten legally married and there were many complicated reasons why she could not. No, she couldn't leave him because she had "invested too much time to walk away now." So, she stayed. She tried to be patient. She got pregnant. He didn't want the baby in his already full life. It was then that she understood how "like" was very far from the truth.

This idea of being almost halal for one another takes place between fiancees as well. Yes, you are in the process of getting married. However, Islam really doesn't practice any kind of engagement process as such. You don't become more halal (and thus more intimate) by degrees. You either are married or you are not. If you are only engaged, then you are still unlawful to do anything physical. It's the only time in your (inshahallah) long life together in which you can explore the other ways of closeness so why not focus on those?

"He's like my brother."
But he's not. He's maybe your brother-in-law or your best friend. However, there is a firm "yes" or "no" in regards to blood relationships. You either are or you are not. There is no reason to pretend who is your bro. God knows! Truly, if he isn't your biological brother, then you could marry him---even your brother-in-law! Take care! Rasullulah (pbuh) actually called the social mixing of a woman with men related to her by marriage "death". Maharam, those prescribed as our protectors by Allah, are mentioned in The Quran. We know who they are: our grandfathers, father, uncles, brothers, husband, sons, and sons of our husband. Anyone else is a marriage possibility and therefore a fitnah or temptation to wrong-doings.

"I'm not an angel."
or
"I'm not the Prophet."
Nobody said you were! Look, we are moderate people who don't need to be angels or devils. We don't have to live every second by the sunnah but we also don't have to go around discounting The Prophet's wisdom (peace be upon him). Shrugging off our misdeeds by a dismissive "whatever" is severly limiting our greater potential as people. Why act like bettering ourselves is next to impossible?

"That verse in the Quran was for long ago and for a country far away."
No, it was for all times and all places. If God had wanted to exempt a particular place or a particular time, he sure could have but He didn't. So, realize that God's way makes your life easier and just do it.

"Good luck!"
and
"You're so lucky!"
Luck is what non-believers want to cling to. They want a kind of life lottery in which the wheel magically turns and prizes are awarded accordingly. This thinking avoids logic, cause and effect and an All-Knowing Creator.

We can still wish people well. "Allah with you" Allah mak. It's a lot nicer because it helps us all to remember God at times of hoping for better.

We can still exclaim in excitement over someone's improvemed state. "Alhumdulillah! Allahu Akbar! God is Great!" Remembering God in times of happiness feels sweeter and brings the moment into perspective. The new change is part of God's plan and not from chance (no matter how much the blessed individual thinks it).

"What sign are you?"
The alignment of the stars and planets is from Allah. That's all good.

The divination of future events due to the alignment of the stars and planets is from Shaytan. It's all bad. Let's stop playing around with horroscopes like children who don't know right from wrong.

Is there some truth within the attributes? Sure! Within every lie, there is a grain of truth. So, do you keep going with the whole lie because one part smacks of truth? No. Drop it. Drop it because you fear Allah.

"I'm in hejab."
If I can see your butt, then you're not.

Hejab is an outward covering which Allah has mandated for us women. It is to a blessing from Allah which protects us. When we walk around in tight clothes which show our shape, then we are cheating---ourselves. Why not accept Allah's protection?

How do we know if what we're wearing is nullifies our hejab? Simple! If you were to walk outside in that outfit, could the whole world describe your body? If I could describe the color of your hair (from the little bit you carefully have allowed to show), the slimness of your neck, the size of your breasts, your waist measurement and the circumference of your thighs, then that's T.M.I. too much information!

Show less and be more at peace that your scarf is actually a hejab.

"Kuffar!"
Kuffar is the term for a non-believer---not a non-Muslim. To call a Christian or Jewish person a "kuffar" is ignorant. A believer is anyone who prays to the one, true God; a monotheist.

Some people have never been given the knowledge of Al-Waheed so you can't really hurl this word at them. Chill! If and only if a person receives the information and then choses to disregard it, could they be called kuffar.

However, I'm afraid of loaded guns and loaded words. I truly don't use this term and bandy it about like others who claim to be above reproach. Live and let live. If someone is not sure of their faith or is questioning how they could worship, then it makes sense to keep a hand held out to them. You never know who could come to Islam.

Remember that our beloved Second Caliph Umar ibn Al-Kattab (ra) once wanted to assassinate our Prophet (peace be upon him).

"Saudi Arabia is a Muslim country"
No, it's not. How can a kingdom be a Muslim country? Think about it: we are the people who believe that each individual has to be viewed by their merits; not by their blood lines. A dynasty goes completely against our beliefs! Actually, the U.S. with its democracy (albeit through the Electoral College) is closer to Shariah Law than Saudi.

"Halloween is really just a fun time for the kids so I let them dress up and go trick-or-treating."
or
"I miss Christmas so we still put up a tree in December."
or
"Valentine's Day is really a holiday about love so that's OK."
or
"Easter isn't religious any more so we color eggs and do the baskets of candy."
So many special days make the two Eids less special. We are Muslim. We have two special times of the year called Eids. Eid Al-Fitr (the ending of Ramadan) and Eid Al-Adha (the ending of Hajj). Often converts bristle at giving up all the fun celebrations throughout the year. It doesn't seem necessary! Why not just do the activity without the same feeling as before?

Why not? Because it isn't possible. We bonded to these occassions before with the ties of kinship. We did what our forefathers did---exactly as it says in the Quran. We were blindly following what had been done for years and the traditions comforted us. After coming to Islam, we are not allowed to live unexaimed lives. We have to ask ourselves why we do this or that. Does it serve us? Does it get in our way?

Honestly, the many religious and secular holidays take us away from our Islam. It reminds us of Jahaliliya, the sinful time before Islam. We have haram memories of these holidays. There is no reason to hold onto them. Let them go! That was then and this is now.

Make new memories. Bake cookies! Create crafts to give as gifts! Invite people over to celebrate! Do it, however, in the name of Allah, instead of doing it so removed from the straight path.

Did I leave anything out?

Write to me in the comments section if I did.

First Things First

2011-09-21T16:23:00.375-05:00

I do believe in progress not perfection. I do strive to make today better than yesterday. So, it makes sense if Stephen Covey's Habits for Highly Effective People makes an appearance on my blog at this time. Thanks to Wikipedia for the synopsis of each.

Independence or Self-Mastery
The First Three Habits surround moving from dependence to independence (i.e. self mastery)

Habit 1: Be Proactive

Synopsis: Take initiative in life by realizing that your decisions (and how they align with life's principles) are the primary determining factor for effectiveness in your life. Take responsibility for your choices and the subsequent consequences that follow.

I do have some principles (and one principal). So often in modern society we are bending to the fun moment and to the new person who tells us that they like us or need us. We believe so much in the chance meeting, the instant friendship or the great opportunity that we forget to remain intact. We trade our life for some glass beads. We're trying to gain something; whether companionship or perceived social or economic advancement.

I actually need to stop for a moment and catch my breath. Breath is life. I need to stop reaching out and instead deepen my roots into the ground where I stand. This is where I've chosen to be.

I've been here for over two years now. This is the longest my 6-year-old, Mr. Boo, has ever been in any home. My job at the school is going into the third year which is the longest I've stayed at any school.

Right now I need to claim more of what I want and get rid of what I don't. What is really striking me is that I don't need chaos.

Habit 2: Begin with the End in Mind

Synopsis: Self-discover and clarify your deeply important character values and life goals. Envision the ideal characteristics for each of your various roles and relationships in life.

My goal is to be a servant of Allah. In order to be that person, I need to have a firm foundation in goodness. I need to continue to build a halal life. I want to be proud of my life. I want peace.

Habit 3: Put First Things First

Synopsis: Plan, prioritize, and execute your week's tasks based on importance rather than urgency. Evaluating if your efforts exemplify your desired character values, propel you towards goals, and enrich the roles and relationships that were elaborated in Habit 2.

Truly, my job at the school is of the utmost importance. It allows me the funds to live. It provides an education for my son. The hours and vacations are great. The location is great. I do my job well alhumdulillah and I believe that my efforts will be rewarded inshahallah.

This past week we ushered in the new school year. NOTHING can prepare anyone for the first day. It's an endurance test for all involved. Basically, we teachers do what we can to make it as painless as possible.

Two days before the start of kindergarten (and actually the day before my son started first grade), I got a phone call. It was a woman from the TV studio. She spoke fluent Arabic...and very little English. I hardly understood her but I did get her when she told me, "Congratulations" on the new job. I guess I was somehow offered the TV presenter job I had auditioned for previously.

It was 3:30 in the afternoon and I was expected to come for a meeting that night. That was an element of chaos in my already full life. I tried to meet later in the week. No, it had to be either today or tomorrow. I then tried to meet earlier in the day (like right after work) but no one is there until 9:00 PM. That was an inkling as to what my life would be if I accepted. I would be starting early at one job and staying late at another. I hated that idea. Yet, I was willing to hear what they said. What had they thought of my audition?

We sat together in the producer's office and I asked him, "What was it in my audition that you liked?"

"I haven't seen it."

My mouth almost dropped. The producer hadn't seen it. I was dumbfounded. Why would I drop everything to meet with a man who had no feedback on my audition? Instead he wanted to show me what was on the previous programs. I watched. It was not good. It looked canned, stiff and stale. I found out then that all the questions came from that producer.

I informed him that I'm not a talking head. I'm a teacher and a writer. I've got my degree in theatre and experience on live TV. I'm a mind and a heart and I connect with others on a real and immediate level. I can offer that BURST of enthusiasm and discovery which only comes from spontaneous and real interaction. There was no way I'd want him formulating questions for me.

He left the room---twice. Oh, and I understand that some phone calls are mighty important but then so is our sleep. It was now 9:00 pm. Mr. Boo sat patiently with us. I looked my quiet little guy sitting cross-legged on the office chair and knew that I had cheated him. I actually took out my cell and started a timer. It was almost ten minutes of waiting.

Not good.

The men in the hall were distributing drinks amongst themselves. Mr. Boo got one. We did not. We just sat. In Egypt, not offering tea is considered extremely rude.

So, when the producer came back I told him that I didn't need this moment. I had been told to come and I came. For what? He didn't even know what I could offer! His leaving twice was not polite. He appologized. Us sitting without drinks was unheard of. We were leaving.

I stood up. He wanted to know what I would like. I told him that I'm very honest and very straight. I could act all smiley with him now and then bad talk him at home but I'm not like that. I'm all for putting cards on the table. I didn't like the way the meeting had gone and I didn't need this for me or for my family. If he could figure out a way to use my talents without making my life chaotic, then he could give me a call. And I left.

What comes first is peace for me and my family.

Interdependence
The next three have to do with Interdependence (i.e. working with others)

Habit 4: Think Win-Win

Synopsis: Genuinely strive for mutually beneficial solutions or agreements in your relationships. Valuing and respecting people by understanding a "win" for all is ultimately a better long-term resolution than if only one person in the situation had gotten his way.

So, I went home, got my Boo to bed and started on a few of the many projects I needed to finish within the next two days.

That's when I got the phone call.

My lovely new assistant was calling. She asked how the meeting at the studio went. She was the first person to ask after the fact so I went on and on.

Then she told me her news. She had been in a car accident that afternoon. Alhumdulillah she was alright. However, her face was cut up and banged up and she had to recouperate at home until next week.

I now had no assistant for the final day of preparation and the first two days of school.

I did what any desperate teacher does: I begged! I messaged my former assistant from last year and begged her to help me out. This a favor for me; not the school that didn't ask her back. She could get paid for a few days work and also get her work seen again. It truly was "win-win" if she could see it clearly.

She told me that the school did her wrong. And they did! I agreed! I wanted her back for this year but the administration had other plans. So, this was a chance to right the wrong.

Habit 5: Seek First to Understand,
Then to be Understood

Synopsis: Use empathetic listening to be genuinely influenced by a person, which compels them to reciprocate the listening and take an open mind to being influenced by you. This creates an atmosphere of caring, respect, and positive problem solving.

I then had to go to work and plead my case to the administration. I needed qualified help on the first day of school. My former assistant was a possibility if they would agree. They wouldn't. They wanted me to work with a new girl and frankly I couldn't trust someone I didn't know with such an important day. They denied my request.

In the heat of the moment I actually stormed out ready to march to the Headmistress' office. Yet, on the way, I made a u-turn and waited to speak to the principal instead. This is the same principal who could not see eye-to-eye with me during The Revolution. Now, I was putting my classroom's fate in her hands.

When we sat together, I started "Bismallah." I calmed myself. I made my case. She spoke. I listened. We came up with ideas and solutions. Yes, I could have my former assistant back for those few days and she could be paid out of pocket. Maybe, even, if she proved herself, there could be a different position for her at school.

I had to then speak to my former assistant and convince her that her hurt could not be mended at home. She could come back; give another chance and get another chance. She accepted. She accepted because I never wronged her and she trusted me. Alhumdulillah that I was, at least in that instance, the person I want to be.

Habit 6: Synergize

Synopsis: Combine the strengths of people through positive teamwork, so as to achieve goals no one person could have done alone. Get the best performance out of a group of people through encouraging meaningful contribution, and modeling inspirational and supportive leadership.

So, that first day I greeted moms and dads with the new kids. Many of the families had sent me their older children previously. This is a benefit to staying put; the trust and understanding is already in place.

Alhumdulillah, the day went better than the other two years. I've been able to get the rules into place very easily from the beginning. I know that to a large degree it went well because of my former assistant agreeing to come back. God bless her.

Self Renewal
The Last habit relates to self-rejuvenation:

Habit 7: Sharpen the Saw

Synopsis: Balance and renew your resources, energy, and health to create a sustainable, long-term, effective lifestyle.

We all made it through the first day, alhumdulillah. I ached all over; headache, neckache, backache, legs, feet--you name it! Yet, I couldn't just jump in a taxi and go home. I wanted to celebrate. Celebration is a beautiful thing; it means thanking the moment. There was a lot to be thankful for. I saw life clearer.

So, my boy and I walked together and talked about our days. I wasn't in any rush to any studio. I was going home to relax. That felt really good.

We stopped at the first cart along the way. Mangoes were selling for 7.50 LE a kilo. Of course, I was told that the ones I wanted were 10 LE a kilo. I walked.

The next cart had a man who didn't know how to deal with me.

The third cart had a man with a cheerful demeanor. Here's a translation of how our Arabic conversation went:

Me: Asalamu Alaykom! Your mangoes are all so beautiful. I want to buy all of them but I only have five pounds.

Mango Seller: These cost seven fifty so you can't have any.

Me: My husband is difficult. I only have five.

Mango Seller: Your husband is Egyptian?

Me: I said he was difficult. Difficult and Egyptian! What if I could buy two? One for me and one for my boy. See those over there?

Mango Seller: These?

Me: Yes! Exactly! Those are beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Here's the money.

Mango Seller: Why did you marry your husband if he is difficult?

Me: Naseeb. Alhumdulillah.

Those hot mangoes chilled overnight and the next day there were perfection. I almost felt guilty cutting into their sunset skin. Each bite was sigh worthy. Heaven.

There actually is an 8th Habit which was added later.

Habit 8: Find Your Voice and Inspire Others to Find Theirs

So, here I am finding my voice. This is the ideal place, or so they say, as Giza is considered The Throat Chakrah of the World. I actually had to write this out before starting my new week. I needed to put things in perspective.

Inshahallah, my new assistant will be back. I'm hopeful that we can work well together. I'm encouraged by how the administration could work with me.

I'm looking forward to saying, "no" to any sudden demands from the studio.

My focus needs to be on us; more of the mangoes and less of the pits.

And you...you've read some of what I've written. Maybe you're Muslim and maybe you're not; it doesn't really matter. I hope you see how beautifully life unfolds for all of us if we stay true to ourselves---our most effective selves.

Crabs in a Bucket

2011-09-17T13:07:00.002-05:00

This is why I falter in my Islam:

http://forums.islamicawakening.com/f20/should-we-stop-building-new-masajid-west-50541/index10.html

My blog gets mentioned by a sister who was trying to prove a point about making hijrah. She referenced me and another one.

Normally, I would feel a kind of happiness that a sister found what I wrote to be worth passing on to others.

However, a brother thought differently. It might even be the anonymous brother who tried to challenge me in my comments section. Allahu alim. The brother wasn't pleased with my efforts. He wrote:

Sister, I think you need to see for yourself what is in the second website. I know you linked it because its supposedly written by an American revert living in Egypt, but some of the things written there are pure garbage. I'm not going to repost anything written there but you should check it out before recommending it.

And then when she came back to say that she mentioned it for the hijrah referrences, he decided to lash out again:

There is nothing helpful or practical in regards to Hijrah from what I saw, only ramblings from an obviously confused individual making dangerous statements which called into question the state of her Islam.

So, I've now joined their forum and written the moderators that this speech, while free, is devoid of adab Muslim ettiquette. He is questioning whether or not I really am Muslim. He calls my efforts garbage. He name calls and ridicules. And of course lobs the big one: I might be a bad Muslim.

Dude.

Wow.

I don't like Muslims who do these things. They have lost something along the way...like a heart connection to others. He wants to "out" me as a suspect Muslim; somebody who isn't really like him (because of course he's better than me). No, I don't want Muslims like this to rule over me, my thoughts or my words.

I had a choice tonight. I could have read his attack and slunk silently away. Instead, I chose to publish what's going on.

There was another time on the 'net when a fellow blogger wanted to "out" me as a bad Muslim. It really hurt at the time because I had prayed for this woman's sanity and for the safety of her children. I had spent countless hours being her friend---no, really her sister. In the end, she walked away from a lot of what I still hold on to. I don't blame her yet she blamed me. How could I keep talking about Islam if I wasn't a better Muslim?

Better than whom?

Is there some kind of test I need to take in order to speak about Islam? Islam is the perfect religion for imperfect people. I have never ever claimed to be a the perfect Muslim.

Is there some special formula I need to calculate with the right amount of hadiths per square inch? That's not how I roll.

I am who I am.

I was created by Allah.

I am here for purposes which no one else can do except me.

I might as well keep doing what makes sense to me, even if it doesn't make sense to others.

I'll tell you what: my biggest troubles over the years haven't been between me and Allah; they've been between me and other people. I am the saddest when I realize how many Muslims continue to disparage other Muslims; to be the crabs in the barrel who keep crawling on top of the others (thus pulling everyone down).

It makes me sad until I remember that I'm not a slave to them and their whims. I'm a servant of The Almighty. Really! You seriously can't question this unless you want to sound like an idiot.

There was a battle raging and an enemy soldier was at the end of a sword held by the sahabi;Companions of The Prophet (pbuh). The enemy soldier said, "There is no other God than God and Muhammad is a Messenger." That's the shahaddah; the Muslim oath of faith. It's simple. It's succinct. Yet, the man was killed because the Muslim soldier didn't believe him.

What did The Prophet say?

You killed a believer. Never doubt the oath.

"I testify that there is no other God than God and that Muahammad is a Messenger."

Enough.

Whether I'm good or bad is not for you to judge. Being a judge of my faith makes you as bad as the sahabi who was chastised by Rasullulah (pbuh). Being a judge of my faith actually makes you guilty of shirk because you are acting as if you have some kind of power akin to God. Astragferallah. Let go that assumed responsibility.

There's room in the world for all kinds of messengers of Islam. There are so many different cultures and languages, experiences and expectations. Go ahead and be one kind of messenger. I'll be a different kind. We can spread Islam in ways which reach more minds and hearts.

Why be scared that my message is wrong? If it's wrong for you, maybe it is right for someone else.

Can I truly ever damage Islam with who I am and what I say? Then your vision of Islam is limited---very, very limited.

Astragferallah.

Camera Test

2011-09-16T03:16:00.001-05:00

I had been avoiding the test as if it were another blood letting.

In actuality, it was a camera test; the stuff of dreams...well, at least my dreams. Since I was three or four years old, I have imagined myself on television. I let that goal propel me into classes, auditions, shows, through four years of college and even being live on-air for PBS.

So, fast-forward to 2011 and I'm still that hopeful little girl (just in a bigger body) but that good feeling so interwoven within me becomes confusing. That was then and this is now. I'm a 43-year-old Muslim mom and kindergarten teacher in Egypt. Can I still realize my lifelong goal of having a TV show?

A major satellitte network thinks I just might---hence the test.

They had wanted me to do a show during Ramadan, but I turned it down so I could really utilize all the possible time with my family in The States. I turned down a dream. That's not easy to do.

Having avoided it once, I started avoiding it again and again. No, I couldn't come in to record segment on an Eid memory. No, I wasn't available this week. Finally, I knew that I had to agree to a time to take the camera test.

Even then, I wasn't sure if I really was going to audition. It felt unreal; I guess that dreams do. It wasn't the first time I'd dragged my feet at a time when I needed action. Whenever I have avoided the very steps which could help me reach a goal, I have to get very objective and ask myself,

"How is it going to feel if I have to tell everyone that I never did it?

On the other hand,

"How is it going to feel if I can tell everyone that I did?"

For me, it puts it in perspective and I really didn't want to say that, "Yes, I had a chance to be broadcast around the world but I simply was feeling lazy and didn't make the effort to go in."

Yet, that night I fussed and fumed around the house as I cleaned floors. I already had my job as a teacher and my jobs as mom, wife and homemaker. I was tired as it was. Why would I add more to that over-flowing plate? I had some anger and resentment at one more possible work commitment. I would love to coast through life for a while...

BUT opportunity knocks when the time is right, even if it doesn't seem right for us.

I stopped all my busy-ness and decided to pray. I prayed isha and then I prayed istakkarah. I truly took this huge dream of mine and put it on Allah. If Allah wanted this for me, then I asked for ease and blessings. If Allah didn't want this for me, then I asked him to take it away from me and make me satisfied with it. I meant every word.

After the prayer, I was calmer---I won't lie and say I was totally carefree. No way! This was a pretty overwhelming proposition. I made myself up and dressed in the Old Navy hot pink hoodie I'd gotten while overseas.

Somewhere along the way, I appologized to my husband for being fussy. Fear brings out the fussy in us all. I knew that I was embaraking on something big (either the end or the beginning) and I didn't know what exactly. My husband is too male to know what we women do with ambiguity; we roll it around and around in our heads without knowing how to stop.

Men know how to stop. They cut to the chase. "Go or don't go. It doesn't matter."

So, I did go. He came with me in a taxi. The studio called to make sure I was on my way. Yep, a real deal.

When I walked in, I realized what a little beehive of activity the studio was at night. I'd only been around during the day and never seen it swarm with people. Right away my contact from all the phone calls introduced himself. He had me meet a lady who I needed to follow.

Ah! It was the make-up room! I tried to explain that I was already made-up but she was telling me that it was too thin for the lights. On went a layer of orange. I had to stop her. My husband tried to help her understand what I was trying to say. Half my face was orange---which would be OK for various projects (Oompa Loompa in Willy Wonka comes to mind) but I was hoping to keep my skin tone as realistic as possible. Even though she tried to wipe off the color on the left side of my face, I swear I looked two-tone.

She wanted to line my eyes. I tried to explain that I already had eye liner on but (once again) it was too light. She got out black liquid eye liner and put it right next to lower lashes. I looked so different! I won't say, "good," but my husband sure was impressed.

She powdered me, had me put on lipstick and sent me out to the green room. It was funny sitting there. All the workers took that sneak peek at who was auditioning tonight.

When I went in, I made a "ice breaker" joke with the stage hand carrying the hammer. I asked him in Arabic if he was going to hit me with the hammer if I did a bad job. One of the most important things to do on set is to be agreeable and friendly with everyone.

I worried a bit for my husband's sensibiliites. I basically had to interact with more strange men than he'd ever seen with me before. Usually, his jealousy spikes. In many ways, I couldn't let whatever was happening with him to affect me in the moment.

I knew that it would be a tricky time when the ear piece and the microphone were getting wired. The sound man needed to put the cords under layers and clipped them around my chest. My husband saw this going on and zoomed to the spot. He was going to make sure that the sound man didn't make any errors in judgement.

Subhanallah, for a TV studio, it actually was such an Islamic place. Everyone had such nice manners. The set itself was like a beautiful ode to everything Islamic from the table, to the pillows, to the Arabesque floor and hanging wall panels. I felt very special to be allowed to sit there.

I hated seeing my raccoon eyes on camera. I couldn't believe that I was presenting myself that way! I didn't even look like me. With my past performing experience, I know that you can't analyze yourself and your looks in the moment. You have to free yourself up and enjoy the "now".

They brought in a young man for me to interview. He kept wanting to interact with me before the cameras started rolling and I kept resisting. I knew that the initial burst of discovery only happens once. Johnny Carson never talked ahead of time with his guests and I think it's a good rule. I felt like a jerk for ignoring him on the stage but hoped that he would understand the method behind the madness later.

That ear piece became a voice in my head. I was now being told what to do. That must be every man's fantasy! You tell a woman what to do and she actually does it! LOL! I saw my husband standing back from the proceedings and knew I had to zone him out. They were beginning the countdown.

"Asalamu Alaykom, I'm Yosra, " I began. I greeted the imaginary audience and then turned to greet the young man. I really knew nothing about him and began asking about his name. Then, I said how we had gone through Ramadan and now were in Shawwal.

"Are you fasting for Shawwal?" He said he wasn't but we were able to talk about it. He gave a little knowledge about it. I asked him who had taught him about this practice and he said that it had been his father.

I used that moment to talk directly into the camera, "This is for all the dads watching. It's good to remember how your practices and traditions aren't really for you alone. They are observed by your children and you are role modeling for them."

I was proud of how I shaped that dialogue into a meaningful gem. That is the interviewer's job and as I sat there I wanted the job.

I asked the young man who else was in his family and he had two sisters. I asked if he was an uncle yet and he was not.

I then talked about how on one of the nights of Eid we went as a family to McDonald's and all the children were calling "Amu! Amu!" Uncle! Uncle! to the workers behind the counter.

The young man explained how that's part of the Egyptian culture (and though I knew that, I let him be the expert). I asked him if being "Amu" to all the children is something that's really in his heart. Does he really believe that's who he is?

He did!

It was a lively exchange and I was glad for it.

The voice in my ear told me to take a caller. This was a big surprise because I hadn't known there was going to be any caller. I flubbed that and appologized later.

I told the young man that in The States we don't have that same feeling of every man being an uncle to the children. I asked him if he'd been overseas.

He said that he had not (even though while prepping me the voice in my ear had specifically told me to ask that). So, I asked if he welcomed that idea or was scared by it.

He said that he enjoyed meeting new people and talked at some length about that idea while the voice in my ear told me, "one minute". So I then found a second to break in to his monlogue to thank him for allowing us all to get to know him. I then turned to the camera and thanked the viewers for joining us and hoped that we would see each other again.

Thumbs up from the crew. People seemed happy. My husband was proud of my efforts. We walked out without knowing the outcome. Maybe nothing else will come of that camera test. Maybe you will see me soon on satellitte.

I don't know.

I don't have to know.

Allah knows.

Alhumdulillah for the chances which we're given and the chances which we take.

10 Years Since 9/11

2011-09-11T05:45:00.006-05:00

I've written about September 11 before (actually three times before).

10 Years Ago Today

I was going through a divorce. I had left my husband because I didn't feel enough joy in my life. I was a swinging single who had swung all she could. Three weeks earlier, I had met a new man who brought me so much joy. He was Egyptian. He was Muslim. He was also married with twins on the way but I didn't know that. Astragferallah.

I was searching for something but instead I ended up finding someone.

Today

I am married to an Egyptian man. He is a practicing Muslim. He is helping me raise the son of the man who once promised to never leave me (but did). Inshahallah this man will not leave me. However, I have come to find my joy in God and not through any person. Though I love everyone, I trust no one. I have come to trust only in God.

I am not always happy but I am at peace with who I am and who I am with.

10 Years Ago Today

I was earning the most money I ever had by working in a real estate office. I was well liked and working hard to keep everyone happy. That day our sales meeting was cancelled and I hadn't understood why exactly. It was only a plane crash (sad but common). No, I was told. It was a terrorist attack. America was under attack.

Because I had brought my two children to my office the previous Friday night, I still had my small portable TV. My new colleagues crowded around me as the second tower fell. I heard Peter Jennings' voice fall with it and I knew that the world had collapsed. I had watched death. Astragferallah.

I left the room and called my new Muslim boyfriend (this is before I knew that there is no such thing) and told him to stop driving his taxi. I was worried for him. Later, my colleagues would worry for me and warned me how to spot warning signs that my man might be a terrorist.

After his divorce and our marriage the following year, the warnings turned to tauntings. I received the jokes, jeers, comments, lack of support, unequal treatment, the creation of a secret file and subsequent firing. I lost the highest paying job I ever had in America because I was a covered woman married to a Muslim man.

I fought that injustice for two years---longer than I actually held the job itself. We settled out of court.

Today

I have my Teaching English as a Foreign Language certification. I went back to school to re-start my life after my firing. I worked for several schools helping Muslims gain knowledge. Alhumdulillah. My ultimate goal was always to teach overseas (with Egypt as the logical location).

After I was a single mother, Egypt seemed less plausible yet the dream wouldn't die inside me. I took my leap of faith and made hijrah. Now, I have the most buying power I've ever had. It is less money than I had in America but it affords me a higher level of living. Subhanallah.

10 Years Ago Today

I prayed to God that my two children wouldn't be harmed by what they saw or heard. My daughter in nursery school was subjected by thoughtless child care workers who kept the news in her view. Time and again she'd see the tall buildings go down and wonder which tall building was mommy working in.

That night we colored the sidewalk with messages of peace and love. It was all I could do. Their father picked them up and their wasn't animosity between us that day. Somehow the people who had small troubles that day let them go.

Today

I am the mother of three children. Only one of them is sure he is Muslim. It doesn't matter to me as much as you might imagine. As I have said, "The world doesn't need more Christians and it doesn't need more Muslims. It needs more bridges between the two." My three wonderful children are bridges of faith and understanding. Alhumdulillah.

I continue to spread messages the best I can. What was once written in chalk, is now written on this blog. It may even be sent via satellite. Subhanallah.

10 Years Ago Today

I was scared. Nothing made sense. The world no longer seemed safe or logical. I worried for everyone I loved. I worried for the future.

Today

When I feel scared I give my fear to Allah Subhana Wa Tallah. The world seems temporary. Now problems seem to be parts of a glorious plan. I have become a Muslimah who has stories and scars and is able to tell other imperfect people how to let go and let God.

I remember how a decade has gone past since September 11, 2001. Alhumdulillah for all the time which has allowed all of us to struggle past the sadness and upset and find some healing. I have grown. I have grown in ways I never would have imagined.

Alhumdulillah.

U. T. O.

2011-09-08T05:41:00.001-05:00

Today I did one of those much-hated but totally useful parenting techniques: a time-out.

What is a time out?

It is not a punishment. No one gets hurt. There's no cruelty involved.

It is not a threat. The method is all about influence not power.

It is a STOP of everything and everybody. All stimuli ceases and you remove the child from the situation. It doesn't have to be a chair but if you are giving a time-out at home, then it makes sense to have a routine place. It can be while you are out but get prepared for stares that you can't care about.

I gave Mr. Boo a "time-out" today on the streets of Giza. I was only a few blocks from home but I made the decision that I don't want to accept a loud whiny kid walking with me. First, I told him to stop fussing and he didn't. I then stopped walking with him and stood there on the side of the road for one silent minute.

I named his behavior, "You were fussing."

I named the expected behavior or rule, "You are not allowed to fuss through the streets."

I told how he needed to make recompense, "You need to say, 'sorry'."

He said it. If he hadn't said it, then it would have been another minute. It's a drag. I hate it BUT there are some behaviors which are worth the effort. Do I want him to fuss through the streets? No. I'd rather nip it in the bud.

After he appologized, he got a hug and we walk on.

However, he decided to fuss and whine again. So, we stopped again for another minute.

After that, he walked home quietly.

The problem is that my child rearing techniques are totally alien here. If I had yelled at him and told him that he was a dog or a donkey, no one would have batted an eye. If I had threatened to take off my shoe and whack him with it, everyone would have accepted my behavior. Even if I had slapped him around, as long as it wasn't his head, then most witnesses would have been OK.

So, instead of ignoring, accepting or approving, I get concerned apprehension and upset even. For Western parenting techniques in Egypt are as uncommon as U.F.O sightings. Call it a U.T.O. sighting.

Unidentified Time-Out

I have to have very thick skin to handle the mumblings, stares and worries from passers-by. Yes, they are scared for my boy. They are very concerned that my silence is more frightening than any yelling they've ever heard. They don't know what to do with it. Even my husband was embarrassed and unsure (though he knows what a time-out is, he didn't want one on the street).

So, I'm going to keep doing as I see fit with my son...at least until the mothership tells me otherwise.

On the Third Night of Eid

2011-09-03T16:07:00.006-05:00

The first night of Eid wasn't exactly as we had imagined it.

That whole platter of shrimp? Nope. It was not tender and melt-in-your mouth deliciousness. It was overcooked and greasy shrimp gum gamberry leban. Considering the price for shrimp, my brother-in-law who had bought it was not happy. He let that be known. The other brother-in-law is married to the cook of the house. He then let it be known he was upset as well.

It was time to plan an evening out.

The following night of Eid we ate food happily as a family and then left to visit the sisters. There are four sisters. In Egypt, a sister leaves the family house to go to the family house of their husband. During Eid, their brothers visit and bring money for the children. My husband was most happy with us bringing some joy to the nieces and nephews.

The next day was the third and final day of Eid. Yes, we get three days of celebration. The first day you must truly break the fast and eat and enjoy. After that, you may start fasting again. Fasting for six days in the month of Shawal is Sunnah; following the life of the Prophet (peace be upon him).

Remember: though ladies are exempt from fasting during their menstrual cycle, they must make up the days before the next Ramadan. Making them up right away, in the month of Shawwal is doubly good. You get the obligation done AND you get extra blessing. It is said that fasting the month of Ramadan and six days in Shawwal is like fasting a whole year. Subhanallah!

So, on that third night of Eid we planned a night out and away from everybody and everything. We were going to the cinema for the first time as a family. I had wanted to see Toy Story 3 when it played in Egypt and I tried everything I could to get us there to no avail. This time, I told my husband that I really wanted to see the new Mohamed Saad movie Tek Tek Boom. I am a big Limby fan from way back. I crack up at his antics. My husband really wanted to please me and I appreciate how he agreed to go.

When we leave to go into Cairo, it's like this huge endurance test. We start getting ready at 3:00 in order to be on the street at 4:00. We time it so that we do the asr prayer at home and then zoom out. It's still warm at that time but whatever clothes we have on have to be appropriate for the night time breezes as well.

Me? I decided (foolishly) that I truly was oh-so-Egyptian and could layer my new unexpectedly tight (haram) shirt with a linen jacket (in order to make it halal). I mean...layering is so fashionable in Egypt these days. Surely, I could handle that one extra layer.

AHHHHHHHHH! NO, I COULDN'T!

I was so uncomfortable I wanted to scream. Never again will I layer until the weather actually dictates. I don't know how Egyptian ladies do it! Why don't they freak out?! I sat there on the ~~sauna~~ micro-bus with sweat dripping down my face wishing I had chosen better.

I cooled off once we started off for Cairo. We were going to the Ramses Hilton Mall. It's a good location; next to the Nile in a safe area. Plus, their theatre is right next to a McDonald's so Mr. Boo could load up on favorite food. My husband wanted to give ~~my son~~ our boy every happiness that night.

As we sped along the road, I saw a young teenage girl, in her newest clothes, riding side-saddle as a passenger on the back of a motorbike. Her arms held on to the boy she loved. The look on her face was priceless. She was on top of the world! I thought about the preciousness of that moment.

When was the last time you felt like that?

Does it have to be in the company of a man that we allow ourselves to feel free and in love with life?

I looked down at my little man. He had fallen asleep. We were almost across the bridge. I had to wake him up. Time to unload and walk a ways. It's not an easy moment.

While I was focusing on my sleepy boy, my husband was paying attention to the bus passengers from the other vehicle parked ahead of us.

"Igry!" which means Run!

One quick look over my right shoulder gave me all the information I needed. There was an angry young man picking up a large rock. The young woman with him screamed. I ran with my sleepy boy across the street and down the steps to safety. When we were at a safe distance, I looked back again. A man, his victim, was covered in blood and trying to call someone (probably to tell them he'd just been hit by a rock).

Yes, my friends, anything can happen when you leave the house! That's why I make du'a every time I go out the door, "May Allah protect me from hurting anyone. May Allah protect against anyone hurting me."

My husband then told me this rule. Once someone picks up a rock, you run! Someone is going to get hurt and you don't want it to be you.

We were now down by the Nile and so was everybody else from Egypt. I had thought that celebrating Eid en masse would bring about a feeling of unity and happiness. Actually, you get a little fearful. You know that with so many people, the chances are greater that someone is going to be up to no good. We crossed the street and left the beautiful Nile. I had to trust that my husband best knew how to protect us.

The crowds never stopped. It was packed! Every street was overflowing with families and carefree teens. The mall was so busy that Mr. Boo mistook is for an airport (and he wondered if we had to catch a plane).

Inside the mall, the lines for the elevator were long and people's patience was starting to wear thin. I hate to wait more than just about anything. We took the stairs. Up we went to the top. We bought 30 LE tickets for each of us; almost a hundred to see a show! Wow! Good thing that we we didn't do this all the time.

Over to McDonald's and I was about to drop another 30 LE on little sandwiches, one medium fries and a large Sprite. It was hot and crowded in the lines. The teen boys kept yelling, "Amu! Amu!" Uncle! Uncle! at the workers to take their order. I stood my ground and remained calm and intent on getting food. Oh, and when I did get to the front, I remember to wish them "Kullu sana enta tayib" which roughly translates to Many Happy Returns of the Day. It got a smile and good service (whereas shouting at them didn't seem to get either).

When it was time for the movie, it was also time for magrib. I got into my seat and then heard the azan on someone's phone. Big oops! It had crossed my mind during the planning at home that we would be out during magrib but I had neglected to make any effort towards praying while we were out. I don't want to do that again. Astragferallah.

The theatre itself was very small. I was surprised at that. It was beautifully air-conditioned and my layers suddenly felt reasonable. Mr. Boo, on the other hand, was freezing. We munched our 9 LE popcorn and finished our Sprite.

There was an actual usher on hand to seat patrons. This is really unlike the American movie theatres where you have all the freedom in the world to sit where you like. All our tickets had seat numbers which had been assigned to us. That was nice, in a way to have some orderliness to it. When a young couple entered our row, I could ask the woman to change places with her man so she wouldn't be sitting next to mine. There were lots of families and respectable people---a very different crowd than that for Shara Al-Haram Pyramid Street starring belly dancer Dina.

When the previews started they were THE SCARIEST previews ever! Mr. Boo was hiding his eyes and covering his ears. Eventually---I think it was after the bridge collapse---I had to do the same. Way to start a family outing! LOL!

Alhumdulillah, all bad things come to an end and our movie started. I am so pleased with the efforts of Mohamed Saad in this film. He really has told the story of The Revolution in a way to make very complex ideas understandable. You see the groups clearly: the tech saavy youth, the thugs, the common (poor) people, the army, and the children. I truly did have to hold my husband's hand when the gunfire started on the screen. I wasn't scared but I was filled with emotion to see it play out in the movie.

There are so many good messages, though, it's not a preachy film. You will see unity among believers of both faiths. You will see patience and love and courage. Perhaps the main message is that we don't have to act on impulse to do the same bad as others. We can make a stand to be our best selves no matter the dire circumstances around us.

Time for us to leave and go home. The crowds had multiplied and then some. We navigated ourselves down the stairs and out the door. Another fight in the crowd and another time to run. Mr. Boo was tired from all our walking. We finally found a bus with seats and he promptly fell asleep. I held his head so it wouldn't bounce around as we raced through crowded streets.

Back to Giza but not back to our house yet as we had to catch another bus. There I was, holding a sleeping boy. He is so much heavier, mashallah, than two years ago. I really can't continue to carry him like I used to. My husband was trying in vain to get us transportation back to our area. No one! Everything was full. A taxi stopped and he talked to the driver but got refused.

The driver was still sitting there and I approached him with my arms full. No, I'm not supposed to talk to men and negotiate deals. I know this. However, various parts of my body were atrophying and I needed to get home. When the driver saw me with my burden, he agreed alhumdulillah. My husband got in and thanked me.

It had been a big night out. As my mother always says, "It's nice to go out and it's nice to come home." Yes, it was nice to get out and get away from it all but our home is always especially welcome and cozy after an outing to Cairo. Alhumdulillah for both.

Alhumdulillah for The Third Night of Eid.

Happy Eid

2011-09-01T02:10:00.000-05:00

"After hardship there is ease."

After Ramadan there is Eid.

No, we Muslims don't wish each other "Happy Ramadan," as it really isn't a time to get happy...it's a time to abstain, fast, pray and repent. That time is done, alhumdulillah.

Happy Eid!

Elizabeth Gilbert: Allah! Allah!

2011-09-01T01:40:00.000-05:00

The author of Eat, Pray, Love discusses the creative gifts from God. Keep watching and hear an amazing connection to Islam that I bet you never knew.