being "religious" in context

I've been in Egypt for a little over 6 months now. The experiences have been strange, enjoyable, lonely, and maddening all at once. Soon after I was married I learned how to use micro-buses - before I figured out their haphazard yet somewhat systematic methods of operation, it seemed it would be really difficult to get a hang of riding them. But now I can flag them down, look for a seat that hopefully doesn't involve a man's body pressed up against mine, bring out a pound to pay the driver, and yell at the top of my lungs when I want to get off.

I know the best places to buy fruits and vegetables in our neighbourhood. I now know the kinds of food that I like - it took a little discovering, but now I know never to let herring (and other icky Egyptian foods) touch my lips again. I've mostly figured out how to cook, and I've generally got a routine going in my life. So I'm slowly getting used to it here, and not to say that I wouldn't jump at the opportunity to leave, but it doesn't seem as hopeless as it once did.

And now, the problem; I haven't yet learned how to be 'religious' in Egypt. Don't get me wrong, I do all the same acts of worship I used to at home. The essentials haven't changed. And yet I don't feel as though I'm at the same level of religiosity as I once was.

Being raised as a Muslim in the western world gave me a certain attitude towards religion. It was something precious that needed to be constantly maintained, and this meant you needed to be a struggling soul swimming against the current. If you didn't hold on to religion with every ounce of energy you had, you could lose it in an instant.

Everyone thinks it's easier to be religious in majority-Muslim countries, and perhaps that is correct in some senses - i.e. close proximity to mosques, more opportunities for learning, being surrounded by people who don't misunderstand you and therefore having more freedom to explore religious issues within your own community, etc. But for me, I feel that it's harder to be religious in a majority-Muslim country because there is less of a drive for me to struggle.

Perhaps I have always been a bit of a rebel ready to swim upstream, always ready to snap back at racist comments made to me, always holding on with my teeth to my identity as a Muslim woman. Many of those things defined my very existence as a Muslim. And now suddenly I don't have to exert the same kind of effort anymore. Most Egyptians are 'religious' at least in a basic way. When I walk down the street, I'm like every other woman - nothing distinguishes me from her.

And so that external struggle has gone. I know in my heart of hearts that the struggle should never end - rather it should be inverted into an internal struggle instead. I do know that just letting yourself swim along with the current makes your muscles weaken. The last thing I'd want is the atrophy of my ability to hold on to my identity as a Muslim. I'm very slowly re-learning how to be religious in a different context. It's hard, but I refuse to give up. After all, what would my sad rebel soul do if it wasn't struggling against something, even if that something is myself?

did you know that I cook things?

When I first got married, I had very few cooking skills. Everything that I knew about cooking came from vaguely passing through the kitchen while my mom was cooking, and from watching MasterChef and other Food Network shows. I had no desire to cook, but I did love to watch food shows.

In the months prior to getting married, my mom offered several times to teach me how to cook. But me being the clueless and uncooperative person that I am lead me to adamantly refuse while saying things like "my husband can cook for himself" and other nonsensical strings of words. Needless to say, when I was finally faced with the reality of having to cook, I felt like a chicken with its head cut off. Some of the things that happened to me while I was learning:

-Once we bought a freshly slaughtered chicken and it still had the head attached - I refused to cook it until my husband cut the head off while I was not present.
-I once had to clean a chicken that still had its guts intact. I gagged all through the experience, then was unable to eat the cooked chicken due to my squeamishness.
-I made rice that was the consistency of lumpy oatmeal.
-I burned myself (and continue to do so) on a regular basis. And I burned food.
-I didn't think marinating meaty things prior to cooking was that important.

etc.

In the months following this, I came to realize that there are just a few general rules to cooking, and then all else is pretty simple. It's kind of interesting to produce edible things. Allrecipes.com is now my ultimate favourite website. Here are some of the things I've cooked:

Meat and spinach pies, YUM (If I do say so myself)

Home-made pizza

Fried chicken fingers and fries

Spinach Spanakopita

An Egyptian twist on chicken biryani

Chicken goulash

Stuffed peppers

Chicken soup & rice, mom's style

I'm getting hungry now. Awesome.

things

They Hate Me.

When we were young we believed that love could conquer all - that just by hoping with all your heart that the world would be a better place could make it so. I used to think that the louder I shouted about injustices, the faster they would be resolved. I used to know things for sure, I used to believe in the goodness of people over their evil.

The last few years have been like anchors, slowly pulling my head down out of the clouds. I've begun to see that there are very few things in life that are simply black and white. I've begun to lose hope in the world. I don't know when exactly I started to feel this way, but I think that all the hatred for Muslims and Islam that is now a part of worldwide political and social dogma is at the root of these feelings. It's now becoming apparent that it is acceptable to insult and humiliate Muslims without facing substantial criticism. Entire governments are anti-Islam.

Even in Egypt where I am now stationed, the case is the same. You'd think that in a majority Muslim country, you'd be less exposed to anti-Islam rhetoric, but unfortunately that is just not true. Recent elections brought the Muslim Brotherhood and a Salafi Party into "power" (and I'm not yet sure what that even means considering the turmoil surrounding the military's current rule). I'm alright with people disagreeing with these parties' politics, as I'm sure I don't agree with all of them myself. But the anti-Islam rhetoric coming from "liberal" media has been so immense and heartbreaking that I usually just stop reading or turn the TV off.

And my heart hurts more every time I read or watch something about some new person or entity hating me. And I say "me" because the personal is political and the political is personal. Part of me wishes I could escape to a mental state where I was more hopeful in people seeing truth above propaganda. I want to be able to look up at the clouds and not be distracted by the ugly ground I'm standing on. I want to be free of hatred and full of love. I wish I was, I wish I could be.

Jannah Crescent

Over the past several years, my family has been scattered around the world. It seems to happen intermittently - one sibling leaves to pursue some dream in another city or country, and another simultaneously comes back home. I think the last time we were all together was over five years ago.

So there's this small crescent on my street in Toronto that has 6 or 7 beautiful houses - it's actually more of a glorified semi-circle driveway. When my sister and I used to walk past it, we would talk about how awesome it would be if we bought those houses in the semi-circle and everyone moved back home. All the nieces and nephews and brothers and sisters and our parents, and we all got to see each other whenever we wanted. We'd talk about how we'd just all take turns cooking, and how we'd knock on each others doors when we felt like going someplace, and we'd all definitely take food from our parents' house.

It was a happy thought, and it still is. And then we would just sigh and my sister would say "maybe in Jannah, inshaAllah."

Over the years I've realized that all happiness is marred my some sadness. Even if for a moment or two everything seems just exactly right. It doesn't have to be some immense life-altering sadness, it could just be a loved one being too far away for you to share your happiness with her or him. It could be the distant memory of what you wish you could change from all those years ago. It could be anything.

This is not to be confused with pessimism or deep-seated regrets. Far from it. All I mean to say is that there is no pure happiness, sadness, anger, or other emotions. You aren't just one thing at any time. When you realize that this life is more emotionally complicated than you once imagined, it makes Jannah feel more real.

We are continuously journeying towards stations of happiness, but when we arrive, there are always memories of sadness or fear of future troubles. The thing is, when you arrive to the ultimate station of happiness, paradise, none of that exists anymore.

I just hope that someday we get to live in a Jannah Crescent.

It's December

Regardless of where you are in the world, December is just plain old December. And it sucks the words right out of my mouth.

Paradise

I love most things by this guy. He's awesome.

Winter Sea

The winter sea is indifferently majestic;

it is unconcerned with the city’s arbitrary nighttime gunshots

or upcoming contentious elections.

All it wants is to discover the shore’s bumps and old plastic chairs left by humans because the air got too cold, and to flood adjacent highways when possible.

The sea doesn’t care that you are empty inside, or that you go to it for a calming solace because nothing else is consistently good or peaceful.

All it wants is to protect its sunken treasures from prying eyes and the sun’s attempt to evaporate its surface.

When the sea is dark and the night prevents inquisitive eyes from distinguishing its edge on the horizon from the black sky, your soul won’t feel any more enriched.

The café lighthouses that are on the brink of being engulfed in its waves will not bring you closer to home.

The sea just wants to be left alone, moving heavy contents in and out of its unburdened heart.

When it Rains in Egypt, it Pours

And that's not a metaphor:

Flooded street beside our home in Alexandria

So when it rains here, it's hard to go out for leisure since many streets are in this shape - I guess no proper drainage system is in place considering it doesn't rain except in limited winter months.

Naturally since I can't go out as much, I've started noticing that the English channels on my TV keep playing the same things over and over: CSI (in all its forms), MasterChef Australia and lots of Sandra Bullock & horror movies (arguably the same thing).

Which sucks.

Climbing Mount Sinai

If any of you remember this post, you'll know that one of the places I have always wanted to go was Mt. Sinai, the mountain that Moses (peace be upon him) is said to have climbed to talk to God. I've always loved the idea of going to a place that was so rich in history and meaning - but not just any history, my history. A history that I believed in, that was a part of my identity as a human being, and a believer in a line of prophets sent by God.

In early September I was fortunate enough to make that climb up Mt. Sinai with my husband. And it was absolutely the most physically challenging feat I have ever faced. The first half of the climb was tiring but not difficult. I can't say the same for the second half - every step I took up that mountain was exhausting, especially considering that we began our ascent in the middle of the night (3am).

But I regret nothing, it was shockingly beautiful to be climbing a trail in dead silence with a frighteningly large amount of stars staring at me from the heavens. And all we could see during the night were the stars and massive black shapes protruding from the ground - we were fully surrounded by mountains - Mt. Sinai being the highest of them.

Perhaps people who have lived all their lives around the majestic presence of mountains can't appreciate the kinds of heavy emotions attached to this experience. I had never before seen anything like this. As we were climbing and the sun was slowly rising, I began to see the peaks of all the mountains surrounding us. As far as the eye could see - nothing, absolutely nothing but mountains.

For a long time, I've felt that I haven't been learning anything new or going through new experiences. This was a new one. A stunning new one that left me speechless. All I could think of were the verses of the Qur'an where God says:

They say: "(Allah) Most Gracious has begotten a son!" Indeed ye have put forth a thing most monstrous! At it the skies are ready to burst, the earth to split asunder, and the mountains to fall down in utter ruin. That they should invoke a son for (Allah) Most Gracious. For it is not consonant with the majesty of (Allah) Most Gracious that He should beget a son. Not one of the beings in the heavens and the earth but must come to (Allah) Most Gracious as a servant (Surat Maryam 88-93).

Seeing those mountains reminded me of how Great God is - a Greatness that cannot be measured or quantified. But it's a greatness that inspires all creations to recognize and praise their Lord. Even mountains, which in the sunlight were simple very very large mounds of rocks and boulders...even mountains feel that connection to God. It makes me sad to think of times when I haven't felt that connection due to negligence, arrogance, or other negative qualities I possess. Perhaps it's a silly question, but aren't more feeling than a mound of rocks? I suppose it's something that I have to continuously grapple with.

I wish I could elaborate more on the intensity of the experience, I wish I could take you there...to that place where the shuffling of your feet and beating of your heart are the only sounds that matter. Where you realize that God is everything, and you are nothing.