Read and name the story(moral lesson)

Samira worked at a meat distribution factory. One day, when she finished with her work schedule, she went into the meat cold room (Freezer) to inspect something, but in a moment of bad luck, the door closed and she was locked inside with no help in sight.

Although she screamed and knocked with all her might, her cries went unheard as no one could hear her. Most of the workers had already gone, and outside the cold room it’s impossible to hear what was going on inside.

Five hours later, whilst Samira was on the verge of death, the security guard of the factory eventually opened the door. Samira got miraculously saved from dying that day.

When she later asked the security guard how he had come to open the door, which wasn’t his usual work routine.

His explanation: “I’ve been working in this factory for 35 years, hundreds of workers come in and out every day, but you’re one of the few who greet me
in the morning and say goodbye to me every night when leaving after work.

Many treat me as if I’m invisible. Today, as you reported for work, like all other days, you greeted me in your simple manner ‘Hello’. But this evening
after working hours, I curiously observed that I had not heard your “Bye, see you tomorrow”. Hence, I decided to check around the factory. I look forward to your ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ every day because they remind me that I am someone. By not hearing your farewell today, I knew something had happened.
That’s why I started searching every where for you.

Moral Lesson to reflect upon: Be humble, love and respect those around you. Try to have an impact on people who cross your path every day, you never know what tomorrow will bring. Let this story be an inspiration. Let’s share to inspire others; someone else shared this to inspire me…
Jumat kareem

Words make me lifeless

*Guest post by my lovely talented cousin. Although she always says she is a novice, but everyone would agree that this post she wrote effortlessly is really inspiring!*

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words make me lifeless, sticks and stones hurt my body while words are ghosts that haunt me.

Pain left its scar on a mind that was tender, the bones are healed. But this words I remember giving me a sharp pain like a stubborn migraine.

The word you just said made that girl a living-dead, the “useless” you called him just made him stop believing in himself.

Yes you didn’t kill him with your hands, Yes you didn’t pull the trigger at her buh you know something?

You killed with your words!

True! You are guilty of murder. How many more souls would you take with your words? Someone somewhere just cancelled suicide coz he/she received a call from someone.

That prostitute just believed she could be successful without selling herself coz someone proved it to her, someone believed in her.

Now this is a wake up call, SPEAK POSITIVITY. So STOP destroying people and shattering their dreams. Pen is lifted till another bothering issue

Love Story… Ugly Twist of faith!

**

Once a Muslim young man loved a Christian girl , they wanted to get married but her parents would not accept because he was a Muslim! It
was a big dilemma for them! But they both loved each other sincerely and thought nothing should separate them.

One day , the Muslim man got very ill and was dying, he was on the death bed. A friend of his was beside him , he told him: Say Shahadah, say
La Ilaha Illa llah Muhammadun Rasulullah , but the Muslim man didn’t say it, he cried and told his friend: I ’ m afraid that if I die as Muslim I will not find my beloved in the hereafter !! So I want to become Christian hopefully I will meet her in the hereafter!! And he became Christian !! He came out of Islam , he became a murtad! And right after he went out of Islam he died ! So he died as a non- Muslim.

The girl that he used to love came asking about her lover, she found his friend , she asked him :
Have you seen that person (her lover)? He sadly told her that he died ! But he did not tell her that he went out of Islam ( Apostated ). She was very
sad and cried , and said : I fear as a non Muslim I will not meet him in the hereafter , So I bear witness that there is no God except Allah and Muhammad is the Messenger of Allah ! She embraced Islam, hopeful that she will meet him in paradise !

Later on she died , and died as a Muslim and her lover had died as a non -Muslim, she won Paradise and lost him, and he lost her and lost paradise and got hellfire .
Subhanallah, the wisdom behind this story is for one to remain steadfast onto Islam and keep the intention in the heart that I will live all my life on
Islam and to stay patient over the hardships and calamities, and Allah will reward tremendously . We ask Allah to keep us stead fast to Islam , wal Hamdulillah .

To the Muslim Women and to whom it may concern

Oppressed! Subjugated! These are probably the words that come to your mind when you see a Muslim woman covered in Hijab (the Islamic modest covering of a woman). You assume it’s her father or some radical male member from her family who is forcing her to dress that way. At least that is what people say to you. That is how the media views Muslim women who cover.

Let me ask you, have you heard of the famous sayings: “go straight to the source?” Or “walk a day in my shoes?” I am sure you have heard these a million times.

Let me use the first. I ask you sincerely, have you ever gone to the true source for information about Hijab and Islam? Have you read books, asked scholars or visited a Mosque? Have you ever asked a Muslim
woman why she is so covered in a world that seeks to shed as much clothing as possible? If you asked a Muslim woman, she would inform you that the purpose behind her Hijab is to obey her Creator over the creation. Her Creator, Allah (God), did not legislate Hijab in order to oppress her,
but rather to free her from the shackles of this world. He ordered Hijab as an honor and sign of dignity for women.

When a Muslim woman covers her hair, chest and body, she is sending a silent message that she respects her body and like a pearl in the ocean, she covers it with her beautiful shell (Hijab). No one has the right to observe, gawk at and judge a Muslim woman by the highlights in her hair
or curves on her body. Instead they judge her for what is in her mind, her character, and her goals and ambitions. Hijab is prevention from being accosted by ignorant minds who only judge a woman by the
clothes she wears and the skin she shows.

A woman’s body as you know is sacred and this is why Islam encourages women to strive to cover and protect it.

Let us return to the second saying, “Walk a day in my shoes.” This is where WHD comes in. What is that you ask? WHD is short for World Hijab Day. This second annual event will be held on February 1 st, 2014 (God willing). On this day, we ask Non-Muslim and Non-Hijabi Muslim women worldwide to observe Hijab for a day. It will be a day for everyone willing to experience
what it’s like to step inside the shoes of a Hijabi. Our hopes are no less than that. We wish you will gain a wealth of knowledge and experience a slightly different definition of FREEDOM.

Respect The Letters

Respect the Letters (Continued)
                        ﺭ* ﻁ* ﻝ* ﺩ

                                                    ﺩ
Me *Hey Rokeeya, how are you?* I initiated
another text a few days after she suggested
that I stop at the MSA which I haven’t done
yet.
Rokeeya *Hey… You again?* she asked. Her
annoyance was definitely ‘showing’.
Me*I am sorry to bother you. What are you
studying by the way?*
Rokeeya *Who wants to know Aaron? I am
busy.* I felt the sharpness in her words even
though they were not said to my face.
Me*Do you always have a wall up?* I asked
intrigued by this creature. My intuitions were
telling me that her acts were just smoking
mirrors. If there was one thing I knew how to
do was to spot a girl that had a thing for me.
And on that night she came to our house, I
definitely sensed distraction in her thoughts
before she spoke.
Rokeeya *I am studying for finals. I am on
working on my PHD in Chemistry, and this
semester is my last insha Allah*
Me*Wow! Good luck.* This girl was almost
taking off with her life, and I was still trying
to get a Bachelor’s degree. I thought to
myself.
If I wanted to have any chance to graduate to
impress her, I needed to put some order in
my life. I was two years behind on my degree
because of the distractions of Greek life. So
much for wanting to become a History
teacher. I needed to leave New York and go
somewhere else more student friendly. I
barely passed my classes. The life here
worked for some people but not for me. My
fraternity alone was my biggest distraction.
What makes you think that she would be
there when you are ready to affront her again ,
my consciences snapped in. ‘We will just
have to wait and see,’ I muttered. She
seemed like the type that make men run in
the other direction. So, I may be in luck
because I had eyes on the prize; her. I swore
to myself then that her tenacity would not
deter me from trying to get her.
Where can I go? Where should I go if I want
a taste of some American History? The
questions just kept popping in my mind. All I
knew was that Google could point me in the
right direction. After searching American
History, a list of redneck TV shows popped
up. As stereotyping this sounded but true
enough, I decided to go to Texas.
Now, Houston or Richardson? According to
my researches, both cities have a high
community of Muslims. Hmm, maybe this my
ticket to get to know more on Muslims and
see what they are up to since the school year
is over. I decided to go for a school that did
not have my fraternity so that I wouldn’t
betempted to join. UTD (University of Texas
in Dallas) is my first choice.
I applied to the school for the fall 2013 and
decided to take the spring semester off. Time
to make money for my trip to Texas!
ﻝ
I stared at the last text feeling cheated; ‘Wow!
Good luck.’
He didn’t even say good bye. It was like he
was intimidated by my level of education or
saw a ghost then scurried away as soon as
possible. He also didn’t even try to flatter me
with Latin words like he normally did. Oh
well, why am I even obsessing over this boy
when he wasn’t even Muslim? He will
probably try to text me in a few days, I
inferred delusional.
Days passed. Then weeks elapsed. And
before I knew it, months had gone by. Aaron
had probably found a girl that was not harsh
like me. Every day, I had to stop my
nafs from constantly reminding me of
someone I could not have. It is probably
better that way. But how did he even
disappear with noone knowing where he was.
As a new Alumnus, I inquired on him a few
times and that raised doubts in the minds of
my sisters that were still in the House and
going to school. This is how it went down
during one of my weekly visits after grad
school.
“By the way Ameetah, is that tool of Aaron
still leading that TMZ chapter?” I asked her in
a pseudo disinterested tone.
“No one knows where he is. He never came
back after last fall semester. You keep asking
that question a lot. Why do you care?”
“Yes, why do you care?” Homayra jumped in
in our A to B conversation. She was
obviously eavesdropping.
Darn ! There were no secrets in this
sisterhood. Ameetah knew everything on
campus even though she was unnoticeable
the majority of the time like Madhuri in
Outsourced . She was the gossip queen with
her nerdy classes and self. Bright sister
though.
After that, I stopped inquiring to raise more
suspicions on myself. However, one day I
don’t know what came over me, and I
decided to text him. I had his number on my
phone all along but assembling all the guts in
the world to cross ‘The Line’ was my main
concern. I am still human so don’t judge me.
Me* Hi Aaron, did you ever check out the
MSA*
Aaron’s phone*Who are you?*
Me*Wrong number.* I prompted to reply. I
knew this was a bad idea! Ugh! I wanted to
dig a hole and hide myself in. I am such a
moron!
Aaron’s phone *Liar! He will only marry me
la bellaza or whatever your name is.*
May be the receiver had a point, I was lying.
Ignoring this ever happened would be the
best thing to do now. But wait a minute, la
bellaza ? Forget it; he probably didn’t
remember my name so he went by this
predictable name. I refuse to believe that he
was still into me. Plus, he looked like he was
getting married. Excuse me! I was not getting
on this train. So long irrational wishes! I
finally thought before unplugging him from
my thoughts forever.
ﻁ
“Uncle A, this girl texted you but I deleted
her texts and her name from your phone
along with other ones. I will be the only
woman in your life.”
“Melanie…You did what?” This niece of mine
was definitely a psychopath. I had yet to
understand her infatuation with my lame self.
I wanted to scold her further but her eyes
started to water and she was about to burst
out in tears.
“I ..I …I am sorry uncle Aaron.” Against my
will, I gave her a hug. I knew she was
playing me. And she probably had a smirk
on her face while faking these crocodile tears
while my protective arms were wrapped
around her. A few more minutes of
consolation went by before I gently kicked
her out of my room. Unbelievable! I blinked
for a second and she was all over my private
life.
‘Now, who are the ones that she deleted?’ I
secretly pondered. Then, I thought of
checking my data usage online. Ha! I
seriously hope it is Rokeeya. But it dawned
on me that our internet was down and my
cell phone was not immune. Seriously no
bars? The universe must be against me. If it
is important, God please let whoever that
contacted me do it again. God? I never asked
upon him. That’s a first.
And so I waited and waited and no one ever
did. From that point on, I carried all my
personal belonging around with me. I logged
out of my computer. I put a password on
everything I owned to deter that little pest to
screw with my life again.
I wasn’t interested in girls after I met
Rokeeya because I yearned for that rare
feeling I experienced when I first laid eyes on
her. She didn’t have an overpowering scent.
She just smelled fresh. She was very
attractive. Having said that, ‘beauty lies in the
eyes of the beholder.’ I wondered if her hair
was curly under that scarf of hers. My
curiosities were satisfied when her vindictive
sister posted her pre-Islam pictures all over
the school campus. I kept a picture of her,
and I bet she would have been mad if she
knew I held on to one.
When you are a crook, you think like one and
act like one. I said that because my eyes
were sparkling with malice because of my
next move. Because I snatched a picture of
hers without her knowledge, I searched the
pockets and clothes of all my pledges before
we got inside our frat house. Then, I told
them that if anyone was caught with a
picture of Rokeeya I would personally see
that they are reprimanded. I implied and
intensified that hazing was meant. I knew I
was selfish but I couldn’t bear the thought of
her being slandered as I was growing a
strange sensation to her.
“Why do you care?” a pledge inquired.
“Because I said so Bill! She is Muslim and
she doesn’t deserve the disrespect. I am not
one but I know that much from their religion.
Their privacy and respect is something they
strive to keep intact.’
“ Oooo , someone is going gooey on us…” and
a bunch of more oooo followed from the
crowd of pledge.
I thought quick and decided to give them an
ultimatum they would take seriously. “If you
value your initiation that is taking place the
day before finals, you will do as I say.” They
knew then I wasn’t in the mood or for that
matter joking around. There were dozens of
boys that would literally kill to rush our
fraternity.
My threat worked and that was my last
semester as acting president. As I was
thinking this, I reached for my wallet in my
pocket and admired her picture once again.
Here she was; temptatious and the real
Devious Maid of her Master. Like a stalker
would, I perfected her poster into a wallet
picture and stared at it for hours. Some days,
I would fall asleep watching her. I was mad
about her but I promised I would not contact
her until I was a descent and eligible
candidate to be able to make her fall for me.
Hopefully, she would miss me during the
silent time that had elapsed between us.
ﺭ
“Hey Jerry! It is Aaron.”
“Hey man! The hermit is finally out! Where
were you man? We missed you!”
“Same here, I am in Dallas, Texas.”
“Wow, all the way there? Why?”
“Long story. Do you have Fatou’s number?”
“Yea, but she doesn’t give me the light of
day. You aren’t trying to hook up with her?
Are you?”
“Shut up! I need to talk to her friend
Rokeeya.”
“Oh, the former freak. Man, I wished you let
us play and fantasize with her pics.”
“Watch it man! If you don’t have room in you
to see past people’s past and respect
women, you will never land a decent one
brother. I wouldn’t even dare to play with her
picture that way.”
If my subconscious was in control, I would
have gave in. I resisted the urge every time
the desire presented itself.
“I am sorry dude. You are different now. I
wonder why… No offense, I was just joking.
Take a pen, I know her number by heart. She
drives me nuts!”
I jotted down the number and thanked him
and promised to come visit them soon. Then,
I called Fatou.
“ Assalamu aleikum Fatou, this is Aaron.”
“ Assalamu aleikum ?” she paused trying to
understand why I was calling her. And to top
it all, why I was greeting her in Arabic
“Yea, I am a new member of ALM.”
“ALM? As in Alif Laam Meem? Is everything
okay with you?”
“Yes, I need to talk to Rokeeya. Is she
married yet?”
“No, she is not. Did you become Muslim to
impress her?” her tone was very inquisitive.
She wasn’t convinced at all. And all I was
thinking was ‘she was a career girl for sure.’
The idea gave me hopes of still being in the
race.
“Yes and no.”
That’s all I said and my short answer tipped
her off to drop the subject. She realized it
wasn’t her place to question my faith and
choice.
“Let me talk to her and get back to you. If
she is interested in talking to you, she will
contact you herself.”
“Sounds good, thank you Fatou.”
“No problem Akhi . Did Jerry give you my
number?” she asked.
“Yes, he did. I apologize for that.”
“It is okay. Jerry has a bad case of not
accepting rejection.”
“I agree.” And we both laughed and I said
houb salam to her. I also asked her not to
say anything about my new faith to her
friend. I wanted to tell Rokeeya myself. I
hoped she didn’t steal my sun. I was also
elated to know that my Devious Maid wasn’t
wedded yet. She had the mean-strong
character of Zoila Diaz and the intuition and
intelligence of Marisol Suarez. Such a
contradiction but I was falling with her every
day that passed.
(To be continued)

Jazak’Allah Khair for reading,
Papatia F eauxzar
Author of “Between Sisters, SVP!” and
upcoming novel “ The Hazardous Life of
Nilüfer”

Copyright © Papatia Feauxzar 2014

RESPECT THE LETTERS (conti)

ط
It was 9 p.m. during the winter season. So, I prayed Ishaa (the last obligatory prayer of the day) and went on a study spree. My PhD researches were consuming a lot of my time but it was all worth it. I hope my thesis on the HIV drug I am working on shatters the floor and leave the committee speechless.

Anyways, as I was studying, I decided to have a word with Homayra (also known as Homie) before sleeping on it. I searched for her number in my phone and dialed her number instead of walking to her room. Laziness at its pinnacle!

“Hey, can you come to my room please?”

“Sure.” She replied.
A few minutes later, she knocked at my door.

“Come in.” I said.

She came in, and I told her to sit next to me on my bed. So I started, “Do you have an expelling wish?” I asked still trying to wrap my head around her leading disaster.

“No.” She replied bluntly. She honestly did not have a clue.

“I mean you promise me that you would look after the girls and look what happened.”

“Jeez, relax!” She said. “I joined this group to have a family that does not judge me. So, don’t start.”

“Please don’t use that j-word, it is not appropriate for a Muslim like yourself.”

“And you are telling how to talk now? Omg, you are so overbearing and perfect! You micro-manage everything around here! Come on Rokeeya, just relax a little bit!”

“I am not going to relax because I do not want a bad reputation for the group or myself.”

“Ain’t you Miss. Perfect over here?” She roared intensely.

“No, I am not perfect Homie! It is very degrading to see sisters that wear or do not wear the veil strut themselves openly and engage in blamable behavior like you guys did this weekend. You think boys keep secrets to themselves. No, they don’t! They share with their friends and the next time you are amongst them, they giggle when they look at you! Be careful! Have some honor and dignity.” I pleaded.

“How do you know?” She asked with an unsure look.

“Because I have seen it many times.” I replied sadly.

“Hum…” That is all she said and left my room.

“Way to have manners! Unbelievable!” I let out exasperated.

ل
I should have seen the next morning come up. I was blindsided. In fact, the way that hot head of Homie left my room last night should have made me realize that something was up. As I was walking the streets of the campus, I came across my pictures pre-Islam glued all over the University town. I started pulling the pictures down but there so many of them, and I could not do it alone. I panicked.

My reputation was garbage now with pictures of me wearing the skankiest clothes ever are all over the university. I prayed that Allah spare the sisterhood from slander. I guess I am taking the hit instead. I recited the surah 2 verse 156. Then I called Fatou. She was genuinely sorry.

“Don’t worry, I will come down right now, and we will find a way to deal with it insha Allah.” She said hopeful.
I hung up and got busy removing the pictures of me I could spot.

“I knew you had a streak of freaky in you!” Aaron laughed behind me.

“This is not funny! I have long repented from my sins.” I replied with a sullen look.

“I am sorry about that.” Aaron said after realizing that he hit below the belt. Then, he accrued, “do you need help?”

“I am fine.” I actually needed help but I did not want to admit to it. Saved by the bell! Fatou showed up at the same time.

“Fatou and I can handle it.” I said hoping that she backed me up.

“No Rokeeya, this is way too much. Who could have done that?” She asked.

“I am sure Homie knows.” I barked.

“Don’t throw accusations in the air.” Fatou reminded me.

“Ladies, I can have my brothers help us remove all these scandalous pictures.” Aaron jumped in the conversation.

“That is a great idea.” Fatou interjected.

“No way!” I retaliated.

“You don’t have a choice. And my guess is that they have already seen your pictures or heard about them.” Aaron dropped some reality words on me.

“Fine call them.” I gave up.
He gawked at me for a while and got busy. A few hours later, my posters were gone from the face of the university.

“Please say thank you to your brothers for me.” I asked him before heading to the sisterhood’s house. I was mentally and physically exhausted. On the way home, a few boys whistled at me. I rolled my eyes and thought: Great! I guess I am going to wear a niqab now to stop the unwanted attention.
Back at the house, Homie was waiting for me in the living room.

“Liked the display of your past life on the walls?” She asked me wickedly.

“Your doing?” I asked.

“Of course it is. It was very easy to do. I just googled your name, and there were everywhere.” She admitted with a grin. Unbelievable! She did not even deny it.
So I got in her face, stared coldly at her, and said, “You think this is going to shake me? It just makes me stronger. I forgave you for your acts over the weekends but you go and do this to me. That is very low and shady! And coming from my own sister, it is very disappointing.”

“Well, I thought to myself: I will either be kicked out or have her kicked out.” Homie antagonized me further.

“You are a psychopath! I was not even planning to have your badge removed.”

She felt stupid then.

“Oh I am so sorry. That was very spiteful.”

“Ya think?” I asked in a pseudo-incredulous tone.

“Excuse me, I need to take of these ‘cockroaches’ of the internet.” I let out disappointed and crushed. Then, frustrated, I roughly bumped my shoulder to hers before disappearing behind her.
د
I emailed Google, Bing, etc. to take any pictures (covered or not) of me down. It was a ‘fun” process.

Later that night, Aaron texted me.

Aaron *Hey, you are very beautiful. But I did not need to see uncovered pictures of you to know that. Aaron.*

Me *Where did you get my number? And thank you for the compliment.* I blushed at his words.

Aaron *I have my sources and that is my business ;).*

Me *Touché! What’s up?*

Aaron *Bellissima…*

Me* La bellaza would be more appropriate. I am not Italian, lol! Anyways, I don’t mean to burst your bubble but you and me can’t happen.*

Aaron *Because I am not Muslim? That is wildly unfair.*

Me *It is not. I am not encouraging your feelings because it goes against my belief. I worship Allah and not feelings or love for that matter.”

Aaron * Very deep. This is not over. I want to learn about your religion.*

Me * Stop by the MSA (Muslim Student Association)’s office, they can help you 😉 *

Aaron * Will do.*

Me * Talk to you another time.* I replied and smiled. There was something about him I could not quite explain or understand yet.

***

By

Papatia Feauxzar
Author of “Between Sisters, SVP” Novel

“The Hazardous Life of Nilüfer” Upcoming novel
“The Dream” Upcoming novel
“Freedom Fighter” Short story
“Fixed Up!” Short story
“Change of Shoes” Short story

Respect the letters 2

Part 2
ر
“Are you coming or not?” I asked.

“Do I have a choice?” Fatou snarled bitterly.

And we left the house in our green and white abaya (dresses) we normally wear for chapter (weekly meetings). Our hijabs were white. In our rush, I forgot to hide my Juicy Couture heart necklace.

The AKA (Alpha Kappa Alpha)’s house was to our left and the GPhiB (Gamma Phi Beta)’s house was on our right. Behind us stood the house of the APhi (Alpha Phi). Further down to right, we could see the houses of the XΩ (Chi Omega) and the ΚΔ (Kappa Delta).
Within ten minutes, we were at the house of the TMZ (Tau Mu Zeta). They were also known as Trouble Maker Zeroes. Their members opted for Troubled Maker Zorros instead.

I spoke first. “I am here to see your president if he is available.” I spoke with confidence and my head high. I am a woman that will not be intimated by men, I tried to convince myself inside.

“He only meets people on appointment but since you guys are Irish that came to give their hearts to him, I am sure he won’t mind.” The tool mocked us.

“We are not Irish, and we are here to discuss business.” I replied with a sharp and calmed tone while putting my heart necklace under my abaya.
The tool gave me a look which was part amused, part confused before going in to get his president. That’s right silly; I am not oppressed or afraid to speak my mind! The media and people with their own cultural baggage would have you believe that a Muslim woman is supposed to be afraid to speak up or make a difference.

The tool of frat boy came back with his president and stood next to me. Their president was definitely the type I used to fall for; tall, blond, with green eyes. I hoped his looks would not distract me from what I was there for.

“Hello, I am Aaron. What can I do for you?” He asked.

“Hmm… Hi, can we sit somewhere to talk in private with my sister? I said loosing my focus due to my slight attraction to him. Slight? Noooo, it is a major what is happening right now.

“If your sister is coming, my brother, who is also my right hand, has to come.”

Dang it! We are outnumbered. Well, even… I should have taken Fatou’s advice to come with her brother. She read my mind and shot me a look that said I told you so!

“Give me a minute to consult with my sister.” I told him and pulled Fatou closer. “What do you think?”

“Tell him that we can sit under the tree over there with the benches. We need to be quick. I don’t want people spotting us here. It is a man place…” She replied uneasy.

I relayed the info to him, and we went to sit under the tree. I started, “Over the weekend, a group of sisters from our sisterhood came over here and were enabled to smoke drugs. One thing led to another and questionable and inappropriate behaviors were the results.”

Aaron’s face changed and became icy. “I am not aware of any drugs.” Then, he shot a look at the tool whose name is Jerry.

“Jerry is that true?”

“She may be right. I heard rumors.” Jerry admitted distracted. He was devouring Fatou with his eyes. She was just ignoring him the whole time. She has that effect on many men and women. She was not flashy or anything but she had this aura that drew people in. Men wanted to make her their Queen and women wanted to be her friend or become just like her. She had that Nur (light).

“What? You don’t even know what’s going in your own house?” I snarled.

“Lady, this is not the time to pass judgments. For all I care, we men will always come up on top and your sisters will unfortunately be treated as little whores after what happened. So calm down so we can figure this out.”

His words stabbed me. Oh no, he did not just call my sisters names!
As soon as I wanted to jump in his face with my quick temper, obviously angered by his statements, Fatou grabbed my hand to hint me to calm down and think clearly at my next move. Thing I did. I recomposed myself pretty quickly and sat.

“I don’t care if you knew or not. I am here as damage control. I want to put a lid on this one. I am sure you don’t want to loose any members over this or your charter for that matter. Neither do I. If international hears of this, we are grass, and they will be the lawnmowers. So, find the culprits and deal with them. It is irresponsible.” I ended my prose in a verdict tone.

“Feisty Muslim girl, huh?” He said and continued. “I have never seen anyone quite like you. You are very bossy.”

“There is a start for everything. Do we have a deal?” I retorted.

“Yes, we will tie loose ends.”

“How did you hear about it?” He asked.

“I have my sources and that is my business.” I replied with a grin. Quite honestly, a new member was the whistle blower. Her name is Ameetah. She decided to stay at the house the weekend in question. However, after a load of homework, she decided to visit the frat house and check on her sisters to relax a little bit. At her own disbelief, she found the girls misbehaving and not sober. She left promptly without them noticing that she saw them. She, then, struggled to tell me not wanting to sound like a traitor. I am glad she did before we ended up on national Television.
“So long brothers!” I said sarcastically to Aaron and Jerry. Jerry was barely listening since he was drooling over Fatou the whole time. Then I told Jerry, “She is out of your league.” I winked evilly.
Fatou smiled modestly and got up to leave with me.

TO be continued

By Papatia Feauxzar
Author of between sisters (SVP)

RESPECT THE LETTERS (CONTINUES)

Fatou will think that is a terrible idea but this sisterhood means everything to me. If it was not for this sisterhood, I would have… I can’t finish my sentence.
ل
My name is Rebecca Tia Lorenzo. I was born in Mexico, and came to USA as an illegal immigrant along with my family. I am currently a Doctoral student in Chemistry. I am very bright without trying to be full of myself or conceited. I just had a weakness which was partying like a wild animal.

A party was not a party until I came in. I drunk like a fish, I smoked like a chimney, and I got higher than a Georgia pine. I was home schooled so I had a gift to learn on my own. I did not need to show up for boring lectures. I just showed up on exam days and walked out cocky as ever because I knew I just aced another test. Teachers hated me but they could not do anything about it. I had a boyfriend but “he was too good for me” meaning he cheated on me constantly. I loved him, and I did not want to give the pleasure to be free by breaking up with him. So, to cope with this dysfunctional life on mine, I just spiraled down with the illegal stuff. I am sure you thought I slept around. I would have probably if I was not so hung up on the boyfriend. I actually received a lot of advances that I rejected, claiming allegiance to a cheater. My subconscious is rolling her eyes in a grimace.

So, one day, I was at a frat party in my first year of college and this beautiful girl approached me. I mean she was very beautiful. It seemed like she was glowing with angel like rays. She was veiled, and she was mixed. She asked me why I was behaving the way I was.  At first, I gave her a quizzing look then I said, “It is a boring and shameful story.”

“I don’t judge. Let me hear it.” She said quietly with a compassionate look.

People don’t have this effect on me. This girl was poised. She had graced to make me envious for million of years. I wanted to be like her. So, I told her my story.

“Then, she said. I am a member of RTL.”

“What’s RTL?” I asked. Then, she told me everything there was to know about her sisterhood. I became very interested but I was not Muslim. I could not blame them for not letting me join down the road if I wanted to because there is a religion requirement and a good reason to back their stand up. I put the Muslim thought aside and said.

“This may sound cheesy but my initials are RTL.” I let out with a dork tone.

“No way!” She exclaimed amazed.

“Yes, my name is Rebecca Tia Lorenzo.” I smiled. And on an impulsive tone, I said “I want to become Muslim. This is a Sign!”

“Masha’Allah!” Fatou beamed. She helped me recite the shahada (An Islamic creed to declare belief in Monotheism, Allah and his Messenger) and I became Muslim. I changed my name to Rokeeya after that. In the Greek world, they would say that Fatou had just rushed a new member. The sisterhood helped me get back on the right track and fulfill my purpose on this earth; worship Allah. Lord knows I would have self-destroyed myself in this ratchet past life.
د
After debating on my options about the weed situation, I went to knock on sister’s Fatou’s door.

“Come in.” She yelled over.
I went in then.

“What’s up?” She asked.

“Drugs are not allowed here, and I don’t to strip the responsible sisters of this beautiful sisterhood. I am torn. I don’t know what to do. I never had to make such an important decision.”

“Please forgive them. Don’t take their badge away.” She pleaded.

“I know. I have forgiven them. I just can’t forget. What kind of Muslim would have been if I don’t forgive them?” I asked confused. “Anyways, I want to talk to the president of the fraternity. We need to keep this under a lid. It is shameful.”

“Yea, it is said ‘he who covers a Muslim (his mistakes and shortcomings), Allah will cover him in the Dunya and the Hereafter;’ ” Fatou said pensively and added, “Having said, meeting this guy is risky. May be we should go with my brother just in case.”

“Not a bad idea but I don’t want anybody between our two houses knowing.”

“Rokeeya! Come on, don’t be so self-centered and make a bad judgment call here. You are no Olivia Pope!” She finished.

I was not listening to her anymore. This is the first time I actually did not take her advice into consideration. I hope I don’t go down for my “lapse” in judgment. I am going to fix it!

To be continued

BY

Papatia Feauxzar
Author of “Between Sisters, SVP” Novel

“The Hazardous Life of Nilüfer” Upcoming novel
“The Dream” Upcoming novel
“Freedom Fighter” Short story
“Fixed Up!” Short story
“Change of Shoes” Short story

***Respect The Letters***

                          ر* ط* ل*  د

Aka RTL (Rho Taw Lambda)

Author’s note

Throughout my stories, you will notice that the characters are not perfect. There are flawed. There is a great tendency for many Muslims to paint the Believers as no sin makers. We need to be realistic and admit that we are humans and that sinning is our second nature. We learn from them and they make us better Muslims. I will give you another detail about me. I used to be a sorority girl, so that has inspired me to write this story.
ر
“This sisterhood must uphold the upmost traits of the Muslimah on campus! Am I crystal clear?” I yelled to the crowd of sisters staring at me during chapter.
“Yes, sister Rokeeya.” They replied in unison.
“What is the third sentence of our moto?” I asked in a challenging tone.
Sister Dhara raised her hand. “Yes, sister Dhara.”
“Learn Purity from Maryam (aleihi salam).”
“Good! I doubt some of you reflected on that this weekend. Respect the steps of the Muslimah that we are trying to follow. And respect the letters, our letters and what they stand for. ” I paused to search for their shamed eyes.
“I move to adjourn the meeting.” I said with a dry tone.
“I second.” Another voice in the group let out.
“Chapter is adjourned. See you next Thursday night insha Allah. Behave yourselves.” After my last words, the sisters dispersed quickly to their room. I am sure there are secretly calling me names inside but I don’t care.
Over the weekend, there was a fraternity party on campus and some of sisters were invited. They know my position on mixing with men who are not mahram to us but they promised me that they will be careful and not act like fools. After all, there are the images of our group of sisters. Our sisterhood has a variety of Muslims sisters from strict to lax behavior due to the way they were raised as Muslims by their families. Some of the sisters belong to different Madhab and some did not belong to any Madhab. The bottom line is that we all considered ourselves Sunni or Shiite Muslims.
To go back to the story, the attending sisters got “tricked” into smoking hookah with the boys. I have a felling they wanted to be corrupted anyways. The herb in question was actually something that rhymes with Marie Jane. That and peer pressure were not a good mix leading to the boys becoming wanderers with their hands. I will spare you the details but zina (fornication) definitely happened. I am so appalled by their behavior! I normally chaperoned the girls at mixers because I don’t have a choice, and it is 2012! On campus, some people already consider us unsocial. That weekend I decided to visit my family. Fatou was not available either but the girls promised with Homayra on the lead that they will act like there are supposed to. They promise me that they will be on their best behaviors.
We do not wish to create a bid’ah or imitate other with the Greek stuff but our organization was put together by Muslim sisters Alumnae of the school that believed that a group of sisters that taught each other how to read the Quran el-Karim would be great. By the same token, the sisters will bond and foster great relationships that will help them not fall off the wagon with the distractions of college life. Lord knows that the company one keeps plays a major role in the way one turns out, good or bad.
Anyways, the Alumnae built us a house on campus that they furnished and took care of the paperwork. In the Muslim world, we are called ر* ط* ل* د  . In other words, Raw Taw Lam Da. Our purpose is to: Recite The Letters, Respect The Letters, and Read The Lecture while being classy and chaste Muslimahs. In the Greek environment, we are known as RTL (Rho Taw Lambda Ρτλ). Our motto is:
“Learn Patience from Asiyah (aleihi salam),
Sincerity from Aisha (aleihi salam),
Purity from Maryam (aleihi salam),
Loyalty from Khadija (aleihi salam),
And Steadfastness from Fatimah (aleihi salam).”

I am having a tough time leading the group as the President taking into account that I did not become a “saint” up until 5 years ago. I have had a smeared past that I try to hide from these girls. They think I don’t know what there experiencing now. I have been there. I just have better priorities now. Allah is my first and foremost priority. Everything I do and strive for is to please him. For that reason they see me as a jerk. One time, I even heard a sister in her room say that I need to get laid. May be she is right but it won’t happen until I am married. As I am lost in my thoughts, Fatou tried to get my attention.
“Hey, you okay?” She said worried.
I have not zoned out again! I hate these momentary lapses I experience quite often. “Yes, I am fine.” I attempted to let quickly. I continued “We have a lot on our hand with these girls.” I sighed.
“That is true.” Fatou rolled her eyes. Fatou is the vice-president of the sisterhood. She is still pure unlike me. I really admire and respect her. Her point of view is very valuable to me, too. We grab our Qur’an, planners, and pens and leave the sisterhood’s living room to join our bedrooms.
ط
Back in my room, I am torn between the implications of the members smoking weed mean. Not only we risk being kicked out campus and our charter removed, we also face slander, and my leadership questioned. Bad news travel fast. Right now, noone outside the fraternity and us know that drugs were consumed on campus. I need to talk to the president of that fraternity but I can’t do it alone. I need someone to come with me. Fatou will think that is a terrible idea but this sisterhood means everything to me. If it was not for this sisterhood, I would have… I can’t finish my sentence.

To be continued

By

Papatia Feauzar
Author of “*Between Sisters, SVP!*”

BEYOND THE FAIRY TALES

BEYOND THE FAIRY TALES

 

It was a very cold afternoon. I was getting dressed to go to school after waiting endlessly for the arrival of our yearbooks when I heard a knock at my door. It was Brother AbdulLateef, my close friend and brother. I swiftly put on my khimar and rushed to answer him. He looked kind of worried as he held a long jotter, the pages of which were separated by his index finger. After exchanging pleasantries, He opened the demarcated page of the jotter which seemed to contain a short essay and asked me to read it privately in my room while he waited patiently outside for my feedback. As my eyes flipped through the words, I needed no soothsayer to tell me that it was a marriage proposal from a sister. I immediately decided not to ask him why he wore that look of anxiety because I already had the answers. After asking him a few questions about the sister in question, I discovered that He also had affection for her but didn’t know how to go about things, considering the fact that she proposed first. I felt like having this long discussion with him, but I had to hurry off to school. My major concern was not in his acceptance of this proposal but in establishing a successful relationship where he will be in perfect control even though the proposal was not from him. I then promised to send him an e – mail

 

 

I fulfilled this promise on 11^th July when I forwarded the message below to him

 

Asalaamu’alaikum,

 

First and foremost, let me confess something to you. I guess I’ve told you about Ibrahim and why we’re not getting married. He is the reason I’m still single and searching. You know what I mean. We were so close. Don’t mind my use of the word “were”. It simply means we’re still close but not like before. He is always very well groomed and styled to perfection. Godly, smart, funny, kind and his ways, gentle. He treated me like a queen. He would never allow me carry anything slightly heavy while we walked together. He would never allow me open the car door myself. He would never allow a long unresolved argument. He would never visit me empty – handed. All the times we hanged out, my hands were always filled with all sorts of sweets and chocolates. He would never allow me walk all by myself at night and he never left me alone in my difficult times. Most of all, I think he so much likes me – my pleasure comes first. He made me feel mature when I needed to and made me feel like a baby when I needed to.

 

Yes, Ibrahim. He’s my dream sweetheart. I look back on those days and think if only……., he would have made the perfect match for a fabulous Muslim sister. The question remains “What is it about Ibrahim that was so appealing?” Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have a checklist and I’m not saying he’s the model husband. I’m just being careful about my future and I’m so positive it’s not just me (though I wish that was the case), it applies to his sisters and female family friends too. So, assuming you were in the shoes of a prospective suitor, what would you do in the following situations. Your answers to these questions will determine my comment about you.

 

• You notice that your potential spouse is too demanding and she can’t get her eyes off her favourite things. She wants to buy every lovely shoe and bag she sets her eyes on and you are beginning to get threatened by this attitude. What do you do?
• Your potential spouse is too short tempered. She screams at you at the slightest provocation and doesn’t calm down in time. What do you do?
• Your potential spouse gets angry the same time as you and you just can’t figure out who is wrong. She doesn’t make up with you in time. What do you do?
• Your potential spouse seems to succeed at a thing better than you and subsequently has more of everything than you do. In spite of this, she still expects you to buy, buy and buy her things as her maintainer. What do you do?
• Your potential spouse has many admirers and you feel insecure from time to time. What do you do?
• You want to win the heart of her family and friends? How do you go about it?
• Your potential spouse loves you more than you love her. You don’t ever want to take her for granted because of this. How do you go about this?
• You don’t want a boring relationship in your marriage. Your busy schedule is causing you to miss out on all the fun. How do you strike a balance?
• You pay your potential spouse a visit and meet her in the kitchen. It’s a big disaster in there as you discover she can hardly light a stove, yet alone prepare a good meal. What do you do?
• You pay an impromptu visit to your prospective spouse’s house. Her room is untidy and so unfeminine. What do you do?
• Your potential spouse misplaces almost every valuable thing she has and most of what you give her as gifts. Will you stop giving her valuable things? If not, what will you do?
• You go shopping with your potential spouse and you end up with a lot of heavy shopping bags. How do you share the burden?
• Your prospective spouse stays out late with you under an odd circumstance and she has to get home to her parents soonest. What will you do?
• Your Prospective spouse complains about quite a number of things about you on a regular basis. You are getting pissed off at this. What do you do?

I am asking you these questions to know how big you are planning to build a castle for you potential spouse. One thing is sure; You want to be in control even though she made the first move. You want your spouse to be an angel; you should build her a paradise. You want her to be a queen, then you build her a castle; one that will be more magnificent in Jannah. How do you go about it. I don’t want just answers. I want sincere answers. Search your mind thoroughly. I’ll be expecting your reply.

 

Wa salaam

 

Wardah.

 

I expected him to forward his reply sooner than he did but at the most unexpected time, at about 7: 43 pm on 15^th July; I got a mail from him. This was what he had to say:

 

Assalaamu ‘alaikum

 

Honestly, I am yet to fathom why it took me this long to reply. Maybe it’s due to the heaviness of the sigh I had after reading it all. Maybe it’s the surprise of how little I would like to say I imagined or maybe it is the feeling of wanting it all, not being able answer most questions or perhaps because you practically made it hard by saying my answers must be genuine … the truth is I don’t know.

 

I told myself I would only reply when my mind had travelled far from the mail you sent; when I would be able to reply spontaneously, give answers that are not pre-meditated and provide something that could be close to the real me. And now that I have been able to get that time, I search for the impulse but the truth is that I am still without answers.

 

Could it be that your questions are difficult? Could it be that I don’t understand or that I have not gotten the clear message?

 

No! It’s just the demand that it secretly carries along with it, the knack to be myself and the zeal to answer them not for the sake of answering and….

 

Hmnnn… this is what I think…

 

Many times I see two people who love each other, in all fairness, they truly do but then I still continue to ask “does loving someone make the person one’s match?” Having the case of my parents in mind…

 

What do they truly want?

 

What is their love based on? Materiality? Personality? Or something the lovers don’t even know?

 

How much sacrifice are they ready to offer?

 

How much happiness do they want together, how much of it do they want to leave for their fantasy?

 

I know I am supposed to be answering…my questions are sort of my answers.

 

I think I’m experiencing this heavy pour of emotion called love, I believe in it with all my heart, I dream of it and continually pray I experience it just the way I dream of it but then Wardah!

 

Love is beyond one person trying to make it work,

 

One person trying to be on top notwithstanding who made the first move,

 

One person wanting it all,

 

One person always ready to play the dumb,

 

One person searching for the perfect one,

 

One person trying to make false true,

 

One person’s fairytale reality

 

or one person getting worked up.

 

The supposed guy portrayed in the questions is not what I want to be. I know I can’t be the Mr. Fix-it-all.

 

I believe love is meant to complement the good in you, and not to burn you all up, I hate when I keep on struggling to make it work, and finally I believe when people are meant for each other there would always be a defined path for them to drive past and make things work together with ease. It’s not to say that I hope to ease past love affairs but then with the right one my way, we just get it, may be one step at a time, I don’t know, but with or without a laid down formula, we would make it work and the language to achieve that is “we can do it together, if we want”.

 

I really appreciate your show of concern but I want you to trust me. I’m not going to mess things up InshaAllah.

 

Ma Salaam

 

Your Dear Brother, AbdulLateef.

 

As my eyes travelled down the stream of his letters and words again and again, a strong realization dawned on me, waking me up from my long snore. My idea of a perfect husband is truly the fairytale I have always wanted to bring into reality. His words were true. Love is beyond all these. It’s not just about one person wanting it all. It’s about two people coming together to make sacrifices in order to live in tranquility and harmony. This was the case with Khadijah (RA) and majority of the wives of the companions of the Prophet (SAW). Now I know that no matter how hard it may seem, making it work remains the ultimate option for the sake of Allah. There is no Mr. Fix – it – all anywhere and Ibrahim is not an exception to this rule. If only we all knew this, maybe there would be no ridiculous checklists anywhere and everyone will concentrate on just one thing, “MAKING IT WORK”. This is all that matters because Love is far beyond the fairy tales.

 

Wardah Abbas is a graduate of law from the University of Ilorin, Ilorin, Nigeria. She is a great lover of Islam, a passionate Muslimah and writer who believes in intellectualism as a prerequisite to change. You can read more of her writings on therosespen.wordpress.com

 

A heart-touching letter from parents to their children.

…………………….
Originating Address : “HEART”
Date & time : “OLD AGE”
Postage stamp : “TEARS”

Our Dearest children,

Time has passed so fast. A lot learnt & gained.
Sometimes we REWIND our past.
PLAY the present situation.
FAST FORWARD the future which is uncertain.
This is how we occupy ourselves in silence.

We ask you : “Why do you make us cry ?”
When you were tiny, you relaxed on our laps with both our
arms cuddling you. Today we are placed in the lap of a
wheelchair with no warmth of arms.

We ask you : “Why do you make us cry ?”
When you were small, we taught you how to speak.
Today you teach us to SHUT UP .

We ask you : “Why do you make us cry ?”
When you were just basic, we upgraded you to adulthood.
Today you want to upgrade us to your style of thinking.
Sorry there is no software upgrade available.

We ask you : “Why do you make us cry ?”
Finally, we are nearing our destination which is MAUT(death).
Not much time left.
But before we leave, here is a gift of duaas for you:

“May Allah keep you happy with your family. And may your
children be the coolness of your eyes. ”

GIFTWRAP – we your parents.
GIFT – Duaas.

NOW STOP MAKING US CRY. EVERY TEAR THAT COMES OUT
FROM THE EYE, TELLS A STORY.

With LOVE,
Your Beloved Parents.

Verse Of The Day: Beautiful Words From Allah.

Surah: Al-Hujuraat : verse :11

O you who have believed, let not a people ridicule [another] people; perhaps they may be better than them; nor let women ridicule [other] women; perhaps they may be better than them. And do not insult one another and do not call each other by [offensive] nicknames. Wretched is the name of disobedience after [one’s] faith. And whoever does not repent – then it is those who are the wrongdoers.

This is one more prove of how islam is a religion of peace.

Where Is Our Future?

The next generation is the future,
the generation of youths that find no problem in consuming alcohol even to stupor!

The youths who see nothing wrong in immoral acts!

How can the youths who see lieing as a natural act be our future,

Or those who are used to stealing and bribery!

How can they make a change?

I am a Nigerian, and I am proudly one.
I am a muslim, and I am proudly one.

My parents told me that in their time there was nothing like kidnapping, but I tell you now that that’s what the youths are practising.

They told me that in their time the society was responsible, accountable, they knew right from wrong. But presently we know right from wrong, but we just choosed to follow wrong.

Does civilisation mean being naked?!!! I don’t know, but what I know is that a long time ago the white came to our country and found us naked, literally using leafs to cover the sensitive parts of our body. And they gave us clothes to cover ourselves, but now why are they walking naked, why are we joining them in being naked. Is this the end of civilisation or migration into the animal kingdom!

Corruption! Its now everywhere! Its no news that the youths are corrupt as well. Now let me tell you, millions of dollars are spent lavishly by those in power while others live in squalor. They spend these money to protect their own lives; because they don’t want to die serving the country, because they are not serving the country, they are serving money, serving the country is just a secondary task to them.

They send their children to foreign lands with the country’s money.

Now here’s a news that you know…..One of the greatest man to walk the earth, prophet Muhammmed (pbuh), he commanded armies, had a great multitude of followers, but he never enriched himself, he lived in a hut, infact he was a pauper but a leader. He could have become a king if he wanted, he could have built a masion for himself but he didnt, now that’s a leader.

Jesus(Isa) was a great leader sent by God, he alway gave and never took, he didn’t enrich himself.

ok, so this was like two thousand years ago.

Well here is one, remember Ghadafi ?

Here is another……Nelson Mandela(former president of South Africa)

These are men who were once youths, who changed the world.

Here is a lesson to all the leaders, both the world leaders and those below,,,,,remember Pharoah of Egypt? Remember how he called himself God? How he was the world leader and how God purnished him? Its not a myth nor a fairy tale, his body is on earth, a promise of God to remind us, to remind the world leaders, to remind we the youths who are the future of hopefully a human kingdom and not an animal kingdom.

By Seyyid

I Died On An Ordinary School Day

I came across this touching and beautifully witten post and concluded that I must share it with you Insha Allah.

   

    I died. At 18,I passed away. Last night,I prepared for
my advertising class, carefully ironing my pink shirt, I
rehearsed my speech for the practical class. Like
many other people, my whole world revolved round
the school. Chasing the ‘almighty’ first class, the
school was my life. Nothing else. Alas!as I rehearsed
for Aunty Yinka’s class, I paid no attention to the last
day of my life. The last night of my life.
    I was young, smart and full of energy. My innocence
and humility caught the attention of most
people.However, I was one ordinary girl. A library
major with no hobbies and a totally dead social life.
Apart from my ever broad smile, I offered the world
nothing else. With no name, fame or my ‘almighty
degree’, I slept and I haven’t woken up. I am never
going to wake up. I am dead.
  Confirming my death this Monday morning, the girls
on I-block retired to my room. I heard them calling
my name, screaming and shouting,swinging me back
and forth,pleading with me to wake up. Grief. Pain.
Sadness. I saw it all in their eyes. Too many who
didn’t know me had so much to say. She was too
young and gentle.Too pretty, they said amid tears.
They didn’t stop saying I was too young and pretty to
pass away but in the face of death, aren’t we equal?
On the death list, I have taken my turn!

   The news of my death soon spread like wildfire.
People called. They texted, tweeted,put it up on their
facebook walls and personal messages. Some others
took pictures and records of the sad event.

#RIP to the girl that committed suicide. #RIP to the girl who
died in Jaja today. #RIP to the girl that was poisoned…they put it up everywhere. Different stories of the news of my death.

How people came about all these stories is still beyond me!I never considered suicide.I wasn’t sick.Poisoned? No,I wasn’t. My death is still a mystery. A puzzle I cannot solve.

You cannot call my parents! I yelled! The Hall Warden
was already on the phone with them, then I realized I
am in a world of my own. I see the emptiness in the
heart of every single person I left behind. I have been
taken home. No,my body has been taken home. The
tears of the mother, the pain of the father. The
agony of bereaved parents. Just like them, I am
helpless. Cold and immovable.
    All my classmates were at Aunty Yinka’s advertising
class. For the fear of losing 10marks,they agreed that
life must go on. People have to die. Just what I would
have done. Sadly,I am the one who is dead, their
lives must go on. I am going to be buried, 6-feet. I
am aware that ants and worms down there will feast
on my pretty young body. How do they bite? Where
shall they begin to eat from? Fear.
    I have also read that the Almighty shall request for
the accounts of my short life. When last did I turn to
Him? Did I say my prayers last night? Did I not plan
to read The Book after lectures today? Alas!I did not
know the last time would be the last. I am in fear;
the fear of not finding peace down there.
     I am being prepared for my own burial,I am running
out of time to complete this piece. I am going ahead
to the next phase of my life, I hear that all my very
expensive clothes and shoes will be given out. Others
will be burnt. So that everyone can get me out of
their thinking and imagination. I will become history.
I might be forgotten!
     Before I drop my pen, I am not sure if I made the
best out my life. All the people I failed to forgive, the
past that I held on to and the future that I thought
was bright! Indeed,I forgot to live all the days of my
life to the fullest. Regrets. Pain. Fear.
I will soon be left with no friends, family, books and
toys. With my account with The Most High, I will be
all alone. I will be buried…SOURCE

How can you identify a muslim?

Is it by our cap

or by our turban.

Is it by our dress code or by their race?

The answer is no.

Anyone can wear a turban, anyone can wear a cap, anyone can dress like a muslim. Islam doesn’t select race.

Now how do we identify a muslim?

A person who is kind, faithful,doesn’t use foul words,doesn’t gossip,doesn’t harm others,forbids evil,doesn’t take bribe,who prays the five daily prayers,who doesn’t engage in immoral acts, who doesn’t oppress, who is generous….and among others.

In a simple way: a person who does good things and forbid bad things.

If you meet a person who dress like a muslim and doesn’t act like a muslim then do not use that person’s actions to qualify the entire muslims. It may be that the person is an unbeliever who just dresses like a muslim or it may be that the person is a muslim who doesn’t practise islam and this makes the person an unbeliever until he repents and follows the right path.