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Madinat al-Muslimeen Islamic Message Board
| The Dark Cloud (Life in Sudan) |
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| Nawawi |
| 12/17/03 at 05:37:59 |
| The Dark Cloud An American Muslimah reflects on life in Sudan [i] By J. Khadijah Abdullah [/i] With our noses pressed against the window, we watched the dark cloud coming. It encompassed everything and suddenly we could see nothing. Although it only lasted a few moments, it seemed like a lifetime. When the "haboob" (dust storm) finally cleared, there was dust everywhere. Cleaning up was quite a chore. We all laughed about it later. But at the time, we all thought it was the end of the world. All the ladies in the neighborhood talked about it for days. It took our minds off the fact that our water reserves were getting low. There had been no running water for three days. I was already used to that, so I had made the proper preparations well before hand. We lived in a modern house, my five children, husband and I. We had a generator, for when the power went out. A water pump for when the water was off. A gas and electric stove for when either one was out or off. Funny thing though, you need gasoline to run the generator. And you need the generator to run the water pump and the electric stove. So, of course, our well laid out plans, did not last long. The country was out of gasoline! I learned to live as the people lived and not like a visitor. I was there for life. Or so I thought. The best thing about living with and like the people, was the great comradeships that the ladies in the neighborhood had. Every single morning, right at sunrise, one or more of my neighbors would knock on my door. "Do you have enough bread for today?" "Here's two loaves." "Here's some ice for you." "Did you get your coal stove going today?" At first, I was shocked at the intrusion. Americans don't just pop into someones' house at sunrise. And all this concern? I wasn't used to it. Talk about culture shock! Well, these were Muslims. The thing that amazed me most about the Sudanese people, was how they put Islam into practice in their everyday lives. As an American convert I had studied Islam quite a bit. I had even memorized An-Nawabi's Forty Hadith. And here were a people who never heard of An-Nawabi and didn't own any books except a Quran. Most households had one Quran. I had 4 different translations, the whole set of Bukhari, Muslim, Al Muwata.........etc. etc. So much knowledge, but where was the practice. As I got to know the ladies, I saw the ayats of Quran and the ahadith come to life. Islam was in their very blood. They didn't know how to behave otherwise. Everybody has different experiences. And I can only write about what I experienced. I found the Sudanese families and the women, in particular, exemplifying the best of manners. This is how the companions of the Prophet (saws) must have behaved. When I visited homes of poor families, they would use the last of their sugar in order to give me tea. And they would have their children run to their neighbors to get sweets to offer to me. I would beg them to keep it for themselves, but they always reassured me by saying: "Allah will give me more." I learned the true meaning of patience in my three years in Sudan. I learned how to rely on Allah in a very real way. No more instant gratification. I learned how to make catsup from scratch, and even mayonnaise. We used to make pancakes and syrup from scratch too. And we had to grind the meat for hamburgers. In fact, cooking took a lot of time. Fortunately, I had two servants who did everything else. And I lived like a queen. I had a cook, but my children wanted fried chicken and french fries, etc. She couldn't deal with that. So, I took over the cooking. I went to Al Marquis Al Islami Afrique, a local school, where I studied arabic and fiqh. My oldest son was on scholarship at the school and they opened a special class for the american wives and mothers who were there. Everyday was a new adventure. The birth of my son in Sudan was one of the most interesting things that ever happened to me. My husband had made all the necessary arrangements. We had two back up plans. I always believed in a plan A and a plan B. But in Sudan, you better have a plan C as well. Well, the night I went into labor we had made arrangements with three neighbors for a ride. We checked on them everyday to make sure somebody had gasoline in their car, so they could drive us to the hospital. On that night, however, one family was out of town, another one had no gas and the last one's car was not running. We started walking, my husband, his good friend Ali and I. We started walking towards the main road, about a mile away from our home. The labor pains were getting closer and closer. This was my fifth child and I knew the time was very near. Ali was from Nigeria, and I turned to him and said: "You're from the bush, right? So you know how to deliver a baby, right?" "No way! No way! No way!", I could hear him yelling in the darkness as he scooted up the road. In five seconds flat he was back from the main road in a cab. We got to the hospital in record time. I don't think the driver knew the meaning of the words "Use your brakes!!!" I laid in what we would very loosely call the labor room, when a nurse came in, looked, saw that the head was presented and nodded her head at me. I laid there waiting for the little bed with wheels to carry me to the delivery room. And the nurse just kept nodding her head. Was I supposed to walk to the delivery room? Walk? Yes, she was saying: "Come on, Come on." Miraculously, I got up and walked to the delivery room. Husain was born at about midnight. A doctor came into our room around sunrise. He asked me how I was feeling. I told him I felt fine. He told me: "OK, you can go home." And indeed, home I went. Alhamdulillah, my neighbors waited on me hand and foot for the next forty days. They didn't allow me to get up out of the bed, except to go to the bathroom. Thank Allah for them. We went to make umra with the children in 1988 and ended up staying a year and making hajj with all of our children, even little Husain. When we returned to Sudan we found that the war between the north and south was escalating and the government refused to extend our visa. They wanted the americans to go safely back home. We protested, but to no avail. The next thing I knew, our plane was landing at Kennedy Airport. It was raining in New York that day. I watched the rain go down the sewer and thought about the 10,000 Sudanese people who died, and the 100,000 Sudanese homes that were destroyed, when it rained just one day in Sudan. All because they have no sewer system. It was the sadest day of my life. I stayed packed for 2 years. We had thirteen trunks, all packed and ready to go. But Allah had closed that door and we were back here, in the place we used to call "Darul Shaitan." Once I got over the depression, I realized that Allah had put me back here for a reason. I have since tried to dedicate myself to the establishment of Islamic Education here in the US. And I try to keep my hopes high that one day I will live in Darul Islam, and Allah will remove the dark cloud of kufr. |
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