Weep.
The Prophet, peace be upon him and his Family said:
“Blessed is he whom Allah finds weeping because of his sins, trembling in awe of Allah; weeping over the sins about which no one knows except himself.”
(attributed in Al-Amali, ch. 8, #2)
Technorati Tags: Islam, Sins, Weeping
Buy This Album.
Technorati Tags: Amir Sulaiman, Myspace, Like a Thief, New Album, May 15
Makkah: Sacred vs. Profane
A Starbucks at the Abraj Al Bait Shopping Center in Mecca, Saudi Arabia. The mall is being built directly across from Islam’s holiest site. (Tamara Abdul Hadi for The New York Times)
I came across this article in the International Herald Tribune which highlights Saudi Arabia’s $13 billion development plan for Makkah and how it is going to affect the sanctuary of Islam’s holiest city.
Now as they gaze here in their mind’s eye, and make the pilgrimage clothed in simple white cotton wraps, they will see something other than the austere black cube known as the Kaaba that occupies the spot. They will also see Starbucks. And Cartier and Tiffany. And H&M and Topshop.
The Abraj Al Bait Shopping Center, one of the largest malls to open in Saudi Arabia, outfitted with flat-panel monitors, neon lights, an amusement park ride, fast-food restaurants and a lingerie shop, is being built directly across from Islam’s holiest site.
Technorati Tags: Makkah, Mecca, Islam, Kaaba, Abraj Al Bait
F**k Indian Durban.
(Please excuse the rampant Profanity in this post, I really , Really need to vent.)
I can’t wait to get out of this God Forsaken place. All Durban has is the beach. If it didn’t have that it would be the ultimate hell hole. There is a reason why it’s only good for holidays, especially if you’re an indian. The things I have to endure in this place crawls under my skin. Constant Gossip, Racism, Classism, Caste Systems… FUCK! I am so sick of it. Every single indian female I run into (okay maybe not ALL) has this insatiable desire to know every little detail about my life… FUCK OFF! I swear I’m at my wits end… apart from friends like MJ and some others which make this ride in Durban just a little bit less tedious, this place is… oh fuck it.
I’ve had old indian women confess… “I know I’m racist, but that’s just the way it is…”, I’ve had constant questioning of mundane things like.. “Where you going? Where you went? What you did there? why?” WTF? like it’s anybody’s fucking business. I once looked dead straight at one aunty and said “Naah, I’m just tired from the strip club last night, and tonight we’re hitting the entire strip on point road.” Now, the thing is , these aunties know me too well to know that I’d never actually do any of those things… so I think they got the sarcastic message… “I don’t want to answer you, Leave me the fuck alone.”
Recently, I actually felt depressed, I mean seriously depressed… and I only realised this after the fact… I have never been depressed in my life, infact, my philosophy on life is that a Muslim can never be depressed (think about it). I can only conclude that this place (said with all the gusto of Agent Smith from the Matrix)… I feel infected by it.
Between Racists, Classists, Bigots, Hypocrites and just plain fucking idiots. I wanna go home :( Now try and ask me why the fuck I miss Johannesburg so much. You know why.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…….
Peace, (Ironic, I know…)
M.
UPDATE: Continuation at F**k Indian Durban, Part 2
Embracing Hunger
Do you recognise that feeling when you’re embraced in your work ethic, trudging through paperwork, tapping the beige pond of the keyboard… and then it tugs at you, that perceptible tug, pulling but not really touching. You feel it inside you… right in your gut. Pure Lust. Hunger. That feeling which makes your mind stop. Suddenly Market Shares in Nigeria and the issues with the Turkish Supply chain don’t even compare to the picture of the Gigantic King Size Cheese Burger and a large Coke.
The temptation just doesn’t cease, and what seemed so easy in Ramadaan suddenly moves your feet for you, , you can hold conversations but your mind really isn’t there until you know that that King Size Cheese Burger is Dwelling in your tummy…
So it was that today, I had felt that familiar tug. Pure Lust. Hunger…
…and resisted… with all my might… and the thoughts in my head?
“This feeling… this is nothing, you’ve done it before, you can do it again.”
Feeling gets even stronger, I can’t concentrate on my meeting… I see these people but the words just aren’t getting through… I get hit with the words “Muhammad, what do you think?” and I’m dumbstruck… “Wha?”
“For fuck sakes, what the hell is this thing… surely I can’t be that hungry for this shit to affect my perception like this…”
“I’m sorry I was distracted, what were you referring to?”
 ”Right… Hunger, Lust, Whatever the fuck (you notice I swear alot when I talk to myself) you are… I’m not giving in to you…so Fuck off.”
Suddenly, the feeling fades… like it usually does in Ramadaan, you get so hungry the feeling just gives up. anyhow, the scene plays out like something from V for Vendetta. I just wonder if other people go through this “Battle with the Self”… I’m sure it happens in other contexts as well… like just After Ramadaan I get back to the office and being faced with two bumper editions of FHM and GQ… dillemma, dillemma… to read or not to read… could it really be called reading? Ogling, maybe?
Either way, Jihad must take place and Jihad-un-Nafs (The Struggle against the Self) is the greatest man will ever face… Resistance doesn’t just occure with stones at Tanks and Molotov Cocktails and Kaleshnikovs… it starts right in your gut, and if you can’t master that… you don’t really have the right to go about resisting anything greater, because you will lose.
The fight goes on…
Peace,
M.
