BismiLlahir Rahmanir Raheem
Reminiscing... continued
The stones pressed sharply into my feet. The children and I took joy in the cooler currents of water as they soothed our aching feet. There was usually no space alongside the river to walk and when there was it was covered with rocks too, equally painful if not more. My phone was out of a service area, and I realized that we were no closer to our destination than the moment we stepped out of the truck. We stopped to ask the few women who stood at random and sparse points along the riverbanks if they knew of the family name of this family’s friends. Nobody knew. One lady asked if we were lost and if we wanted a ride back into town. We told her that we would walk a little further downstream. We hoped that perhaps our group had taken another route and would meet us at the other end of the river with the truck, but we told her that we would return to her if need be. Hope is a strong thing, and it was only that which kept us walking further away from where we last saw our group.
I began making mental notes on how much time remained before sunset as I tried to decide how much longer I would allow us to walk before I sought a suitable place for us to spend the night. I had two children, aged 10 and 12, with me and I wasn’t about to jeopardize their safety when I could take precautions that could ease the difficulty of the situation. Sama’ expressed her fears about our circumstances, and I told her not to worry. Allah would take care of us, and of that I had no doubt.
The ache in my feet was becoming unbearable, and my psychological encouragements failed to help me walk without grueling pain. I asked the children if they were alright. They seemed to be doing better than I was, perhaps they were less accustomed to covered feet. We continued walking.
At last, I could walk no more. I sat on the rocks, the water and dirt of the river soaked into my ‘abaya and pants. I can’t walk anymore, my feet hurt too much, I told them. They sat next to me and just then the phone rang. It was the children’s father so I passed the phone to Sama.’ Her conversation was brief. She told us that her father was mad and told us to return. Return? Is he out of his mind? I thought. He has a vehicle. What has he been doing all this time? And why is he mad? We’re the ones who have been walking for two hours because he told us to. Surely he wouldn’t tell us to walk if there was nothing to walk to. I was unimpressed and wondered how I would take another step let alone walk back another two hours. Allah would open a way for me, and I depended on Him. On the bright side, at least they awaited our return and our walking would now have a known destination. I rose again and walked one slow step at a time, flinching in pain.
If there was only something we could use to cover our feet, I thought. I looked at the area around me, but there was nothing suitable. By the grace of God, I realized then that we could use our very own clothes. Nothing too dramatic, but maybe just pull our pants slightly lower so they would cover the bottom of our feet. It worked well enough for me to at least walk, but Sama’ couldn’t claim any success with this strategy. Ibrahim tugged at dried up clothing that fused itself into a log at the edge of the river. He managed to get only a scrap, but that did not suffice, and he soon abandoned the idea. Sama’ found a slipper in the water which she wore, sharing it with Ibrahim and offering it to me. I refused her kindness. I felt for them, and kept my eyes open for more lost slippers in the river. We found a few more, but none seemed to last very long.
Two hours later, we found the rest of the group. They were settled at a spot about a 30 to 40 minute walk further down the river from where we started walking indicating that we surprisingly covered more ground in the two hours of our return. The truck, no longer trapped in the riverbed, was parked in a cleared space alongside the river while everyone ascended the slopes of mud that guarded the river as it formed a valley for the river to flow through. It was from there that they entered into the garden of their friends. When we arrived, they were all seated on light blankets resting in the shade of trees with a hearty lunch spread out around them. Since I didn’t have an appetite for food or their company, I made wudhu in the river and stood in pain to perform the ‘Asr prayer.
One reality of my existence stood clearly before me at that moment. Though the troubles of my heart only seemed amplified, I was grateful. Tears rolled down my cheeks easily, and all I could do or wanted to do was submit to my Lord as I bowed and prostrated in prayer. I know my Lord takes care of me, and never could I doubt Him.
I left the group and decided to make the most of a what seemed to have been a pretty trying day. I found a nice rock to sit on at the edge of the river. My feet took pleasure in the soothing currents while my heart and mind listened intently to the steady rhythm of the flowing water. Singing to myself, I tried desperately to take in the beauty and splendor of God’s creations that surrounded me, all the while acknowledging that my debt of gratitude is to Him alone.
Reminiscing... continued
The stones pressed sharply into my feet. The children and I took joy in the cooler currents of water as they soothed our aching feet. There was usually no space alongside the river to walk and when there was it was covered with rocks too, equally painful if not more. My phone was out of a service area, and I realized that we were no closer to our destination than the moment we stepped out of the truck. We stopped to ask the few women who stood at random and sparse points along the riverbanks if they knew of the family name of this family’s friends. Nobody knew. One lady asked if we were lost and if we wanted a ride back into town. We told her that we would walk a little further downstream. We hoped that perhaps our group had taken another route and would meet us at the other end of the river with the truck, but we told her that we would return to her if need be. Hope is a strong thing, and it was only that which kept us walking further away from where we last saw our group.
I began making mental notes on how much time remained before sunset as I tried to decide how much longer I would allow us to walk before I sought a suitable place for us to spend the night. I had two children, aged 10 and 12, with me and I wasn’t about to jeopardize their safety when I could take precautions that could ease the difficulty of the situation. Sama’ expressed her fears about our circumstances, and I told her not to worry. Allah would take care of us, and of that I had no doubt.
The ache in my feet was becoming unbearable, and my psychological encouragements failed to help me walk without grueling pain. I asked the children if they were alright. They seemed to be doing better than I was, perhaps they were less accustomed to covered feet. We continued walking.
At last, I could walk no more. I sat on the rocks, the water and dirt of the river soaked into my ‘abaya and pants. I can’t walk anymore, my feet hurt too much, I told them. They sat next to me and just then the phone rang. It was the children’s father so I passed the phone to Sama.’ Her conversation was brief. She told us that her father was mad and told us to return. Return? Is he out of his mind? I thought. He has a vehicle. What has he been doing all this time? And why is he mad? We’re the ones who have been walking for two hours because he told us to. Surely he wouldn’t tell us to walk if there was nothing to walk to. I was unimpressed and wondered how I would take another step let alone walk back another two hours. Allah would open a way for me, and I depended on Him. On the bright side, at least they awaited our return and our walking would now have a known destination. I rose again and walked one slow step at a time, flinching in pain.
If there was only something we could use to cover our feet, I thought. I looked at the area around me, but there was nothing suitable. By the grace of God, I realized then that we could use our very own clothes. Nothing too dramatic, but maybe just pull our pants slightly lower so they would cover the bottom of our feet. It worked well enough for me to at least walk, but Sama’ couldn’t claim any success with this strategy. Ibrahim tugged at dried up clothing that fused itself into a log at the edge of the river. He managed to get only a scrap, but that did not suffice, and he soon abandoned the idea. Sama’ found a slipper in the water which she wore, sharing it with Ibrahim and offering it to me. I refused her kindness. I felt for them, and kept my eyes open for more lost slippers in the river. We found a few more, but none seemed to last very long.
Two hours later, we found the rest of the group. They were settled at a spot about a 30 to 40 minute walk further down the river from where we started walking indicating that we surprisingly covered more ground in the two hours of our return. The truck, no longer trapped in the riverbed, was parked in a cleared space alongside the river while everyone ascended the slopes of mud that guarded the river as it formed a valley for the river to flow through. It was from there that they entered into the garden of their friends. When we arrived, they were all seated on light blankets resting in the shade of trees with a hearty lunch spread out around them. Since I didn’t have an appetite for food or their company, I made wudhu in the river and stood in pain to perform the ‘Asr prayer.
One reality of my existence stood clearly before me at that moment. Though the troubles of my heart only seemed amplified, I was grateful. Tears rolled down my cheeks easily, and all I could do or wanted to do was submit to my Lord as I bowed and prostrated in prayer. I know my Lord takes care of me, and never could I doubt Him.
I left the group and decided to make the most of a what seemed to have been a pretty trying day. I found a nice rock to sit on at the edge of the river. My feet took pleasure in the soothing currents while my heart and mind listened intently to the steady rhythm of the flowing water. Singing to myself, I tried desperately to take in the beauty and splendor of God’s creations that surrounded me, all the while acknowledging that my debt of gratitude is to Him alone.
