Eid! Who knew three letters could pack such a punch.
What does it mean to a lot of people? Well, for some it conjures up memories of seeing loved ones, going to early prayer at the mosque and eating certain traditional sweets.
Unfortunately for many converts, who grew up celebrating different holidays, we may not feel as connected to this happy occasion. We may still painfully cling to lingering images of our own childhood, collecting colorful eggs in baskets or throwing tinsel and garlands on trees, and you know what … that is okay.
It is normal to psychologically associate feelings with memories triggered by events as these- times when we were closest to our families. We do our best to try and create new memories that can also similarly capture the feel good events of our past- whether with new Muslim friends, new spouses or growing families.
And so we celebrate these Muslim holidays sometimes hesitant, not wanting to create bid’ah ( Also know as innovation in religion. Bid’ah in Islam is considered a deviation and a serious sin) and yet only familiar to celebrating holidays in a certain fashion, the way in which we were raised.
One area new to many converts that begin to mingle with Muslims outside of their culture is the Eastern cultural practice of Eidia or Eidie. Eidia is money that is handed to women or children during Eid that can range from a few cents to hundreds of dollars and is given as a gift instead of an actual present wrapped in ribbons and bows.
What can be inside? Don’t shake it too hard!
Generally reserved for family including extended family members- depending on the culture it may also include neighborhood children that visit houses door to door wishing happy Eid in exchange for a few cents.
For new converts, depending on their own cultural upbringing, it can be strange to see people pass out money- generally, much effort and consideration is put into finding a loved one an actual object that we believe may be cherished or enjoyed.
In fact, in many circles handing out money may be seen as kind of insulting– a kind of whoops, we forgot about you – so here is some cash or the awkward … don’t know you so well third cousin, once removed, here, have a gift card.
This “cash-as-an-after-thought present” is not the perception in many Eastern cultures where the extra money can be used not only in the purchase of the rare indulgent treat of choice, but more often than not, as money that can be used to fulfill a basic need (such as paying an electric bill) or fulfill other social obligation … such as giving your Eidie money or Eidia to someone younger or more in need than yourself.
Kids will be lining up all “Happy Eid good sir…..”
However you chose to celebrate the upcoming holiday, sharing tokens of friendship and kindness that puts happiness in the heart of another Muslim is always a good deed pleasing to Allah.
So if you are a converts, don’t look down on someone who is handing out cash. If you are a born Muslims, understand the consideration that went into a finding the right gift, if it is not cash.
However you decide to spread cheer, whether you choose to do that through passing homemade sweets, treating another with a thoughtfully wrapped gift, passing out Eidia or just sending smiles, salams and a “Happy Eid”, it always tends to make the season bright.
This Eid let’s take time to reflect, be grateful for what we have been blessed with, praise Allah, and enjoy.
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We interrupt our regularly scheduled program to bring you an update on giving in Ramadan.
According to my most recent Google search, charity is as follows:
char·i·ty — CHaritē — noun
1. the voluntary giving of help, typically in the form of money, to those in need.
2. an organization set up to provide help and raise money for those in need.
In Islam we know it as that thing that we get reward for, especially in this holy month. And we know this:“No wealth (of a servant of Allah) is decreased because of charity.”(Al-Tirmidhi, Hadith No. 2247)
I know, I almost forgot what is was too! What with all the buying food for suhoor and iftar (the meals before and after the fast) and the preparing for Eid, it almost slipped my mind.
But fear not, we can catch up with our Ramadan giving part 2 …
We are a global effort to help new Muslims worldwide in a variety of methods. -Shannon Abulnaser
ifoundislam.net’s function is simple enough. The site and its founder, Shannon Abulnasr, help reverts/converts to Islam. But it is so much more than that. The site and all its Facebook groups give converts a place to share, to discuss, to have community, to understand the religion of Islam, to ask for help and guidance from scholars, to read about others’ experiences, to make converts aware of all the resources available to them.
Why is this important?
Shannon Abulnasr says
There is such a huge demand on us to keep everything running smoothly, but we need the support of our Ummah to continue to grow. We reached a growth spurt, and that is what triggered our need to do fundraising. We are at our max capabilities as volunteer work. Some things just cost money So please be generous during this month of Ramadan….your good deeds are multiplied. New Muslims need your ongoing support!
This site and its groups are important because taking the shahada (statement of faith) is just the beginning. And because saying mashaAllah (God has willed it) when you hear someone converted to Islam is not enough. Because everyone is born with the fitrah (an innate disposition towards virtue, knowledge, and the oneness of God) but no one is born with Islamic knowledge of prayer, fasting, purification, etc. Because even if a convert does not face Islamophobia, it can still be lonely to be the only Muslim in their family, town, state, region.
I found Islam is a service and a resource that most mosques do not provide. It is a service and a resource to a growing number of new Muslims who are being ostracized from Muslim communities because they were not born in the right part of the world.
This site and its groups are so immensely important because saying shahada is just the spark. If we don’t, as a community, make every effort to provide fuel for that spark to help grow faith in converts, that spark can go out. What will we tell Allah when He asks us about our brothers and sisters who left the faith because we didn’t provide them with support?
A convert from Georgia, USA says, “Asalaamu Alaikum, I wanted to let you know that our Brothers and Sisters at I Found Islam, Now What? was and is a great help to me in a time when I had no support. Even though I do not speak much I found the articles to be very beneficial as I learned and grew in my deen and as a person. Brothers like Hossam Ed Deen Allam and Sister Shannon Abulnasr helped me in a time when I was shy to ask for help but unknowing to them By the Grace and Mercy of Allah Subhanahu Wa Ta’ala they shared with me websites articles and of their time to help me Alhamdulillah for the Brothers and Sisters At I found Islam,…..and the other groups and pages. May Allah always keep them guided and blessed Ameen Love you All for the Sake of Allah Asalaamu Alaikum.”
Ifoundislam is so important to the growing community of new Muslims. But we can’t leave all of this work and responsibility on the shoulders of a small group of volunteers.
How can you help?
Donate. Click here to go to the site and you will see the donate button on the upper right hand side of the screen.
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When I reverted to Islam in March 2005, I have to admit I was afraid. Okay, perhaps nervous is a better choice of word, as I wasn’t scared or frightened. And I know I’m not alone in admitting this feeling, especially with female converts. The process of transitioning into Islam from a previous faith/belief system (because face it, even if you don’t believe in God, you believe there is no God) is daunting:
What will my friends think? How will I be received by the public? Does this mean I have to start dressing like an Arab or East Asian-er? Do I have to start my life over from the beginning, rethinking every choice I’ve ever made?
While all of those are valid concerns, and ones that I did contemplate at some point in time post-reversion, they weren’t what I was afraid of. My fear came from telling my father.
Not my family. Not my Mother.
My Father.
Now, before you start thinking my dad is this overbearing and close-minded totalitarian who lives for controlling others’ lives, he’s NOT. In fact, he’s the polar opposite. He’s one of the most open-minded individuals I’ve ever known in my life. And if there is a perfect antonym for overbearing, that describes him, too. I mean, for Heaven’s sake, the man used to sit and logically discuss with me the reasons I should pick up my toys when I was 3 years old. If there’s anything my dad is not, it’s overbearing and close-minded.
So, why was I scared of telling my dad I had become Muslim?
My father has a strong head on his shoulders (don’t confuse strong with stubborn). His choice of worship was not made based on how he was brought up (Nazarene). He didn’t look to his parents to tell him how he should worship God or practice his religion (Christianity). Instead, he went to a Christian college, studied the history and lineage of the Bible and Christianity, and majored in Bible Studies. His goal: to become a preacher.
When he became a member of the Church of Christ denomination, he did so knowing full-well that it represented the beliefs he personally held based on his extensive studying. To him, it was correct.
Now there I was, his 23-year-old daughter, midway through my graduate school program, and I’d converted to Islam. And I had to tell my Father. The samefather who responded to my 16-year-old self’s idea of becoming Baptist with, “I’ve failed as a father!”
So, one day while my parents were in town for a wedding, my father and I drove over to the beach at Gulf Shores. We had lunch, talked about religion a little bit, and mostly discussed general life topics. (My father is also a severe introvert, like me, and idle conversation is not a forte of his.)
After lunch, we walked out on the beach. I’d planned my delivery. I asked him what it was exactly that he believed about life and death. He started out with the history of religion (he always starts with the history behind the pertinent question), and then he transitioned into his personal beliefs. Once he finished, I offered my part. I told him nobody had ever really asked me what I believe. It was always just assumed because I was part of a certain family or church that I shared the same beliefs. But, obviously, I didn’t.
Then came the time to deliver my blow. I told him I was thinking about becoming Muslim. (I couldn’t own up to it full-force yet; I needed time to let the idea sink in for him.) Surprisingly, he didn’t stop walking. He didn’t yell (not surprisingly). He just said one thing, and his response has stayed with me every day since. It has had my back when people were against me. It has given me conviction along my chosen path. And those words were:
As your father, it is my job to let you know that I think you’re wrong. But you’re an adult. And if you chose to believe something just because I told you so, that would be just as wrong.
It was all I needed. I didn’t need an “I support you” or a “That’s wonderful”. And I know he still doesn’t like my choice. And I know there have been many tears shed on his side on my behalf. But I also think both he and my mom have come to conclusion that after nearly a decade, a husband and a child, I’m not going through a phase.
And as each day goes by, I never lose hope that one day my family will join me in truly understanding the history, relevance and authority of our beautiful Islam, insha’Allah. Until that day comes, I will continue to enjoy the avid discussion my father and I have about our beliefs, and I will rest easy knowing that despite our differences, we still respect each others’ beliefs … and rights to have them.
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man goes to the doctor complaining of stomach pains; gets Rx. Woman goes to the doctor with same problem; gets straight jacket. graphic by Nicole Elmasry.
Let’s get ready to rummmmble!!!!!!
The late 19th century (probably before and most certainly until some point after) saw a Western cultural predominance of labeling people according to disorders. If you’ve ever taken a look at literature or societal psychology from this time period, you’re sure to be acquainted with ideas such as leeching or frontal lobotomies.
Of course, if you spent more than 3 seconds looking at the recipients of such pleasant treatments, you’ll notice they often have one thing in common: the “fairer” sex.
Ah, yes. Throughout history, women have continuously been dealt the bad reputation of being unpredictable and emotional. Therefore, we tend to be considered weaker and prone to act irrationally based on our feelings at any given time.
Unfortunately, though the West has (mostly) progressed past this deluded mindset, other nations are still far behind understanding how a woman’s body works for – or against – her.
Not only that, but when it comes to women’s rights and inclusion, many societies base their ideologies on misappropriated ayat (verses) from the Qur’an and/or ahadith in order to subjugate, dismiss and maintain the patriarchal status quo on the (irrational and idiotic) basis that:
Women are easily confused and should not be given full responsibility or choice due to their precarious emotional states.
Go with me now to the year 2012. . . . .
We are still in Saudi Arabia, but it is nearing the end of my contract. We will be moving soon, and as the end grew ever nearer, I realize I am happy to go. Our time has been pleasant, but it is finished.
My husband’s niece has gotten engaged, so we make a weekend-trip to Kuwait for her engagement party. Now, I’m no extrovert, and I hate parties – but, it is for family, so I have to go to show support.
On the way to the border, we stop and eat lunch at a Hungry Bunny (fast food burgers) with bathrooms so clean I would eat off the floors. We hit the road, and I grab a cup of ice to go (because I have pica, and I crave ice).
Once in Kuwait, we get settled in the hotel (apartment) with my sister-in-law, and then we head to my other sister-in-law’s (mother-of-the-bride) for dinner. I don’t feel too well, so I don’t eat much. I think I am just tired from traveling. It was a long week at work, and there are lots of people in the house. I nibble.
Change scenes. We’re at the mall. Everybody’s happy and laughing. I can barely walk. Once again, I attribute it to being tired, plus I have major back issues, so I thought, “Eh, figures.” I sit and watch them walk around, having a grand time. I’m labeled as unsociable.
It’s the night of the party. I get all dolled up, and I even do my hair (it was just for women at the beginning). Get to the party. Start to get a migraine. I’m thinking, “Great….perfect timing.” By the middle of the party, I have to leave and go sit in the car. I’m dizzy, my head is throbbing and I’m pouring sweat.
The next day, we go to the movies. I’m still feeling queasy, but I warrior through. Afterward, all the family wants to go out to do something (I can’t even remember, I was so sick). I said I couldn’t, and I asked my hubby to take me back to the hotel. I barely got back to the room before I was choking and throwing up. He said, “I feel sorry for you, but I’m happy because now I can tell them there’s really something wrong!” (It sounds insensitive, but I understood what he meant.)
We finally get back to Saudi, and I start feeling better. I thought it was just a stomach bug. Then, Laila gets sick. And mine returns.
So, we head to the doctor. While Hubby takes Laila downstairs to the pediatrician, I wait to be seen by the doctor upstairs.
Now, you must understand this: I have a laundry list of medical issues that puts me at the doctor quite often. I have several chronic conditions that require treatment and stabilization — and they have been. At one point in the past, however, I had some chest pain. I knew there was nothing seriously wrong, but when you present with chest pain, they do the heart tests and make you see the heart doctor for a follow-up.
While I’m waiting to see the doctor, the heart doctor is sitting nearby talking to a nurse. . .about me. They’re speaking in Arabic, but he keeps motioning toward me. She keeps looking. Then the nurse of the doctor I’m waiting to see comes by and joins in the conversation. They continue talking about me. The gist: I’m there all the time. . .or, I’m a hypochondriac.
When it’s finally my turn, I go in to see the doctor (whom I’ve seen before). I run down my list of symptoms: sweating, fever, nausea, diarrhea, pain, etc.
Again, please note: The nurse did not take my temperature, and even though my blood pressure was high, it wasn’t seen as important.
The doctor asks about my husband. Yes, that’s right. My husband should be there to verify my problem.
“He’s downstairs with my daughter,” I say.
“Oh, is your daughter sick?” he asks.
“Yes. She’s got like the same thing, but not as bad.”
It’s like a light bulb goes off in his gray-haired head. “Are you worried about your daughter?”
I’m confused. “No, I’m not worried about her. I mean, of course I’m concerned for her health, but I know she’ll be okay. . .”
“I think you’re a little anxious. You’re probably upset because your daughter is sick.”
“No, that’s not what’s wrong. . .” To prove his point, I start tearing up.
“I’m going to give you a shot of _________” (I don’t remember the name, but it was an anti-anxiety medicine….Xanax, maybe?)
“I don’t need a shot. . .”
He sends me out of the office to wait for the nurse.
In the meantime, my husband comes up to check on me. He finds me crying.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“He won’t listen. I told him what’s wrong, and he thinks I’m just worried about Laila.”
“What?” He goes inside and speaks with the doctor. “Honey, come inside. . .”
I go back inside the office, and the doctor breaks down and checks my temp (imagine the concept!). It’s very high. Suddenly, he realizes I am sick, and he hands out a list of various medicines to collect from the pharmacy downstairs.
Royally pissed, we go to get them and leave for home.
That night, I can’t sleep, and I end up in the bathroom for hours. Anything that goes in comes out five minutes later. I can’t eat, and all liquid makes me nauseous.
We go to the emergency room, where the resident runs a bunch of blood tests.
“I have an idea of what’s wrong,” he says, standing beside my bed. “But I’m waiting for the tests to confirm it. I’ve ordered a Widal test.”
“What’s that?” I ask, completely out of energy.
“It tests for typhoid fever.” He leaves the room.
“Oh, my God!” I’m terrified. I don’t know exactly what typhoid fever is, but I’ve heard of it. And I know it doesn’t sound pretty.
The doctor comes back and confirms the test is positive. I have to be admitted. And I can’t have any human contact except for those whom I’ve already been around.
What is typhoid fever? It’s untreated salmonella poisoning which, if left untreated, can result in death. It takes months to recover from completely, and it took me nearly ten days in hospital to reach a level of being able to be around people again.
I had a “Do NOT Enter Without PROTECTIVE GEAR” sign on my hospital door!!!!
That’s right. I came *this close* to death, and I was labeled “emotionally unbalanced”. . . a hysterical woman.
I had my husband go down to the doctor’s office who had written me off with a diagnosis of hysterics.
His response? “Oh, really?” No apology. No realization of what could have happened. Just an, “Oops.”
Alhumdulillah rab-il al-ameen! Thank you, God, for your unending protection! It was a long road, and I recovered.
And I’d like to say this was a one-off. I’d like to blame it on Saudi Arabia.
Unfortunately, I can’t.
The moral of this story?
When women are quickly labeled as emotional and, thus, not even able to appropriately gauge whether their OWN BODIES are acting erratically, it can be more than just a simple “oops” that results. To allow the diagnosis of hysteria to persist as a cultural norm only risks further maltreatment for women in those locations. To be frank, it puts them at a clear risk for death.
This is why careful study and interpretation of religious doctrine is necessary and why biased and flippant prose that condescendingly discounts a gender is dangerous. When such verses are misappropriated to serve a specific purpose, they propagate the stereotype that women carry too much emotional baggage to think clearly.
Of course, by saying that women are the “weaker” sex and inclined to hysterics, what’s really being said is that men are the opposite. That they’re not prone to emotions because they’re “stronger”. That their judgment is solid and unwavering. That they think with their heads, and not with anything else (like their HEARTS). That they’re not easily swayed by gossip and don’t make rash decisions.
Yet, in this story (as well as many, many others), we can see this isn’t always the case. At times, we are all led by emotions instead of logic and clarity. This doesn’t make us “weaker” or “stronger” than the other. It makes us human. And, as humans, we must respect each other to create a stronger, united ummah (brotherhood) and present a positive image of Islam to the world.
But unfortunately for me, it didn’t end in Saudi Arabia.
So, join me next time, when we travel to Oman, and I continue the story of The Hysterical Woman Phenomena.
Oh, and PS. . .wondering what caused the salmonella? I suppose those bathroom floors weren’t as clean as they looked. Never eat ice from a border-town fast food restaurant.
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Follow us (upper right of the page), email us (islamwich@yahoo.com), like our face with your face on Facebook, like the post, share it, pin it, comment on it, and/or do whatever social media magic it is that you prefer. Find out more about us in the understandably named “About Us” page and browse other posts in our brand spanking new “Table of Contents”.
Thanks for joining us back, with Theresa Corbin; the founder of Islamwich blog-site and an American convert to Islam. We continue our conversation on her life as a Muslim and in particular women rights in Islam, her rights as a Muslim American woman and use of hijab etc.
Saadia Haq: How easy or difficult is for you to take on certain aspects of practical life as a Muslim, e.g. the daily prayers, fasting etc.?
Theresa Corbin: Since I converted in the beginning of Ramadan, I was instructed to begin fasting right off the bat and that was extremely hard for me considering my untrained stomach did not take it well. But luckily it was in a month where the days were relatively short, so I didn’t die lol. The salat was only difficult for me to institute in my life because in most places in the West, if…
Follow us (upper right of the page), email us (islamwich@yahoo.com), like our face with your face on Facebook, like the post, share it, pin it, comment on it, and/or do whatever social media magic it is that you prefer. Find out more about us in the understandably named “About Us” page and browse other posts in our brand spanking new “Table of Contents”.
Native New Orleanian and Muslim convert Theresa Corbin, is an established author and social media practitioner. In her literary work, the focus is strong on themes of conversion, integration, societal stereotyping, bridging gaps between cultures and religions. Additionally, she is a well established blogger and you can visit her site for more: Islamwich
Saadia Haq: What religion were you affiliated with before your conversion? How practicing were you in this faith and how much did it mean to you?
Theresa Corbin: I was raised Catholic and as a child I took my religion very seriously (I was a serious kid). I went to mass every Sunday. I participated in the choir, the church youth group and was sincerely concerned about the state of my soul. But as I got older and learned more about the world, I began to wonder if Catholicism was the end all be all of…
First, let me apologize. This is NOT the Hysterical Woman Syndrome post that was last promised. Insha’Allah, I will get to that next time (and I did. And that is here). Instead, I decided to respond to the comments and questions left on my previous post. As they appeared, I read them . . . and after a few, I realized it would be easier if I created an open-letter type response.
So, here goes . . . and here’s hoping this clarifies a few points left unanswered from theseposts
My Saudi Expectations:
I can see why many may consider the previous post to be a little negative or pessimistic towards the Saudi culture or country, in general. I mean, hey, I start out by saying I NEVER, EVER wanted to go there. How can one make that decision without having any real knowledge about a place?
Here’s some backstory:
Waaaaay back in 2004, I married a Saudi and remained in this tumultuous marriage for 18 months.
So I married a Saudi
Through it all, I also garnered some information about Saudi culture and mindset. This particular Saudi considered himself “modern”. We sat with other couples (older than us, mind you), he cooked (for himself), and we split costs 60/40 (mostly he paid 60).
But he told me about Saudi, and he tried to teach me about Islam – despite not wanting to be married to me (long story for another post, so stay tuned). So, he had that going for him.
My best friend – and sister by another mister (brother/mother, pun, ah . . .) – was ALSO Saudi. And she was the ANTITHESIS of anything Saudi you could ever dream of – or so I thought. Until I moved there and learned she was pretty run-of-the-mill, modern-day girl (a few years younger than me). She also introduced me to Saudi mindset and culture.
So, I didn’t exactly move to Saudi without any knowledge whatsoever. I may have had prejudiced notions based on other peoples’ opinions, but I had a basic taste of what to expect:
My other observations were made once I actually hit the ground running in the Kingdom.
It’s important to understand that several generalizations about Arabs can be considered correct.
For instance, in my history of knowing Arabs from all around the world – from different countries – of different ages – I’ve noticed that it is difficult – nay, near impossible – to find one who considers time important.
Otherwise, time is fluid. Party starts at 8? Great, I’ll be there around. . .10:30. Class begins at 10? Is 10:20 okay to show up? I’m getting MARRIED! Come to my WEDDING! It’s at 9 pm! (But I won’t arrive until 1 am!!!)
Secondly, Arab hospitality is second-to-NONE on God’s green earth. There is no such thing as dropping by for a quick cup of coffee.
Hospitality is second to none
If you come for coffee at 11 am, you’re lucky to leave after dinner at 8. And the order of events, and the steps and. . .oh, it’s so exhausting to a Westerner who understands, “No, I don’t want anything,” as meaning, “No, I don’t want anything.”
However, the hospitality is usually localized to one of two kinds of people: a) Bedouins (in the country) or b) people who know you (in the city). You’re not really going to find a stranger at the supermarket invite you to their house for dinner. But you WILL find a stranger in the desert invite you into their home to sleep, especially if you’re a weird foreigner (hasn’t happened to me personally, but I’ve heard tales).
But, to each the good and the bad.
What the West gets wrong about Saudi:
Of course, many (probably most) generalizations are wrong.
Arabs are not inherent terrorists.
They are not ignorant. While many may be uneducated, their knowledge of life far surpasses anything I know on most levels.
They are not scary. But their driving is.
They are not out to destroy the West. Indeed, they embrace the West and its traditions in many capacities.
They are not hell-bent on forcing others to conform to their ideals.
Blending In:
Ah, the concept of “blending in”.
It’s been mentioned that I should not feel weird being stared at because I am different. I should note my husband, who is only a shade or two darker than I am, was not stared at. He is clearly not Saudi Arabian, yet he seemed to blend just fine.
The idea of staring seemed less to be about confusion or interest in “different”, and more of a lack of manners. When a person glances at me and looks away (in America or otherwise), I consider that interest or curiosity. When a person plays the “no blinking game”, as noha called it, the intent seems to be intimidation and rudeness. THOSE are the prying eyes I want to poke with a pencil. But I don’t. Because I usually don’t have a pencil with me. Ha.
Frankly, gracielawrence and Corbin say it best, and I fully support their comments:
I think that the root of the problem comes in when people confuse their religion for their culture. When you see people trying to imitate a culture that you where raised in, it is only natural to feel superior because in a way the imitator is saying they think you are better (and if this happens we have to resist this urge to act on base instincts). And I think this is where some Arabs are confused (and the rest of us become infuriated). NO! we […] are not trying to be Arab or participate in Arab culture when we practice Islam. […] Islam is for all of humanity. Period. Once everyone understands that and leaves this clique-ish behavior in the past maybe then, Insha’Allah, we can start to resemble an ummah. – Corbin
If you are wearing sunnah, but always look like you are going to eat my face, are nasty with your fellow man, or just have a negative and ugly personality….I am not buying […] – gracielawrence
And finally, Toilet Paper:
I was raised using toilet paper. I know many Arabs were not. Once I was introduced to the water hose, or watering can, or bidet, I just didn’t find myself clean enough without it. But I don’t like walking around with the feeling of freshly-peed pants. So, I supplement with toilet paper. As do most of the female Muslimah converts I know.
In the end, I want to say my overall conclusions about Saudi were totally positive. In fact, had my job been a better place to be, we might have extended our stay. Unfortunately, my university and position there were ruining my health. I was truly going downhill on a bicycle with no brakes, and we had to get outta there.
Sure, there were negatives. There were annoyances. And there were things that made me want to pull my hair out and slap people silly (which, yes, I refrained from). But overall, the positive far outweighed the negative in terms of what I EXPECTED before ever moving there.
We had the chance to go to Medinah and Mecca for Umrah, alhumdulillah. We visited Riyadh a couple of times. I rode some camels. I ate some camel (and then made wudu’u). And I even drove a car. Up the street. By my compound. With the guards smiling and waving.
Ultimately, what I learned was:
Don’t have expectations. If you do, you’re only going to be let down. If you don’t, you can ALWAYS be pleasantly surprised.
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