Eastern European Muslim

Again. Third time in the last 10 years. Second time in the last two. My friend told me it’s not 100%. The nurses told me, too. But still, it was worth giving it a try.  But now I’m bald again. Baldie, baldie, as the youngsters joke. Walter White. Or Achim Lauritzen, people from my generation and above may remember him. Bowling ball.  The ball effect is enhanced by the 10 extra kgs that got on me as a result of the steroids. Those were necessary so that I can take chemo. So in order to stay alive, I need to be fat. And ugly.  I have no uterus, it had to be taken out so that my life could be saved. My beauty and my femininity is the price I had to pay so that I won’t die. Of course I can see the silver lining. The possibility that I can be here is already a miracle. Not one miracle, many of them. It is true. And I’m inexpressibly grateful. But I’m tired. Of the whole journey. And also by explaining myself that the sky is always blue above the clouds. And that every cloud has

I’m a rebooted old computer. It had been shut down, the viruses were cleared and now it is restarted and ready to work. It’s stopping time to time, going very slow, opening too many pages and can’t seem to concentrate on the tasks. It needs to have a really good programme installed about organisation. It needs to learn to classify its tasks and duties and it needs to learn something crucial to its survival: to prioritise its own needs. Very simply to put itself first. This programme is brand new for this computer. It had been programmed to serve others, that is the key to acceptance. If it’s useful enough for others, they will like it and deem it worthy to keep. That’s not how life can be organised.  It is really not sustainable. It’s not only my energy that will run out and never fill up, but I can’t even get things done. I don’t know what to do and when to do it, if I’m just constantly running after other’s requirements. In fact that’s how my life has been so far. Running

I’m healing from a deadly disease. As I’m experiencing the side effects of the treatment, gaining weight, losing hair, I’m doing everything to heal my soul. Body, mind, soul and heart live interconnected as long as we are in this life. So I’m trying to process the hard episodes of my personal life as well as transgenerational traumas. I want to understand what happened and I want to find peace. Many terrible things happened, many injustice both in my life and in that of my ancestors. And also many blessings. I want to process the pain, to sit with it, to tell my soul it’s alright now. Even if there are certain things I will never get back. I want to give my soul their right to grieve. I want to tell her: it’s perfectly fine if you feel hurt. These things were terrible. They shouldn’t have happened to you or to anyone. And unfortunately, I can’t even say you will be compensated. At least not in this life. Or not by those who did you wrong. They most probably won’t even admit

I have always talked about my life but not in detail. I come from a small community where everyone knows each other and I didn't want to add to what people created for themselves of negative reputation. I also considered family members who don't deserve to have a negative picture about their important person. Somehow I also hoped things would eventually be solved, now that the requirements are considerably lower.  Unfortunately it hasn't become better. What happened was only that I understood that even though blessed, if I want to take steps forward (and I do), not only to survive, I need monthly, regular contributions from my ex-husband with the expenses of the children. And not only that I need it. I feel I don't have the right to remit it, to not to ask for it, to give up their rights because it's not mine. It's theirs. Everything is negotiable, the amount, how often he sends it, I can wait, I can solve everything for the time being, but the fact

I was going towards the hospital. Enjoyed the view, again after 3 weeks of how the season was changing. Not “having to” go to places makes them more beautiful, or rather you are more able to appreciate their beauty. And then, suddenly, the thought. I left the bloodform at home. I can’t go back, I wouldn’t make it to my appointment. I started to talk negatively to myself, like why I have forgotten it - something nonsense, to forget is actually the absence of reasoning. Then I thought, so what? Really, what will happen if I go there without the bloodform? They will make another one. This is a place where people are focussed on the solution, not the problem or the cause of the problem. They look forward, not backward - especially in situations like people under strong medicines forgetting things, which is quite predictable. So I started to do the same. I allowed myself to forget things. To be a human (in Arabic “insan” (human) has the same root as “yansa” (forget)), especially

An article I wrote in January 2022. Az, hogy ilyen nehéz elképzelni a Könyörületet, azért van, mert egy elnyomás alatt élünk és rosszat tapasztaltunk a családban, az iskolában, a társadalomban, az országban. De pl. ott a brit birodalom, ami tényleg nem a jótékonyságáról híres, kb. az egész világot szét rabolta, de most ha elmegy Walsallba egy bevándorló, akkor a zsebébe tesznek havonta ezer poundot minimum. Miért? Mert volt annyi esze a brit politikusoknak, hogy rájöttek, hogyha pénzt tesznek az emberek zsebébe, azzal nő a gazdaság. És ez mindenkinek jó. Erre a keleteurópai politikusok még nem jöttek rá, ezért az itteni emberek csak azt tapasztalják, hogy nincs semmi és mindenki utálja őket. Így az hogy Allah Könyörületes és Irgalmas, nem jelent semmit, mert nem tudjuk, mi az a könyörület és irgalom, aminél Allah több mint 100-szor inkább az. Ha viszont ezt megtapasztalja vagy látja valaki, akkor bele tud gondolni, hogy az, hogy 400 ezret beleraknak a zsebedbe, semmi Allah

I love Arabic grammar. Most of the words have a three-lettered root that encompasses a pool of possible meanings, all having something in common. From these roots with the addition of other letters, we can form countless nouns, verbs or adjectives according to an amazing set rule.  The most familiar could be perhaps salaam that means peace, with the root S-L-M. It is the root of the world Islam as well which actually means something like a willful acceptance of the facts (ordained by God) that provides peace of mind. Not submission, not suppression, even more not suppression to creatures. (Ok, grammatically it could mean submission, but psycholingvistically I would avoid the use of this world in the presence of everyone - including myself - grown up in a submissive environment and/or oppressive society.) Knowledge is to be aware of the fact. Wisdom is to know when and how to tell them. R-H-M is another triconsonantal root of many Arabic words containing a wide range of mean

I know they didn't mean to hurt me. But they did. Spying on people's intentions is not my duty. Ok, I should assume the best and I know they really didn't mean it. Nevertheless, I'm hurt. It's like this parents thing. You should honour your own feelings regardless of how well meaning the others were. My feelings have nothing to do with the fact whether others are nice people or not. They can be the nicest people on earth but if I'm hurt, I have the right to feel that way. I'm honouring my soul and asking her how the feeling is. What does it look like? Degradation.  I, a 45 years old woman who has hopes of living a full life one day, to find a love she has never known was compared to a 90 years old lady who's happy to be alive. Yes, I'm happy to be alive too, AlhamduliLlah, and I know it's a miracle and I do have a dangerous illness but I still want something more in life. Maybe this is the point where my Achilles foot is. T

I hoped this day went unnoticed just like countless others during holidays when you don't know the date. In Ramadan I had even more chance as I focus more on which day of Ramadan it is,but it didn't happen. The whole day I am aware that it would have been my 15th wedding anniversary. And it makes me sad. Why, you could ask me, and even I'm asking myself. It was me who wanted to end it, my life is much better now thank God, and although I am really grateful for every experience and I know it couldn't have happened in any different ways, but to be rational, leaving the UK for an Eastern European country is never the smartest decision, even if someone married an actual prince in shining armour. And coming back was very difficult so I'm just glad it's done. Why am I still sad? Maybe it's my unheard, unexpressed feelings that gathered throughout the years that I didn't want to face. My situation, respect for the people, the family, the community m

I have been doing a lot of "Hajering" lately. First, before we have moved in, literally, running between the two hills, and now, trying everything, moving every stone, searching for every opportunity to find food for my babies. Hajer is often mentioned in a rather derogatory way, perhaps in case of converts due to the cultural heritage of viewing her role, her status, etc., and in case of any muslim - and actually people of any other religion/worldview - due to the fact that a woman who is left alone with her child because of any reason is still looked down upon, provokes sorry from the goodhearted and anger from those lacking it. The story of Hajer being left alone with her child in the desert incites many different emotions in people today, when raising children alone for any reason or being a single mother is not considered a rare event. However, mentioning this story, more often than not we see prophet Abraham (peace be upon him) criticised and her viewed as a

A friend of mine wrote a few lines and not really answering it (I would have written there) but it made me think. Why is it really that we know more tragedies than success stories? As an aspiring psychologist, even if we are talking about tendencies, I always want to go back to the source of the problem and even in the case at hand, we do have a common root cause. The first question we need to ask is whether the woman has converted into the religion of the man and if she did, when it happened. Based on the old joke that starts "comrades, we are in a big sh*t! The Germans have attacked us!" we can say, if she hasn't there's no problem. If she has, the question is, when. If at her 30s or later, there's no problem. If at her early 20s or even earlier, well, comrades, we are in a big sh*t. Why am I saying that? I'm a Muslim, since my early twenties and I have always thought it would help me in case I were to face marital problems as we would have a com

    There was this idea I used to like that if women want men to behave like knights, they should behave like princesses and sit and wait in their room in the attic.  Apart from the obvious nonsense of this sentence, and I don't want to take the discourse into the field of sociology, I have found some interesting points.  I remember a story about a queen, maybe Marie or Isabelle (according to my Mom's update) who lived in a beautiful castle in the south of France some time in the middle ages. Her husband, the king, probably some Louis went out to "free the Holy Land" from its inhabitants. He was not the first, not the last to do so. Anyway, Isabelle was a devout wife and she loved Louis so much that she wowed that she wouldn't take a bath or change her clothes until he comes back. He had been staying for 14 years when she finally died. She was quite strong by the way, to survive that long. Obviously in the middle ages the people of Europe had strange i

We brought some biscuits to the birds at the pier, and gave them in the freezing cold with icy winds. We didn't stay more than five minutes because of the weather and also we were going to be late from nursery. When we left, I felt the seagulls (!) thought (!!) why we came if we only brought a little food and we left so early anyway. Yes. This is the voice in my head. This is the way I'm talking to myself. This is how I feel about every single person I talk to, every situation I find myself in. That I'm not enough. What I do is not sufficient so I shouldn't even be here. My right to exist depends on how useful I can be to others - if I can't, I should not even be here. Wow. I wonder why I'm talking to myself like that. Where is it coming from? Not to blame anyone, and it's not even necessary if I can get rid of it without knowing the exact origin, I really don't care. But I think it would be useful to know who or what made anyone in my family