I reverted to Islam alone. And pretty much everyone was against it.
But I had my baby boy, who was there literally since my Shahadah. I can't explain it but somehow he was Muslim from before he could speak.
As a baby he would put his head on the floor next to mine when I prayed. He would point at random flowers, rocks, pieces of grass, clouds and look at me, "Subhnlaa" he would say in his cute baby talk.
His heart was always something special.
For some unknown reason he was really interested in Spanish and South America so he taught himself how to count and say some phrases (as a 4 year old). One day walking around the park he asks me, "Papa, why do they speak Spanish in South America?" I took out my phone and showed him England, Spain, France and Portugal and gave him a short kid-friendly explanation in which he learned three new words: "Colonization" "Genocide" "Oppression" He collapsed on the side of the road and was inconsolable. Through his tears he looked at me in the eyes and said,
"Papa, I don't want to learn the language of the Oppressors!"
In retrospect, maybe is wasn't as "kid-friendly" as I thought. . . Anyways, that was it for Spanish. . . It took me a long time to convince him that he needed to keep learning English so that he could speak with our American family members.
Bedtime stories were secretly about the Sahabah (at the time his mom wouldn't have wanted to hear them.) "Papa tell me the one about Abu Dahdah again!" "Papa, tell me the funny one, Nu'yman!" We had our own secret world that only we understood. A place in our imaginations somewhere in between Mecca and Madinah. A place that we had never visited, but it still felt like a secret hide-out only we had access to.
Everyone in the family had made me promise not to force my Religion on anyone; especially the kids. I had agreed - "There is no compulsion in Religion" - I told them.
One day my 5 year-old boy walks up to my wife's mother while she is standing in the kitchen getting ready to make breakfast and says, "Grandma, is it okay if I don't eat pork anymore?" She stood in shock, and I was braced for the worst. We had already had so many fights since the time that I gave up pork.
But it was her first grandchild asking her, not me. And Grandma knows that there is something special about this boy too. Everyone in the family looked at me, I just raised my eyebrows and shook my head, "Nope. Not me." I said with a huge grin on my face.
To this day I don't know how or why. I never talked with him about why I stopped eating pork, and I made an effort to avoid the topic. Fighting over pork was pretty low on my list of priorities. If anything, fights about pork and alcohol were counter productive. No, at that point I was just trying to get my family to the starting line. "la ilaha illa Allah" was all I wanted. And here was my boy. His fitrah speaking truth to Grandma. She paused before responding, "Okay, if that's what YOU want. Is that what YOU want?" "No more please" he said. And that was it for pork.
We didn't connect to the Muslim community until he was already maybe 8 years old. I had a few Syrian friends that met maybe once a year, and my boy had never met another Muslim kid in his life.
Everything changed when his mother accepted Islam, and we dived headfirst into the Japanese Muslim Community. Alhamdulillah. (she is much more social than me, haha)
This is a picture that I believe Maeno Sensei took of my boy giving the Adhan at the Japan Muslim Association the first time that we met.
Up until this moment neither myself or my boy had ever given adhan for anyone other than ourselves and the Angels.
And also at this moment I realized how far we had come.
The Muslim Minority of Japan
This is my son. But also, my brother.
I reverted to Islam alone. And pretty much everyone was against it.
But I had my baby boy, who was there literally since my Shahadah. I can't explain it but somehow he was Muslim from before he could speak.
As a baby he would put his head on the floor next to mine when I prayed. He would point at random flowers, rocks, pieces of grass, clouds and look at me,
"Subhnlaa" he would say in his cute baby talk.
His heart was always something special.
For some unknown reason he was really interested in Spanish and South America so he taught himself how to count and say some phrases (as a 4 year old). One day walking around the park he asks me, "Papa, why do they speak Spanish in South America?" I took out my phone and showed him England, Spain, France and Portugal and gave him a short kid-friendly explanation in which he learned three new words:
"Colonization"
"Genocide"
"Oppression"
He collapsed on the side of the road and was inconsolable. Through his tears he looked at me in the eyes and said,
"Papa, I don't want to learn the language of the Oppressors!"
In retrospect, maybe is wasn't as "kid-friendly" as I thought. . . Anyways, that was it for Spanish. . . It took me a long time to convince him that he needed to keep learning English so that he could speak with our American family members.
Bedtime stories were secretly about the Sahabah (at the time his mom wouldn't have wanted to hear them.)
"Papa tell me the one about Abu Dahdah again!"
"Papa, tell me the funny one, Nu'yman!"
We had our own secret world that only we understood.
A place in our imaginations somewhere in between Mecca and Madinah. A place that we had never visited, but it still felt like a secret hide-out only we had access to.
Everyone in the family had made me promise not to force my Religion on anyone; especially the kids. I had agreed - "There is no compulsion in Religion" - I told them.
One day my 5 year-old boy walks up to my wife's mother while she is standing in the kitchen getting ready to make breakfast and says, "Grandma, is it okay if I don't eat pork anymore?"
She stood in shock, and I was braced for the worst.
We had already had so many fights since the time that I gave up pork.
But it was her first grandchild asking her, not me. And Grandma knows that there is something special about this boy too.
Everyone in the family looked at me, I just raised my eyebrows and shook my head, "Nope. Not me." I said with a huge grin on my face.
To this day I don't know how or why. I never talked with him about why I stopped eating pork, and I made an effort to avoid the topic. Fighting over pork was pretty low on my list of priorities. If anything, fights about pork and alcohol were counter productive.
No, at that point I was just trying to get my family to the starting line.
"la ilaha illa Allah" was all I wanted.
And here was my boy. His fitrah speaking truth to Grandma. She paused before responding, "Okay, if that's what YOU want. Is that what YOU want?"
"No more please" he said. And that was it for pork.
We didn't connect to the Muslim community until he was already maybe 8 years old. I had a few Syrian friends that met maybe once a year, and my boy had never met another Muslim kid in his life.
Everything changed when his mother accepted Islam, and we dived headfirst into the Japanese Muslim Community. Alhamdulillah. (she is much more social than me, haha)
This is a picture that I believe Maeno Sensei took of my boy giving the Adhan at the Japan Muslim Association the first time that we met.
Up until this moment neither myself or my boy had ever given adhan for anyone other than ourselves and the Angels.
And also at this moment I realized how far we had come.
That's why I say:
This is my son. But also, my brother.
2 weeks ago (edited) | [YT] | 937