All journeys come to an end

﷽

Whoever strives, strives only to his own gain. Surely Allah is All-sufficient nor needs any being.

Quran 28:6

Striving ('Jihad' in Arabic) lies at the core of Islam. We as Muslim are pushed to strive for that which is good and beautiful, and not to rest on our laurels. The 'Right Path' according to Islam should therefore not be one that lies within our comfort zone. As within the comfort zone there is no path and no journey either.

My Hadj of love to Paris was not intended to be an alternative hadj, but as the journey progressed I started realising that it was becoming more and more like a true and personal Hadj. 

I remember a dream that I had more then a decade ago where I was with my grandmother at the entrance of Mecca. She was allowed in and started walking around the Kaaba, while I was denied entrance. I was sad at that moment, but soon discovered that I had my own path. I met with three adventurers who were very tough men. They were the kind you see on the discovery channel and had both a physical and an intellectual expertise to do the most challenging adventures.

We had very tough challenges, some physical, like fighting with wild animals and some were intellectual. After the challenges we received an  an invitation from a queen who had born a son. As a reward for our Jihad (striving) we received a gift. A mini-Kaaba was rolled in. The black veil was lifted and inside of it we saw an ancient book that was written in many handwritings and hieroglyphs. It was 'The Holy Quran' that went back to the beginnings of human kind. The identities of the three men then became apparent: one was western, the other jewish and the last one was a muslim. They all stood in a row and started praying towards the book. I was witnessing everything and moved by what I was experiencing.

I felt this dream throughout Paris. With moments like the one at the Maison Mère where I stood face to face with the Queen and her son.

The end of my journey in Paris coincided with an evening of celebration at Startrotar. I contributed to the evening with a few songs. One of which was a poem by Ibn Arabi, a famous muslim savant from Moorish Spain. I didn't just choose this poem. I chose it, because it truly was what I had seen and experienced in Paris. I found Allah in all houses of prayer and I also found Allah outside on the streets.

After the celebrations at Startrotar, I was invited to spend the night at my friend Annemarie about whom I have written before in this blog. The next day we would drive back to Enschede, which is my and Annemarie's home town in the Netherlands. She happened to need to buy more bikes from there for her bike-shop and invited me to take a free ride back to the Netherlands with her! Our friend Zahia, who was in for some adventure, joined us. I never would have guessed that my journey home would be with my new friends from Paris. Especially not with a Dutch lady from Paris who originally came from my home town, is also an artist and a pirate, aaaand has family ties in North Africa. Was this coincidence directed by Allah?

On our way back to Enschede

When we arrived back in Enschede, we were welcomed with dinner by Annemarie's brother and his family. We got a copious meal and there was a lot of laughing. I felt like I came on board at a pirate family. Annemarie's brother and his family looked like modern pirates. They had a pleasant anarchy and jovial drollery about them.

The next day I invited Annemarie and Zahia to my house. We talked about historic pirates, the 1001 nights, harems, refugees and how to create an Utopian world together.

We also talked about the newspaper LE MONDE. Zahia mentioned that she knew some people there on a personal level and that in France everything is done through personal networks. There is no space for surprise visits like the one I did. Annemarie then added that she used to have her bike shop close to the old building of Le Monde and that many journalists were her personal clients. She even knew a secret entrance into the old building.

One day she talked to the old director of the newspaper who came into her shop and was fascinated by a vintage children's bike that she had in the window. The bike came from Enschede. It was the same bike as the one he had in Tunisia as a child. His father was the old mayor of the same town of the Tunisian city where Annemarie's (or Mahbouba's) family members come from! With that bike he rode throughout this city in Tunesia that he still vividly remembered and cherished.  Seeing his old bike back in the shop brought back the memories that he loved and cherished.
Later when he wrote a book about an alternative Tour de France, the preface of his book was about the little children's bike and his meeting with Annemarie in her store.

After we said good bye and Annemarie and Zahia headed back to Paris, I received a warm welcome back home by two famous Arabic musicians: Rami and Nedal Sultan! It felt like a real festive welcome after Hadj, which often is traditionally celebrated with live musicians, friends and family. 

Thank you Rami & Nedal! 

Thank you to all the people of Paris!

Thank you to all the strangers who became my family!

 Thank you girls of Sierra Leone!

❤

  

Paris I love you,

Hajja Salima el Musalima

avantgardeimam@gmail.com