#but inshallah i will figure something out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lilacmuse · 3 months ago

Text

The Tiny 'Arif and her Unseen Friend

When i was in Arizona in June, i was playing alone with my niece in the living room one day, when she suddenly stood up, walked toward the wall, and said 'salaam alaikum' with a huge smile on her face. She walked back to me, looked deeply into my eyes and said, "the uncle is here," in a soft, reverent tone, as if she were telling me a secret. She then scampered off, giggling and playing with the invisible person for a while. As i watched my niece laugh and play, i wondered who this unseen 'uncle' could be- i knew it wasn't her imagination because i felt the presence too, and something about it felt familiar, safe, and deeply reassuring. I smiled and figured it might be the soul of my brother coming to visit his niece, but i wasn't sure.

Later that evening, my niece and i were in the middle of playing again, and she suddenly stopped and informed me that the uncle was coming. My sister-in-law was in the kitchen, so i looked up and mentioned that my niece had done the same thing earlier in the day, but i didn't know who she was talking about. My sister-in-law mentioned that she's at an age where she might be starting to imagine things and play pretend, so she laughed it off as a cute toddler habit.

A few moments later, my niece repeated that the uncle was coming, so i turned to her and asked her what the uncle's name was, but i couldn't discern her reply. I asked her again and she repeated herself, but i still couldn't understand what she was saying. With tears in her eyes, my sister-in-law looked over and told me that my niece was saying "Imam Mahdi". We exchanged stunned glances for a moment, but i didn't want to startle my niece, so i didn't react. A little while later, she repeated again that the uncle was coming, so i asked her, "when is he coming?" She looked at me intently, smiled with a gleam in her eyes, and said, "inshAllah."

--------------------------

The next day, we were invited to a little boy's birthday party at a trampoline park. Even though i'd slept well the night before and had been excited to go, i woke up that morning with the worst nausea of my life. I had never felt so nauseous out of the blue before and nothing seemed to help, so i told my brother i'd have to stay home and skip the party. After trying and failing to eat, i felt too weak to stand, so i laid down on my bed and waited for the feeling to pass. As soon as i laid down, a wave of intense drowsiness suddenly overcame me, and i fell asleep. The only other time i'd ever experienced such sudden, intense drowsiness was last October, when i dreamt about the scholar who had passed away.

This time, i had another strange dream: i saw myself walking into the Sunni youth center i attend sometimes, but it was different; it looked like a fusion of the Sunni center and one of the nearby Shi'a centers, as if the two buildings had physically merged. As i walked into the main hall, i looked to the right and noticed several chairs in a special section away from the main stage. On these chairs, there were around a dozen scholars seated, both Shi'a and Sunni. As i scanned their faces, i saw one of my favorite scholars, and my heart immediately felt at ease. I also saw another face that looked vaguely familiar, but couldn't remember who he was or where i'd seen him (i recently realized, after 3 different people mentioned him on the same day, that he was the scholar i'd seen at the wedding in New York last year- it turns out he does a lot of Shi'a-Sunni unity work, so his presence in my dream made perfect sense).

My favorite Sunni scholar was giving a speech, so i sat down and began to listen. The lecture was extremely disjointed and he didn't seem like himself- there was a strange, detached coldness in his energy, as if he were adrift from his own soul. I realized he was reflecting the changes i'd noticed in him earlier in the year. When i had begun attending about two years ago, i had almost felt like i'd found the spiritual home i'd been longing for since the end of my beloved akhlaq class. His lectures were extremely heartfelt, deeply spiritual ruminations about God and the Holy Prophet (pbuh), and he regularly cried out of sincere love for them, which made me respect him immeasurably. I gradually noticed that every time he looked at me, it felt as if our souls knew each other; from the look on his face, i could tell he sensed it too. I'd only experienced that once before in college (that entry is on here somewhere), so i was perplexed. After a while, i came to the conclusion that it was likely because we were on a very similar spiritual wavelength- in a world addicted to rationality and material distractions, we were two souls deeply in search of Divine love; perhaps our hearts could sense that we were seeking the same thing. It's rare for me to experience that kind of spiritual resonance with anyone, so it felt like finding an oasis in the middle of a spiritually barren desert.

Around the beginning of the year, i noticed his energy and rhetoric began changing; his lectures felt increasingly sectarian, and he began staring at me pointedly every time he talked about certain sahaba, who he now mentioned more than the Prophet (pbuh). I shrugged it off; every word of praise i've ever heard about any other companion has only made me fall more deeply in love with Ali ibn Abi Talib (as); my conviction in his wilayah is as unwavering as my belief in the prophethood of Rasulallah (pbuh) and the oneness of God. But he also began telling stories that seemed to cast the Ahlulbayt (as) in a denigrating light- each time, he'd look at me pointedly, as if seeking a reaction. I tried not to take it personally given our differences in aqidah, but i felt sad at the change in his rhetoric and demeanor, and i noticed that he had stopped crying the way he used to- it was as if God had temporarily taken that taufeeq away because he was speaking from a place of ego and hostility, not sincerity. I had faith that he'd find his way back to higher ground- i still believe deeply in his goodness- but i stopped attending for a while because my soul no longer felt at peace there.

In my dream, his rhetoric took a similar turn, so i got up and walked out mid-speech. In an outer lobby area, i saw a group of little girls playing together, so i walked up to them and said salaam with a smile. A group of older women then approached and greeted me- likely the mothers and grandmothers of the girls- and the eldest of them stood out. She had beautifully deep, dark eyes and an ethereal aura, and she began asking me questions about myself. As we spoke, i asked her if, from all her years of living, she could give me some sage advice for my life. She quietly took my hand and led me to a room that looked identical to the prayer room at the Shi'a masjid. She leaned down to a shelf in the middle of the room, picked up a long, beautiful tasbih, and placed it in my hands. The tasbih was unlike any i'd ever seen before; the beads were made of luminous midnight blue glass, and were dappled with tiny golden specks of various sizes all over, as if depicting the night sky. Given my love of astronomy, it felt like it was made for me. I realized the tasbih seemed to have 1000 beads instead of 100, as if it were made for adhkar. She then leaned down again and picked up an unusual copy of the Quran that featured sections on Qur'anic meditations. The Qur'an had an exquisite midnight blue cover dappled with golden constellations, matching the tasbih perfectly. The woman handed it to me, i embraced and thanked her profusely, and we parted ways.

After that, i felt an urge to return to the main hall, so i went back inside and found that while most people had left, all the scholars who had been sitting to the side had now gathered together at the front of the room. At the center of their huddle, an elderly man was singing a beautiful qasida about yearning for Medina and the Prophet (pbuh), and all the other men were weeping profusely. Electrified by the beauty of what i was witnessing, i started weeping, too, overcome by my own longing to see the city of the Prophet. From a distance, i noticed the Sunni scholar sitting off to the side; he was crying, too, and looked as if the ice inside his chest was breaking.

I woke up shortly after, floored by the intensity of the dream. I then realized that my nausea was completely gone, as if i'd never felt sick at all. I checked the time on my phone and laptop; it was 5:31. I was surprised because my brother, sister-in-law, and the kids were supposed to leave for the party at 5:30, but i couldn't hear any signs of them leaving or getting ready to go. I walked by their room on my way downstairs and realized my nieces seemed to still be asleep from their afternoon naps- strange; it was unheard of for them to sleep so long. I went to the kitchen to get some water, then glanced at the time on the appliances: it was 5:30-something, but still no sign of anyone waking. I laid down on the couch for a bit, then went back upstairs.

After a while, i suddenly heard my brother's voice in the hallway and realized everyone was finally awake. I glanced at the time to gauge how late they'd be (unlike me, my brother & SIL are very punctual people mA), but was startled to find that it was now 4:31. I frantically checked my phone and laptop, then rushed down to check the time in the kitchen: 4:31. Noticing i was better, my brother asked me if i wanted to come with them. I realized i now felt fine and had an hour to get dressed, so i said yes. As i rummaged through my clothes, i was still baffled: after the strange dream i'd had, i had somehow gained an hour of time. I'd been reading glitch in the matrix stories featuring time loss for the past decade, but i had never experienced it firsthand... Until now. I told my brother about it and he tried to come up with a logical explanation, but couldn't- it was beyond reason.

Once at the party, we ended up having an absolute blast- if you're wondering whether i put on a pair of ugly orange grippy socks and jumped right alongside my niece: of course i did :) She was absolutely terrified of the trampolines, but they also had a delightful play area with tunnels, slides, and various levels designed for smaller humans. My niece is at an age where her primary love language is slides, so she spent most of her time climbing up and sliding down with me and her baba.

For lunch, they had some nostagic Chuck e Cheese-style pizza that took us back to childhood, along with some halal fried chicken that was greasy and overcooked to the point of being nearly inedible. The thought of throwing away food while children in Gaza and Sudan are actively starving made my heart ache, so i covered the piece of chicken and decided to take it home with me. The entire car ride back, i secretly went through an internal moral panic about the chicken: there was no way anyone would be willing to eat it, so would i have to throw it away? Would God forgive me? How could i even consider that, knowing about the famines and all the children starving to death?

As we pulled up to my brother's house, i heard a loud meowing sound and watched a small shadow dart toward the car. As i opened the door, i realized it was a tiny, incredibly gaunt black-and-white cat, likely less than a year old. He meowed frantically and came rushing toward me, as if he'd been waiting for me. As i assessed the flatness of his belly and the desperation of his voice, i realized he was hungry, possibly starving. Just as i was about to go inside to get some cat food, i remembered the piece of chicken i was holding. After peeling off the overcooked skin, i tore off a few pieces of the meat and tossed them to the cat. He immediately chowed down, demolishing it in seconds. Smiling, i continued to tear off more pieces, throwing them to him bit by bit. As i did this, i thought about all the suffering children again and asked God to accept this act as a sadqah for their safety and liberation. I then asked Him to accept it as a sadqah for the safety and happiness of the 12th Imam, and asked God to hasten the Faraj so he could help the oppressed people of the world and finally give Palestine its freedom.

As my new friend hungrily finished the entire piece of chicken, he strolled up to me as if we'd been best friends for years, and i petted him tenderly as he rubbed his face against my body- never in my life had i met such a friendly cat in the wild. My niece excitedly looked on, occasionally chasing him off with her excitement, but he always returned- it was a magical experience. I then realized, with amusement and relief, that the moral chicken dilemma had been miraculously resolved, and i marveled at the way this tiny cat's rizq had been so clearly written at our doorstep that night- he had come rushing up to me as if he'd been sent by someone.

Before i went to bed that night, my heart was extremely heavy- even though the day had been such a joyful one for us, i read the news about the children and families being burned alive in their tents in Rafah, and the weight of their losses crushed me. I asked God to grant them relief, and prayed for the Faraj again with a greater desperation than ever before. I then spoke to the Imam (atf) directly and apologized for being such a sinful, unworthy follower, and admitted that i felt ashamed to call on him despite my sins, but i was calling anyway because the world needs him. With tears in my eyes, i pleaded with him to come soon to bring peace to humanity, and confessed to him about how hard it's been to see such horrific things happening while being so powerless to stop them.

--------------------------

The next day, i was in the living room with my SIL and nieces, and we were all playing and talking together. My niece suddenly froze while playing, and excitedly told me that the uncle had come again. She darted off, said salaam, and began playing with him excitedly as my SIL and i looked on in wonder. After a while, my niece returned and tapped me on the shoulder with a merry grin on her face. She looked deep into my eyes and happily told me something, but i couldn't understand. My SIL asked if i wanted her to translate, and i nodded. This was the message my niece had for me: "the uncle said he wants you to give him a huggy and go with him." Smiling softly, i asked, "when?" My niece gazed at me with a soft, knowing smile and simply said "inshAllah".

Upon later reflection, i smiled at how it seemed as if the Imam had responded to me through my niece; as if he were giving me reassurance in response to the heavy things i'd said the night before. I had assumed 'give him a huggy' was my niece's interpretation of whatever affection or kindness he'd expressed, but i remembered something later: earlier in the year, i had taken a beautiful class on Imam Mahdi, and one thing had stood out to me and affected me more deeply than anything else: one of the titles of the Imam is Mudhtar, the one who grieves. As the Wali of our time, the Imam feels the entirety of the world's grief and knows each person's pain intimately. My heart broke when i thought about the weight of that, and i cried when i went home that day- this aspect of the Imam made me feel understood in a way i'd never felt before, but i also felt deeply pained for him. All my life, i'd often struggled with the weight of being able to feel the pain of the world a bit more deeply than most; sometimes, i could look into a person's eyes and accidentally discern their deepest, most buried grief. But i could turn this instinct off sometimes, enjoy my life, and disconnect from the heaviness when it felt like too much. For my Imam, the pain would always be there- he is perpetually conscious of all of it.

Every time i thought about or talked about him in the days following that class, i had just one simple, childish thought, which i occasionally expressed out loud: 'i wish i could just hug him.' I thought about how even the greatest of God's creations have always had a fellow mortal being to comfort and support them; Rasulallah (pbuh) had Lady Khadija (as), Imam Ali (as) had Lady Fatima (as), and they each had a handful of incomparably loyal companions who brought them comfort in this world. Who does the Imam of our time have? I know that there are many people in this world who occasionally meet him, speak with him, etc. But it brings me the deepest pleasure to think that the Imam might also find comfort in visiting innocent, sinless children like my niece; it makes perfect sense. The pure laughter of a loving child can cut through every pain of a world submerged in darkness. ♥

x r

#rz #spilled ink #writing #imam mahdi

3 notes · View notes

wordstome · 1 year ago

Note

🧸🪐❄️ 🥐 💖💖❕❕

babes I forgot that 50cal was a sideblog and went "omg another cherished mutual named rags!!" 💀

🧸 ⇢ what's the fastest way to become your mutual? oooooh. Honestly, just engage with me a lot. Kind of a no-brainer, but if you show up in my notifications a lot I recognize you and go :] cherished mutual. Never worry about spamming me!! Also helps if you reblog content from fandoms I'm interested in or general tumblr humor posts. Like if you put "by allah you people are dogs. I will reblog as usual" type posts on my dash I swear fealty to you

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now I kid you not, engaging with and making content for the COD fandom is really helping me a lot, so that's one. (I love this cozy little corner of the fandom.) Another is that I'm kind of in a more chill period of my life. I've been a student for like. 16 years straight, so it's nice to be taking a breather. And third, I don't think my social life has ever been better. It really helps to get out of the house and spend time with people I care about a lot <3

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh Oh, there's too many to count. But off the top of my head right now, it's a tie between no little german boy don't go to the weed cave and inshallah they find him. also, I don't count this one as it's not really a reference so much as one video that has become an inextricable part of my personality, but this specific video is the reason why I say "scheiße" instead of "shit" when something startles me, like losing my balance or dropping something etc. I can't explain why it cracks me up so hard, but it makes me laugh every time.

❄️ ⇢ what's your dream theme/plot for a fic, and who would write it best?

Look. We all have that one, super-indulgent daydreaming scenario that we're more embarrassed to admit we have than most kinks. Mine is a kind-of harem fic with literally as many COD characters as I can cram into it (we're talking 141, vaqueros, warzone operators, ghosts) where MC kind of serves as a Penelope Garcia (from Criminal Minds) figure? In my mind MC only ever talks to them over their comms, and they're fun to talk to, easy to get along with, and very flirty. But none of them have ever actually met MC in person: they don't know what they look like or anything, they've only ever heard MC's voice. Shenanigans ensue. In terms of who I'd trust most to write this, I'd trust any of the authors I follow to write this, but if I must pick, it would be @danibee33. I love you girl <3

Honorable mentions go to: pop star x König au written by @cookiepie111, hostage is "rescued" by König only for him to just. take you home and keep you by @gremlingottoosilly, König taming a barracks bunny by @kneelingshadowsalome, and "you cannot stand König because he's a weird little guy who gives off freak vibes but the two of you are stuck alone together on a lengthy mission in an isolated location and hmm. well maybe you can fuck him just once, what could go wrong? oh no, he's a freak (affectionate) and you might like him, actually" by @50cal-fullauto (lol)

(sorry for the all the tags. but I love you all so much. also, please don't feel any pressure: I don't expect you guys to write anything for these ideas, I just think that you guys would totally nail these concepts)

#THANK YOU RAGS ILY #vide0-nasties #answered #ask game

7 notes · View notes

lucyrcrover · 1 year ago

Text

Originally, I hadn't considered using Tumblr as another area which I could share serious writings. But upon further consideration, it seemed worthwhile to use any avenue. Thus, I'm posting my most recent writing (It will be typed out below as well.) This writing venture has only recently begun, so there are two other writings besides the poem. The first is my purpose for writing at all, mixed with an advocacy of anarchist communism, and the latter is a short essay discussing terrorism and the absurd way it's used to justify the Israeli colonization of Palestine. As an addition to the latter essay, entitled On the Oppression and Liberation of Palestine, I want to note one simple point. I wish I could recall who said it, but, "Do not criticize the table-manners of a starving person." This is to say that any judgement made of Palestinians, Palestinian resistance, etc., which does not ultimately acknowledge the colonization and desperation faced by Palestinians, is barren of any understanding of the absurdly narrow set of options Palestinians have. Often questionable leadership, scarcity of resources, poor international aid and support, Israeli blockades, and just a focus on simply surviving. Here, now, is the poem in full: "And you said something in those streets that freed my soul and made me sing And sing did I, like a bird did I like a canary did I, like a dove did I The song of a people's dabke soaring through ears and out to new heights

Is this what resistance looks like, a flag soaring with a red triangle and uniformed men swiping the pillars of a coffin? Sometimes, it looks like standing in one place as the lead rains like acid droplets Sometimes, it speaks in ways that I can't write

I apologize if you wanted resistance to look like three sips of orange juice and a little bit of toothpaste I apologize if you expected it to look like shaking hands with a creature in a three piece suit I apologize if you expected it to look like chanting Alhamdulillah on a foreign God as their keffiyeh is ripped from them with all the force of men who cannot help but colonize down to the soul gently relinquished with due respect to the men praying for slaughter to the parameters of the debate You are angry that the revolution is an intifada, that their socialism is Arabic and that their communists wear shirts born of Tatreez Inshallah, inshallah. You take prayer for threat, though you speak the words every day in your own tongue. If god wills it, if god wills it, I hope. A boy will be out throwing rocks at their tanks, metallic claws dug into the soil their treads demarcating the lines of humanity. the boy will be called a terrorist and there will be riots, Inshallah

The earth rejoices in the colors of Palestine The blades of grass, waving at the sun revealing clear water slipping down the curves of their body Overwhelming, inescapable black night skies that come to shower us in radiant white stars the blood in the veins of Gaia’s, Gaza’s children Green, Black, White and Red The Earth rejoices in the colors of Palestine

The watermelon seeds The apples, the limes the figs and the figures cast when the light's bright enough to carve our caricature if only briefly into pristine sidewalk or ruined, bombed rubble. The Rabbi, the Priest, and the Imam. with shadows the same."

#palestine #free palestine #anarchism #socialism #poetry #poems #poems on tumblr #poemsbyme #pro-palestine #gaza #free gaza

4 notes · View notes

mariacallous · 2 years ago

Text

Dagestan has long been a reliable source of personnel for the Russian army. In peacetime, while eligible conscripts in other regions would seek ways to evade mandatory service, young men in Dagestan would pay bribes to enlist. That’s not necessarily because they were eager to experience military life; a stint in the army is effectively a prerequisite to getting a public-sector job, and government service is the best-paying and most stable career track available in the region. But Dagestanis have shown far less enthusiasm for the military since Russia invaded Ukraine last year — and it’s no wonder, given that they were drafted in disproportionately high numbers, and that Dagestan lost more residents in the first few months of the full-scale war than almost any other region of Russia. After Putin announced mobilization in September, Dagestan had some of the country’s largest protests, prompting a brutal police crackdown. With the war in Ukraine approaching its one-year mark, a journalist from the independent Russian outlet iStories went to Dagestan to see how residents feel about military service, mobilization, and the war in Ukraine. In English, Meduza is publishing an abridged version of the dispatch.

‘We’re used to respecting the authorities’

We’re in an addressless one-story building in a small mountain village in southern Dagestan. An older woman named Patimat is sitting in an armchair behind a wooden table and dicing pieces of cow liver. She and her daughter-in-law started buying the cheap protein source from their neighbors back in the fall. Chickens and ducks roam around their property, but the family doesn’t eat those anymore: “Those are the meat pies we send to my oldest son, who’s at the front.” Forty-year-old Ramadan was drafted in September.

“To be honest, I still can’t tell if he wanted to be called up or not,” Patimat says. “But the draft order came. A lot of people here got them, by the way. Not everybody went.”

“What other option did they have?” asks the iStories correspondent.

“Some people paid the doctor, while others paid [the enlistment officers] directly. They told everyone the price right from the start,” answers Sabiyat, the wife of Patimat’s youngest son. “That’s not something we respect… Nobody respects cowardice. Ramadan said that if he hides, and if others hide, who will be left to protect the motherland? Doesn’t somebody have to go? He’s always been a real man.”

Sabiyat’s own husband is exempt from the draft due to health problems.

“Are the rest of the men really looked down upon now?”

“At first, yeah, that was the case. But then ‘the rest of the men’ became our whole village, except for our Ramadan,” Sabiyat says. “And things died down.”

“They died down,” Patimat repeats, rubbing her bloodshot eyes.

When Vladimir Putin announced mobilization, Ramadan was off working in Moscow. When he learned that a draft order had come for him, he immediately went to Derbent to “figure everything out.”

“I asked him to wait ten days so he could pack, spend some time at home before going to war, and give us time to talk,” his mother says. “He said, ’No, I’m going right now.’ Well, inshallah [God willing]. It’s up to him. I worry about him, of course, but I supported my son. What makes a man beautiful, if not his courage?”

In the five months since Ramadan was drafted, according to his family, he hasn’t received a single payment. Patimat paid for his body armor, helmet, and warm clothes herself; she transferred 50,000 rubles (about $670) to the bank account of “one of the commanders.”

None of Ramadan’s relatives know where he is. Their phone calls with him are so short that they haven’t even been able to ask whether he’s received the homemade food they’ve sent him.

Suddenly, the iStories correspondent hears children laughing: four-year-old Zakhra and two-year-old Ibad, Ramadan’s niece and nephew, burst into the room with a toy dump truck. Sabiyat lifts Ibad up into her arms to feed him some liver.

“Even our kids know about war,” she says. “On May 9, at the kindergarten, we always used to have to bring camouflage uniforms.”

“What about now?” asks the iStories correspondent. “Are [the kindergarteners] still told about the war, like elementary school students are?”

“I don’t know. We’re used to respecting the authorities,” Sabiyat says, lowering her voice. “And the kindergarten teacher is part of the authorities. I can’t ask her about anything. It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

‘You’re the ones going off to die for me’

From a cursory glance at the streets of any Dagestani city, it would be easy to think that Russia hasn’t been waging war against Ukraine for the last year. Most of the food products that have disappeared due to Western sanctions have been replaced by their Turkish or Iranian equivalents, and the stores that have blue and yellow IKEA signs hanging out front were full of locally made lamps and Turkish carpets even before the war.

It’s not rare to see “Z” symbols around the republic, but they’re definitely not as common as in Moscow. The only exception is southern Dagestan, where pro-war stickers adorn storefronts, cars, and restaurant windows.

Zarifa, a civil servant in the southern city of Derbent, proudly tells iStories about how she recently sent 205,000 rubles ($3,346) to volunteer fighters in Grozny.

“They started to thank me. I said, ‘What are you thanking me for? You’re the ones going off to die for me, for my security!’” she says.

In the fall, Zarifa and some of her friends started sending meat and hingels to the front. One of her colleagues involved in the initiative, Farida, starts to cry as she talks about it; her brother has been at the front for months now.

“Sometimes, we don’t hear anything from him for months at a time. Evidently, they don’t give them access to their phones,” she says, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.

“Are you crying? Doesn’t the government give him the equipment he needs? Is he hungry? Is he sleeping in the cold?” Zarifa asks sharply.

“I’m not complaining, of course. He’s doing fine. As fine as he can be,” Farida responds.

Zarifa’s husband doesn’t have to worry about getting called up; he’s a high-ranking security official. Their eight-year-old daughter studies in a prestigious private school, where, in addition to gymnastics, dance, and English-language classes, she attends Russia’s government-imposed “patriotism” class: “Conversations About What’s Important.”

“Mom, do you know why the Ukrainians are angry at us?” her daughter asks when she gets home from school. “Everybody left the country to come to Russia, and the government got offended — so now they’re waging war against us. And I hate their president, Zelensky, too!”

“That’s my smart girl,” Zarifa says, giving her a kiss. “I try not to discuss politics at home, but her school shapes [her views] too. The other kids probably had people [from their families] go to the front, as did their teacher. And now Jamila hates him [Zelensky] — for making our people, from Derbent, have to go there.”

‘The Quran prohibits it’

Dagestan’s capital, Makhachkala, was the site of one of Russia’s largest anti-mobilization protests, which lasted for days. Law enforcement responded brutally to the demonstrations, using stun guns, batons, and pepper spray to disperse protesters, arresting at least 200 people. In the days that followed, the local Investigative Committee opened at least 30 criminal cases.

On September 25, more than 100 people blocked the Khasavyurt-Makhachkala Federal Highway near the northern Dagestani village of Endirey. Police ultimately fired guns in the air to make them leave.

One of those protesters was a 38-year-old Endirey resident named Gulyusa. She told iStories that she didn’t want her husband or her sons to die in a war that she doesn’t support.

“My heart began to ache back in February. I thought that, in Dagestan, everybody would condemn the war; after all, there’s not a single family who didn’t lose someone in the Chechen [Wars],” she says. “And that’s basically what happened. Nobody supported it, and everybody hoped it wouldn’t affect them. My youngest son is still 14. It’s not clear how long this will last for, but I hope it’s less than four years.”

After Gulyusa’s oldest son, 19-year-old Musa, received a draft order, the family decided it was no longer safe for him at home, so they went to Makhachkala. Now, unable to enroll in a university or get an official job, he works under the table assembling furniture. When he comes home to join his family for a meal, he travels incognito, always using other people’s cars.

And though her youngest son, seventh-grader Ilyas, is too young for the draft, the war has affected him, too.

“Today, there was almost nothing for me to do [at school]: we had free time instead of P.E., and I don’t go to ‘Conversations About What’s Important,’” he told iStories.

“Just you?”

“No — almost nobody goes,” he says, laughing. “At first, the school tried to fix it by going through our parents, but the adults themselves say that these lessons aren’t really school; they’re not subjects like math or English, so we shouldn’t be required to be there. I went to two [of these] lessons in September. One was about cosmonauts and the other was about Russian songs. Usually, I go for a walk during that time, or eat breakfast at home, or study biology. I want to become a doctor.”

“Maybe by then, they won’t be drafting doctors anymore,” Gulyusa says with a sigh.

Gulyusa’s family goes to an elderly mullah whose family continued practicing Islam throughout the entire Soviet period. Nowhere, he’s told her, does the Quran say that Muslims are required to protect non-Muslims, so — from a religious perspective — nobody from Endirey is obligated to go to Ukraine. On the other hand, the mullah says, the Quran does prohibit murdering innocent people, placing it on par with killing all of humanity. “If a man fears [obeys] Allah, he won’t go [to fight in Ukraine],” the mullah has said.

“The mullah isn’t afraid of the consequences? It sounds to me like he’s turned a lot of people [against the war],” asks the iStories correspondent.

“Everyone in Endirey will stand up for him,” she says. “What can they do to a respected man like him?”

‘Allah should help’

Islam, an Avar who lives in the Dagestani city of Khasavyurt, and his wife, a Chechen woman named Aishat, wanted to join the September protests, but they simply couldn’t make it: they’re raising seven kids, all under the age of ten.

One of Islam’s younger brothers was drafted, and he didn’t try to resist. According to Islam, he’s a “straightforward, honest person, so when the order came, he went [to the enlistment office].” The family hasn’t heard from him since October.

“It was a sin for me not to save him; I’m the oldest,” Islam laments, rocking his newborn son. “I probably should have hidden him. Our imam said afterwards that it’s more shameful to kill a non-Muslim on his own land than to hide in your home.”

The family can’t afford to emigrate; one of their daughters was born with cerebral palsy, and they’ve spent all of their savings on her treatment.

Ibragim, another one of Islam’s brothers, runs a shoe shop in town together with a friend. A draft order came for him in September, but he tore it up. He says he’s not afraid to stay in Khasavyurt.

“Some people were saying that the imam would keep the recruiters away from all of his students, though I don’t know if that’s possible without paying,” Ibragim says. “On the other hand, Allah should help, I think. If you refuse to go kill people because of your faith, then you’re on a certain path that the state has no power over.”

* * *

After the trip to Khasavyurt, amid talk of a new round of mobilization, the iStories correspondent received a call from Ibragim, who was now in Uzbekistan. He said he decided to help Allah protect him, and that he now plans to wait things out while abroad. He’s promised his brother and his business partner that he’ll return as soon as possible.

“I mean, it can’t last another year,” he said. “Can it?”

5 notes · View notes

magicalgirlfia · 7 months ago

Text

Okay so I just went down a fucking rabbit hole to figure out if the Dungeon Meshi food is halal. The Quran never says anything about monsters (shocker) So I had to get slightly creative.

I COULD ask my dad (he’s Muslim) but I don’t feel like explaining that the fact that I am showing interest towards the faith in a religious context is to determine if Allah would approve of what group of fictional characters did or not to him.

A food like slime that serve as a sort of gelatin substitute is fine. While gelatin is considered haram due to usually being made of pig stuff, this is a substitute that isn’t made of “traditional” animal meat

I would say that all plant based monsters would be fine to consume

Eating predatory beast with fangs or any bird with talons is explicitly forbidden. This axes off many of the predatory monsters that we see- ex: basilisks or griffins.

Animal treated poorly or slaughtered in cruel manners mean that the meat is haram however I couldn’t find much on what to do if something attacks you first and you kill/eat it in self defense

The main thing you’d get these guys on is alcohol which is a giant no. There’s not much to say there, if Islamic law was canon in Dungeon Meshi Chilchuck would be going to hell, sorry.

People can eat haram foods in survival situations, however, this does mention the lack of desire or overindulgence in the food and again, applies to situations where a person would be actually starving, so I could see it being argued either way, especially depending on what point in the story being used as evidence.

There is nothing in the Quran about eating the monster parts of your sister so she can return to a human form but I don’t think it would necessarily be a problem due to unique circumstances.

I think that the main thing to focus on is that while nature isn’t worshiped (as Islam is a monotheistic abrahamic religion) the general idea that the natural world exists in a sort of self sustaining balance which people are a part of that should be respected and protected is accidentally something that both Dungeon Meshi and Islamic scripts share.

Orrrr it could just be a watch party for a popular anime. Who knows.

Inshallah they find her.

a companion piece to my previous post

#I adore this poster there’s just something incredible about it #Fia replies to things #Like I implied above my dad and his half of the family are all Muslims and are from a predominantly Muslim country #but I don’t know everything obviously. I’m just being a silly goose.#edit #it seems that actually this isn’t real. I don’t care

43K notes · View notes

cryptometaphor · 3 months ago

Text

(Stream where everyone got mean)

Axel: Look at this shit. Girl says high five me, guy says no, she goes and wiggles her ass in his face. Sexual harassment and nothing is done

Havoc: "imagine if the roles were reversed"

Me; Reverse them. Like I would've just grabbed all 300 pounds of her and tossed her ass out of the room. This is entirely my stream now.

Poof: Oh calm down Jim. You wouldn't do shit. That would be actual assault. You all are just crybabies

Me: Axel, kick her or give me co-host to do it.

Poof: I thought you hated jannies?!

Me: I'm not playing this game with you. You're not Sarah. You violate boundaries, you're fucking out of here. THAT'S how you get rid of moderators and injustice. I'm tired of living in a fucking dystopian society where as hard as I work and as much as I've been through I don't make shit and same goes for Sarah. We are the greatest people in the world and unappreciated.

Poof: Ok I legit need to look some psychological terms up as I didn't think narcissism could be shared lol. Like you put that bitch on a pedastool

Me: She's perfect. Instead of insulting her, learn from her. Even I could afford to listen more but I'm stubborn.

Poof: Damn you really love her.

Me: And do you know how much it hurts not having the means to give her everything she deserves? I care about that way more than whether or not you think I'm a hypocrite.

Poof: I wasn't trying to disparage Sarah, I'm just saying y'all are getting bent out of shape over minor annoyances because you're letting misogyny and trauma dictate your thought pattern.

Havoc: Yeah Jim. Your misogyny is based, but they'd eat you alive in Saudi Arabia

Me: Nigga, people could donate right now to this stream and afford me a plane ticket. I will go, I will come off the plane singing IIIII HATE WOMEN, they'll respond Inshallah, now I'm Arab Taylor Swift.

Sarah joins: LOL

Poof: Oh now you join. Not when he was threatening to moderate me a second ago

Sarah: You prob deserved it

Poof: Oh fuck both of you lol

Sarah: You wish gooner

Havoc: Destroyed

Sarah: I heard most of it. My mom loved the part Jim where you were calling us the greatest in the world. "That man loves you so much. Finding someone like that is rarer than winning the lotto." Like yeah, struggle sucks. But I'd rather be homeless than not have you. We'll figure something out together. That's what love does.

Me: Baby...

Sarah: See whore? I can wiggle my ass in his face because all of me belongs to him. You get the reaction you do because you're an insincere cunt. (Axel posts the Simpsons clip "stop! He's already dead...)

0 notes

zaidshair · 2 months ago

Text

Zaid nodded, absolutely believing that Nakia just knew Hye-Jin by fame alone. Breezily, Zaid said, "They dined at my first restaurant, in London." Not that Zaid was bragging or anything. Maybe just a little.

He gloomily pondered the web of people, all connected to him. That made things seem deliberate, not random. He shot a withering glare at one of the nearby posts with the CCTV for good measure. Zaid simply didn't want to go there. To acknowledge the weirdness meant paranoia, conspiracy, wild fantasy that had to be true to be real.

Instead, Zaid focused on Nakia, taking pleasure in how they enjoyed their panini. "Do you have any exes, mate?" A cheeky, crooked grin. "Inshallah they're not here too."

Someone must be looking. Zaid understood how Nakia meant that: rescue. Nakia still held out hope, and Zaid wouldn't dissuade that. But the inflection Nakia used. Someone must be looking. Zaid wasn't thinking about rescue any longer, but he did glance up again at the camera that was trained on him and Nakia.

Nakia was asking a query of his own - something about drugging, because of course. Zaid wouldn't be surprised if Nakia got high on the regular back in New York. Maybe it gave them some computer troubleshooting clarity, the same way a good bump or two gave Zaid the energy to power through a long service.

"There's a doctor - erm, a surgeon named Akhila - who was trying to test for drugs. I should check and see what she figured out," Zaid answered quickly and dismissively, as he leaned in closer to Nakia.

Just close enough to keep his voice sotto. "Oi, them camera looking at us right now. 'Someone must be looking', yeah? But there's no wiring, so the cameras are powered how. Transmitting how." A pause, waiting to see if Nakia would have an easy answer with his technology know-how.

Zaid licked his lips and continued. "If we can get one of them cameras, you reckon you can...dunno. Inspect it? Take it apart and see if..." Zaid made a slight noise of frustration, because he didn't have the vocabulary. "Figure summat out?"

It's difficult not to look surprised at another familiar name. "She's here too?" Maybe Zaid will think their surprise has to do with her fame. There is a little more than that, a little more Nakia knows ( or knew? ) about the actress in question. Nothing they would be keen to disclose now, for how close it is to revealing their own profession. Not know, and not ever, if the fates didn't have anything else to say about it. Then Zaid attempts to assure them that there might be others Nakia might know — and while Zaid couldn't guess this, it sounds more like a curse than a wish. Nakia mingles with dangerous people, many of which they would not necessarily want to have here. They attempt at a smile, hoping it doesn't show up as a grimace. "Oh, we'll see, I suppose... that would be good." No, it wouldn't, though Zaid means well, and Nakia has no intention of upsetting him or raising suspicions around themself. The subject that's ghosted over is clear, and they have no aim to dig it up either. With a more sombre expression on their face, they silently nod, picking at their food, biting down a piece of a sandwich that's still really good. The taste really does not matter when they are stuck here, however, and the thought of a rescue, or lack thereof, is not surprising. It stings a little, nonetheless. "I- don't think so either. Though, someone must be looking. I don't know if they will be successful, but- yeah." Even if Nakia doubted someone would be looking for them for too long, there were people here, with families, with fans, back home. It's bound to stir some news, or that's still their wishful thinking. A proper grimace at their face this time, looking over the food Zaid deems to be made by professionals, and Nakia trusts their word. "Do you think... they make us forget, somehow? To do all of this as we sleep?" They don't call it drugs out loud, it's left unsaid. To be picked beneath the words. "Oh, uh- thanks." Nakia is hardly taking it well, in their opinion, but they have always been a closed box, so it tracks that people around them won't be able to tell. "You too, I'd say."

#nakia

7 notes · View notes

dragonsdreamoffire · 2 years ago

Note

Okay, time for the monthly newsletter in which I check in, beg for your forgiveness, and write a convoluted introduction!! I’ve decided to change the style from letter to newspaper— in honor of your recent ventures into the newspaper with your club!! WHICH IS SO COOLLLLLLLLLL FOR THE RECORD

En specifique, I’m writing this as a Letter to The Editor! (Journalism class is coming in clutch for this, our first unit was on all the different types of news in a newspaper)

Well, if I really wanted to make this look like a letter to the editor, I guess this would have to be formatted into a tiny column on the sodes of the opinion section of the newspaper. Hm…

Anyway!

I’m looking through my inbox to catalog the things you’ve told me that I didn’t get a chance to reply to that I’m so sorry for but also very excited to reply to and this is a run on sentence stopping it here let’s go:

YOUR SUNFLOWER SNEAKERS ARE ADORABLE, AND YOUR FIT WAS ADORABLE THAT DAY. I love the floral, you looked stunning, Dream. Well, you always look stunning, so that’s not a surprise

Newspaper. Details. Now. (Please, Pretty, Pretty, Please) How’s it going? Who’s joined? Do you like it so far?

My Carrd only speaks the truth! Maybe I should make that part in a bigger font. Can never express how much I love you with words, but maybe the size of the words will help.

THANK YOU for the happy birthday <3 I appreciate it. That day was not a good one, but you did make it better. I managed to make my first quarter grades look decent in the end!

Perennially I concern myself with whether or not you’re overworking, so I think I’m gonna start including “please let dream be having a good, restful day inshallah” in my my daily mantras

I JUST FIGURED OUT HOW TO DO THE THE HOTSPOT THING YOU DID WITH MY NAME. Well, not exactly. I am gonna change my airpods’ name to something referring to you, though

How’s debate going? Oh, and the moves? Oh, and school?! Honestly. How are you, Dream? Answers optional to any of the points brought up in this ask, but I’d love to hear <3

I love you,

Lusy

The newspaper writing style is terrific thank you <33

I will say that tumblr does format this into tiny writing so I can certainly imagine this on the side of a newspaper

Thank you I love those sneakers and I love that you love them 🥺

The newspaper!! Well my partner Jack has been great, I’m hoping he falls in love with me because that’d be aesthetic. I’m kidding, but we’ve got a few members, less than I’d hoped but we’re still spreading the good news 😌 I’ve been glad of the progress we’ve seen though, and we’ve got great ideas going :))

Oh you should absolutely make it in into a bigger font, declare to the world your love, and I’ll spend some time making a card too so we can match~

I’m glad I’d made your birthday feel a little better <33

Awwwwwww Lusy 😭 you’re so sweet I’ll cry, I’m going to do that too you’re so terrific

I love that for us, my hotspot is named after you and I, and your AirPods are named after us, positively adorable

The debate stuff is going meh, and school is also kinda meh. I’m just paying attention to the little things in life and finding joy where I can, it’s how I’ve found easiest to keep sane.

Recently I’ve realized something about how I would want a relationship if I was interested in it. (I’m both scared of parental retribution and relatively ok with the arranged marriage thing and also dislike guys my age and I couldn’t date a girl because that’s far too risky with my parents around)

I’d probably like a reverse friends with benefits. Instead of just unholy things without romance (and commitment because it’s friends), I’d like to have purely a romantic agreement, no s*x (and still no commitment). I’m not going to exactly go out and look for it or try to have it, but I have found I dislike the idea of a relationship and I dislike s*x, but I crave hugs.

My friends are all unfortunate not super big huggers and I’m sort of looking for a 30 minute hug, so I’m unfortunately out of luck haha

I also went to my cousins wedding, and I figure an arranged marriage wouldn’t be that bad, but it brought to mind that talk we had. I saw my cousin who married last year with his wife, I love her she’s wonderful, except. How does marrying someone immediately qualify them as more important than your friends. Or that you trust them? It seems to be working just fine for all the 20-something Muslim adults I know who are marrying, the system of finding someone relatively compatible and just marrying them and I get why. Making a choice to commit to someone is more important than simply chasing feelings because relationships are about dedication, but I don’t understand how other relationships are considered less of a priority because of it, or how people view romantic relationships as tangential to platonic ones, they share some things but they ultimately diverge.

Anyways I’ll send a few pictures from the wedding later :))

#i have a lot of thoughts #i also crave being hugged #it’s not a good mixture lol

0 notes