By Mumtaz Moosa-Saley
06:04:2022

Nusaybah and Abha arrived home, and Ayshoo’s high-pitched voice could be heard piercing the walls.

I looked and Nusaybah, who shrugged her shoulders, telling me silently that she had no idea what the problem was this time. I could not think of anything that I had done that could have set my daughter off. Nusaybah must have read my mind as she gently tugged at my sleeve and smiled.

She mouths to me with a mischievous grin, “this should be good.” Making me want to giggle.

I walked over to Ayshoo, nervously playing with the buttons on my shirt, like a shy schoolboy who had been summoned to the principal’s office. “What’s going on, Ayshoo? You sound like a banshee.”, I say, smiling but knowing that I was about to be “skelled out.”

Ayshoo turns around with the wooden spoon in her right hand, poised as if she would land a few on my nether regions! “Have you seen your room, Abha? It is unkempt, and why am I finding sweet wrappers hidden under your mattress?

Had my daughter lost her sanity? My room? Unkempt?

But she was still going off on her tirade. “Abha, who is giving you all these sweets? You know better than to be eating that many sweets. Your sugar levels will go up, and you pretend you have no idea why.”

I felt guilty, like an illicit sweet dealer was supplying me on the sly!

Suddenly, she turned on Nusaybah. “And you dear? Are you the second Amigo who likes to live like a sewer rat?”  I popped my head into Nusaybah’s room; it was spotless. Looking at Nusaybah, she mirrored my look of utter confusion.

Ayshoo, though, was still going full steam. “Daddy! Do you think you’re still sixteen?” She asked while brandishing her wooden spoon into my face like a swordsman gone crazy.

“Sixteen till I die”, I retorted with a grin. That left Ayshoo feeling even more frustrated as she threw her arms up and turned around to return to the haven of her kitchen.

I grabbed Nusaybah and pulled her into my room. Fasting demanded a tremendous amount of strength from me, and I needed to get rid of the evidence of sweet wrappers in other areas of my room before Shaytaan’s keeper found those.

Just bending down to pull on my slippers at my age left me feeling like I needed a 2-hour nap to recover. So doing anything strenuous whilst fasting was undoubtedly not what I was planning.

We take things for granted when we are younger. Something as simple as fasting becomes challenging. Picking up after myself was another obstacle race I hardly liked, and well, I had no choice but to store my wrappers until I could find the strength to gather them again, so I could discard them.  Actually, I mostly forgot where I hid them.

As days pass by, my body seems more fragile, I think about my youth and how I had energy for days, and now if I don’t take a nap during the afternoon, my attention span is threatened, and my body feels like the spirit of molasses has taken it over.

It also made me feel like I was a burden to my daughter, adding to her already busy day and many chores as a housewife.

I took a moment and made a dua asking Allah to lessen my dependence on my daughter and son-in-law and lighten their burdens. Oh, my Rabb, please don’t let me be a burden. I was supposed to be there for my child, not the other way round.

Whilst I made dua, I was reminded of the hadith:

Abdullah b. ‘Anas reported that a person came to Allah’s Apostle (may peace be upon him) and sought permission (to participate) in Jihad, whereupon he (the Holy Prophet) said: Are your parents living? He said: Yes. Thereupon he (the Holy Prophet) said: You should put in your best efforts (in their) service.

My thoughts drifted. Was I ungrateful? Had Allah not allowed me to be a means of good for my daughter and her husband?