Signs from Allah

Marina is the center of attraction at the north coast. Egyptians from all over make sure to visit at least once a year. Preferably during the months of July and August. When the activities are at their peaks, the restaurants are crowded, the beaches are lined up with hot babes and the beer is always in stock.

I haven't visited Marina in 13 years, for reasons that I chose not to share here. I was very excited about seeing what Marina was like now. I remembered the jet ski rides, the asaleyya (honeycomb sweets) , the packed restaurants and the seemingly endless blue sea. When my sister told me we would go to Marina, I couldn't fall asleep. Just like when I was a child, waiting for Eid morning. The excitement and anticipation kept me up all night, and when it was time, I jumped out of bed, packed my bag and was ready to go in thirty minutes.

I was extremely happy. After all, I was going to Marina. I was going to see the people, hangouts, lifestyle and beaches of Marina. Marina..Marina..Marina. A term that I have heard a lot of times, never really knew what to imagine. I was so clueless I asked my sister, "What should I bring?"

Upon arrival, I was going crazy exploring with my eyes every detail, every moment, every color and every shape. One thing after another aroused my curiosity and interest. Some things inspired me. Other things made me sad.

Suddenly, I saw signs, that have been placed beside the road, signs that said:

"Remember Allah"

"You Might Meet Him Now"

"He's Always Watching"

"His Door is Always Open"

I don't know who put them there. But I knew the purpose, and I remember that at that time I really did remember Allah, and remembered that he was watching. A lot of other people however didn't. It was obvious from the empty beer cans that were strewn about, right beneath the signs.

That was the end of that moment.

The rest of the day we spent eating, dancing, swimming and laughing. We forgot to remember Him. We didn't bother doing our prayers on time, after all, we WERE traveling.

When we got home, washing up and getting ready to fall asleep, my cousin gets a call on her cell phone that tells her one of her best friends had died. Drowned. In Marina. Right in front of his friends' eyes. No one could help him. Freshly graduated. His father was coming over to Marina to collect the body.

We cried a lot. We prayed a lot. We made doaa for his soul. We also hoped that he had read those signs.

Struggling Veiled Girl

It surprises me that I've been wearing the hijab for almost nine years now. It has become part of my life already. My clothes are in order. I have a hijabi outfit for every occasion. I have a scarf that goes with every outfit. I have the shoes and accessories needed to look like a hijabi with style.

The problem however, visits me every year. When summer gets here. You might say that it's wearing hijab in the blistering heat that bothers me. You might think that what bothers me is trying to jog wearing hijab clothes when its 40 degrees in the shade. You might think its the new sexy tops that are out in stores that are sold for a fourth of the price of a normal hijabi top. You might think its the funky, summery hair dos that look brilliant in every way. You might think its the thin line of sweat that trickles down my back that I can't wipe away.

Its none of that. Its not even close. What bothers me most, is the beach.

You see, I have an obsession with the sea, and sand, and sea shells, and the sun, and sandcastles, and bikinis, and tanning oil, and swimming, and waves, and coconut oil, and salt water, and the white foam that forms around you as you splash through the waves.

I haven't experienced the full pleasures of going to the beach in a very long time. The closest I've been, was to just hang around the amazing north cost shore, fully covered, watching other people enjoy one of the amazing gifts Allah has given to mankind. Not realizing how lucky they are to be able to swim freely, in comfortable wear, feeling the sand on their toes, the salt water on their bodies, the wind in their hair, and the warmth of the sun on their skin. My only pleasure of going to the beach, besides marveling at the beauty of the sea, was walking beside the water, careful not to lift my skirt up too high so it shows my ankles, careful not to get the edge of my skirt wet, careful not to let the wind blow my headscarf away.

Going to the beach was a hassle. It was torture for my soul. It was like being hungry, watching delicious, mouth watering, food being served in front of your eyes and not being able to eat. The last time I went to the beach I felt like crying. I looked at other people dive in and out, having the sun color their skin. I envied them all.

I decided that unless I go to a women's only beach (someday) I'll never go to the beach again. Unless I'm strong enough to have faith in Allah. Strong enough to be patient. Strong enough to understand that the pleasures of the world are nothing in comparison the the pleasures of Jannah. That Allah gives me great thawab for resisting the temptations of Dunia. That when I see the seas of Paradise I will no longer wish for those of Dunia. 

Sometimes I wonder, how on Earth have I been able to keep this up for nine years?

Fadl from Allah.

Alhamdolelah.