بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

Author: Nahela Morales

  • Asylum Is Not a Crime, It’s a Human Right

    Asylum Is Not a Crime, It’s a Human Right

    It is important for us to understand that this is a defining moment for us as Americans. One that will possibly shape generations to come. We have a choice to either look away or wake up and join forces. Close your eyes and try to imagine for a few minutes how you would feel if your children were ripped away from you and you did not know their whereabouts. I know it’s difficult to imagine this, but many families are living through this tragedy right now in our own backyard.

    During the past year and a half, I have traveled to four borders numerous times to bear witness to the asylum-denying abuses that are taking place at the U.S.-Mexico border. From El Paso Texas (on the border and just a few miles from Ciudad Juarez, Mexico) to San Diego (close to the border and Tijuana, Baja California, Mexico) I’ve listened and spoken with asylum seekers from all across Latin America. Their stories impelled me to hop on a plane in June of 2018 to join the more than 2,500 brave women who marched to the Hart Senate Office Building in Washington D.C. to demand the end of family separations. That same day, 633 of us were arrested for exercising our right to nonviolent civil disobedience and demanding swift reunification of families separated at the border.

    Unfortunately, not much has changed. This past year several children being held in immigration ICE/DHS custody have died. The children, including infants, are being held in filthy border stations. Their clothes are soiled with mucus, feces, and breast milk. No soap. No toothbrushes. Not enough food or clean water. In December, a 16-year-old Guatemalan boy named Carlos was put in a cell at a border patrol station after being diagnosed with the flu and a temperature of 103. The following day he was found dead in his cell.

    We must understand that marching is no longer enough, not when this administration is enacting policies that violently separate families, incarcerate children in detention camps, and criminalize human beings coming to our country in search of safety. Not when we see photos and videos of children crying for their parents and see the fear and trauma on their faces. We now know what immigration enforcement does and what it looks like. The images we have seen, the cries we have heard evoke the worst moments in our country’s history, and we can no longer turn away.

    Again, this is a defining moment. One that will most certainly shape our future generations. We need to come together as one. We need bold, strategic, and targeted resistance. We cannot be silent. Please wake up; our fight is far from over. Mobilize, organize, register to vote, and pray for these children, their families, and for the end of the injustices happening worldwide. We cannot be silent. We must speak out. It is our responsibility as Muslims and our obligation as human beings.

  • Una Mision de Amor

    Una Mision de Amor

    A medida que inicié mi viaje más importante de Dawah a México, me puse a reflexionar y pensar en mis últimas tres misiones de divulgación. “¿Por qué era este el más importante?”, Me pregunté a mí misma, siendo que estaba viajando con menos equipaje y sola. Sin embargo, la respuesta era que iba para llamar a mi abuelita al Islam, mientras se encontraba en su lecho de muerte, y no sería algo fácil. Ver a mi familia angustiada y sentimental sería difícil, también. Hice este viaje en exclusiva para ella, para mi abuelita. Ella pidió verme y yo tomé esta solicitud como mi última oportunidad para transmitir el mensaje del Islam a ella. Mientras estaba volando sobre el Golfo de México le supliqué al Todopoderoso que abriera su corazón e hiciera que sus últimas palabras sean las mejores palabras, las palabras de Tauhid.

    Ha sido bastante tiempo desde que soy musulmana y he pasado por varias pruebas pero esta era la primera vez que Alá me estaba probando con la muerte. La muerte siempre parece estar tan lejos hasta que lo estás presenciando realmente. Para una conversa, la muerte es aún más aterradora y una de nuestras peores pesadillas. La idea de perder a un familiar me recuerda a nuestro amado Profeta Muhammad, la paz sea con él, cuando intentó llamar a su tío, Abu Talib, al Islam sin éxito.

    Hoy estoy experimentando esto con la posibilidad de perder a mi abuela quien me acogió desde los 3 meses hasta los 5 años. Durante visitas previas, nos habíamos sentado a conversar pero debido a su edad, siempre terminaba la conversación para evitar molestarla. He suplicado muchísimo, pidiéndole a mi Creador que me ayude con las mejores palabras para decirle. Como dije anteriormente, este viaje era diferente porque no llevaba 10, 11, o 12 maletas llenas de donaciones para los musulmanes de México, ni iba con un grupo de voluntarios. En el pasado, visitaba a mi familia por algunos días antes de visitar a las comunidades musulmanas para proporcionarles materiales islámicos, para dar una lectura o para ayudar a restaurar una mezquita. Sin embargo, me sentí más bendecida en poder compartir una conversación privada con este ser tan maravilloso quien me cuidó incondicionalmente.

    Al llegar, rompí en llanto viéndola tan débil, delgada y con oxígeno; como mínimo fue devastador. Una tía me aconsejó que saliera y me lavara la cara porque mi abuelita me necesitaba fuerte y no llorando. Cuando regresé al cuarto me fije en una pintura de la Virgen de Guadalupe, una imagen de María, la madre de Jesús, que es venerada e incluso adorada en México, y claro, me incomodó un poco porque la consideraba un obstáculo para mi misión.

    Mi abuela se despertó y al ver que yo estaba allí, ella sonrió y me pidió que me acercara. La abracé como siempre, apretándola con todas mis fuerzas. Ella gritó y dijo: “¡Tú me vas a romper!” Nos reímos y nos contemplamos la una a la otra. Yo le dije que la amaba y que todo iba a estar bien. Ella preguntó por mi hijo y le dije que estaba bien y en la escuela. Le dije, “Estoy aquí para ti, para cuidarte sin interrupciones, sólo tú y yo”.

    Mi visita fue corta pero pareció larga debido a los momentos agradables que pasamos juntas. Yo tuve la oportunidad de darle de comer, bañarle y durante todo tuvimos varias conversaciones acerca de la unicidad de Dios. Una hermana de la comunidad de la Ciudad de México llamada Nabíla se unió a mí para ofrecer su apoyo, el mejor regalo que Dios me envió, mashaAllah. Con su ayuda, pudimos hablar con ella y el resto de mi familia sobre el Islam. También durante su visita dimos Shahada a una joven local que se encontró con ella en el autobús de camino a verme. Al tercer día de mi visita, mientras la hermana Nabíla y yo salimos, el retrato de la Virgen de Guadalupe había sido retirado de la pared.

    La última noche que pasé al lado de mi abuelita le pregunté si creía en Dios como el Todopoderoso y el único Creador y ella me respondió que sí. Le pregunté: “¿Quién es Jesús?” Ella respondió: “Un mensajero de Dios”. Le pregunté si ella cree que él es el hijo de Dios, a lo que ella respondió que no. Trate de introducir la segunda parte del testimonio de la fe, pero ella se sintió abrumada. Me pidió que dejara las cosas así, ya que nunca había oído hablar del Profeta Muhammad, la paz sea con él. Al regresar a los Estados Unidos le comenté al imam local del incidente y él me informó que debido a su edad avanzada (104 años) y condición, fue suficiente, y Alá sabe mejor.

    Hoy me siento aquí muy agradecida por la oportunidad de completar esta misión y la oportunidad de ver a mi abuela por diferentes motivos. Fue maravilloso pasar tiempo con ella a pesar de que extrañe mucho a mi hijo, ya que nunca había estado lejos de él. Tampoco había visto a toda mi familia tan unida y dispuesta a escuchar lo que tenía que decir. Todos hicieron muchas preguntas y, por primera vez, después de todos estos años, sentí su aceptación y amor. Le pido a Dios que guíe nuestras familias, que nos dé la sabiduría para transmitir el hermoso mensaje del Islam, que los colme con la misma dulzura que hemos sido bendecidos y que nos permita vernos tanto en esta vida como la siguiente. Amen.

  • A Mission of Love

    A Mission of Love

    As I embarked on my most important dawah trip to Mexico, I began to reflect and think of my past three outreach missions. “Why was this the most important?” I asked myself, “I am traveling with the least amount of luggage and alone.” The answer was that I was going in order to call my elderly grandmother to Islam, while she lay on her deathbed, and it would not be easy. Seeing my family in distress and emotional would be hard, as well. I booked this trip exclusively for her, my “Abuelita,” my grandma. She requested to see me, and I took this request as my last opportunity to convey the message of Islam to her. As I was flying over the Gulf a Mexico I prayed for the Almighty to open her heart and make her last words be the best words, words of tawheed.

    It’s been quite some time since I became Muslim and I have been tested in various ways but this was the first time Allah was testing me with death. Death always seems so distant until you are actually experiencing it. As a convert, death is even more frightening, and one of our biggest challenges is losing a family member who does not embrace Islam. I am reminded of our beloved Prophet, peace be upon him, when he called his uncle, Abu Talib, to Islam, but to no avail.

    Today I am experiencing this with the possibility of losing my grandmother who took care of me from the tender age of 3 months until I was almost 5 years old. In previous visits we sat and had several conversations but due to her age I have always dropped the conversation to avoid upsetting her. I have made tons of du’a and asked my Creator to help me with the best words to say to her. Again, this trip was different because I was not carrying 10, 11, or 12 pieces of luggage full of donations for the Muslims in Mexico, nor did I have a group of volunteers. In the past I would come to visit my family a couple of days at a time before visiting Muslim communities to either provide them with Islamic material, give a talk, or help restore/rebuild a masjid. However, I feel more blessed to be able to have a one-on-one conversation with this wonderful woman who unconditionally cared for me.

    Upon my arrival, I broke down so see her so weak, thin and with oxygen; it was devastating to say the least. I was advised by an aunt to step out, wash my face, and come back. She told me that she needed me to be strong and not crying, so I did just that. When I came back to the room I noticed a huge poster of the virgin of Guadalupe, a depiction of Mary, the mother of Jesus, that is revered and even worshipped in Mexico, and of course, I was a bit bothered by it because I saw it as an obstacle to my mission.

    My grandmother woke up and when she saw that I was there, she smiled and asked me to come close. I hugged her as always, so tight and with all my might. She yelled and said, “You are going to break me!” We both laughed and gazed at each other. I told her I love her and that everything was going to be okay. She asked about my son and I told her he was fine and at school. I told her, “I am here for you, to care for you without interruptions, just me and you.”

    My visit was short but seemed long because of the quality time we spent together. I got a chance to feed her, bathe her and throughout all that we had several conversations about the oneness of God. A sister from the Mexico City community named Nabila joined me to offer her support, the best gift Allah sent my way, mashaAllah. With her help, we were able to speak to her and the rest of my family about Islam. Also during her visit we gave Shahada to a local young girl whom she ran into on the bus on her way to see me. By the third day of my stay, while Sister Nabila and I had stepped out, the poster of the virgin of Guadalupe had been removed from the wall.

    The last night I spent by my grandmother’s side I asked her if she believed in God as the Almighty and sole Creator and she said yes. I asked her, “Who is Jesus?” She replied, “A messenger of God.” I asked if she believed he is the son of God, to which she replied no. We tried covering the second part of the testimony of faith but she was overwhelmed. She asked me to leave it at that, since she had never heard of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him. Upon returning to the States I asked the local imam about the incident and he informed me that due to her advanced age (104) and condition, it was enough and Allah knows best.

    Today I sit here so grateful for the opportunity to complete this mission and the opportunity to see my grandmother on different grounds. It was wonderful to spend quality time with her even though I missed my son so much, as I had never been apart from him. I had also never seen my entire family so united and willing to hear what I had to say. Everyone asked tons of questions and for once, after all these years, I felt their acceptance and love. I ask Allah to guide our families, to give us the wisdom to convey the beautiful message of Islam, to shower them with the sweetness we have been blessed with, and to allow us to see one another both in this life and the next. Ameen.