I remember arches like this at my grandma's old lane
my city so full of history war torn and in tears...
but they called her the devestator.. though she has been devestated much.. each wall, each city street, each corner spoke of history.. you can feel yourself amidst a battle scene ... or alone in dimly torched mosque in the night to pray
yes I walked her street, and of her citadel wrote a thousand prose
holding the hands of my grandmother or aunt, between its archways I ran chasing the sun.. her name rolls of my tongue like a beautiful ballade
my mother country will probably one day hold me in her deep.. as I now hold her in mine.. but no her history isn't my fondest memory nor are her old provinces and streets.. rather sleeping at my grandma's old house in Ramadan.. I wish I can re-live just one day.. living on memories is almost too much to bear seeing how many of them passed on.. nonetheless --I visit them still in my mind from time to time and especially during Ramadan.. we'd be scattered about the huge house me and my million cousins, aunts and uncles.. the grand room had six french style windows on each wall... the 5th window was my favorite.. there was a crooked nail there I used to always put my finger on as if to console it for its asymmetry.. much happened there, from soccer matches, to mothers yelling at their kids, to the cactus fruit man peeling away as we lowered our plates to him in banana leaf baskets along with 10 or 20 piasters...
but it was there too in the wee hours of the night that the 'mos7rati' (night caller) came about drumming... waking people by their first names-- Ms lila , Usama effendi wake up oh you who are sleeping and praise your lord, and with it the old lane would again come alive.. It is probably a pastime that is no longer practised?
I don't know... my uncle has died since, and so did my sweet aunt, my grandmother too, and her niece aunt kawthar and her son nabeel .. long gone is the old house, its old walls probably in some reckless abandon.. but not from my memory...
Anyhow would love to hear your stories too of your old country and your fondest memory of Ramadan..
Last edited by جوري; 09-19-2007 at 03:10 AM.
Reason: typo
Text without context is pretext If your opponent is of choleric temperament, seek to irritate him
Cairo is indeed Beautiful. You are very fortunate to have those memories.
Myself as a revert have no childhood memories of Ramadan. This is my second Ramadan as a Muslim, so I am just starting my memories.
Thank you for sharing yours. Memories come alive and are a source of joy both to the giver and to the reciever. The wonder is there is no limit with how many people they can be shared.
Cairo is indeed Beautiful. You are very fortunate to have those memories.
Myself as a revert have no childhood memories of Ramadan. This is my second Ramadan as a Muslim, so I am just starting my memories.
Thank you for sharing yours. Memories come alive and are a source of joy both to the giver and to the reciever. The wonder is there is no limit with how many people they can be shared.
Shokran akhi..your words are so kind... it is amazing, how we might not realize it, but we make memories on this forum and grow as a family.. I remember I had joy inside my heart last Ramadan and didn't know why?.. then I remembered being on LI, for the first time in a long while I shared the experience with Muslims the world over.. it was almost like being in the old house with my then huge family.. sometimes one feels so lonely in Ramadan, not just that people are eating and going about their day.. the spiritual part is just not there-- and there is no way to recapture it, as it can only exist back there.... but now, seeing people's dishes and pictures of their home, their mosques and their countries, their children and the joy on their faces, helps recapture that old feeling.. so how about this.. you don't have to tell us of your childhood memory of Ramadan but your favorite memory.. there is always that moment that warms the heart and wraps onself in a wonderful comfort blanket... that way all muslims born, or new can share in this thread insha'Allah
Text without context is pretext If your opponent is of choleric temperament, seek to irritate him
nice thread.
as an american born, i can't really imagine what it must feel like to stroll around in such an old city, though i try in my mind's eye, anyway.
it's sad how so many can not return to the lands they miss so much - either due to war or due to the lack of employment. i meet so many people who are so homesick.
i love the 2nd picture from the top.
each man thinks of his own fleas as gazelles
question authority
I clearly remember trying to fast once when I was little... then me and bros gave up because my parents had just bought a yummy looking watermelon lol.
nice thread.
as an american born, i can't really imagine what it must feel like to stroll around in such an old city, though i try in my mind's eye, anyway.
it's sad how so many can not return to the lands they miss so much - either due to war or due to the lack of employment. i meet so many people who are so homesick.
i love the 2nd picture from the top.
Thank you snakey...Maybe you can tour one day? I have lived in so many countries ( England, Saudi Arabia, Tanzania, Turkey, Holland) some for a few yrs some for months, I miss them all and along the way had to let go ( as it can deaden one to live in the past so much).. and since I've learned.. 'that home is where the heart is and I take it with me every where'
was hoping for a good turn out here but.... maybe folks are shy?
peace!
Text without context is pretext If your opponent is of choleric temperament, seek to irritate him
I clearly remember trying to fast once when I was little... then me and bros gave up because my parents had just bought a yummy looking watermelon lol.
here in the states?
Text without context is pretext If your opponent is of choleric temperament, seek to irritate him
(NB: I am not really swimming with thermus aquaticus in Yellowstone National Park. If I were, I would be dead.)
I was wondering what a special suit you must be sporting to be able to swim in there...
nonetheless, I still await a happy childhood memory or two of Ramadan's gone by...
Text without context is pretext If your opponent is of choleric temperament, seek to irritate him
I remember though, when i was about 11, my mum gave me a banana to open my fast, but i didnt realise that the fast was supposed to open in about 5 mins, so i started to eat it...and broke my fast....
I remember I used to be in high school, and the fasts used to open quickly then, and I used to walk home from school with my friend, cold wind passing by our faces, the sunset above us.....Ahhh those days...
well, i dont really have one from when i was a child, but i remember two years ago, we hooked on to satelite tv. it was/is really lovely watching the taraweeh prayers from the haram. actually, it was my best ramadan.
My memories of ramadhan are full of warmth (mostly because ramadhan was during the winter months), love and ofcourse my mums delicious food. Ramadhan was like a magical month, where everybody was so tolerant of each other, no fighting with siblings and no getting into trouble with parents. Alhamdullilah now its just as special if not better.
I dont ever remember breaking my fast intentionally, but I do remember accidently eating, sometimes a whole meal! I remember an incident where I had made the intention to fast the night before and prayed taraweeh but decided not to keep it on the morning. Later on during the day my parents were abit confused as to why I was eating, and they told me it was wrong for me to break my fast like that. Poor little me thought I had done something terribly wrong and fainted.
....If thou knowest not thy God, thou art a slave of men;
And if thou dost, thy slaves are kings and potentates.
The heart’s freedom is kingly; its slavery is death,
It is for thee to decide — to be a king or a slave.
[Baal-e-Jibreel, Allama Iqbal 1935]
My first experience with Ramadan was as a Non-Muslim living in Morocco. Initially I found it upsetting. all of my favorite eating places were closed in the day time. But, a strange thing happened. I got to know Moroccan people, as so much of the day time was available to actually speak with and watch the people. I was quite impressed with the Piety I saw.
When I was young, unfortunately Ramdan was all about the special food (such as Konafa) and the Fanos (lantern) .. also the streets full of some decorations and colorful papers .. there's one day that I tried to make a fanos by designing on some strong papers and holding them together, I put a small candle inside and after few seconds it turned into ash
I remember also Sheikh Naqshabandy and his famous nasheed on the radio, but that was recently not a childhood memory to be precise.
"Whoever saves a human life has saved the life of all mankind" (Quran 5:32).
The Muslim Jesus videos
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