Everything about Islam

She found Islam at 81 - Philomena

She found Islam at 81 - Philomena

I long cherish the day I met this woman as a redefining moment in my life. It was a cold morning in North London with nothing to look forward to besides the Friday sermon. It very quickly turned into a series of divinely orchestrated happenings that nobody could so perfectly organise besides the Lord of that day! Okay, slightly dramatic, but keep reading...

Having only recently returned from abroad, I found myself in North London staying over at my Gran's house, which has never lost its thrill since childhood. Gran's sleepovers were awesome - the only snag growing up was that we all knew a 'Gran sleepover' meant we would relentlessly be woken up for Fajr! But, given the amount of sweets she would stuff our mouths with, it seemed like a profitable trade off. I remember vividly the morning of the 11th of March. My Gran, ever full of life, and I playfully raced each other to wake the house up for Fajr. I woke up and carefully made my way downstairs in the dark to turn on the hot water and spare us a torturous cold ablution. I hear her whispering from the top of the stairs, "Son, the hot water still isn't working." The boiler man had not come yet, much to our frustration. We brave the cold water, pray Fajr and jump back in our warm cozy beds, rescued from the biting cold. I was in the habit of leaving the house after Fajr at the time, but that morning was lethally glacial. My senses convinced me to stay put. I stealthily snuck up next to my Gran in her much warmer bed, nestling against her like a spoilt child. A few deep inhales and I was sleeping beauty.

It was 11.10am, oh my God, I was late! I hurriedly left the house with my whitest dressing and newly bought Muslim hat, and briskly made my way to the bus stop. I got on the painfully crowded 29 bus. Fortunate enough to fight my way to a seat, I open my Qur'ān and begin reading Sūrah Kahf. A couple of stops further I notice an old fragile woman get on the humid bus with enough shopping bags to agitate passengers as they shamelessly barge her side to side. My heart warmed to her. I called her over from the other side to take my seat, and that is where it all started. She returned my gesture with overwhelming gratitude. She left an impression on me whilst struggling to mount herself on the seat.

"Poor woman," I thought to myself.

"Thank you very, very much," she finally panted with laboured breath. Mounting the chair exhausted her.

"That's very kind of you to get up for me," she added in a soft, just about audible, Italian accent.

"My pleasure, you are like a mother to me, your right is far greater than my gesture," I politely replied, directly translating an expression from Arabic in my head. It quickly occurred to me how terribly awkward it sounds in English. We just do not speak like that over here. Yet, it seemed to resonate deeply with her. She stared at me while her affectionate smile grew wider and wider, complimenting the reddening blushes on her face. I was humbled. I mean, apart from how adorable this old woman was, I was moved by how refreshingly human she was.

"What's that you're reading in your hand?" she asked me.

"Is it the Qur'ān?" she said with a smile, beating me to the answer.

"Yes!" I jumped, impressed, increasingly marvelling at this woman. My sympathy for her quickly grew into admiration. A welcome distraction as I close my Qur'ān leaving my index finger as a bookmark; she had stolen my attention. She had something about her; I couldn't put my finger on it just yet.

"I have always wanted to read the Qur'ān," she said. The passenger next to her calmly got up for his stop. I rushed to fill the now empty seat and learn more about her.

"This book is from God to raise our conscience and guide us towards happiness and prosperity," I said excitedly in a trained, slightly awkward, evangelical tone!