How The Journey Began
HOW THE JOURNEY BEGAN By Azeezah Olatunde (pentalks)
It started beautifully, as anxious eyes met the first day with warmheartedness. The Masjid held the boundary of China and swamp of souls gushed in engrossed in sacred devotion to their Lord.
Obsolete wardrobe broke into submission as floods of hijab flow out. I remembered calling _Sexy Rashma_ “A Salam Alaykum, Sister Rashidah”. Also, _dopest TK_ didn’t have afro on his head but was on a Ma Sha Alalh cap which prompted my lips to say ” Brother Taofeek, how’s Ramadan?”.
The bookshelf birth it forgotten pregnancy and the dusty placenta was cleaned from the Holy Book, each lips recited it on and on ignoring all frivolous talks.
Baddest Zee’s ringtone didn’t hymn Shaku Shaku music. Baddest zee, oh sorry! Sister zainab said sudais is her best reciter and couldn’t stop playing Qur’an over and over again.
Those first ten days were breathing holiness, tranquility and gave solace to the disturbed heart. It brought unity between different races, the poor and the rich, the powerful and the weak.
And that is how the journey began…
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