Continuing our tradition of sharing reflections on Eid (see our posts from Eid-ul-Adha last year, in two parts, and from Eid-ul-Fitr this year), today we’ll be posting four reflections from Eid last week, written by Eren, Izzie, Krista, and Shireen.
All my life, I have enjoyed Eid. As a child, it used to be about waking up early and getting dressed in my brand new dress. Once I became an independent adult woman who realised she in fact could go to the mosque, I started doing that. Though women in my family didn’t go to mosques, they still were liberal enough to allow me to do so. So I used to visit the Eid Gaah alone, be it in the city I worked or in my hometown, wherever I would be that particular Eid.
After my marriage into a Salafi family that encourages women to attend public prayers, visiting the Eid Gaah became a family affair. My own father, on the other hand, has been an agnostic all his life, and didn’t celebrate Eid or any festival for that matter. He used to carry on with his usual daily routine of evening baths and newspapers, though he didn’t stop us from celebrating. But I wondered about what how much he missed out on, because as much as it is about religion, Eid is always also a family gathering.
However, after finding out about my pregnancy, and having a less-than-ideal first trimester, my Eid-ul-Adha was just like my father’s. I couldn’t visit my hometown, because I was too tired to travel. I couldn’t celebrate it in the city, because again, I was too tired and nauseous to get myself to the mosque. I couldn’t have a feast, because most of the food wouldn’t agree with me. I couldn’t let myself believe or find peace in the fact that all this sickness is a prelude to something blessed and important. In short, unlike what everyone else was telling me, I couldn’t think of it as a miracle. [Read more...]