![\"\"](\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/92\/2012\/07\/Alberta.jpg\" "\\"Alberta\\"")
<\/a>While I have always been one for living and experiencing a new city, town, state, province \u2013 whatever \u2013 the shock of the sight of the prairie was, well, enough to leave me in a near-crippling abyss of self-woe. I had arrived into a town of 1200 people (although no more than 30 were ever <\/em>visible), not even with an MA in hand- just a final copy of my thesis \u2013 thinking that within a month, maybe two, I\u2019d be working at some kick arse, welcome-to-the-gunz-show kinda job. That\u2019s right. I wholeheartedly believed that I wouldn\u2019t be a victim of statistics and have to wait seven months, at minimum, after graduation before I would get any hint of a slightly disposable income.<\/p>\n Here I am now: 10 months, 80 applications, one acceptance-turned-into-a-rejection and one full-out-rejection later. Everything that should have worked, didn\u2019t. Everyone who should have helped, didn\u2019t. I\u2019m 25, with a Masters degree from a great university in a hot field, having focused on a hot subject, and with an illustrious writing career \u2013 WHY THE HELL IS MY SENSE OF ENTITLEMENT NOT RESULTING IN ANYTHING? I thought privilege was supposed to get you something.<\/p>\n Instead \u2013 I\u2019m 25, with a Masters degree from a great university in a hot field, having focused on a hot subject, and with an illustrious writing career and \u2026I\u2019m working for my parents, in a convenience store.<\/p>\n I couldn\u2019t be more blessed.<\/p>\n I now live in a town of about 3000 people (moving on up from that 1200), which is about 7-8 hours by car from the Arctic circle. The north of Canada is truly a whole other place, a whole other experience. While people implore me to go to the Middle East, South East Asia, Europe, to \u201cdiscover\u201d the world, I can\u2019t help but scoff. This little town, in the Middle of Nowhere Alberta, has taught me far more about myself and the people who surround me than any expensive, overseas adventure ever could.<\/p>\n A convenience store is the microcosm of life. Every sin and virtue is apparent. Every human interaction counts and every penny and dollar spent and shared speaks beyond the metal and paper upon which they are printed. Neighbours smile; old men think nothing of sexual harassment. There\u2019s a farmers\u2019 market run by old women; they sell delicious loaves of bread. Fifteen seems like the average age when most mothers first give birth. The skies are big, constantly throwing the remembrance of God into your eyes. Life is quaint.<\/p>\n There is a surprising number of Muslims in this town \u2013 in fact, our deputy mayor is Palestinian. The local mechanic shop is filled with beautifully scripted Qur\u2019anic ayahs and daily adhaan. We get our halaal chicken from a Hutterite chicken farmer, who is visited by a Muslim restaurant owner kind enough to zabihah some chickens for us alongside his own share for his menu. The farmer charges a very cheap rate for however many chickens we order and delivers them, without extra charge, from two hours away. Jordanians. Palestinians. Pakistanis. Aboriginals. Chinese. Lebanese. Kashmiris. The Muslims in this town come from all walks of life and are, in many ways, the heartbeat of this town \u2013 they run the major local restaurants, hotels, gas stations, convenience stores and mechanic shops. There are generations of Muslims here. I can\u2019t help but scoff at the fa\u00e7ade of \u201cmulticulturalism\u201d we parade in Southern Canada. No one questions why you\u2019re here; no one displaces you immediately with a metropolitan \u201cwhere are you from?\u201d \u2013 you\u2019re probably here to make a living, so welcome.<\/p>\n A void, however, remains. After being used to years of community iftars, taraweeh, group suhurs and just communal support\u2026 I\u2019ve had a hard time getting into the Ramadan spirit on my own. My parents are unable to do the 18-hour fasts due to health reasons this year. We are all constantly busy at the store. I don\u2019t even have Rooh Afza, a Pakistani staple for this month and the Macgyver of desserts. Ramadan, with my family, has always been a grand affair. Even if it was just the four of us, we would somehow be able to create an atmosphere of an entire community within our tiny home. These days, suhur is a personal and short affair and iftar is lonely, with just my mother and me, sitting in the kitchen together, drinking tea, eating dates.\u00a0 It\u2019s hard not to think of the tough work, long hours and backaches. The closest masjid is an hour and some minutes away and because of our schedule, we never get the time to go. It doesn\u2019t feel like the Ramadan I\u2019ve known for as long as I\u2019ve been fasting \u2013 but in its exceptionalism it has done and is continuing to do much good for my soul.<\/p>\n People can be distracting. Big dinners, group prayer \u2013 all of this can be distracting during a time when personal reflection is so incredibly important. Community is so very important for the well-being and sustenance of our ummah, but I cannot help but say: guys, I need a breather. Being in the Middle of Nowhere Alberta has forced me to go from a spoiled and selfish brat to a socially isolated, self-reflective, faux-solipsist Muslim struggling to reconnect not only with God but her family. Six years of independent living, 3000 miles from your parents, can do that. You spend so much time just with yourself: fending for yourself, dealing with issues on your own \u2013 you become self-reliant in such a way that to re-integrate others in an intimate way (not in that roommate way) becomes daunting, almost near impossible. It\u2019s been a struggle, but to have the opportunity to spend this much time with family again \u2013 perhaps for the last time, in such a capacity \u2013 has been invaluable. More important than any job or career or accomplishments have been the moments of pure elation and sadness I\u2019ve experienced in the arms of my family.<\/p>\n I wasn\u2019t always selfish. Or maybe was but it never struck me, since I never seemed to have time to reflect on it. Now, however, it\u2019s all I usually think about. Spiritually, I\u2019m frail. I am frail in that I need more. I am so very hungry this Ramadan. After years of being inundated with people and noise, I am hungry for a quiet moment. I am hungry for a moment with myself where I can look at myself, what I have become and prepare for what I want to become.<\/p>\n And this Ramadan, in the Middle of Nowhere, has set the table for the feast.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/a>