HIJAB; A WAY TO MORALITY. part 1

The core message of Islam is Morality. Abu Hurayrah relates that Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said: “I have only been sent to perfect good moral character.”  [ Musnad Ahmad (8595)]

Islam is the only religion that takes care of all the needs of man. Islam is so comprehensive that it does not accept anything once it contradict it teachings .

Islam is like no other religion which lack a book of life directing the affairs of it adherence, which accepts everything from the West; whether Good or Bad. If all the messages of Islam turn to a ball, then they will revolve around a moral orbit. Our religion teaches us uprightness.

Islam has prescribed the Hijab for a female in order for to be covered and be modest, because Islam realizes the value of a female's body, so she's very well reserved, many valuable things are found beneath the surface of the earth like gold, diamond, they are very well reserved because they are precious. Islam really cares for a female and this is why she is very respected and revered.

Those who hate Hijab are enemies of morality and advocate of waywardness. This so called CIVILIZATION is a clear means of mass destruction and madness.

Civilization does not cater for morality or right conducts, it only takes us back to our animalistic lifestyle where we cover ourselves with leaves. In fact, in the name of so called "civilization", people are now walking half clothed with no sense of shame- is this civilization or madness?. There must be an end to this insanity, we need to advocate for the Hijab- the only way to ensure modesty and a proper way of dressing for the females.

Our forefathers have lived a life that staunch people cried for it return. They have laid a culture that we have trashed after taking the deceives of the West. We are keen to rubbish our fathers thinking they were illiterates and out of fashion; not knowing that they were the best generation - we long for their generation once again.

A critical work on our "culture" revealed how it cherished modesty, shyness, respect, and reverence - all in the sphere of morality which our religion teaches. These are what the West wanted to take away from our fathers-  which they rejected. Look at our generation which fall a victim, we are no where to be found in the world with what we sold our morality and decency for - what a victim of circumstances?

Unfortunately, there are people who actually use educational platforms to accomplish their evil missions. They are Western oriented people. They hide under many irrelevant things. These people are easily known; they have followed the path of Westerners- What do you expect?. We also have some crooks among other religious body, people see them as men of God but in actual sense they are bigotries who impersonate themselves to accomplish their evil mission, they love the indecencies of our women folks, they never wanted them to cover their-selves as it will block the immortality acts they commit; for instance a pastor impregnating the church member.  Morally upright members are always at war with such crooks. It just a matter of time, God will bring them to book.

By Brother Abdulsalam Muh Abideen.

HIJAB; A WAY TO MORALITY. part 2

How can covering of the body become odd and walking half naked become a norm, and we claim to be civilized?, who is more civilized than the creator who created the world and prescribed the Hijab?.

What should be preserved is now opened to everybody, our females now lack the sense of worthiness and uphold indecency, those who cover themselves are condemned while those who walk half naked are praised. This nation is at the verge of destruction, what a pity. I cry for what the next generation will showcase. This present generation is a disgrace, it needs reformation through the Hijab, this indecency is becoming unbearable!. The society is polluted.

Hijab became a step stone to war. What a pity?, people see the Hijab as an oppression and burdensome, we are brainwashed by the madness going on in the society, only the saved one realized this, the one who surrenders himself as an instrument will never see anything wrong in the dressing of our women folks.

Even the government is a victim of this madness, when will our females be saved?.

Hijab is a way to Morality and Morality is the normality that  turns to abnormalities which afterwards cause series of immoralities and make our females shameless. Kudos to those females observing their Hijab in the right manner, those females with sense of worth and value. May Allah reward you all.

We need to encourage HIJAB and inculcate manners to our female children right from their tender age so that they don't grow to become shameless as most females of today are.

Oh! Women of yesterday, this generation missed you.

Hijab for women which serves as a red light or stop signal to control the gaze of the onlookers. It indicates to them, that the female wearing the hijab is not a random female, but a righteous believing slave who fears her Lord. The Hijab of a Muslimah indicates to the onlookers that their stares and comments are not welcomed and that she is not a public

property like the other shameless females, she is a female with worth, sense value.

Those in educational sector should stop creating fear in the heart of our children. Putting on Hijab as nothing to do with their education. The teachers have nothing to loose if they put on Hijab but many things to gain. Peace and Harmony will reign in the education system.

The government should take a great action towards returning morality to the society through the use of Hijab for anyone who wishes to use it, it is their right to wear the Hijab and be modest, anywhere and anytime.

God bless our dear country and our female folks.

By Brother Abdulsalam Muh Abideen.

THE DAY I DIED. part 2

I failed! I failed! I failed!
My girlfriend paid me a visit. She was a devil. When I was alive, I saw her as a pretty angel-my pretty angel who loved me and would do anything to make me happy. If I had the ability, I would have cursed her and demanded her to leave the morgue. She put her hand on my forehead. I allowed her to do that for the past four years. Now that I was opposed to it, I could do nothing about it. The devil cried for hours at my side. She just would not leave. I felt cheated. I felt like she pulled a prank on me for the past couple years of my life. I hated this devil! She was ugly! She smelled horrible! She finally left. As she walked out the door, my heart was filled with fear and anxiety.
The funeral was simple. My body was washed. I didn't seem to care that my naked body was exposed. My worries far surpassed my desire to be modest. I was wrapped in three white sheets. About three hundred people attended my funeral. I was saddened not to see my mom at the funeral. I wished she came to see me one last time before they put me in the ground. I never knew so many people cared about me. Many just stared at the tightly wrapped figure in disbelief. Others cried and cried some more.
The mass prayed for me. Thousands of individual prayers were made. They asked Allah to have mercy on me. They asked Him to forgive me. I wanted to pray for myself, but I couldn't speak. I was helpless. I was carried to the hole in the middle of the barren desert. The people followed. It seemed like slow motion. I didn't want to go. If I had 24 bonus hours, I would pray non-stop. They lowered me into the ground. The anticipation was eating away at me. I had surely failed life. I thought back on everything that I had worked so hard to accomplish. I earned a college degree. I had a well paying job. I spent hours and hours in the weight room ever since I was 16 years old developing my body. I had a pretty girlfriend who loved me. In that life, that was a badge of honor. But as they were lowering me into this grave, which seemed like it took forever, I realized that I couldn't use any of those 'accomplishments'. If only I had been that dedicated to making salah five times daily, I would have been at peace right now. Instead, I am a nervous wreck beyond anything you all can comprehend.
Dirt fell in the hole. Darkness overcame my new home. The last shovels of sand filled the grave. Everyone sadly walked away. The graveyard started to empty. Family by family. Mine was the last to leave. The attendant left. By nightfall it was just me. All alone.
My wrapping was soaked in sweat. I nervously awaited the angels to come and question me. They finally did. My final judgement has not been reached yet. I am now waiting for judgment day. Still lying here, alone, as day comes and night falls. Soon, I will meet Allah Himself and He will decide whether He will forgive me or not. I can only lay here, wait and hope that The All Forgiving, The Most Merciful, forgives me and does not punish me. I hope. That is all I have right now. Hope.
By Brother Saleh Ali.

THE DAY I DIED. part 1

Life is unpredictable. But I always thought I could predict what was going to happen next. It was only six days ago. I was driving home with my friends, Malik and Omar. It was Halloween night. We had just watched the movie Saw 3 at the recently refurbished theater at the 3rd Street Promenade in Santo Monica, CA. It was 11:46 p.m. when I glanced at the clock on the dashboard and realized I hadn't made Isha. But I didn't say anything, so as not to upset the mood. Just three hours earlier, I put off the Isha prayer until after the movie. Now, I was running out of time.
I only lived 26 years. My 27th birthday was exactly two weeks away. I always imagined I would live long. At least until age 60. It just wasn't imaginable that I would have such a sudden, unexpected death. I had graduated from the University of Southern California three years earlier with a degree that means absolutely nothing right now. Shortly after, I landed a job as a marketing director of a major clothing company. Aside from the usual life problems, I was living a normal life. My girlfriend of four years was starting to pressure me into us getting a place together. I knew I wasn't supposed to have a girlfriend in the first place, but I enjoyed her company and friendship. I wasn't ready to give that up. I used to always tell myself that eventually I would marry her. Plus, what would these few years of living a sinful life mean by the time I got older?
My job, my girlfriend, and my life-long friends took up the majority of my time. It seemed I never had time to offer salah. I hardly even had time to sit down and eat. Offering salah was always something that continuously bugged me. The more I postponed my salahs, the more it irritated me. I did give an effort to keep up on my salahs. But for the last two years of my life I gave up. I pretty much stopped making salah altogether. I never made it home in time to make salah that day. Saw 3 was a walk through the rose garden compared to what I was about to experience. I was doing 85 mph on Freeway 10. At 12 midnight, 85 mph is not considered speeding. Omar flipped through FM radio stations searching for a song he liked. Malik had fallen asleep in the back seat. I began to doze off too.
I used to hate when that happened. I shook out of what seemed like a 10 second snooze. I tried to keep my eyes open, but again I dozed off. Omar screamed, 'HEY!’ It was too late. The car struck the center divider and spun back into the flow of traffic. An oncoming car hit my door. That car was also hit by another vehicle. We finally came to a halt somewhere in the middle of the freeway- a hundred yards from the spot of the collision. I didn't feel any pain. I was just dizzy. I heard Omar and Malik moaning, as good civilians tried pulling us from the wreck.
I wasn't rescued until the fire fighters arrived. It was quite a task recovering my battered body from my totaled car. Breathing became difficult. The fire fighters huddled around me and frantically applied device after device. 'He's not gonna make it,' I heard one of them say. I 'm not gonna make it? How? I didn't feel like I was dying. I felt nothing. My heart started pounding. I was soaked in sweat and blood. I saw Malik standing over the top of me with tears in his eyes. 'Don't quit on me', he told me. At that time, I knew it was over. I started to cry. The fire fighters moved him away as they made the last attempts to revive me. I died. An angel came to me and removed my soul. I watched him fly away with it in disbelief. 'How could you? I'm not even 27,' I pleaded. 'It's time,' he told me and left. Two minutes later they pulled a white sheet over me. Omar and Malik, apparently doing better than I, pulled the sheet back to look at me one last time. They cried their eyeballs out; I had known them ever since I was 13 years old and had never seen either one cry. It was a depressing sight.
The ride to the morgue, until then, was the worst experience I ever had. I was alone. It was dark and cold. I missed my mom. I missed my brother. I missed my sister. I wished I had spent that last night with my family instead of with Omar and Malik. I worried what my mother was going to do when she saw me in this state. I was ugly. When we finally arrived, I was placed in another cold room with dozens of other dead people. I missed my family so much. Every so often, a family came in to view their dead. I always thought it was my family, but it wasn't. Hour after hour passed. No mom. No dad. I started to cry again. Then one odd hour, I recognized voices. My father walked in with my mother in his arms. His face worn from stress. Hers, wet with tears. They just stared into my eyes and cried. I stared back. I wanted to tell them I loved them. I couldn't. I wanted to hug them. I couldn't. Mom stroked my bloodied hair and left.
I was to be buried the next day. When my parents left, it hit me. I never made Isha! My heart jumped out of my chest. I owed Allah a salah and failed to deliver it to him. I had hundreds of missed salahs over the past two years. Now I was about to face Him. I felt powerless. For those of you who have never experienced guilt at death, there is not a worldly feeling that amounts to it. It is guilt and sorrow at another level. I tried getting up to make Isha, but I couldn't move. It was over. I had no second chance.
Then I began to think back. I never knew my memory was so good. I had more than enough time to ponder as I was awaiting my burial. I literally remembered every single salah I missed and the reasons why I missed them. Most were laziness, procrastination and neglectfulness. I knew I was in trouble. I wished they would take longer to bury me.
By Brother Saleh Ali.