Hi! On this post I will take you through my earliest memories in this life. Get to know me on a personal level and learn why I started this blog! Head over to About to learn more and get a better insight of this blogs main focus and my intentions.
Thanks for reading, I hope you will enjoy!
If you’ve ever felt like the world is too big, too confusing or just downright overwhelming to tackle on your own, then this article is for you. I will take you through life as a young immigrant little girl from an Islamic background to the West in one of the coldest countries in the entire world.
In my home country I started off life very promising to not so great after relocation. Everything from losing faith in Allah to finding Him again, going through catastrophe after catastrophe.
From being married, to divorced. Declining marriage at the age of 18 from my fraudulent high school sweetheart. Juggled multiple businesses from the age of 16. Losing friends and family, isolation, therapy, mental health retreats from within. Living abroad, living in different cities, facing racism and discrimination as a woman and so much more – to now finding that light, that purpose, peace of mind and success.
Will some of my life lessons and experiences help someone find theirs? Probably, or maybe not. Or maybe you´ll find it dramatic and enjoyable to read? Either way, I am glad you found me.
I am not going to sugarcoat it, it would make me happy if I had only one reader that I can help through all my upcoming articles. It has not been easy to write as sometimes I have relived some traumatic events all over again. Although it has not been easy, I am glad I had the courage to write it down somewhere – and now finally I have found the courage to publish my journey through my blog.
As I am writing page after page on my word document, I filmed it and sent what I had written to my family group on Snapchat, one of my siblings asked if I was going to write a book or something. It was around the time I planned to open this website. The 12 pages that I wrote at the time I filmed, was just draft from my journals.
They were not supposed to be published anywhere. It was just supposed to be for me and my healing process. I love to write, always have. I have plenty of journals from since i was a child in all kinds of shapes and colors. Nowadays, I just write from my Macbook in a Word document and on my phone in the notes app.
I figured I could share my journey with the world in hope to reach the right audience. I hope this entire blog in itself will help someone and take you to new heights in your life with the information and wisdom I have learned throughout the years. All is based on Islam, spirituality and mentality. With that being said, let me introduce myself properly.
Ah, the memories of my Quran school days in North Africa, Sudan! Thinking back, it’s like unlocking a treasure trove of nostalgia.
Picture this: a bustling school teeming with over 100 students per class, each corner with youthful energy and eager minds. Boys on one side, girls on the other, with the classroom split right down the middle. Our uniforms? Blue and white perfection, with details that screamed school spirit. Rows upon rows of benches and chairs, stretching horizontally and vertically, like a giant grid of knowledge-seeking adventurers, almost like in Harry Potter movies when all the students gather. And at the helm of it all, the teacher’s chamber, commanding respect from the front of the class.
The school was the talk of the town, a place of education and tradition. Every parent wanted their kids to attend, including mine. In fact, I wasn’t the only one from my family—my sibling and a few cousins were part of the Quranic school too.
We weren’t just studying the holy Quran, we got regular classes as well as diving deep into the depths of Tafsir (explanation & interpretations of verses) and recitations learning the sacred scriptures.
With each lesson, we not only memorized verses but delved deeper into their meanings based on scientific discoveries, archaeologists excavating, and the time of all prophets mentioned in the Quran. Those days were more than just school—they were a journey of discovery, a quest for knowledge that shaped us into knowledgeable young kids with great wisdom, almost just like we are striving to become today.
My teacher was straight out of a spooky storybook, like the villain in a horror themed movie. She rocked the same white dress and hijab combo every single day. I am sure the teachers had their own respective uniforms. Sure, she seemed all sophisticated and knowledgeable when it came to teaching the scripture, but man, she had a dark side.
Let me set the scene: I’m just a wee wee 4-year-old, innocent as can be, and I forget a couple of verses and my pen one day. Big whoop, right? Wrong. This teacher was on a mission to make my life miserable. She didn’t get the memo that I was a pint-sized human with the attention span of a goldfish. So, what’s her solution? A punishment straight out of the medieval ages. I had to stand next to her throne (aka her desk) and hoist my hands up like I’m trying to touch the ceiling, all while contemplating my life choices. Sometime she would even strike me on my little palms with her little stick or ruler.
This torture routine went on for what felt like eons, until one day, I said, “Enough is enough!” I wasn’t about to spend my preschool years doing impromptu arm workouts. So, I did what any smart kid would do—I snitched to my auntie. My aunt Mona is the ultimate rebel with a heart of gold! She’s not just protective, she’s like the superhero of coolness. Picture the girl everyone wants to befriend, and that’s my auntie.
So there I was, sentenced to another session of “standing against the wall” for crimes like breathing or sneezing (seriously, according to my teacher, it’s forbidden for 4-year-olds!). But then, out of the blue, in rolls my aunt like the cavalry! She storms into the classroom like a boss, giving my teacher a piece of her mind. With a flair for dramatic exits, she declares that my parents have signed the decree: I’m outta there!
Leaving that place behind wasn’t easy. The disappointment in my relatives’ eyes weighed heavily on my heart. They had seen potential in me, envisioned a future where I’d become a Hafiz (fully memorize the entire Quran), with the Quran being part of the life I grew up with and of my being.
Reflecting on it now, at 25, it’s like looking back at a shattered dream. The realization hits hard, like a wave of regret crashing over me. I can’t help but wonder what could have been, had I stayed the course.
I am not your typical Muslim girl; boy I wish I was. People do not assume that I am Muslim, and certainly not a practicing one. I am however practicing and I encourage every Muslim that struggles to fulfill all five pillars of Islam, to set on a new journey and ask Allah (SWT) to guide you there. He knows your heart better than you know yourself. The five pillars are the most important factors of our religion, just strive to get there first and I believe the rest will follow along.
Amidst the sadness of leaving the school, there’s a glimmer of gratitude. Sort of a light in the darkness. It’s my badass auntie, the hero of my story. She swooped in like a guardian angel, rescuing me from the clutches of that nightmare teacher.
So here’s to you, Auntie Mona, for being my saving grace in a sea of disappointment. Your bravery may have spared me from that torment, but the ache of unfulfilled potential still lingers, a silent reminder of what might have been.
Back then, I couldn’t quite grasp the magnitude of what was happening. But looking back, I see it was a divine intervention. My parents and relatives were ecstatic, seeing the bigger picture that I couldn’t quite fathom at the time. But alas, our joy was short-lived. Soon after, we got word that we were packing our bags and heading westward in the early 2000s. Talk about a plot twist!
Back in the day, my folks didn’t sweat it when I headed off to school solo. It was just a hop, skip, and a jump away, a few minutes’ walk tops. Distance? Pfft, not an issue. Looking back, it was like living in a bubble of safety, especially compared to my later adventures in Europe. Who knew our neighborhood was a fortress of tranquility? Sure, there were no wars at the time in Sudan, but the air crackled with tension from political unrest. Thankfully, we had a squad of family and neighbors keeping watch.
Now, I won’t dive too deep into the nitty-gritty, but let’s just say our peaceful bubble wasn’t always so peaceful. We had some unwelcome visitors—terrorist groups with a penchant for robbing innocent folks like us. You might be wondering; how did we survive all that? Well, call it luck or call it divine intervention, but Allah (SWT) protected us immensely. Memories of those encounters are etched into my brain, but we’ll save that tale for another time.
Fast forward to 2005, and I’m off on a new adventure—a young immigrant girl navigating the wilds of Western society. Buckle up, folks, cause this is where the real fun begins!
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Alright, let’s jazz up this tale of adventure
So, picture this: my parents had this grand plan for us—to jet off to the West in search of safety and a shot at a better life. At the time, I was clueless about the whole shebang, but let me tell you, it was like preparing for a Hollywood premiere. We had medical exams, photo shoots (okay, maybe not glamorous ones), and interviews, all to make it through the government’s red tape.
Fast forward to the big day—we’re strapped into our seats, soaring towards Amsterdam, the pit stop before our final destination. Now, I hadn’t laid eyes on my dad in what felt like eons, and let me tell you, the anticipation was killing me. Cue the waterworks—I’m practically a waterfall as I spot him waiting for us. I leap into his arms, and let me tell you, it was like something out of a movie.
Now, let’s talk about my dad. This guy? He’s used to be the real MVP. He’d been grinding it out in Europe for a good few years before we showed up, hustling to set the stage for our grand entrance. From job hunting to paperwork wrangling, he did it all solo, armed with nothing but faith and determination.
So there we were, touching down in our new homeland, and boy, was it a sight to behold. Snow? Check. New faces? Check. A whole new way of life? Double check. It was like stepping into a whole new universe. And me? Well, let’s just say my wardrobe was not prepared for the chilly welcome. But hey, with a purple suede dress, black bow, and ballerina shoes, I was ready to take on whatever this new chapter had in store. Bring on the snowflakes and culture shock—I was here for it all!
Get ready for a rollercoaster ride of emotions
Picture this: my dad, the ultimate immigrant superhero, had already sorted out school for all three of us. And let me tell you, education was his jam—right after our religion, of course. He studied law and had a few businesses in our home country before he left off to Europe and America because of political issues and threats, but also for a better life for all of us because of the poor situation of our homeland. Our adventure kicked off in the heart of a Scandinavian country, where we had a pit stop before our final destination, Norway.
As the taxi pulled up to our new digs, I couldn’t shake this queasy feeling. Talk about sensory overload for a 6-year-old! Late October of 2005, Sunday, freezing temps, and snow falling like it’s auditioning for a winter wonderland movie. But here’s the kicker—we weren’t just in any old city. Nope, we were practically chilling on top of the world, with borders to Russia and Finland. Say goodbye to sunny days and hello to perpetual darkness!
Now, while my big bro seemed to handle it all like a champ, I was a hot mess. Nightmares? Check. Fear of the dark? Double check. And let’s not forget the whole “it’s dark all the time” situation. Thanks, polar regions, for keeping us on our toes! Winter in the northern hemisphere meant we were as far from the sun as possible, and let me tell you, it showed.
So there I was, feeling like a fish out of water, miles away from my beloved home country and all I ever knew. But hey, every adventure has its ups and downs, right? And trust me, this one was just getting started!
Welcome to the house of sibling shenanigans
Our new digs were a maze of levels—a main floor, a second story, and the mysterious, chilly depths of the basement. I dreaded the basement so bad, but would go sometimes to pick up fire wood for our new fire pit in the house. T
hat, I was so not used to. Like who needs a fire pit inside their house. My goldfish brain started to think, and I remembered how hot Sudan was, so much so that we would cheer when it rains. And now we have to rely on literal fire and ovens to keep us warm. But let me tell you, this place was a palace! Picture a sprawling kitchen, not one but two cozy living rooms, and enough bathrooms and bedrooms to make a hotel jealous.
Now, here’s where the real fun begins. Despite having the option of my own space, I was dead set on bunking up with my brother. Why? Because he was more than just family—he was my partner in crime! We were inseparable, from biking adventures to cooking up mischief in the kitchen.
One time in our home country, we were cutting some juicy mangoes. As I was eager to dive in while he was doing the cutting, I realized my middle finger was jammed across the knife, I have that souvenir still and every time I look at my hands, I think of this moment. Beautiful (and painful). We even tackled homework and Quran readings and worshipped Allah (SWT) as a dynamic duo.
Our shared room was like our own little kingdom. Twin beds, a massive table for epic brainstorming sessions, and plush office chairs for added comfort and some awesome toys. Throw in a giant rug for impromptu wrestling matches and a closet big enough to hide a small army, and you’ve got the ultimate sibling sanctuary.
But here’s the kicker: my brother wasn’t just my roomie; he was my rock. The yin to my yang, the peanut butter to my jelly. And let me tell you, I’m not ashamed to admit that sometimes, I get a little misty-eyed thinking about how lucky I am to have him. Thanks, Mom, dad and all relatives, for fostering a bond that’s stronger than superglue. Here’s to sibling love, now and forever! By Allah´s will.
Let’s turn this school saga into an epic adventure!
Alright, folks, buckle up for the wild ride that was my first day of school. Talk about a cultural rollercoaster! Picture this: I stroll into class feeling like the odd one out. I mean, there’s me and my bro, the dynamic duo, looking like a couple of sore thumbs in a sea of new faces.
Now, enter Dad, the ultimate hype man, introducing me to the masses like a boss. He’s there, chalk in hand, writing my name in Arabic on the board like a total pro. Little did I know, he was flexing his foreign language skills, clueless about the official language of the land.
As my classmates start rolling in, I’m nodding along like a bobblehead, pretending I understand a word they’re saying. But let me tell you, folks, I was clueless too! I mean, these kids were like aliens from another planet—pale complexion, unfamiliar tongues, the whole nine yards.
Cue the cultural shock of the century! I’m standing there, feeling like a fish out of water, wondering how on earth I ended up in this Twilight Zone version of school. But hey, props to these kids—they’re absolute legends! They took us under their wing from day one, showing me the ropes, teaching me the language, and embracing me like family.
Fast forward a bit, and boom—these strangers later on turned into great pals. We laughed, we learned, we made memories that’ll last a lifetime. So here’s to the squad, the real MVPs who made my school days unforgettable. You guys rock! (Well at least SOME of you).
As our North African days started to fade into the rearview mirror, we found ourselves in the Scandinavian education hustle. Now, picture this: we’re juggling Norwegian classes, math sessions, and all the usual school shenanigans. Oh, and did I mention? We’re also squeezing in our five daily prayers like pros!
Yep, you heard that right. While other kids were hitting the books, we were hitting the prayer mats. Everywhere we went, those trusty mats came along for the ride. And when prayer time rolled around, you better believe we found a spot to offer our prayers to the Almighty Allah Azzawajal.
But here’s where things got a little…awkward. Imagine this scene: me and my bro, smack dab in the middle of the hallway, praying our hearts out while everyone else is chowing down on lunch or hitting the books. Talk about feeling like a pair of sore thumbs!
I could practically feel the eyes of curious classmates boring into us as we faced the Kaba (direction every Muslim turn to for prayer), trying to keep our cool. Bellyaches of awkwardness? Check. Uncomfortable vibes? Double check. And let’s not forget the chorus of giggles and questions from our classmates. Can you blame ’em, though? I mean, if I saw two kids praying in the hallway, I’d probably be scratching my head too!
But hey, every adventure comes with its fair share of cringe-worthy moments, right? And let me tell you, folks, this was just the tip of the iceberg in my wild ride through the school years!
Prepare yourselves for a journey through bittersweet memories.
Back at home, my dad was our guiding light, our beacon of knowledge in a sea of uncertainty. Despite the demands of his job, he poured every ounce of his free time into teaching us the fundamentals. He was a maestro, conducting lessons in math, English and Quran verse practices with the patience of a saint.
Slowly but surely, we blossomed into bright young minds, mastering not one, not two, but three languages by the tender ages of 7 and 9. Norwegian, Arabic, English—we were linguistic wizards, navigating the complexities of communication with ease. And don’t even get me started on math—we were crushing it!
You’d think with all this potential, my brother and I would be on the fast track to success, destined for greatness. But alas, life had other plans. Dreams of higher education, prestigious careers—they slipped through our fingers like sand.
I can’t help but wonder if my dad ever imagined a different outcome, one where his children soared to dizzying heights of achievement. The disappointment hangs heavy in the air, a silent reminder of the road not taken and sometimes they would speak their mind around this topic.
But amidst the sorrow, there’s a flicker of hope. Despite the twists and turns of fate, my dad’s lessons live on within us, guiding us through the darkest of days. And who knows? Maybe one day, we’ll find our way back to the dreams we once held dear.
Until then, we’ll carry on, fueled by the memory of a father’s unwavering love and dedication. I mean he still loves us, I just believe he would be extremely happy had I continued a higher education after high school.
However, I have started multiple businesses since the age of around 16-17. I guess that was my passion and the education system was just not a part of my future. That is what I do, and that is what I am good at. Being your own boss is not easy, but it sure does buy you freedom in the long-run. Freedom is not costly, it is priceless as you get lots of time when you are free, hence why it is priceless.
Reflections upon writing all down
In life, we’re often presented with unexpected twists and turns, moments that challenge our resolve and test our resilience. But amidst the chaos and confusion, there lies an undeniable truth: within each of us beats the heart of a warrior, ready to rise above adversity and conquer the impossible.
Take, for example, the tale of a young immigrant girl jumps into a world of unfamiliarity and uncertainty. From the bustling streets of Sudan to the frosty landscapes of Norway. Her journey was fraught with challenges and obstacles at every turn. But through it all, she refused to be defined by her circumstances. Instead, she embraced every setback as an opportunity for growth, a chance to rewrite the script of her own destiny.
At school, she faced the daunting task of bridging the gap between cultures, navigating the treacherous waters of language barriers and social norms. Yet, with unwavering determination and an irrepressible spirit, she forged bonds with classmates who would become lifelong friends and allies. Together, they tackled the complexities of academia, each lesson learned a testament to their shared resilience and goal getter vibes.
But perhaps the most profound lessons were learned not within the walls of a classroom, but within the confines of her own home. There, in the warmth of her father’s embrace, she discovered the true power of knowledge and the boundless potential that lay dormant within her soul. With every equation solved and every word mastered, she felt herself growing stronger, more capable of facing whatever challenges lay ahead. Her mother showed her mercy, unconditional love and taught her how to become a good woman, just like she is today.
And though her path may have strayed from the one her father had envisioned, she remained steadfast in her pursuit of greatness. For she knew that true success is not measured by accolades or achievements, but by the courage to chase your dreams and the resilience to weather life’s storms.
So, to all those who find themselves standing at the crossroads of uncertainty, take heart. Your journey may be fraught with obstacles, but within you lies the strength to overcome any challenge, the wisdom to chart your own course, and the courage to embrace the unknown. I came out of it just fine, and so will you.
Remember, dear reader, that the road to greatness is not always easy, but it is always worth it. So stand tall, face your fears head-on, and never forget that the power to shape your destiny lies within you. Embrace the journey, for it is in the struggle that we find our truest selves and discover the limitless potential that resides within each and every one of us.
And so, dear friend, I leave you with this simple truth: you are capable, you are resilient, and you are destined for greatness. So go forth and conquer the world, for the only limits that exist are the ones you place upon yourself.
What are some of your own best memories from your childhood? Feel free to share them with us in the comment section below.
Jazakallah Khair
