Houla, Syria

Asalamualaykum,

It has been reported that atleast 85 people have died and 35 were children and seven were women.

 

HOW CAN YOU NOT BE AWARE? HOW CAN YOU STILL SLEEP AT PEACE? MAKE DUA YA UMMAH..these are your brothers and sisters who are dying everyday.

Aseer-Muslim prisoners

 

Asalamualaykum,

Is it wrong for me to feel for them? Is it wrong for me to love them for the sake of Allah?

 

I DON’T THINK SO!! WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF SOMEONE IN YOUR FAMILY WAS IN THEIR POSITION?!

YA Allah! FREE MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS and give them what’s best for them Ameen.

DO NOT CRY FOR ME

(لا تـبكني)

01 Mar

لا تـبكني أمـاه وابـك بلوعة ديـناً جـريحاً ما عليه بــواكيا

Do not cry for me, Mother, rather cry heavily [instead] * for a wounded religion no one is crying for

ما كنت يومـا رغم حبسي جاثيا فـلأجل ربـي أسـتطيب عذابيا

Never in spite of my imprisonment did I kneel * and for the sake of my Lord I shall enjoy this punishment

أمـاه إن خـط القـضاء منيتي بـدم تحـرر فـاصبري لمصـابيا

O Mother, if my death has been decreed * then be patient for my tribulation

لله قـد قدمت روحـي راغبـا ثـمنـا ليبقى أصـل ديـني عاليا

I have willfully given my soul to Allah. * A small price to pay for my religion to remain high

وقحـمت أسـباب المنايا حاملا بيـدي لنـصرة دعـوتي أكفـانيا

I crossed the pathway of death, carrying * in my hands my Kaffan hoping to bring victory to my Religion

فالمـوت لا يـريع نفسـاً حرةً قهـرت خطوباً قـد عصفن عواتيا

For Death does not scare a free soul * [A soul] which has overcome trials coming forth as violent winds

والقيد ليس بمـوهن لي هـمتي والسجن ليـس بمحبطٍ آمــاليا

Handcuffs will not lower my determination * Neither will this prison lower my hopes

يا أمّ لا تبـكي لحبسي دمعـةً وابكي لـدينٍ ما علـيه بواكيـا

[So], Mother, do not shed tears for my captivity * And weep instead for this Religion which no one is weeping for

فالسجن خير من حيـاة مذلـةٍ وأنا لـربي قـد نذرت حياتيـا

For Prison is better than a life of disgrace. * And for my Lord, I vowed my life

أنا لست أركعُ رغبةً في لقمـةٍ أو أشتكي سـوطاً يُعربد عاتيـا

I am not one to bow down for a loaf [of bread] * or one to complain of the whip tearing my shoulders

فالسجن ليس بضائري إن ضمّني والقيد ليـس معجـلاً أكفانيـا

For Prison is not going to harm me when it embraces me * And these chains will not bring my death any sooner

والسجن ليس بحابسٍ لي دعـوتي والقيد ليـس بمطفـئ أنواريـا

This prison is not going to hold back my Message * and these shackles are not going to dim my Lights

أنا هـاهنا حر برغم سلاسـلي ورنينها يشـجي ربوع فؤاديـا

I am here free, in spite of my chains * and its sounds bring life to my heart

أنا هـاهنـا عزّي هنا حريـتي فالعز قيدي والشموخ جراحيـا

Over here I find my dignity, over here I find my freedom * Dignity [can be seen] in my shackles, and determination [can be seen] in my wounds

سأقول للسجن الذي قد ضمني  اشدد قيودك لا تفـك وثاقيـا

I will tell this prison which has embraced me * Tighten your bonds, and do not let untie my chains

أنا هـاهنا حـر ودون قيودنـا شـعبٌ يُطأطئ للخيانة جاثيـا

I am here free, and away from these chains * is a nation which has lowered its head kneeling for Treachery

يا سجن إنّي قد عشقتُ سلاسلي هذي السلاسل والقيود سلاحيا

O Prison, I have fallen in love with these chains * these chains and bonds are my weapons [and source of strength]

يا سـجن إنـّي قد ألفتُ زنازني هـذي الزنازن والظلامُ ردائيـا

O Prison, I have gotten used to this jail cell. * This cell and its darkness are my cover and clothing

أنا في قيودك شامـخٌ في عـزتي والحرُ يخنع خلف سورك راضيـا

I am in your chains steadfast with my dignity * and those “free” outside your walls are happy in their disgrace

قد حددوا عيشي على قضبانـهم وبظـلِ قيدك مولدي ووفاتيـا

They restricted my life between these bars * and within the shadows of these chains is by birth and death

وعلى جدارك قد خططت ملاحمي حفراً بظفري والـمداد دمائيـا

On your walls I have recorded my struggles * with my nails I have carved it, and my blood I used as ink

بدمي خططت براءتي من كفرهم ولأجل ذا ضـاقت عليّ بلاديـا

With my blood I have written my dissociation from their Kufr * And for that reason my own country have narrowed and closed in on me

يا أمّ مـالك تذرفـين الدمع لا لا تفعلي أفديـك أمـاً حانيـة

O Mother, do not shed these tears over me, don’t * May I be scarified for you, what a kind loving mother you are

يا أمّ لا تبكـي لقيدي واصبري فالفجـر يشرق عن قريبٍ آتيـا

O Mother do not cry because of my shackles and be patient * Since Dawn will soon come bringing forth its light

والكفر مندحـرٌ بإثْر جيوشهم والنور من ديني يُشـعشع زاهيـا

Disbelief will soon disintegrate with its armies * And the light from my Religion [will remain] brightly shining

والحـقّ منتصرٌ برغم سجونـهم والقيد منكسـرٌ وديـني عاليـا

And the Truth will prevail, in spite of their jails * And the cuffs would soon break, and my Religion will remain high

أبو محمدالمقدسي – رمضان 1417- سجن سواقة في الاردن
Abu Muhummad al-Maqdisi, Ramadaan 1417, Swaqa Prison, Jordan

Silence

In the Darkness of the night

With the shining light of the moon

In the loneliness of the mind,

I listen to this beautiful tune,

The tune of silence,

In which I find bliss,

While somewhere the violence,

Makes a mother give her chile a goodbye kiss,

I complain while at peace,

they patiently wait for a better day,

After hardship comes ease,

If only we follow Allah’s way.

I am THANKFUL to Allah for everything I have,

Even the SILENCE is his KINDNESS.

 

By: Me.

Tarek Mehanna’s sentencing statement

Some said I should plead for mercy in hopes of a light sentence, while others suggested I would be hit hard either way. But what I want to do is just talk about myself for a few minutes.

Read to Judge O’Toole during his sentencing, April 12th 2012.

In the name of God the most gracious the most merciful

Exactly four years ago this month I was finishing my work shift at a local hospital. As I was walking to my car I was approached by two federal agents. They said that I had a choice to make: I could do things the easy way, or I could do them the hard way. The “easy “ way, as they explained, was that I would become an informant for the government, and if I did so I would never see the inside of a courtroom or a prison cell. As for the hard way, this is it. Here I am, having spent the majority of the four years since then in a solitary cell the size of a small closet, in which I am locked down for 23 hours each day. The FBI and these prosecutors worked very hard—and the government spent millions of tax dollars – to put me in that cell, keep me there, put me on trial, and finally to have me stand here before you today to be sentenced to even more time in a cell.

In the weeks leading up to this moment, many people have offered suggestions as to what I should say to you. Some said I should plead for mercy in hopes of a light sentence, while others suggested I would be hit hard either way. But what I want to do is just talk about myself for a few minutes.

When I refused to become an informant, the government responded by charging me with the “crime” of supporting the mujahideen fighting the occupation of Muslim countries around the world. Or as they like to call them, “terrorists.” I wasn’t born in a Muslim country, though. I was born and raised right here in America and this angers many people: how is it that I can be an American and believe the things I believe, take the positions I take? Everything a man is exposed to in his environment becomes an ingredient that shapes his outlook, and I’m no different.  So, in more ways than one, it’s because of America that I am who I am.

When I was six, I began putting together a massive collection of comic books. Batman implanted a concept in my mind, introduced me to a paradigm as to how the world is set up: that there are oppressors, there are the oppressed, and there are those who step up to defend the oppressed. This resonated with me so much that throughout the rest of my childhood, I gravitated towards any book that reflected that paradigm – Uncle Tom’s Cabin, The Autobiography of Malcolm X, and I even saw an ethical dimension to The Catcher in the Rye.

By the time I began high school and took a real history class, I was learning just how real that paradigm is in the world. I learned about the Native Americans and what befell them at the hands of European settlers. I learned about how the descendents of those European settlers were in turn oppressed under the tyranny of King George III. I read about Paul Revere, Tom Paine, and how Americans began an armed insurgency against British forces – an insurgency we now celebrate as the American revolutionary war. As a kid I even went on school field trips just blocks away from where we sit now. I learned about Harriet Tubman, Nat Turner, John Brown, and the fight against slavery in this country. I learned about Emma Goldman, Eugene Debs, and the struggles of the labor unions, working class, and poor. I learned about Anne Frank, the Nazis, and how they persecuted minorities and imprisoned dissidents. I learned about Rosa Parks, Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, and the civil rights struggle. I learned about Ho Chi Minh, and how the Vietnamese fought for decades to liberate themselves from one invader after another. I learned about Nelson Mandela and the fight against apartheid in South Africa. Everything I learned in those years confirmed what I was beginning to learn when I was six: that throughout history, there has been a constant struggle between the oppressed and their oppressors. With each struggle I learned about, I found myself consistently siding with the oppressed, and consistently respecting those who stepped up to defend them -regardless of nationality, regardless of religion. And I never threw my class notes away. As I stand here speaking, they are in a neat pile in my bedroom closet at home.

From all the historical figures I learned about, one stood out above the rest. I was impressed by many things about Malcolm X, but above all, I was fascinated by the idea of transformation, his transformation. I don’t know if you’ve seen the movie “X” by Spike Lee, it’s over three and a half hours long, and the Malcolm at the beginning is different from the Malcolm at the end. He starts off as an illiterate criminal, but ends up a husband, a father, a protective and eloquent leader for his people, a disciplined Muslim performing the Hajj in Makkah, and finally, a martyr. Malcolm’s life taught me that Islam is not something inherited; it’s not a culture or ethnicity. It’s a way of life, a state of mind anyone can choose no matter where they come from or how they were raised. This led me to look deeper into Islam, and I was hooked. I was just a teenager, but Islam answered the question that the greatest scientific minds were clueless about, the question that drives the rich & famous to depression and suicide from being unable to answer: what is the purpose of life? Why do we exist in this Universe? But it also answered the question of how we’re supposed to exist. And since there’s no hierarchy or priesthood, I could directly and immediately begin digging into the texts of the Qur’an and the teachings of Prophet Muhammad, to begin the journey of understanding what this was all about, the implications of Islam for me as a human being, as an individual, for the people around me, for the world; and the more I learned, the more I valued Islam like a piece of gold. This was when I was a teen, but even today, despite the pressures of the last few years, I stand here before you, and everyone else in this courtroom, as a very proud Muslim.

With that, my attention turned to what was happening to other Muslims in different parts of the world. And everywhere I looked, I saw the powers that be trying to destroy what I loved. I learned what the Soviets had done to the Muslims of Afghanistan. I learned what the Serbs had done to the Muslims of Bosnia. I learned what the Russians were doing to the Muslims of Chechnya. I learned what Israel had done in Lebanon – and what it continues to do in Palestine – with the full backing of the United States. And I learned what America itself was doing to Muslims. I learned about the Gulf War, and the depleted uranium bombs that killed thousands and caused cancer rates to skyrocket across Iraq. I learned about the American-led sanctions that prevented food, medicine, and medical equipment from entering Iraq, and how – according to the United Nations – over half a million children perished as a result. I remember a clip from a ‘60 Minutes’ interview of Madeline Albright where she expressed her view that these dead children were “worth it.” I watched on September 11^th as a group of people felt driven to hijack airplanes and fly them into buildings from their outrage at the deaths of these children. I watched as America then attacked and invaded Iraq directly. I saw the effects of ‘Shock & Awe’ in the opening day of the invasion – the children in hospital wards with shrapnel from American missiles sticking out of their foreheads (of course, none of this was shown on CNN).  I learned about the town of Haditha, where 24 Muslims – including a 76-year old man in a wheelchair, women, and even toddlers – were shot up and blown up in their bedclothes as the slept by US Marines. I learned about Abeer al-Janabi, a fourteen-year old Iraqi girl gang-raped by five American soldiers, who then shot her and her family in the head, then set fire to their corpses. I just want to point out, as you can see, Muslim women don’t even show their hair to unrelated men. So try to imagine this young girl from a conservative village with her dress torn off, being sexually assaulted by not one, not two, not three, not four, but five soldiers. Even today, as I sit in my jail cell, I read about the drone strikes which continue to kill Muslims daily in places like Pakistan, Somalia, and Yemen. Just last month, we all heard about the seventeen Afghan Muslims – mostly mothers and their kids – shot to death by an American soldier, who also set fire to their corpses. These are just the stories that make it to the headlines, but one of the first concepts I learned in Islam is that of loyalty, of brotherhood – that each Muslim woman is my sister, each man is my brother, and together, we are one large body who must protect each other. In other words, I couldn’t see these things beings done to my brothers & sisters – including by America – and remain neutral. My sympathy for the oppressed continued, but was now more personal, as was my respect for those defending them.

I mentioned Paul Revere – when he went on his midnight ride, it was for the purpose of warning the people that the British were marching to Lexington to arrest Sam Adams and John Hancock, then on to Concord to confiscate the weapons stored there by the Minuteman. By the time they got to Concord, they found the Minuteman waiting for them, weapons in hand. They fired at the British, fought them, and beat them. From that battle came the American Revolution. There’s an Arabic word to describe what those Minutemen did that day. That word is: JIHAD, and this is what my trial was about. All those videos and translations and childish bickering over ‘Oh, he translated this paragraph’ and ‘Oh, he edited that sentence,’ and all those exhibits revolved around a single issue: Muslims who were defending themselves against American soldiers doing to them exactly what the British did to America. It was made crystal clear at trial that I never, ever plotted to “kill Americans” at shopping malls or whatever the story was. The government’s own witnesses contradicted this claim, and we put expert after expert up on that stand, who spent hours dissecting my every written word, who explained my beliefs. Further, when I was free, the government sent an undercover agent to prod me into one of their little “terror plots,” but I refused to participate. Mysteriously, however, the jury never heard this.

So, this trial was not about my position on Muslims killing American civilians. It was about my position on Americans killing Muslim civilians, which is that Muslims should defend their lands from foreign invaders – Soviets, Americans, or Martians. This is what I believe. It’s what I’ve always believed, and what I will always believe. This is not terrorism, and it’s not extremism. it’s the simple logic of self-defense. It’s what the arrows on that seal above your head represent: defense of the homeland. So, I disagree with my lawyers when they say that you don’t have to agree with my beliefs – no. Anyone with commonsense and humanity has no choice but to agree with me. If someone breaks into your home to rob you and harm your family, logic dictates that you do whatever it takes to expel that invader from your home. But when that home is a Muslim land, and that invader is the US military, for some reason the standards suddenly change. Common sense is renamed “terrorism” and the people defending themselves against those who come to kill them from across the ocean become “the terrorists” who are “killing Americans.” The mentality that America was victimized with when British soldiers walked these streets 2 ½ centuries ago is the same mentality Muslims are victimized by as American soldiers walk their streets today. It’s the mentality of colonialism. When Sgt. Bales shot those Afghans to death last month, all of the focus in the media was on him—his life, his stress, his PTSD, the mortgage on his home—as if he was the victim. Very little sympathy was expressed for the people he actually killed, as if they’re not real, they’re not humans. Unfortunately, this mentality trickles down to everyone in society, whether or not they realize it. Even with my lawyers, it took nearly two years of discussing, explaining, and clarifying before they were finally able to think outside the box and at least ostensibly accept the logic in what I was saying. Two years! If it took that long for people so intelligent, whose job it is to defend me, to de-program themselves, then to throw me in front of a randomly selected jury under the premise that they’re my “impartial peers,” I mean, come on. I wasn’t tried before a jury of my peers because with the mentality gripping America today, I have no peers. Counting on this fact, the government prosecuted me – not because they needed to, but simply because they could.

I learned one more thing in history class: America has historically supported the most unjust policies against its minorities – practices that were even protected by the law – only to look back later and ask: ‘what were we thinking?’ Slavery, Jim Crow, the internment of the Japanese during World War II – each was widely accepted by American society, each was defended by the Supreme Court. But as time passed and America changed, both people and courts looked back and asked ‘What were we thinking?’ Nelson Mandela was considered a terrorist by the South African government, and given a life sentence. But time passed, the world changed, they realized how oppressive their policies were, that it was not he who was the terrorist, and they released him from prison. He even became president. So, everything is subjective – even this whole business of “terrorism” and who is a “terrorist.” It all depends on the time and place and who the superpower happens to be at the moment.

In your eyes, I’m a terrorist, I’m the only one standing here in an orange jumpsuit and it’s perfectly reasonable that I be standing here in an orange jumpsuit. But one day, America will change and people will recognize this day for what it is. They will look at how hundreds of thousands of Muslims were killed and maimed by the US military in foreign countries, yet somehow I’m the one going to prison for “conspiring to kill and maim” in those countries – because I support the Mujahidin defending those people. They will look back on how the government spent millions of dollars to imprison me as a “terrorist,” yet if we were to somehow bring Abeer al-Janabi back to life in the moment she was being gang-raped by your soldiers, to put her on that witness stand and ask her who the “terrorists” are, she sure wouldn’t be pointing at me.

The government says that I was obsessed with violence, obsessed with “killing Americans.” But, as a Muslim living in these times, I can think of a lie no more ironic.

-Tarek Mehanna

4/12/12

I’m getting a bit tired of the ‘deranged’ soldier story-by Robert Fisk

‘m getting a bit tired of the “deranged” soldier story. It was predictable, of course. The 38-year-old staff sergeant who massacred 16 Afghan civilians, including nine children, near Kandahar this week had no sooner returned to base than the defence experts and the think-tank boys and girls announced that he was “deranged”. Not an evil, wicked, mindless terrorist – which he would be, of course, if he had been an Afghan, especially a Taliban – but merely a guy who went crazy.

This was the same nonsense used to describe the murderous US soldiers who ran amok in the Iraqi town of Haditha. It was the same word used about Israeli soldier Baruch Goldstein who massacred 25 Palestinians in Hebron – something I pointed out in this paper only hours before the staff sergeant became suddenly “deranged” in Kandahar province.

“Apparently deranged”, “probably deranged”, journalists announced, a soldier who “might have suffered some kind of breakdown” (The Guardian), a “rogue US soldier” (Financial Times) whose “rampage” (The New York Times) was “doubtless [sic] perpetrated in an act of madness” (Le Figaro). Really? Are we supposed to believe this stuff? Surely, if he was entirely deranged, our staff sergeant would have killed 16 of his fellow Americans. He would have slaughtered his mates and then set fire to their bodies. But, no, he didn’t kill Americans. He chose to kill Afghans. There was a choice involved. So why did he kill Afghans? We learned yesterday that the soldier had recently seen one of his mates with his legs blown off. But so what?

The Afghan narrative has been curiously lobotomised – censored, even – by those who have been trying to explain this appalling massacre in Kandahar. They remembered the Koran burnings – when American troops in Bagram chucked Korans on a bonfire – and the deaths of six Nato soldiers, two of them Americans, which followed. But blow me down if they didn’t forget – and this applies to every single report on the latest killings – a remarkable and highly significant statement from the US army’s top commander in Afghanistan, General John Allen, exactly 22 days ago. Indeed, it was so unusual a statement that I clipped the report of Allen’s words from my morning paper and placed it inside my briefcase for future reference.

Allen told his men that “now is not the time for revenge for the deaths of two US soldiers killed in Thursday’s riots”. They should, he said, “resist whatever urge they might have to strike back” after an Afghan soldier killed the two Americans. “There will be moments like this when you’re searching for the meaning of this loss,” Allen continued. “There will be moments like this, when your emotions are governed by anger and a desire to strike back. Now is not the time for revenge, now is the time to look deep inside your souls, remember your mission, remember your discipline, remember who you are.”

Now this was an extraordinary plea to come from the US commander in Afghanistan. The top general had to tell his supposedly well-disciplined, elite, professional army not to “take vengeance” on the Afghans they are supposed to be helping/protecting/nurturing/training, etc. He had to tell his soldiers not to commit murder. I know that generals would say this kind of thing in Vietnam. But Afghanistan? Has it come to this? I rather fear it has. Because – however much I dislike generals – I’ve met quite a number of them and, by and large, they have a pretty good idea of what’s going on in the ranks. And I suspect that Allen had already been warned by his junior officers that his soldiers had been enraged by the killings that followed the Koran burnings – and might decide to go on a revenge spree. Hence he tried desperately – in a statement that was as shocking as it was revealing – to pre-empt exactly the massacre which took place last Sunday.

Yet it was totally wiped from the memory box by the “experts” when they had to tell us about these killings. No suggestion that General Allen had said these words was allowed into their stories, not a single reference – because, of course, this would have taken our staff sergeant out of the “deranged” bracket and given him a possible motive for his killings. As usual, the journos had got into bed with the military to create a madman rather than a murderous soldier. Poor chap. Off his head. Didn’t know what he was doing. No wonder he was whisked out of Afghanistan at such speed.

We’ve all had our little massacres. There was My Lai, and our very own little My Lai, at a Malayan village called Batang Kali where the Scots Guards – involved in a conflict against ruthless communist insurgents – murdered 24 unarmed rubber workers in 1948. Of course, one can say that the French in Algeria were worse than the Americans in Afghanistan – one French artillery unit is said to have “disappeared” 2,000 Algerians in six months – but that is like saying that we are better than Saddam Hussein. True, but what a baseline for morality. And that’s what it’s about. Discipline. Morality. Courage. The courage not to kill in revenge. But when you are losing a war that you are pretending to win – I am, of course, talking about Afghanistan – I guess that’s too much to hope. General Allen seems to have been wasting his time.

http://www.independent.co.uk/opinion…e-7575737.html

Cageprisoners exclusive: 16-year old girl targeted by FBI for being ‘too Muslim’

In 2005, 16-year old Amatur-Rahman was already being monitored by FBI agents in the US, seemingly due to her increasing interest in her faith.

After being approached by FBI agents, including a British-born Pakistani Muslim female agent, she was arrested and detained for seven weeks without charge. She was subsequently deported to the country her parents’ origin. In her first interview since the ordeal Amatur-Rahman talks to Cageprisoners about the circumstances and effects of her experience.

 

CagePrisoners: Why do you believe you were singled by the US authorities out of all your friends? 

Amatur-Rahman: Bismillah ar-Rahman ar-Raheem. Was-Salaatu was-Salaamu ala Rasulillah wa a’la asHaabihi wa man wala. Thumma Amma Ba’ad. Assalaamualikum warahmatulla hi wabarakaatuhu:

In today’s time and age, it is not very common to find teenagers who take their religion seriously; even more so if the families are not too inclined towards religion or towards giving their children a religious upbringing. I was a practicing Muslim teenager who wore the niqab to high school and I was also interested in da’wah (calling others to Islam). Considering the post 9-11 atmosphere, it was easy for them to single me out and label me as they wished. The immigration issue just made it easy for them to take me in and interrogate me for as long as they wished. I highly doubt other than the ‘religious’ factor, they would have found enough interest in me to put both my family and myself through what we went through.

 

CP: What did US officials tell you from the beginning about their interest in you – was it a terror investigation or an immigration matter?

 

AR: Initially, there were two agents who came to my house and introduced themselves as ‘family counselors’ who were going around the neighborhood. There was not any mention of any sort of investigation really. It was more of a ‘checking up on the neighborhood, want to make sure everything is alright’ kind of introduction. My family had never had experience with anything of this sort; my mother allowed them in without giving it any second thoughts. One agent remained downstairs whilst another one came upstairs to my room to speak to me. I still recall, later on while being interrogated (a couple of months later, after being taken) I was asked, why is it that your younger brother and sister were downstairs watching ‘Sex and the City’ and you were upstairs?

 

They were not aware of my family’s pending immigration status at that point. My parents’ immigration status was actually pending; they had applications sent in years back which were still in some sort of a process. The police came back with a raid a good two months after the initial visit. That is when they showed the immigration matter as an issue. They mentioned that if I would go with them, my parents and one of my brothers would not have to go along. So naturally, I agreed to be taken.

 

CP: How did you handle dealing with government agents at such a young age?

 

AR: I had no idea initially that they were agents. I still remember after coming into my room, the agent was taking notes the whole time she was speaking to me. Whatever I was saying, she would jot down. After a few minutes of speaking to me, she opened my closet door and started looking through my books and other stuff in the closet. I started feeling really uncomfortable and I think either I asked her what she was doing or was taking back my stuff from her hands; just alarmed. She was going through books, papers, looking at pictures and asking me questions. Then she wanted to take something and that’s when I told her that she could not just take something that belongs to me. The note jotting continued. I was nervous, shocked and a bit confused, all at the same time.

 

 

CP: Despite presenting any evidence to the contrary, did they deal with you as a security threat?

 

AR: I think, yes, they did think me as a ‘security threat’. But I guess it really is no shock, since almost anything can be considered ‘security threat’ in today’s time. I guess it’s easier to make the public believe what you are doing is right when the individual (s) is shown as a threat rather than a victim.

 

CP: What did the FBI want from you? 

 

AR: Initially they only wanted to speak to me, just to ask me about my life and how everything was going. After taking me in, their questions revolved around anyone and everyone I knew and questions about them. Their only concern was who else they can deem/label as ‘a threat’. In the last meeting, from what I re-call, they suggested how they would ‘help’ me remain committed to my religion if I ‘helped’ them out. The next meeting never took place as I left.

 

CP: Did it help that a female Muslim FBI agent was questioning you, or did that make it worse?  

 

AR: That’s a good question, I never really thought about it. The fact that she was a Muslim did not exactly cross my mind, even though her name claims so. She never bought up her religious beliefs with me or spoke about them. At no point did she try and point at our ‘similarities’, rather it was how different I was. The whole time, she tried to keep it as though it was her duty/job to speak to me. So for me, having her as the agent who questioned me made no difference, opposed to having a female who might have been from a different religious background.

 

 

CP: Did you have access to legal advice?

 

AR: I did have access to legal advice. But my lawyer was an immigration lawyer. So he really could not give me the greatest of advice on everything that was going on. He wasn’t given access to all the information. I think I was more aware of my situation than he was. But he did try to reassure me whenever he saw me. He himself felt really bad that there was not much he could do. It was obvious that they were looking into me not for immigration but for ‘terrorism’. My family’s immigration status, the pending status was an easy advantage for them. They told my mother it was immigration that was the issue, but in reality they had a whole different purpose behind it.

 

CP: Could you describe the raid?

 

AR: Early morning fajr (dawn) time I believe (I still remember losing my mind thinking that fajr [prayer] time was going and I was unable to go up and pray; we had to sit downstairs). I can’t recall how many officers there were in total. It was perhaps close to ten-twelve, maybe more.

 

We all sat downstairs, my baby brother was sleeping in my parent’s room at that particular time, my mom didn’t carry him downstairs. There was banging heard at the front door, my mom ran in and woke me up. So by the infinite grace of Allah I had enough time to cover and then get downstairs. The rest of my family members awoke in shock. They had us all sit downstairs on the sofa with one-two agents observing us.

 

They mentioned to me that due to my family’s immigration status they would have to either take me or my parents and me together. I went upstairs and I prayed while two women agents observed me from the back. I wanted to change again but they said that I could not touch any of my clothes since they would be taking me away. One of the women was really nice and she picked out the clothes for me as I requested.

 

Right before leaving, I simply asked one of the agents if I could take something of significance with me. He said yes. I grabbed my Quran, kissed my baby brother, hugged my mom (she completely broke down and was a wreck) and headed out the door. They did not handcuff me at that point; it was not until after the interrogation was over at the center they took me to that they handcuffed me and took me off to another state. You don’t really forget the small acts of kindness that are done to you at times of severe stress.

 

CP: Did you have any warning that you may be detained?

 

AR: No, I did not have any warning.

 

CP: What was going through your mind as you sat in the cell detained with no charge?

 

AR: The first day I was taken; the whole day was like a roller coaster ride. The raid in the morning, then being taken; interrogated for 4-5 hours straight; taken to an empty room where I had to sit for one-two hours waiting until the van was available to drive me off to another state; driven off to another state 4-5 hours away, sitting in the back of a van (I still recall one of the guys sitting up front with the driver mentioned how he lived a block away from where I did; he saw my address on the paper and he kept saying he could not believe he lived so close to me); once I entered the detention center I had to go through all the formalities and was strip searched and given the prison garb; I entered the cell, prayed my maghrib and isha prayers and just stopped myself from even thinking about what had just happened.

 

Everything did not hit me until the second day. Once it did hit me, I did break down. But as days go on, you learn to accept your situation and try and deal with it. I kept telling myself that it would pass. I knew I had to keep my spirits up high. Seeing my mother every week was such a booster. She was more effected (health wise) than me. So I had to show her that I was doing well otherwise it would have destroyed her even more.

 

CP: How was your typical day in detention? How were you treated?

 

AR: We were awoken everyday at around 6 a.m. Each cell was opened and the girls were allowed five minutes each, by rotation. This took up about an hour. I requested to be awoken at 5am because of fajr. You had five minutes to take a cold shower, brush your teeth and put on your prison garb (which was a pair of sweats and a long sleeve sweatshirt) and go back into your cell. Breakfast was served at about eight in the morning. The first week after fajr I went back to sleep and waited until they called again for breakfast. The second week I would not sleep after fajr, I would stay up and read a book. After we came back from breakfast, we would have to go and attend a ‘school session’ for three-four hours. It was the basic subjects from what I recall. After the ‘school’ session we would have lunch. After lunch we had to return back and sit on the tables they had in the main hall. These tables would have cards out, books, or other games which the girls spend most of their time on. Then we would go into cells again for an hour until dinner. After dinner we would either sit at the tables again or they would put on some movie for everyone to watch. A couple of hours later it would be snacks time and then soon back to bed. Prison life is all about routine.

 

I was put into a maximum security juvenile detention center (prison). In terms of the strict disciplinary rules, you get used to it. For me what were the absolute worst parts were:

 

1) I was not allowed to wear the jilbab. The second day (first day, considering the fact that I arrived the night before), they did not even allow me to wear the khimar (scarf) and I absolutely lost it. I refused to leave the cell unless they allowed me at the very least my khimar. They then agreed to allow me to wear the khimar but not the jilbab. However I was not allowed to take the khimar into the cell. We did not have to stay in the cell all the time. There would be one-two hours everyday when you would have to stay in your cell. After entering the cell I would have to take off my khimar and give it to one of the lady guards to keep on my shelf, then re-request it before getting out again. At night there would be male guards who would do round trips but since I was not allowed to take my scarf into the room, I would just put the blanket over me. Even that was not allowed because they had to see the inmate. So I somehow managed to keep everything covered at night except for my face with the blanket.

 

2) The second worst thing was the strip searches. I had to go through one the first day I was taken there. After every visit I would have to go through a strip search. My mother visited every week and there was also random individuals picked for strip searches on a weekly basis. I cannot really explain in words how this makes a person feel. Especially as a woman who is accustomed to covering herself a certain way, you have to learn to desensitize yourself to this. I did think about refusing to go through the strip searches at all costs but I knew there was absolutely no point. The agents would come every few weeks and remind me once more that it could get ‘a lot worst.’

 

On the other hand, the staff was actually quite nice. They used to be so frustrated with some of the girls and I didn’t really give them any behavioral problems so they treated me well. There were a couple of pregnant girls and some others who were in for drugs, stealing, attacking or yelling at a teacher or something of that sort. They would talk to me and not understand what I was doing in there! They kept telling me that immigration had nothing to do with their center. I kind of figured that part.

 

CP: What was your first visit like with your parents?

 

AR: My first visit was actually on the second or third day. My mother burst in crying her head off. She was such a mess. It was really nice to see her though, Alhamdulillah.

 

CP: What kept you strong during your detention?

 

I remember reading a lot. I used to take out the books they had in the shelves and just read. Generally, a book can have your mind soaring and exploring. But when you are in lock up, trust me when I say this, and I know that all other prisoners will have to agree with me; a book can open up the whole world and beyond for you. It can have you both mesmerized and rejuvenated. I also read the Quran; revised the suwar (chapters) I had memorized. Its good to keep your mind occupied, otherwise situations can overcome you.

 

CP: Were you interviewed while in detention, if so, how often? Did you have a lawyer present?

 

AR: Yes, I was interviewed while in detention. A total of three-four times. I did not have a lawyer present.

 

CP: What were your fears about what would become of you – and your family?

 

AR: My fear was not knowing what would happen next. You feel helpless and unsure of what to expect. It was something new for me. I was young and inexperienced to many of the harsh realities that life can bring forth. But with age comes experience. I was constantly worried about my family. I knew my parents were going through a lot. My parents were going crazy. My siblings also felt really scared and helpless.

 

CP: How did your family cope with your detention?

 

AR: They kept in touch with the lawyer as much as possible. They called me everyday for five minutes; visited every week. Again, it was something very new for them. They themselves were not really sure what to expect. People, who go to the West in hopes of having their dreams come true, don’t exactly expect anything of this sort.

 

CP: When did you find out that you and your family may get deported to another country?

 

AR: We actually did not get deported. Since I was a juvenile, my mother signed papers and wanted to come back to our country with me. Things were not looking too good. My court appearances were kept private so neither the public nor my family could attend. My mother was becoming increasingly impatient and decided it would be best if she bought me back. I was not sure of what to expect of my new life, but I did feel confident that Allah would take care of it no matter where I went. I felt nervous and anxious.

 

CP: How long did you have to prepare for such likelihood? 

 

AR: Within a week-two of my mother’s signing, we had to leave. I was not expecting it when one of the prison staff had come to get me. When they called out my name, I knew it was time to go.

 

CP: How long were you detained in the US before you were sent abroad?

 

AR: Approximately two months.

 

CP: How did this news affect you, and your family, particularly your younger sister?

 

AR: I wasn’t sure on what to expect. I was still taking in everything. It broke apart my family. My younger siblings are introverts. They never really did discuss with me how they felt. But it affected them and perhaps even scared them away from practicing their religion. But my siblings have always respected my choice to practice Islam.

 

CP: How was the flight for you? How did they treat you?

 

AR: Agents/officers drove me to the airport. They were in civil clothing in order to not attract attention I guess. The female officer held onto me tightly while walking into the airport and walked me through the checking area. When I saw my family, I headed towards them but I was pushed through to the security area. I think the officers waited until my plane landed before calling it a day.

 

CP: What was it like to land in a country you left as a child and to your home and your friends behind?

 

AR: It felt surreal. After landing I felt like everything hit me all at once. I remember it was fajr time at the airport when I landed. The weather was intense. The feeling was intense. A reporter had followed me home. She followed us all the way home. I was dazed and I’m not sure how I managed to even speak to the reporter.

 

CP: What do you miss most about living in the US?

 

AR: I miss the subway and the public transport. I miss the weather. I miss the corner deli shops where you could get bagels and cream cheese when on the run. I miss the neighborhood in which I had my childhood. But Alhamdulillah I have had great new memories in the past few years as well.

 

CP: What is the bright side, if any, of the situation for you?

 

AR: I still have my iman [faith], I still have my Islam, wa lillahil Hamd [Allah be praised]. I did get out and wasn’t entrapped like the thousands of other Muslim prisoners who we witness being sentenced to absurd terms when you have child molesters, rapists and murderers being given less at times!

 

CP: How has this experience affected your faith?

 

AR: Iman is like a roller coaster. At times it soars up high and at times it drops real low. It is never constant. I have had my ups and downs through it all. But in the end of the day, my iman is always in need of more. Alhamdulillah, it is a struggle everyday. I ask Allah to keep us all on the straight path and let us die in the state of Islam.

 

CP: What have you gained through this experience both in the negative and positive sense?

 

AR: I would say I have gained a lot. I have learned a language, I have met new people, I have experienced the support of many and seen the breaking away as well. I have also learned that you should never expect life to go as you plan it. One moment’s event can change your whole life around. But you should be determined to stick to your deen [religion] no matter what. If you are sincere, then Allah will help you. Your state of affairs will not always be the same, nor will your state of deen. But if you try and hold on to your deen with one finger, Allah will aid you in taking out all nine other so you can grab on. It is on us to take the first step and trust Him. He will take the rest towards us and there can be no doubt about that.

 

CP: What would you say to those who may find themselves in similar circumstances?

 

AR: Do not panic. Keep reminding yourself that everything and everyone is in the hands and control of Allah. Keep your reliance on Him. What is meant to hit you will hit you no matter what and what is not meant to hit you will not hit you no matter what. Always remember that there are millions, if not billions who have had it worst, are having it worst and will have it worst. Any test that comes for the sake of your deen, take it with pride and gratitude. It isn’t everyone who is blessed with such an opportunity to be tested for their deen.

 

CP: Do who have any parting advice for those who might want to assist others who may be unjustly detained?

 

AR: There are several things that can be done to help. I would like to mention a few:

1)     Sincere duaa; a person should never lose hope in the power of duaa [prayer]. This is one of the greatest forms of ibadah [worship].

2)     Raising awareness of the individual(s) case. There are thousands of cases we have no idea about. But Allah is aware; so we should make duaa for all.

3)     Letter Writing- this cannot be stressed enough. You have to be inside to understand just how much a letter can do. It can make your day/week/month/year or break it. To pass on the prisoner’s letter for others would also be a very good thing.

4)     Visiting- if visits are possible then this would be amazing.

5)     Send gifts- books or whatever can be sent. Perhaps through the families.

6)     If you are able to get in touch with the families, please do. Often times the families are going through an extremely tough time, perhaps even more so than the prisoner. You don’t know how much a visit, a call or letting them know that you have them in your adiyah [plural of du’aa] can do for them.