|
Crimson Soil
Tania Rahman What do you see, crimson soil? You absorb the blood of the innocent children killed by the hunger for power and land Instead of rain, does the blood of people nourish the olive trees now? Do they disintegrate the same way any other body does? Are you more gentle with them than the people in this world? Do you give them a refuge that they couldn’t find in this world? Are they resting in peace? Do innocent lives matter more to you than to us humans? Are you the silent scroll of history who knows the true counts of the lost innocent lives? Cookie Chronicles
Soundous Louardiane Khansa had a problem. She needed 20 cookies for the next MSA council meeting. After profoundly reflecting on this matter for about three seconds, she resolved to query the grandma’s legacy group chat. Now this wasn’t just any old group chat (pun unintended): it was where all the greatest food lovers on the MSA council gathered to discuss… food. Khansa thought it was the perfect place to ask, and she was right. Not five minutes had passed before she received a positive reply from the MSA’s unofficial cookie caterer, Ainaa. Ainaa had an impressive track record: she had provided cookies for at least three fundraiser events this semester and won the MSA Charity Week Bake-Off (ma sha Allah, may she be rewarded for all her efforts!) A few minutes later, Sumayya and Kenda also volunteered. Kenda wondered why only 20 cookies were needed, since more than 30 people (209 according to some (dis)reputable sources) were expected at the council meeting. Khansa revealed the purpose of the 20 cookies, but quickly redacted her reply at the insistence of the MSA secretary Zoyeb, who wanted to keep it a government secret. This narrator was not sworn to secrecy and therefore has no qualms about disclosing that the cookies were meant to be a prize for the winners of an MSA council Family Feud game. It was decided that Ainaa would bake 10 regular chocolate chip cookies and Kenda would bake 10 white chocolate chip cookies. A brief discussion followed on the importance of using good quality (organic) ingredients, and it was unanimously agreed upon that our ummah deserved the best (and healthiest) food options. The cookie verdict was then changed to Kenda pledging to bring 20 brookies, and that was that. Or so everyone thought… The next evening, Kenda had some bad news: she had a lot of assignments due that week, so she didn’t think she’d be able to make it to the council meeting, let alone bake for it. Ainaa immediately stepped in to save the day; she would bake 20 chocolate chip cookies. Kenda was very appreciative, but she also felt bad because Ainaa was always baking for the MSA, but Ainaa strongly reassured her (in caps lock) that she was happy to help. They briefly turned on Zoyeb, wondering why he couldn’t bake the cookies himself (since he didn’t have any exams), but he quickly defended himself by providing a long list of assignments that he had to complete, and that appeased them. Ainaa then proceeded to question the need for cookies at all and was reminded that the winners needed a prize. Sumayya offered once again to bake the cookies, but Ainaa said it was all good and she would do it, and that was that. Or so everyone thought… An hour later, Ainaa quit. She finally came to her senses and realized that she had five exams and three assignments to work on, and therefore, no time to bake. There was no cause to worry, however, because Sumayya, the cookie warrior, bravely took on the task. And that was that (for real this time). Sumayya ended up making two types of cookies because she didn’t have enough of some ingredients for a full batch. The cookies also (accidentally) turned out ginormous, but no one was complaining. Sumayya claimed that, although she had tried unleashing her inner baker, the three batches she made proved that she was no baker at all and that the task should be delegated to someone else next time. This, of course, is an entirely subjective opinion, and this narrator, having tasted Sumayya’s cookies, can confidently state that they turned out just fine. Ainaa and Kenda flocked to encourage and console Sumayya in a beautiful show of sisterhood, and she stopped worrying about the cookies. At the council meeting, the MSA Family Feud game was played (many claimed that it was rigged, but we shall give the organizers the benefit of the doubt in a show of Islamic spirit). Team A was ahead and about to win, but Team B took the victory right from under their nose in an incredible turn of events. It was a perfect storm of doubled points in the last round and the right question asked to the right person. Team B enjoyed their prize cookies. Ainaa and Sumayya did not get to enjoy the prize cookies, as they were, in an unfortunate twist of fate, part of the losing team. Kenda missed out on the whole thing because she was busy with her assignments (may Allah give her, and everyone else, the strength to get through). Khansa and Zoyeb were quite happy with how things turned out. And that’s how the cookie crumbled. It’s More Than Daylight Savings: Silent Causes of Exhaustion
By: Rumia Owaisi It’s More Than Daylight Savings: Silent Causes of Exhaustion The clocks have fallen back, exams and assignments are coming in full swing, and we’re all exhausted. It's just that time of the year again, right? Well, maybe it’s not so simple. In this post, I’m going to share three underlying causes of exhaustion and how to address them. 1. Weakened Immune System Although it may not hit you until you’re actively feeling sick, your immune system is constantly fighting off viruses and other intruders. If you frequently feel tired, it may be because your immune system is working in overdrive. Here are some ways to support immune system function: a. Sleeping: I know it’s cliché, but trust me! I’ve been in school for a long time, so I know the challenges, but please try to prioritize sleep as much as possible. b. Getting vitamin D levels checked: Most Canadians are deficient in vitamin D. As students, a lot of us are now in class before the sun comes up, and out of class after the sun goes down, leaving us even more vulnerable to this deficiency! Consider getting bloodwork done to see if you’re low in vitamin D (which you likely are) and take supplements accordingly. c. Eating nourishing foods: Broths, soups, and whole fruits and vegetables are the way to go when looking to support immune system function. Keeping up with the latest wellness trends, on the other hand, can get overwhelming and complicate things! Eating an apple a day can genuinely help with keeping the doctor away. 2. Keeping Tabs Open In Your Mind When considering the sources of your exhaustion, it’s easy to focus on the physical causes and symptoms. While it’s important to watch out for the physical signs of overworking yourself (it’s not a flex to constantly hit the gym without resting), a lot of us may overlook the physiological toll of mental exhaustion. Keeping 57 tabs open in your mind catches up to you in expected ways and contributes to bodily fatigue. Consider: a. Getting things done in the moment: If you remember tasks at a time when it’s possible to get them done, try to complete them immediately so you can focus your mental capacity on larger tasks. Examples include the daily prayers, emails, and washing the dishes. b. Mixing things up: Being in school is an inherently intellectual activity. Giving your mind a break and engaging with your creative and practical side can free up some much-needed headspace. Doodling, baking, drawing, and fixing things around the house are all examples of activities that can help with relaxing the mind. 3. Carrying Emotional Weight While most of us act like we’re okay, many of us carry emotional weight from all that is unfolding in our lives. Over time, suppressing emotion can feel suffocating and result in prolonged periods of bodily tension. I’ve been there before myself, and don’t suggest just holding it all inside. Instead, consider: a. Feeling things out: While it may be counterintuitive, spending time sitting with your feelings can help with letting your emotions process and flow through you. This way, uncomfortable emotions are less likely to linger and weigh you down for long periods of time. b. Channeling your energy into movement: Emotions are meant to push us toward something. For example, anger may motivate us to stand up for ourselves. Many times, however, we may not be able to act on our emotions in the moment and end up bottling them up, resulting in tension. Releasing emotion somatically through engaging your posture, de-clenching your muscles, stretching, and doing anything that will support your circulation can immensely help you physically feel better. c. Reaching out for support: You are not on this journey alone! Talking your situation out with somebody trustworthy can help with processing emotion and problem-solving :) There is free counselling available through UofT Health and Wellness, as well as through the Muslim Chaplaincy of Toronto. The Hour Between Day and Night
Tasneem Al Hayah There is a moment in every evening when the world holds its breath. The sun hovers at the edge of the sky, slipping lower as the shadows stretch. Birds go quiet. The air cools. Light softens until it looks like an artist’s dream. Maghrib comes like a whisper in that hour, neither day nor night, just a thin line between two certainties. Growing up, this familiar in-between time was the one moment that never felt rushed. No matter how busy life felt, no matter how stressful the day had been, the call to prayer would sound across the evening, and everything—conversations, homework, noise—would pause. We washed up for prayer, and the adhan echoed softly; the world outside could wait. As a kid, I didn’t think much of it; it was just “time to pray.” Now, I realize it was something else too, a reminder to slow down when everything feels like it’s moving too fast. It’s about living through transitions rather than rushing past them. Life is full of hours like this, not on the clock, but in the soul. Not fully one thing, not fully another—just in between. The moment after childhood, before adulthood starts making sense. The silence after a loss, before the heart begins to heal. The pause between letting go and moving forward. We like to pretend life happens in clean chapters, but much of it unfolds in the blur, where certainty is out of reach and all you can do is stand still and trust the sky to change on its own schedule. You don’t rush the sky; it changes when it’s meant to. That’s where tawakkul sits, trusting Allah SWT in the time between what you want and when it comes. Trusting that even when you can’t see what’s next, He can. You might not feel progress, but Allah SWT may still be working on your path, opening doors or preparing your heart for what’s coming. Sunset has always been short, blink, and the light is gone. Maybe that’s the point. That small window reminds us that not every stage of life has to be long and defined. Some moments exist simply to teach us patience, stillness, and trust. Faith doesn’t only live in clarity; sometimes it lives in the discipline to pause, in the humility to recognize that transitions deserve reverence, too. The sun doesn’t snap into darkness. The day doesn’t fight the night. It hands the world over gently. I’m learning to do the same, to let change happen without forcing it, to pause without panicking, and to trust that whatever comes after this in-between time is written with care. Sometimes, the most honest thing you can do is to simply be willing to step into the night, trusting that the light will return. The Value of One Life, Dictated by the Recognition of their Death Sumayya Mohammed According to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, I am entitled to my right to life just as any other person is. The seemingly perfect application of this law reassures so many people around me of their safety and protection, except for children like me. I cannot find comfort in the law’s promise of equality and justice, because I learn from the news headlines every day on every electronic device that my life is not worth the same as another person’s. The joyous personality that I once emanated no longer exists, because I have been forced to shed my childlike innocence and face the realities that society has created only for me. I should be playing with my classmates during recess and learning how to write new vocabulary with precision, but I cannot view myself as the same person I was before, and I can no longer pretend that what I see in the news does not affect me. This space does not offer me a sense of belonging, because even as I craft buildings made of Play-Doh and popsicle sticks with my friends, I carry the heavy weight of knowing that, from all of my colleagues, I will be the first one to be forgotten because of my identity. The death of any white man named Charlie, Liam, or Rick sparks outrage over the internet, but the internet fails to blink an eye at the murder of thousands of children who are only guilty of their innocence. Does society only pay attention to people who are famous or people who possess authority? Does my pain not matter because society perceives children like me as things that should not have existed to begin with? If my name were Hind, Qisma, or Abdullah, or any other name that once represented a lineage and history so rich in culture and meaning, would I, too, be erased from the world’s new and improved, colonized history upon my passing? Will I, too, become like the Indigenous Peoples who remain in my school’s history texts only as chapters and not rich cultures, lineages, and peoples of powerful resistance and resilience? Will I become like the Indigenous girls and women who were unjustly removed from their homes and subjected to violence, only for the world to remain silent at their violation? Will I become like the Sudanese children who are caught in the crossfire of a corrupt political regime, known neither for their beauty and brightness before nor after their deaths? Or, will I become like the Uyghur children who are forced into labour, stripped of their rights to life and religion, only to be forgotten as people across the world benefit from their suffering? Every social advocate and activist emphasizes the importance of schooling and education, but how can I exist in these institutions while knowing that the bodies who build these curricula and policies are the same who dictate the value of my life based on my identity? How am I to thrive in the very societies that sell me utopian discourses of inclusivity and equity, while showing me that the value of one life is dictated only by the recognition of their death on television? |
