Maad Iska Guursatid?

Maad iska guursatid?

It is a phrase which I’ve grown to detest. Roughly translated, it means why don’t you just get married. First of all, there’s nothing ‘just’ about marriage. It is a huge commitment, a monumental effort in human co-habitation. You have to sacrifice your personal space for that of another. You have put your needs second for those of another. You have to work night and day and, when you come home, you have to continue working to maintain the relationship. There is nothing easy about marriage, least of all the process of finding a mate.

We do not date. We are Muslim. We check off a list of compatibility items. We talk about wants and needs, hopes and dreams. We don’t have the luxury of time. Our clock is ticking, all of us, and the pressure to get married just makes it tick faster. We hear it every day and from every direction. Get married, it’s the right thing to do. Iska guurso, you’re not getting any younger. Just get married, our Prophet PBUH recommended it for young people. Maad iska guursatid, do you want to be the laughingstock of the community? Get married, your younger siblings already did. Iska guurso, but don’t rush into it.

It is becoming more impossible by the day to live in this world as a young Muslim person. If we’re not being criminalized for our faith, we’re being rushed into marriage by our families. Marriage has become a one-stop solution for all society’s ills. Don’t get it twisted: I agree that we should all get married. There is nothing more important to me in my life than getting married and protecting my chastity, my covenant with Allah. At the same time, I believe in self-development.

I believe in making the right choice after careful consideration. I believe in choosing someone for who they are, not who I might wish them to be. I don’t believe in fancy weddings, in extravagant ceremonies, in wasting money. I don’t believe in music being played while the two distinct genders co-mingle in an atmosphere charged with lechery and devilish behavior. I believe in following the Sunnah, and the Sunnah tells us to get married. I want to be married, but I don’t want to be shamed for not being married.

I don’t want to be told that I’m not really serious about marriage because I’m still single. I don’t want to continue having these redundant conversations with a generation of folks whose only option was to grow up and get married, who learned to view marriage as the ultimate and only destination in life. Marriage is very important to me, but it is not my end-all-be-all. I believe in isolation. I believe in the power of knowing one’s self so deeply that one cannot be shaken from their identity by any outside force. I believe in friends for every occasion, in every space, and for every side of me. I believe in love, and I don’t mean in a romantic sense. I believe in the love shared by two strangers for the sake of Allah, the love which can be found when breaking your fast at the mosque as you smile at the person next to you. A person you may never see again, but love at that moment, because you see the love for Allah in their face.

I believe in taking my lunch break at work on Friday’s and driving to a high school down the street. Outside the door is a group of young brothers, religious scholars in training. They’re all wearing their Friday best: ornate, flowing thobes bought in Mecca and Medina. They’ve saved me a parking spot right in front of the school. I rush out of my car and across the street – everyone was waiting for me like a guest of honor; no brother left behind is the motto. We walk through the school’s hallways, down several flights of stairs and are escorted by a brother who works at the school.

We walk into the gymnasium and it is filled to the brim with Somali kids, divided by gender. It is Friday, and one of my brothers is about to give the lecture. I ask if I have time to make Wudu, and a brother says yes, let me show you to the restroom. Another brother follows.

We take turns making our ablutions, I go first. As I walk out of the restroom, I apologize for making him wait. He says what are you apologizing for, you’re making your intentions to pray before Allah. Never apologize for acts of worship. As he takes his turn in the bathroom, I practice my Quran recitation outside. I find a nice corner of the adjoining room, good acoustics. I recite with all my heart. I am happy, I am content, this is the best life has to offer.

My brother comes out with eyes wide. That was you? Masha Allah, he said; that voice! I told him that he was being too kind and that I was just practicing to kasoo bax my ‘ashar. He said that he can tell I’ve been practicing and that I’m definitely improving; keep it up. This made my heart smile. We made our way back to the gym, all smiles and gratitude. We sat down with the other brothers near the front. Our brother and resident scholar began his Qutbah right as we walked in. “Innal Hamdillilah…”

And I smiled even wider than I had before I got there. All of this happened on a random Friday, during my lunch break at work. When my elders in the community tell me to just get married, I wish I could walk them through the events of that day. I wish they could see how fulfilled my life has become since I moved to Minneapolis. I wish they knew that there is nothing wrong with being single and that not everyone who is single is actively committing sins of the flesh out of wedlock. I wish they knew that just because someone is ready for marriage does not mean that marriage is ready for them. But all of this gets lost in translation, so I smile and nod when I hear iska guurso.

I let them have their moment, and I look for the beautiful moments in my life to appreciate. And I wait. I wait for Mrs. Said Shaiye to come along. I wait for the time when Allah has decreed that I will get married. Who knows, I could die waiting, die single. That’s okay. If that’s how it is meant to happen, that is God’s Will and I am not in the business of questioning God. I accept. This is my duty as a Muslim. I try my best to do right by Allah, I accept His decrees to the best of my ability, and I ignore the nitpicking of people who don’t know my life. I live and give thanks, and when it’s time to get married, I’ll get married. And if it wasn’t meant to be, well, then, so be it. I’ll be happy either way.