One of the things I really wanted to talk about was the permanence of hijrah. For me, it’s something that has taken some getting used to, some thinking about. Because it’s a big change, especially when you come from the West.

A lot of times, we maybe think that, y’know, you’ll settle into a good area, the facilities might even be better—and all of that is true, but it will never be the same.

One of the things that people say a lot (including the older generations, or those who really love their homelands) is that, “if you have good money, you can live a lifestyle where you’ll forget about the West!” or which the West “pales in comparison to!”

…and that may be true, if you have a lot of money.

But…I think that’s usually/typically said (and believed) by people who haven’t actually been in the West.

When it comes to the comforts of everyday living, I don’t find that a country like Pakistan really competes. And the reason for that is…day-to-day living requires taking into account things that are outside of your own control:

• infrastructure
• weather and climate
• bureaucracy
• the way things are done and handled in an official capacity
• traffic

These types of, y’know, no single person has control over them.

And so…I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit because, while visiting Pakistan, I have—amazingly, shockingly, surprisingly!—been missing home! And it’s only been about a week!

Admittedly, a lot of this has to do with the fact that I’ve been living with relatives, so I’ve had to maintain full hijab inside of the house as well. So that restricts my movements. Even to go to the washroom, I have to pass by a public area—it’s like, not even a 6-foot distance to get from my room to the bathroom, but I still have to look around, I have to be in full hijab, because it passes by the common space.

So that kind of restriction of movement, kind of being locked into one room, essentially, becomes very taxing.

And then, may Allah reward my family (cousins and relatives), because they’ve gone out of their way with regards to hospitality. It’s been truly fantastic. But that comes with it the fact that you’re constantly surrounded by people and you don’t really have your own space. You’re still a guest in somebody’s house, essentially.

So I’ve been having to remind myself of the fact that when I do hijrah, I’m going to be living on my own, I’m going to be living in a different area, a sort of nicer area, and things like that.

But I still find that I have to coach myself and acclimate myself to the little things.

There’s dust absolutely everywhere. All of the time. I left my laptop kind of unattended / unbothered over maybe a couple of days and there was a thin layer of dust on top, visible, easily.

The bathrooms here are what are known as “wet bathrooms” so that the shower is right next to the toilet, and when you take a shower, the water goes everywhere. There’s one drain in the room. This is not how American toilets are. So this has been a huge adjustment. Because sometimes you take a shower and then you want to put on your new, nice clothes and there’s water all over the floor. So you can’t even put the bottoms on properly…it’s just kind of moist and humid all the time.

The plumbing here is…I think they’re doing something wrong? Let’s just say that, because I’m not, myself, a plumber, so I don’t really know, but… There’s always kind of an unpleasant odor. I think that comes from drilling the holes and putting the piping in straight down, instead of utilizing an “s-bend” like we have in our toilets. But this is just based on some research. If someone knows why this is the case out here, please, I hope you’ll share that information.

The toilet seats are a fitnah, I’ll tell you what.

So the norm is not to have the sit-down toilet, but the hole-in-the-ground toilet. The sit-down toilet is referred to as a commode. And…I promise you, the people who make these have never once sat on them, not even like, experimentally. The toilet seats themselves are—and it’s just wild. One of the bathrooms I had to use didn’t even have a toilet seat, and I promise you it was more comfortable. So…

It seems like a silly thing—and it is, ultimately, in the grand scheme of things. But I want to be sure I’m not presenting and painting an unrealistic image. There are hardships. There are differences. And it won’t ever be the same to what you’re used to. And that’s to be expected.

And it’s ok to miss what you’re going to leave behind. I know I certainly am, I’m kind of prepping myself about that.

But, subhanallah, I was thinking about this and I was feeling a little guilty, and also kind of reprimanding myself, like, “ok, it’s been a week, the conditions aren’t ideal…” but I was reminded of the fact that when the Sahaba made hijrah—they were also homesick! And they were leaving a land in which they were persecuted; tortured. They fell sick when they arrived in Madinah. And they used to extol the virtues of Makkah.

And I’m not gonna lie, that made me feel a lot better. It felt like…you know that commiseration I was talking about? It’s nice not to be alone in these feelings.

It’s hard to think of the permanence of hijrah, right? That everything I’ve ever known I will never return to. It’s a scary thought.

But alhamdulillah.

There are many positives and in sha’ Allah, I’ll be talking a lot more about them in the future, but I did want to put this out about some of these things that have come up. Just in the interests of fairness and because it’s something that’s been on my mind.