Signs: Season 1, Episode 7 of My Life as an Ansari
His Signs are everywhere.
Here is Season 1, Episode 7 of this article series — the story of my personal experiences and struggles as I became an Ansari (Helper) of Gazan refugees (Muhajireen). List of all episodes can be found here.
Time for a thought experiment. Imagine you were building a hyper-realistic world using a computer simulation, with computer agents inside that simulation who basically have free will. The only job of the computer agents is to realize that they are inside a simulation, to realize that they are programmed by you, and then to say “thank you” to you. That’s it. So how would you build / program the simulated world in a way that facilitates the free-will agents to achieve their only target? How will you nudge them to become self-aware and realize that they are inside a time-bound computer simulation?
Think about it.
Come on, be creative. How about placing a gigantic signboard in their sky that reads, “You are inside a simulation — you’re welcome!” How about placing a matrix-bending super-agent who will literally communicate and spell it out to the other agents that they are inside a simulation, and all they need to do is to say thank you? Or, if you want the simulation to be of an even lower difficulty level, how about literally programming it / hard-coding it into the calculation modules (virtual hard drives) of the agents, that whenever they try to calculate the answer to self-awareness questions — “Am I inside a created reality? Wait, how did I get here? Who is behind this all?” — the answer is literally hard-coded / ready-made inside them: you.
You must have understood the analogy. Signs. Didn’t Allah, the One True God, place for us gigantic signboards in the sky — the sun, the moon, stars, clouds — that, no matter what language you speak, tell you loudly of the One True Creator? Didn’t he send to us messengers with miracles, who guided us to Him, and to our purpose in life? Didn’t he program us with the Truth and a compass hardcoded inside us — deep down, we all really know the Truth, whether a person wants to admit it and accept its ramifications, or persist in denial and corrupt their inner hard drive.
The signs of Allah are clear, undeniable. And they come in many, many different forms.
Still no response. The first few days of July began elapsing, and still my brother in Gaza did not reply to me. Even after I had texted him again.
Shaitan tried to make me think bad thoughts of him, of course.
He just wanted your money. He doesn’t really care about you. You mean nothing to him.
But I did not give in. I had judged my brother in Gaza to be a God-fearing person, and I refused to think evil of him. As Muslims, we should give our brothers the benefit of the doubt.
The avoidant attachment style can also come with an unhealthy defense mechanism: idealization-devaluation cycles. Seeing a person as all good, or all bad — feeling driven to not see people as part-good, part-bad. Either-or. Exaggerating the good qualities of a person you are attached to (idealization), and then once non-ideal actions are perceived, exaggerating their bad and ignoring their good (devaluation).
This may have contributed to pushing me to think lesser of my brother in Gaza. But no. I resisted. I did not think of him as a bad person. I did not write him off.
While scrolling through social media, I came across posts from a particular influencer with a small following. We’ll call her Julia (not using her real name, due to things that happened later on). She caught my attention with her videos of broadcasting fundraisers of individual families from Gaza. She was making videos of herself appealing for donations to those individual fundraisers, while also showcasing their videos / pictures. Julia was working around censorship creatively by using hand gestures to avoid using keywords that the social media platform might use to shadow-ban her posts.
Apparently, she was in touch with, and supporting dozens of families on the ground in Gaza. Even if her support wasn’t directly financial, she was at least amplifying the voices of several individual Palestinians, clearly feeling their pain with a lot of empathy. I was impressed. How was she doing so much?
Julia doesn’t seem to be Muslim. May Allah guide her to the Truth, and bless her for her kindness and activism. Clearly, she has been putting in a lot of hard work. I continued to come across her videos for a while.
As even more days passed without a response from my brother in Gaza, I kept feeling the urge to check for his response, and I kept feeling the disappointment — the dull, background discomfort you feel when someone you love seems to be acting distant.
Why did I feel this way? At the time, I did not understand about attachment theory and anxiousness too much. But still … was there something even deeper?
Did I miss being an Ansari? Did I enjoy … playing the hero?
Was this it? Is this possibly why I liked and missed talking to my brother in Gaza? To feel … appreciated? Thanked?
Yuck.
I hoped that wasn’t true. I hoped that wasn’t my niyyah (intention). I wanted my niyyah to be purely seeking the pleasure of Allah. To help others for His sake. Sure, I enjoyed talking to my brother; I had clicked with him over sharing a love of Allah, over Islamic content that he shared. But I hoped my intention was not polluted by seeking, deep down, my brother’s praise and gratitude. I really hoped my intention was not polluted by something so low.
Now that I understand better about attachment theory, the Danger Zone, and my anxious-avoidant attachment style — in hindsight, my reaction makes more sense to me. Yet at the time I did not fully understand why I felt what I felt. Why I craved a response from him.
But despite all that, I still pray that my intention had been pure for Allah. May Allah overlook any mistakes and accept my deeds.
I love to see the birds in the sky. They are such wonderful, simple, and loud signs of Allah. And Allah reminds us in the Quran of this sign:
Have they not seen the birds above them, spreading and folding their wings? None holds them up except the Most Compassionate. Indeed, He is All-Seeing of everything. [67:19]
Subhan Allah! I just love this ayah above — one of my favorite ones. Allah also tells us:
Do you not see that Allah is glorified by all those in the heavens and the earth, even the birds as they soar? Each ˹instinctively˺ knows their manner of prayer and glorification. And Allah has ˹perfect˺ knowledge of all they do. [24:41]
Glory be to Allah.
This is the “branding” of Allah — no intrusive logos, no obstructive ads. Just useful, beautiful, purposeful, helpful, wondrous, jaw-dropping creation — perfect in both form and function, in both style and substance. Signs that are perfectly placed and serving us. Reminding us of Him. Unless we choose to cloud our hearts with sins, and not see the obvious: the One True God, Whom all of creation is pointing us towards.
The creation of Allah is the art of Allah. And what are some of Allah’s design elements, some of the sunnah of Allah in His creation, some descriptions of His signature style? Beauty. Order. Symmetry. Balance. Purpose. Usefulness. Simplicity, with depth. Seamlessness. Flawlessness. Submission to Him. Everything, everything pointing us to the One True Creator.
All types of artists — writers, poets, painters, sculptors — might understand what I mean by saying that we as artists have to balance between the two: form/style, and function/substance, often having to sacrifice one for the other. But Allah’s art is both beautiful and purposeful. Form and function both perfected. Style and substance both flawless.
And these majestic physical signs in the world around us, the physical creation of Allah, are not the only signs that Allah has given us. Take revelation, for example. The Quran’s ayat are literally signs that Allah has sent down to us.
And many times, signs that point us to Allah come as occurrences and events in our lives.
To text him again, or not? More days passed without a response from my brother in Gaza. I wanted to give in to the urge to text him. But I didn’t want to come across as desperate, either. I remained confident by keeping an eye on social media that he was in no immediate danger.
One day, I checked my chat history to see how much time had passed since my brother hadn’t replied, and I couldn’t believe my eyes.
I was shocked.
How is this possible?
Two weeks had passed.
Two weeks? Only two weeks?
It felt like much more — like four weeks had passed, or at least three, since my brother had responded to me.
Wow.
Another whole week after my last messages to him, I texted him again — this time on a different messaging platform, just in case. It was a similar message to the one I’d sent the previous week — checking in if he was okay, and so on.
And I waited.
Another heroic young man I crossed paths with on social media is Jamal from Gaza. Jamal is 25, and he is a pillar for his community, Alhamdulillah. He and his family fled for their lives from North Gaza to South Gaza, and currently live in tents. With fundraising support, Jamal has been able to buy and provide life-saving aid to needy families in Gaza.
Even though Jamal was injured in a bombing attack by the genocidal oppressors, he remains steadfast in helping his neighbors and community in this manufactured famine. At the time of writing this post, Israel has prevented food trucks from entering south Gaza as well as north Gaza, causing food prices to reach astronomical heights, and deliberately creating mass starvation among the refugees. Jamal, and heroes like him, are doing their best to help the desperate families all around them.
Please support this hero and his great, life-saving work here. Jazakum Allah khair. May Allah bless this young hero and everyone who supports him.
When it happened, it went something like this.
Two days after I had texted my brother, I texted him again. I just did.
The whole day passed, and he did not reply. By the next morning, I was nearing my capacity limit. I was tired of waiting for — of wanting — my brother to reply. I was tired of feeling hurt that he was likely ignoring me. I went to work, and I got busy.
Around afternoon, when I went to the bathroom, I paused. I locked myself inside the cubicle, and paused. I thought to myself. I was tired of being emotionally strung out. I did not want to keep hoping that my brother would text me back, and to keep being repeatedly disappointed by the lack of message notification. I didn’t want to feel like this anymore. If he was not going to answer me back, then I had to accept it. If this was my test, then I had to accept this reality and move on.
In that moment, I gave in to the Will of Allah. If this was written in my destiny, and I had done everything I could, then I had to put my trust in Allah.
O Allah, I submit. I submit to your Will.
I submit myself to You. Take care of me.
I really surrendered myself, my situation, my response. Whatever Allah wanted, I accepted. I had done what I could, and I had made dua. Whatever Allah wanted, I put my trust in Him. He was enough to handle my matters.
And I didn’t want to hold a grudge in my heart against my brother, either. I prayed to Allah for my brother in Gaza.
O Allah, bless him. Bless him.
Even if he never texted me back, Alhamdulillah.
All praise and thanks is for Allah, in every situation.
Alhamdulillah.
And I went back to work.
One time, a major sign from Allah came to me, and I vividly remember it.
It happened during the time of the covid lockdowns. At our house, our supply of drinking water comes in the form of huge (5-gallon) water bottles — we exchange empty water bottles for refilled ones, weekly when the water company’s truck comes. But during covid time, the water company’s truck stopped coming to our neighborhood, no matter how much we called. If I remember correctly, we once had to drive to a nearby shop to get many of these heavy water bottles while fasting during Ramadan — several heavy bottles of water that had to be taken up stairs, all while fasting, all at once. Maybe not the easiest supply of water, but still Alhamdulillah, of course.
Months passed without the water company’s truck coming to our house to deliver water. One afternoon, while returning home, I saw a small cat at the front door of our apartment building. I don’t remember whether it was panting or meowing or hyper-ventilating, but it clearly needed water. So I went home, and brought some water for it.
Right when cat received the water, it happened. Right at that time.
Standing there outside my apartment building, facing the cat at our door, I sensed something behind me. And I turned around.
A huge truck filled my vision. It was the truck. The water company’s supply truck. Months had gone by without me having seen it. Months had gone by with me craving this easy supply of water. And here it had just materialized, right behind me, like a miracle.
I looked at the truck. I looked at this sign, this magnificent sign from Allah. Right when I gave His creation water, Al-Shakoor (The Most Appreciative) gave me water — the easy supply of water that I had been craving for.
The water truck had resumed its delivery to our area. I got my water. And I thanked Allah for this obvious, clear sign of His love and mercy. A sign that He loves me. That He is My Loving, Caring, Providing Master. And I am His servant, provided for by Him.
Not even half a day passed.
That very afternoon, maybe around two hours after my moment of epiphanic submission to Allah, I happened to check my phone while working.
And after days and days and days of wishing for this, like a miracle — I had to believe my eyes — there were a bunch of messages from my brother in Gaza. The messages had come in around the same time of the moment I had just had with Allah.
I quickly opened the messages. My brother in Gaza said that he was really sorry for the delay. He told me that the army had bombed a house near them, and internet connectivity wires that had been reinstalled had been cut off. He sent me a video of the chaos at the time of the bombing. They had even fled for some days due to the army. Now since one week, they were in their usual camp.
He had apologized about the internet issue, and said that he had missed chatting with me.
Subhan Allah. So much for every bad thought that Shaitan had tried to put in my head.
Alhamdulillah.
Alhamdulillah.
I felt really grateful to Allah. Not just for this resolution, but also for the very clear sign of His love and mercy that Allah had just shown me. I had accepted His decree and put my trust in Him. And right then, He had given me what I had been craving. Alhamdulillah.
I got back to his messages that night, and we had a nice and long chat over texting.
Guys, this is serious.
North Gaza has been under siege and strictly enforced famine for a long time now. Murder by starvation, civilian populations surrounded, being asked to evacuate, yet being fired upon when they try. But now south Gaza is also being forced under a cruel crisis.
Aid trucks being blocked. Food supplies almost completely restricted. With the food supplies increasingly scarce, the hundreds of thousands of people there are literally starving. Prices are obviously going crazy high, with demand so desperate and supply so deliberately, cruelly suffocated.
The news is harrowing. For example, the supply of vegetables has been almost entirely stopped since around a month — basic vegetable prices have gone up by around 600% to 800%, e.g. 1 kilo of potatoes used to cost ~$2-$3, but now it’s ~$21. Good luck affording that in a genocide with no jobs, no infrastructure, no home, no supplies. Or, you know, watch your family starve.
People from Gaza have been reaching out online for help like crazy. Their families and kids are crying from hunger and forced starvation. If you’re following online, and vocal, Palestinians are reaching out desperately. Help. We’re being killed by hunger. Save us. Please.
Relief 4 Palestine (formerly called GazaDirect2FamilyAidSource) is one of the many amazing helpers in this situation — a fundraiser aggregator that I have been following for a long time, and I’ve featured it before in previous articles, too. They have been providing crucial aid on the ground, including clean drinking water, as well as featuring individual cases on their Instagram and awesome Telegram group — you’ll find these links, as well as their donation link, here.
Now — such a desperate time — is not the time to hold back. Please give. May Allah give you back many, many times more. And may Allah solve your problems, just like you try to solve the life-threatening problems facing our brothers and sisters in Palestine. Jazakum Allah khair. May Allah accept and multiply our good deeds and their reward, in this life and the next.
Around that time, the founder of the charity aggregator also got back to me, regarding my request to help connect Hafsah and I to someone experienced with charities, who might be able to advise Egyptians For Palestinians as they matured. He told me that one of his team members would reach out to us regarding this.
In the meanwhile, Hafsah and I kept being unable to have our call — I wanted to understand the situation on the ground better with Egyptians For Palestinians, so I could see if my colleagues in our Egypt office might be able to help out. But our busy schedules were not easy to sync — Hafsah helping the Gazan refugees in Egypt, and I with my work / day job commitments. At long last, after a last few delays / reschedules, we were finally able to have our call.
I had a sense that this call would be important for me in terms of understanding the situation in Egypt better, but I could not have predicated just what the aftermath of that call would be for me, and the people it would bring into my life.
Continued in Season 1, Episode 8: The Call. Before you continue, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber to support and to stay tuned:
I’m really enjoying this series! Looking forward to the next episode.