Their hospitality is something you yearn for.
Their presence you look forward to.
Those humble people whom I dearly miss.
I still remember them welcoming us into their school, their home and their souq.
I still remember how passionately, lovingly, while at the same time sternly they taught us tajweed, nahu and lughah.
I still remember the day you asked for each of our names,
how surprised you were by our names that carry deep meanings and were in Arabic,
(because people tend to name their daughters and sons with names in their own language.)
how you encouraged us to live up to our names,
how you pushed us to speak the language,
how heartening it was for you that foreign students like us could understand Arabic.
how humbled you were by our presence to seek knowledge so far away from home,
as seekers of knowledge from a distant land,
you keep urging us to pray for you as you strongly believe that our prayers were mustajaab,
how in reality it is us that feels grateful of your teachings and guidance.
I still remember our muhaadarah,
our girl talks and entertainment,
you showed us the permissible way of having fun.
I still remember those snowy days and how you played snow with us,
I still remember not long after that, when the snow began melting, the water leaked into our hostel.
Albeit not feeling any discomfort,
you immediately moved us to an apartment in school,
Albeit not feeling any discomfort,
you brought our mattresses from our beds from the hostel to our apartment.
I still remember the last few days on the blessed land.
We signed a big card to thank the host.
But what is a card as compared to everything you have done?
I still remember the last few days on the blessed land.
We quietly gathered in the kitchen,
dragging along a chair.
Huddled in a corner of the kitchen,
we practiced our selawat-s there.
I still remember the smiles you had as I watch your country fight against zulm.
Even as I grow older,
or even as the memories fade,
I will always remember you in my prayers and how you touched my life.
