Show Up by Na'ima B. Robert (Ebook)
Na'ima B. Robert
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Introduction

It came as a shock.

I found him unconscious on the bed early on Saturday morning and, within two weeks, he was gone.

A shock.

An out-of-the-blue, out of nowhere, blindsiding shock.

***

I dedicated my first major book, ‘From My Sisters’ Lips’, to my husband, Sulayman Henry Amankwah. The dedication read:

For my husband, the wind beneath my wings.

Even now, I look back and marvel at how fitting that dedication was.

We married young, young enough to make both our families feel uncomfortable. They were convinced that we weren’t ready for the responsibilities of married life, that we should wait a few more years, get ‘established’, be ‘sure’.

But we were sure.

And we handled it.

I remember our early years together as the adventure story of two kids: two eager, fairly new Muslims, playing House. He went out to work, I stayed home and cooked (badly); and dressed up before he got home. When I worked in East London, he used to drive all the way over from Northwest to drop me off at Whitechapel. This was so that I wouldn’t have to take the train on my own at night. Or maybe he just wanted to be with me.

We developed our own rituals as a young couple: travelling to Watford every Monday to attend Islamic talks held in a friend’s house, visiting his mother on the weekend, staying up late on Saturday nights to talk and laugh and laugh and laugh.

Then our first baby came and we shifted gears: we were parents.

I will never forget my first labour: it was at home, Sulayman was in attendance, calm and supportive, and my sister was cooking upstairs. I gave birth naturally, in the bath, then we all ate rice and chicken together. That night, the baby wouldn’t settle for the longest time and I was ready to crash out, exhausted. Sulayman lay at the end of our mattress on the floor, his body curled around the baby, soothing him until he fell asleep.

He never lost that touch.

We had four more children after that, alhamdulillah, three of them in different homes, in different countries, and one in hospital. We explored different careers: he went from selling websites to small businesses, to setting up a mobile phone company and finally a call centre in Egypt. I went from teaching, to setting up a school in my front room, to writing and doing henna as a profession, to writing full-time, to setting up a magazine called SISTERS.

When our third child was one, we decided to leave the UK and settle in Egypt for the children to have easier access to the Arabic language and to learn the Qur’an. We lived a good life there, surrounded by friends who had moved for similar reasons. We performed hajj and decided to take the leap into homeschooling.

Quite simply, we understood each other, we supported each other, we were best friends and allies, as well as husband and wife. It is no exaggeration to say that, without him, I would not be the woman I am today.

Sulayman’s understanding and patient attitude brought out the best in me, in deen and dunyah. His way was not to command or force, but rather advise and let me make my own mistakes and learn from them. As with those he worked with, his aim was always to support me in fulfilling my potential, because it was that quality that had drawn him to me in the first place (his words, not mine!).

So, how did I find myself in 2016, a single mother of five children, CEO of a business I didn’t know, facing an unknown and unknowable future?

In this book, I will be sharing with you the story of how I came to understand the meaning of ‘Showing Up’ through tragic circumstances and enormous life changes. I will also share the roadmap I used to come back from the brink of despair to a life of contribution and meaning, and the ideas and insights I have gleaned over the years, inspired by the Qur’an and Sunnah and by the many teachers and mentors I have had during this time, alhamdulillah.

Throughout the book, I invite you to pause and reflect on the ideas I share, to answer questions about your own life situation and, piece by piece, build your own roadmap towards showing up as the hero of your life story.

Feel free to mark the pages, write notes and use the space provided to make this book a transformational, healing journey that is personal and pertinent to you.

To help you, I have created a free workbook that you can download and use as you read through this book. I pray that it helps you get the clarity and insight you need to start on your own ‘Show Up’ journey.

Download the workbook here:

www.naimarobert.com/showup

1

The Loss

At the end of our fourteenth year together, my husband and I decided to go for ‘umrah with the kids. We hoped that it would be another beautiful holiday together, combining family time with worship. But even today, I see that trip as the starting point of the downward spiral.

Sulayman became ill and tensions were rising between him and our eldest child. Their relationship fractured, almost beyond repair, it seemed, and I could see that it was weighing on him. Weakened now, work issues also began to take their toll on him. I had never seen him that ill at ease, that agitated.

One evening, I went out to eat with a sister and left him at home with the kids. Our dinner date ran a little late so, when I got home, I went in to soothe our youngest who was two at the time. I ended up falling asleep with her.

The next morning, I was woken by the cries of the children: Daddy won’t get up!

I rushed into our bedroom to find him lying on his side on our bed, his eyes half open and a strange liquid oozing from his mouth.

I won’t describe the moments of panic that followed. Suffice to say, by the end of the day, we knew that he had had a stroke, and that he was in a coma, with significant damage to his brain. The doctors didn’t have much hope.

He was gone, they said, in all but body.

I still cry when I think of the moment I had to call his mother and tell her that her youngest son was in a coma. That was definitely one of the worst moments of my life, one of the most heartbreaking.

Over the next two weeks, we nursed him day and night. His condition hardly changed although I sat with him every day, talking to him, reading Qur’an, making du’a over him. And the people, the people came flooding in during visiting hours. So much love, so much concern, so much support poured forth, both online and in real life. I made du’a for every single person who took the time to make du’a for us, who visited us in the hospital, who cooked food, who was there for us.

One sister, a dear friend, took my children home to her house so that they could continue with their homeschool programme. Another sister (who I hardly knew) gave us the use of her flat for the first week so that I could be close to the hospital. Brothers and sisters, family members, colleagues and employees travelled across Cairo, flew in from abroad, to be there for us, to greet him, to thank him, to find out if we needed anything. It was an outpouring of community support that I will always be grateful for.

As I