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Islamic Birthday + Decolonizing Calendars
Today is one year and one month since Ibrahim left this world. Today is also the 15th of Muharram, Ibrahim’s birthday, in the Islamic calendar.
In the first paragraph of this post, Ibrahim shared why he believed that learning different calendars beyond the Gregorian one is a step towards decolonization.
Ibrahim had started writing the date two ways in his journals.
Muharram is a very significant month for Muslims. It is the first month of the Islamic calendar. It marks the “hijrah” or migration of the Muslims out of Mecca and to Madina in the year 622. The 10th of Muharram, the Day of Ashura, is a very sacred one. Ashura is the day that Muslims believe Imam Hussein (may God be pleased with him) was martyred. It is also the day that Muslims believe that God parted the Red Sea for Musa (Moses). It is a day of deep reflection on the importance of standing against oppressors and standing with the oppressed. Free Palestine.
Imam Khalid Latif gave a wonderful Khutbah (Friday Sermon) about the importance of Ashura and how Muslims are called to be distinctly different, unapologetically against materialism, assimilation, and oppression. Please have a listen.
There is something deeply symbolic about the months of Ibrahim’s birth and death. He was born into this world in Muharram and he died and left this world in Dhul Hijjah. Muharram is the first month of the Islamic calendar and Dhul Hijjah is the last. Muharram marks the journey of people away from oppression and Dhul Hijjah is the month of the great journey, the Hajj, to Mecca. The Brooklyn Bedouin, always on a journey.
Below is a letter from Ibrahim’s beloved friend, Jee Kim, written upon remembering their bond and their friendship journey, during another non-Gregorian time marker, the winter solstice.
Dec 31, 2023
Dear Ibrahim,
I love you. I wish I had said it more when you were here. Actually, I'm not sure if I ever said it to you (though you knew). So I say it now.
You were the brother I always wanted. Warm, full of life and laughter, steady and real. Frustrating and irresistible.
Reflecting on this year, on this day, two words echo - heartache and disorientation. Your passing, underscoring.
Our paths crossed long ago, and a bond was formed. In the aftermath of 9/11, we drove across the country. We grew up together, and also apart. Our paths diverged, life circuitous.
In the last period, we reconnected. Shared questions, things we wrestled with. How did we end up outside of NYC? Fatherhood, frustration, faith, hope. Back and forth. I was giddy, relieved, grateful to be back in a cipher with you.
This past solstice, I did a ritual with my six year old. Roses and thorns, and a bud for the upcoming year, something we're looking forward to. He wrote on his slip of paper, "presins." Convention will capture him soon enough. But instead of the year end gifts, I choose to make his bud, presence.
I am, here. Iam, here.
