A 21st Century Nomad

Nomads are members of a people or tribe that has no permanent abode but moves about from place to place, usually seasonally and often following a traditional route or circuit according to the state of the pasturage or food supply. However, the nomads I know don’t move in search for greener pastures and abundant food supply. Instead, they move to find a place to pray, and glorify their God.

Since the day I arrived here in the small town of Bozeman in the United States, I became the newest member of these nomads—the small Muslim community in Bozeman. Being a new member, I caught the crowd’s curious eyes not only because I’m the shortest, but because I’m the lone Muslim from South-East Asia. You should see the amazement in their faces every time they hear me say, “Assalamu Alaikum. I’m Rashid. I’m from the Philippines.” Most of the Muslims here are from the Middle East—Saudi Arabia, Palestine, Syria, and Jordan. There are a few Pakistanis and Nepalese. While others are here for work, most of the Muslims around are students in the university.

Few weeks ago, I came across with Ahmed, an ESL student from Saudi Arabia. I missed my Friday prayer during my first week in the campus. So I asked him where the Friday prayer is usually conducted. He struggled with his English when he answered me, and tried to give me the directions. I had a hard time catching up. Nevertheless, I got the location, and thanked him for that.

Then, my second Friday came. My class ended at 11:50AM so I had a quick lunch, and rushed to my room to do my ablution. I was done after 40 minutes. I rushed to the Student Union Building, carefully following the details I got from Ahmed. When I finally reached the hall, I was surprised to find out that nobody was there. I thought I was late, and that I missed the boat. My heart felt heavy and I was frustrated. However, as I was about to leave, one man came and opened one of the doors in the basement. I knew he was a Muslim. Without second thoughts, I extended my arm forward for a handshake and greeted him Assalamu Alaikum. Surprised, he responded “Alaikumi Salaam”. He happened to be the organizer for that day’s Friday prayer. I was very glad to know that I wasn’t late. In fact, I was too early. I learned that Friday prayer here starts at 1:00PM and usually ends at 2:00PM. The time difference up until now drives me confusingly crazy. The sun is still up at 8:30PM, imagine that.

In my life, I never cried at the sound of azhan or the call to prayer. Here, every call to prayer is extra special. I can hardly keep my tears from falling every time I hear our bilal recites it. I don’t know. Is it because I miss home? Or because I don’t hear it often? I think the answer is “both”. Back in Marawi, I’m used to hearing the bang five times a day every day. Here, since I only pray during Fridays, I seldom hear it, and that makes it more appealing to me. Honestly, I hardly pray five times a day here. My schedule deprives me to do so. However, I will try my very best to do the prayer five times a day this Ramadan. It will be a very tough challenge. However, I am reminded by someone when he said, “The greater the difficulty, the more glory one takes in surmounting it.”

Back to that Friday prayer, I was apprehensive that the imam will conduct his sermon in Arabic since most of the people in attendance are Arabs. Apparently, he spoke Arabic and then translated it to English. With this, I was again reminded of Marawi. In Marawi, the imam recites some verses from the Qur’an or hadith, and then later translates them in Meranao. So, it isn’t that different after all. After the prayer, the imam announced that the next Friday prayer will be at the SOB Barn, quite a distance from where we were that time. This makes us nomads—we move from one place to another to pray, wherever we find a vacant space for ourselves. However, I feel at home whenever I’m with these nomads, and I love to be with this group of people all the time. How can someone love being a nomad? I guess my case is a very rare exception. Then, after the Friday SOB Barn prayer, we prayed at the Language Institute Building the next week. The director for American Cultural Exchange (ACE) is very kind to offer a space for us to do our Musalla everyday in his office too.

Fasting would be very challenging here. Aside from the very dry atmosphere, the cold weather for sure isn’t going to make things easy for me. The Philippines is a very humid country, and during ordinary days, thirst is often less of an issue. Here, you get extremely thirsty even if you’re just in your room doing nothing but reading. You have to carry a water bottle all day long—the dry weather necessitates that. More often than not, the cold weather will make you hungry most of the time. Most of all, my sponsor (the U.S. Department of State tapped World Learning to manage us here) arranged for my meals in the dining hall. On regular days, I only have to swipe my card to enter and eat in the dining hall. Everything is pre-paid. Therefore, this Ramadan, I will have sacked meals then (packed meals). I will have to get these sacked meals during dinner, and take another one for my meal before sunrise. This means that I have to refrigerate the food until dawn. Yes, I will be eating refrigerated food to sustain a day of fasting. My mother would have never allowed that. Unfortunately, like me, she doesn’t have a choice. All these paint a picture of a very challenging month for Muslims like me here.

Indeed, everything comes with a price. This wonderful experience and once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, unfortunately, is not an exception. However, it's a matter of how one deal with the challenges and adversities of life. As for me, I use them to motivate me in moving forward. Strong waves make better sailors, they say. And here I am, driving a small awang amidst a huge ocean. Will I make it? My optimism, courage and perseverance tell me I WILL!

I am a 21st century nomad, and I’m proud to be one—a nomad for a greater and fulfilling cause.