The Balkan call

After a week out of Sunderland, I'm now back home. There is so much to tell; so many stories to narrate, countless memories to keep, and invaluable moments to share. I've always loved to write, but this time it's hard to get my thoughts organised. It's the feeling of wanting to write about everything at one go. However; as much as passion has to be appreciated, it also has to be moderated.

I'll start, before everything else, with praises to Allah the Almighty- but I can never praise Him enough. As a young man I realise that Allah is too kind to me; He answers to my prayers, protects me vigilantly, shows me the straight and guided path, showers me with His blessings, pours His love into my heart, embeds peace and serenity into my soul, grants me knowledge- the list will not end. But all I did was to remember Him only sparingly! Sometimes I questioned myself a lot; I'm sure that I don't befit these kind treatments Allah is giving me. I'm just another man, as sinful as one can be. I sin, and ask for forgiveness, only to relapse in sinning again. I'm not special, neither am I an angel, nor do revelations come down to me. Maybe I'm different in one thing- I am easily touched by Your kindness, and I'm not so good in holding my tears.

They say that the world is unfair. However I'm more worried that I'm being unfair to You. I try to make up for my weaknesses, just to ease myself. I'll wake up in the nights for You, I'll spend some good hours asking for Your forgiveness, I'll squeeze my eyes hard to weep for You. I'll let my lips light reading Your words in the Qur'an- but none of these can make up and be compared to Your grace. I'm doing all these in the hope that You accept me, in the Day of Judgement, as Your righteous slave...

I didn't just go to Bosna for sight-seeing. I doubt I would go anywhere for that purpose. I travel in search of life, truth, hope, faith, forgiveness, gratefulness, and taqwa. And these, I found much from my recent experiences in Bosna. Alija's book alone did not pull me to Bosna. It was more than that- the accumulated years of my short life hinted something about Bosna, as if saying,"Safwan, this is where you're going one day". I can never forget how the word 'Bosna' first visited me; I was only 8 years old. My dad ceaselessly prayed for Bosnians then, and I was amazed, except that my faculty at that time could not comprehend the issue. Dad told me more about Bosna when I was 9, and his story is still fresh in my mind. It continued to come to me when I reached 12, 13, and 19, almost like it was trying to assert and reassert its presence, and remind me in case I have forgotten. It wanted recognition. Until I turned 20, the Bosnian issue has visited me enough to help me decide in going there. And I did not regret it even to the very least.

When the year 2009 dawned, I've been thinking seriously about going to this much-longed country. Suddenly in on the 12th of March, my fingers moved almost as subconsciously clicking this and that to purchase the ticket. Accompanied by prayers and blessings from my understanding parents, it marked the beginning of a momentous chapter out of the many chapters in my life.