By Mazidatul-khair Akanbi
Jalsa! Color me excited—giggles!
I always look forward to the annual spiritual gathering because it’s an opportunity to experience so much: reconnecting with friends after months apart, making new friends (still working on doing that without feeling scared), networking, and soaking in a unique spiritual atmosphere that is indescribable.
The excitement begins when all members converge at the mosque to travel together to Ilaro for the conference. The bus ride is always a vibe: jokes flying around, playful banter, and members urging the driver to speed past other buses. My siblings and I often shout, “Driver! E sare, e sare! Won ti fe ba wa o; e ma je ki won ba wa!” Sure, overtaking buses isn’t the safest thing, but as kids, it was all about the fun. Even now, I still do it—because why not create fun in every moment of life? Life is meant to be enjoyed.
Arriving at the Jalsa ground is always thrilling. My heart races with anticipation as I scream “Naare Takbir!” in my mind, whispering to myself, “A ti de o!” As we alight from the bus, we hug fellow members—friends from buses that passed us on the way, or our parents’ friends, who can’t help but remind us of how much we’ve grown.
I love attending Jalsa, but I used to dread going to the Nasrat shed when my mum told me to. It wasn’t because I didn’t enjoy myself—I just didn’t like being surrounded by thousands of unfamiliar faces. But refusing wasn’t an option unless I wanted a slap to change my mind. Over time, I got used to it. The Nasrat shed years came and went, and I eventually graduated to being a “young Lajna.”
Ahhh, another challenge. This time, the struggle was walking amidst people I didn’t know. Since I couldn’t navigate those social waters well, I clung to my aunt and my friend (thank you both!). They helped me overcome my fear of strangers, even if just a little.
After surviving the Nasrat shed phase for a year or two, I heard about the Advance Team for those interested. I eagerly paid to join and was glad I did. It allowed me to attend the Rishtanata program for Lajna, which I thoroughly enjoyed because anything related to relationships and marriage always excites me—haha! Unfortunately, that year marked the last time I arrived early for Jalsa due to school and other commitments.
One of my favorite parts of Jalsa is the programs: Tarbiyyah, Tahajjud, Friday sermons, the sweet recitations by Haafidh and Haafidha, Jalsa Nikkah, Q&A sessions—basically everything.
Tahajjud during Jama’at gatherings (Nasrat camps, Ijtima, and Jalsa) feels like a moment of pure holiness and serenity. Words fail to capture the peace I feel during those prayers. Yes, I doze off sometimes, but the melodious voice of the Imam always pulls me back to focus. I pray to one day become a Haafidha myself—Insha Allah. Tahajjud clears my mind and soul, and I pray Allah accepts our prayers, grants us our heart’s desires, and answers our duas. Aameen.
Another thing I’ve come to love is volunteering, especially in the kitchen department. Despite my “fear of strangers,” volunteering has helped me grow every year. Shoutout to my aunt and friend, who literally dragged me into it in 2017 during my second year as a young Lajna. Initially, I resisted with all my might, but my inner voice reminded me that I didn’t know anyone else there, so I might as well follow them. It turned out to be one of the best decisions ever.
The first time I worked in the kitchen, it was at the Atfal shed. My tasks included preparing and grinding pepper and peeling onions. That first pepper encounter was traumatic—haha!—but the fun and camaraderie made it worth it. We bonded over work, shared jokes, and had meaningful conversations, especially about relationships and marriage (a personal favorite topic).
Over time, I tried volunteering in other departments, such as Humanity First and Dining, but none compared to the kitchen. I realized my heart truly belongs there. The kitchen vibe is unmatched: everyone works together like family, ensuring no one feels left out. During Solah, we pause everything to pray. And when someone gets tired, the team encourages them to rest. The jokes, slangs, and shared energy keep the spirit alive, making work enjoyable and fatigue almost nonexistent.
I could go on about my Jalsa experiences, but this is what I’ll share for now. Some memories have faded, but the essence remains. I had grand plans for this year’s Jalsa and had even envisioned how it would go. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to attend Jalsa 2024, and it hurts to miss out. But Insha Allah, I look forward to next year’s gathering.
Ki Allah sho’wa ju igba na lo. Aameen.
