27 June 2014 - Schools out, Taraweeg is in.

In the name of Allah, Most gracious, Most merciful.

 

Samoosa stuff

 I really feel blessed, Alhamdulilaah. With a bit of effort the gardens yield so much - spinach, danya, spring onions, chillies for over 400 samoosas and some daltjies. More blessed am I to live on a property where the Qur’an is learnt.

The school is smallish during the week and on weekends it is bustling with adult learners. The teachers, are modest and knowledgeable in their specific areas of expertise, and handle the learners with much dignity and respect; I am pleased that my son is a part of this learning environment. Early in the morning, I try not to bang the broom against the furniture or have the kettle compete with melodious voices revising and preparing the day’s work. The cacophony of different voices makes me linger in the garden trying to be unobtrusive. The students are polite, playful and curious but hey can they batcha! The gardens are spaces they can stroll in and maybe pick some peas or chew on the mint.

The day before the air was different, in fact quite upbeat for mid-year exams. The ones learning hifth were tested by an external assessor and those who learn Arabic and the different types of qira’ah (articulation/recitation of the Qur’an) with written tests as well as oral testing.

As they stood around patiently waiting their turn I asked, “are you nervous?” “a bit.” But whoever came out of the exam room had definite thumbs up and a broad smile trotting off to report to their teacher. I liked the comment of the assessor – “It is of utmost importance that the student embodies good character and humility for certainly that is why the Qur’an is being learnt.” Their Ustadts seemed pleased with comments and marks and they all set out today for a celebration! Roadtrip!

As the school closes for the Ramadhan, all of them will lead Taraweeg solaah inshaAllah, some at masajid and some in smaller personal family spaces where angels fill the gaps. An excellent way for revising their chapters and to break their nerve to lead a full congregation one day, Subhanallah. I walk around the school this morning, the dew is fresh on the plants and the Chinese cabbage looks completely sacrificed so the rocket can start seeding for storing. It is quiet as they have end of term closure and reports are handed out. All I will say is that my son looks quite chaffed as he hands me his!

 I like that both our youngest are memorizing the Qur’an, sometimes they revise together and point out different techniques. And they show concern for one another, first thing my daughter asks when she gets home: “did it go well?” or when I ask for help my son remarks: “I’ll do it, she’s practicing for the competition.” I’m not complaining, for them it’s all about consolidating past chapters to move forward, for me it’s just a good cup of tea. And then I wonder whether they are just sucking up to watch an episode. JUST ONE, let’s take a bit of a break to watch The Blacklist, it will be Ramadhan soon and we will be busy with so much more exciting things.

 For the last three days the smells of samoosas fill the air and seep into everything. A quick sweep out, tidy up, wash up and different fillings are prepared. For now I settle on spinach, white cheddar and jalapeño; topside mince, danya and cayenne chillis; corn, spring onion, cheddar and mozzarella with a dash of paprika and finally chicken, peppers and corn. And then the folding begins, and stops, some admin work has to be done. And then continues, thank goodness the weather is cool. I want to finish as much folding as possible before Monday, maybe I meet with my supervisor and have buckle down with my research.
 

Chinese cabbage sacrifice

But the more I fold, the more everyone just rocks up in the kitchen and fry a few tasters. I have folded 450 so far, of which 200 went away on order, 120 in the freezer and a few for guests. Seriously. I love making samoosas, it is a time that I sit restfully contemplate and rhythmically fold. It’s a time when old friends turn up to find out if there’s any left for sale. It’s a time that my older son comes to rescue me and cut kilos of chicken fillets or onions so patiently or makes me a cuppa. It’s the time when we chat and everyone helps pulling off strips and packing neat boxes. But here’s the thing. I hate to smell like samoosas, it’s like the onion smell permeates your skin and your scarf and your taste even after a long shower. So early when the house is still, I open the windows wide and bleach the cloths I used to squeeze out the onions and throw my clothing in the washer. Notwithstanding the olfactory onslaught, it does taste so good, doesn’t it?

Plant food and experiment with samoosas fillings

Jumuah Mubarak!!! and happy holidays.

Yasmine